Liberate Yourself

Book 1: Desires Unlocked Trilogy

by Evie Blake

Genres: Billionaires Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Previously published in print and ebook as VALENTINA.


For fans of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY and BARED TO YOU comes LIBERATE YOURSELF, the first in an erotic, emotionally charged and addictive romance trilogy.


Valentina lives with her lover, Theo Steen, in Milan. They have an explosive sexual connection... but are they in love? As Valentina questions her true feelings for Theo, she finds herself drawn into Milan's shadowy, sensuous underworld - one which allows her to explore her deepest desires.


In Venice in 1929, Belle is trapped in an unhappy marriage and plays out her most erotic fantasies by living a secret life as a courtesan. Yet she is only truly free when she falls wildly, passionately in love.


Valentina and Belle are two women living in different times, each poised on the brink of a passionate, all-consuming love affair.

Release date: November 12, 2013

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 480

Sample

VALENTINA PUSHES HERSELF UP ON TO HER ELBOWS AND gazes at her lover. Six months they have been living together. She leans over and carefully arranges her arm across Theo’s back. She loves to do this while he is sleeping, when he doesn’t know how she likes to imagine the two of them together, and all that could be possible. Tenderly she strokes his flawless skin, letting herself express a rare moment of affection. It is a gesture she is careful never to make when Theo is actually awake.

Valentina examines her flaxen whiteness against the sallow colouring of Theo Steen, and considers what a perfect contrast the two of them are. She is as pale and fine boned as her beloved twenties icon Louise Brooks. He is dark skinned, more sultry than any Latin lover she has ever known, yet with disturbingly bright blue eyes. It would make more sense if it were she who was dark. She is after all the Italian, while Theo is from New York, his parents Dutch immigrants. She doesn’t know much about his background, but it appears very different from hers. He is close to his parents, both of them, and to Valentina’s eyes his childhood was charmed. So much attention and expense lavished upon him. Theo is an accomplished cellist, equestrian and fencer, as well as speaking a myriad of languages. He could have gone into any profession he chose. He is one of those men she thought would irritate her. A privileged high-achiever who doesn’t need to worry about making a living, and can indulge full-time in his passion – the study and analysis of modern art. Yet she did not dump him at the first opportunity, as she thought she might; instead here he is in her bed, lost in the innocence of sleep right beside her. He is living with her.

Valentina looks down at her sleeping lover. Theo is lying on his stomach, his head turned away from her. She wonders where his dreams take him. She wonders if he will wake with the memory of her touch upon his skin. Last night she wanted to make him come so much, and yet strangely she had no desire to have an orgasm herself. This is not usual for her, not very Valentina, she thinks. Even now she is not demanding morning sex. At some point does the passion fade? If you took away the sexual desire between her and Theo, would there be nothing left? Strangers before their union; and strangers again afterwards. Is it time to end it? No, not yet, a voice begs inside her head, and she tries to swallow her anxiety. She is panicking unnecessarily. This is just all so new to her, to be cohabiting.

She has never shared her apartment with anyone else, not since her mother left. It still startles her how easily it all fell into place, the fact of Theo moving in. She knows why she asked him. It was a knee-jerk reaction to her mother’s warning. Is he using her? Instinctively she rejects the suggestion. He was so hesitant about accepting her offer. Asked her several times if she was sure. There is something different about him. Already he has seen her at her lowest, and he didn’t leave.

Valentina knots the end of the sheet around her finger, pulls it tight. A ring of white cotton pinching her flesh, making her bite her lip. It’s because he doesn’t take anything for granted, she thinks; despite his easy life, he never stops trying to please her.

She lies back down on the bed and smiles up at the ceiling, studying each glinting crystal of the chandelier as she dwells on last night. She tentatively runs her tongue over her lips. She can still taste him. She savours the saltiness of her lover as she recalls how she caressed him with her mouth, pushing him as far as he could go, not stopping despite his plea to be inside her. She would not allow it. She wanted everything to be focused on him. And so she kept on going: licking, teasing with her teeth, flicking her tongue around his length and squeezing his velvet hardness tight between her lips. She needed to feel his abandon inside her mouth. His vulnerability, and her power. She had taken him over the edge. And when Theo cried out her name, it was like a flare to her heart. Burning her and yet warming her at the same time, filling her with the dual sensations of fear and satisfaction. How could that be? Normally she doesn’t like her lovers to speak, let alone cry out. She always insists on making love in silence. She hates false proclamations of love, uttered in the heat of passion. Yet Theo called to her, and deep down inside her there was an answering echo, despite her conscious denial. Now the salty flavour of him lingers still upon her lips. No wonder she dreamt of the sea. She closes her eyes and pushes away unwanted images, her smile fading. But they resurface, these disjointed sensations from her dream. Sinking under water, unable to swim up to the light; darkness, suffocation.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

She opens her eyes. Theo is lying on his side, his head resting on his hand, his clear blue eyes studying her.

‘I had a bad dream last night.’

He pulls her towards him, and she lets him fold his arms around her. She closes her eyes and feels his chin as he rests it on the top of her head.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asks, his voice muffled against her hair, but she doesn’t reply, not immediately, and he doesn’t push her. It feels so good to be held in her lover’s arms; she doesn’t want to take them back to her nightmares, ruin a fresh new day with her baggage.

‘No,’ she says.

‘Okay, darling.’ He kisses the top of her head. The endearment trips off his lips so easily. Can he really mean it? She finds it hard to do the same, the words sticking in her throat. Darling. She stiffens in his arms, wanting now to push away from him. Theo gently unravels his body from around her, as if sensing her need for distance.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ he says, getting out of bed, studiously avoiding eye contact. She watches him in all his glorious nakedness as he strides across the room. He wraps her silk dressing gown around himself, but it only adds to his manliness, emphasising the masculine contours of his body. She feels a stirring below her navel, deeper, deeper, as she watches him walk out the door. Why did she chill in his arms? Now she would like to make love.

She glances at the clock. It’s already after seven. She should be getting up; she has a busy day ahead, yet still she cannot stir from the sanctuary of their bed. She yawns and stretches, awaiting Theo’s return with the tea. She is glad she didn’t blot this morning with her narcissist fears.

Valentina isn’t fond of the past. She has never understood the obsession amongst her contemporaries with relationship transparency, the need to dredge up your personal history and expect your lover to share it. It bemuses her how so many young women want to manipulate their boyfriends through pity. The last thing she wants is to be a victim. No, it is better to never look back, always maintain a little mystery. She believes you should keep your secrets to yourself. That has always been her motto. And yet . . .

She can’t get Gina Faladi’s words out of her head. Said in all innocence, of course. Gina is a sweet person, if a bit too submissive in Valentina’s opinion. She has seen the way she lets her boyfriend, Gregorio, boss her around. God knows what he is like under the covers. Yet despite this, Gina is one of the best make-up artists Valentina has ever worked with. Last week they flew to Prague together to do a fashion shoot for Marie Claire. It was on the way home, after a couple of glasses of wine on board the flight, that Gina asked her the question that now keeps circling inside her head like a big black cat.

Where does he go?

That was what Gina said. Valentina was about to reply that she had no idea, and so what, she and Theo didn’t do jealousy, but when she saw Gina’s eyebrows beginning to arch, she changed her mind.

Work. She took a sip of her red wine. Going to exhibitions. Meeting artists. Buying art, she expanded vaguely. A good excuse, and who knows, possibly true. But the fact of the matter is that Valentina has absolutely no idea where her lover disappears to once a month and for several days at a time. Yes, there have been articles and reviews, and before he met her, two books had been published, one on German expressionism and one on futurism in Italy in the twenties, but there is not nearly the volume of work one would expect from such a globetrotting art critic. And what is he doing in Milan? His part-time lecturing at the university hardly provides a good income. Surely he could get a better position in a university back in America? Yet when she asked Theo why he was in Italy, he avoided answering her, waving his arms around like a true Italian and stating vaguely that it was where he needed to be right now. Every day she expects him to tell her he is going home. And yet here he is, still based in Milan nearly a year after she met him.

In the beginning, Valentina didn’t care where Theo went. In fact during the first couple of months of living together she looked forward to his little disappearances. She couldn’t help doubting her rash offer, and blamed her mother’s words for pushing her into making it.

‘Don’t let him possess you; that’s what they all want to do. And for God’s sake don’t move in together.’

As usual her mother had taken the wind out of her sails. What had induced Valentina to call her anyway? She had been on some kind of a high, after the first few exciting weeks with Theo, and she had had this foolish urge to share it with her mother. She had even sat up half the night to wait for a good time to call her in the States. Yet of course she should have known better. Instead of being happy for her, all her mother could see were the negatives.

‘Valentina,’ she warned, ‘you and I, we’re not able to give ourselves up totally to just one man. We need space. I learnt that the hard way, honey. Don’t rush into anything.’

Her advice made Valentina furious. She was not like her mother, who was vain and self-centred, an attention-seeker and unable to share, even with her own children. She had to prove her wrong. So that very evening, much to Theo’s astonishment, she invited him to move in with her. Why not? His landlord had just given him notice, and he needed to find a place to live anyway. Her apartment was huge and cost her nothing, since it belonged to her mother. They were to be flatmates, she told him, who happened to have sex together. The incongruity of her proposition made him laugh and call her a crazy woman. Even so, he accepted.

Yet if she is honest with herself, Valentina has to admit that she is afraid her mother could be right. She finds it hard getting used to compromising. She and Theo rarely argue, and they have similar tastes in music, food and art, yet it is the little things that get to her. She likes the bedroom door open at night, and a light on in the hall, whereas Theo prefers complete darkness and a closed door. She likes silence when she works, and he plays music. Usually it is something they both like, but occasionally he puts on music from the eighties that her mother loved – Joy Division, The Cure – way too loud so that she can hear it even when she is in her studio or in her darkroom developing pictures. It always makes her grit her teeth. And sometimes he talks too much. He is careful not to talk about himself, or push for too many questions about her mother (something other lovers all end up doing, which puts her off them instantly), but he is obsessed with discussions. It could of course be on art, or a film they might have just seen, and that is fine. But Theo also loves to get stuck into talking about current affairs, economics or history. He is constantly quizzing her on Italian politics. What do people think of Mussolini now? What happened to her family during the Second World War? Valentina has no interest. She had a stomach full of politics when she was a child. Her mother’s bedtime stories of what had happened to her father’s family during the war were enough to put her off for life, as well as her mother arguing over the rights and wrongs of communism with her brother Mattia, on the rare occasions she saw him. Somehow she equates the clash of her parents’ ideologies with the reason why her own father left all those years ago. Valentina doesn’t like idealists. Those who neglect their own families for the sake of the common good. Theo seems more pragmatic; how can he not be with his upbringing? And yet when he starts talking about the world and hope for change, it makes her edgy. Does he notice the tightness around her mouth as she sets it in an uncommunicative line, the clench of her jaw as he pushes her to give an opinion? It is no coincidence that usually the very next day Theo will announce that he is heading off on a work trip, as if he knows she needs to be on her own.

Valentina has always been used to solitude. She grew up as if she was an only child, since Mattia was thirteen and away at school by the time she was born. Her father left before she was old enough to remember him. Even Mattia claims he doesn’t know where he is. So it was just her and her mother, who taught her from an early age to be self-sufficient. When she was very young, Valentina’s mother took her with her on her photographic assignments, and the long hours spent waiting turned her into an avid reader.

Once Valentina was thirteen, her mother left her behind in Milan, claiming she didn’t want to disrupt her education, but Valentina suspected that it was because she didn’t want her teenage daughter cramping her style. All the men loved Tina Rosselli. She was an icon in her world of glamour and style. To her credit, she never hid her age, but to be accompanied by a glaringly younger version of herself was a little too much for her vanity to bear. Thus Valentina would spend whole weeks at a time on her own in the apartment, her only company her mother’s sulky cat, Tash. She remembered bringing Gaby back with her one Friday after school, and her friend’s complete astonishment when she realised that Valentina had been alone all week. It was a fact she was careful not to broadcast when she was in school.

‘But who looks after you?’ Gaby asked her, wide eyed with pity.

‘I don’t need anyone to look after me,’ Valentina replied haughtily.

‘Do you do everything yourself?’ Gaby asked her. ‘Your clothes?’

Valentina couldn’t help but notice her friend looking down at her crumpled school skirt and blouse. The nuns were always telling her off for her messy uniform, a criticism she was careful never to relay to her mother, who was fiercely proud of her appearance and always left Valentina strict instructions to be neatly turned out.

‘I don’t care about how I look,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘It’s only school.’

Gaby gingerly hung her satchel on the back of a kitchen chair. The table was littered with unwashed cups and a couple of sticky plates.

‘So do you cook for yourself?’ she asked Valentina.

‘Sort of.’ Valentina sashayed over to the fridge, feeling very grown-up. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Always!’ Gaby grinned at her. ‘Hey, let’s eat everything we’re not supposed to. I’ll go to the bakery while you cook.’

Valentina limply hung over the fridge door, and stared inside. There was a jar of pesto, a block of Parmesan and a container of rigatoni. That was it. Gaby joined her by the fridge. She put her arm around her friend’s waist when she saw its paltry contents.

‘Is that it?’ she whispered in horror.

Valentina couldn’t reply. She was seeing the inside of her fridge with her friend’s eyes. She felt so ashamed of her mother.

‘Mama’s not that into food . . .’

Gaby squeezed her waist.

‘I can cook something nice for you. My mother taught me how.’

Valentina bit her lip. She loved Gaby, but sometimes she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Gaby’s mother was one of those traditional Italian mamas. Plump, doting, always feeding you. It was why, Gaby complained, she was twice the size of Valentina. Yet Valentina admired Gaby’s budding curves. She herself was still tall and narrow, with no shape at all. Her mother had never taught her to cook.

‘Okay, I’ll go to the bakery and buy us some little cakes,’ Valentina offered.

‘Get a selection, four different ones each!’ Gaby called as Valentina went out the door.

Not only did Gaby cook for her, a sumptuous meal of pesto and rigatoni, with a rich tomato sauce (where did she find the ingredients in the chaos of the kitchen cupboards?), but by the time Valentina returned with the cakes, she had also swept the floor, washed the dishes and wiped the kitchen table. Her friend’s desire to care for her filled Valentina with awe, for she knew she would not think of doing the same for her.

‘Aren’t you lonely?’ Gaby asked her as she polished off the tomato sauce, licking the spoon hungrily.

‘Never,’ Valentina said, sitting back and feeling the rare satisfaction of a full belly. ‘I like being on my own. Although I wouldn’t mind having you as my cook.’

This love of being in her own company has never gone away. So until Gina’s fateful words, Valentina had actually looked forward to Theo’s short absences. Only two, at the most three, days away. Long enough to relish her solitude and to miss him, but not too long to worry about where he is or what he is doing. The fact that he has never offered an explanation demonstrates that he believes they are above the possessiveness others can get bogged down by. They really are flatmates first, lovers second. He never asks her what she has been up to.

Valentina gets out of bed and draws back the curtains, opening the French window slightly. She is cooled by the autumnal breeze, yet even though her skin is prickling from the chill, she likes to remain naked. She closes her eyes and the wind feels like a hand stroking her, all the way from her forehead, down her cheeks and neck to her throat and chest. She feels her nipples harden as the temperature drops inside the room, and wind licks between her legs. She can hear the constant stream of traffic through Milan, the heartbeat of the city, and yet she catches what peace there is as well. She visualises random images of tranquillity: a pigeon taking flight in the cloisters of Sant’Ambrogio, a boat drifting down the Naviglio canal, an empty swing in Parco Sempione rocking in the breeze. She smells the dying leaves, imagines them spinning off the trees on Via De Amicis. She likes this time of year in Milan. The city has finally cooled after the heavy, humid summer. August can be a nightmare, forty degrees and yet skies as grey as lead. Everyone tries to get away. This year she and Theo escaped to Sardinia for three weeks. Just as hot, yet the sea breezes lifted the oppressiveness of it.

She opens her eyes and feels such a longing to be back in Sardinia, outside in nature, naked on the warm sand, smelling the salty tang of the sea washing over her. As she walks across the bedroom, she imagines wading through the balmy sea. She feels the weight of her nakedness and catches a glimpse of her bottom as she passes the mirror. Men have always admired her behind. She has to admit she is rather proud of it. After being such a skinny teenager, she was pleased when her curves finally developed. She hates to see other women ashamed of their bodies. Struggling into swimming costumes behind towels at the beach; self-conscious and eyes averted when trying on clothes in changing rooms. Can they not see how beautiful they are, in all their diversity, within their curved contours: the creamy velvet of their skin, breasts of all shapes and sizes, soft stomachs, broad hips, voluptuous thighs? The only other women she knows who are as open as she is about nudity are the models she photographs. Those stick-thin girls are past any kind of self-consciousness. Sometimes when she sees models who are obviously anorexic it makes her tense, almost angry. She is, as all her friends will tell you, one of the most non-judgemental people you will ever meet. Yet anorexia brings back ghosts for Valentina. Images of her mother she would like to forget.

By the time Theo returns to the bedroom with a tray laden with teapot, cups and saucers, Valentina is back in bed, sitting up expectantly, a pillow stuffed behind her back against the iron bedstead. This is one of the advantages of living with someone. Just by making her a pot of tea, Theo makes her feel cherished.

Her lover carefully places the tray in the middle of the bed, and climbs back into bed beside her.

‘Will you be mother?’ he asks her.

The English phrase amuses her. The last thing she could imagine her mother ever doing is pouring tea out of a teapot like a duchess.

‘Of course,’ she says, looking at Theo from under her lashes. ‘As you know, I like to be in charge sometimes.’

He grins back at her as she picks up the teapot and begins to pour tea into his cup. As she does so, Theo leans forward and cups her breasts, one in each of his hands.

‘Don’t want my property getting splashed by hot tea,’ he explains, winking at her.

She swats him off nonchalantly, yet a part of her likes this. She leans back against the pillow, nursing her hot tea between her hands, and wonders if they are the image of an old married couple, sitting side by side in bed drinking Earl Grey tea for breakfast. Well at least we’re naked, she thinks comfortingly.

‘Are you okay now?’ Theo asks her.

She nods, sipping the tea. The warm liquid comforts her, and yes, she can honestly say that her night-time fears are banished for today. Theo puts his cup of tea down on the bedside table, leans over towards her and kisses her on the neck, just under her ear. It tickles, but also sets her heart racing a little.

‘I have something to ask you,’ he whispers, his breath lifting her hair.

Involuntarily she stiffens with unease. No, not now; she doesn’t want to talk about it this morning.

‘I have to get up. I want to develop some pictures before I go on the shoot,’ she says, placing her cup back down on the tray.

‘It’s just a little question, Valentina, don’t worry.’ She looks at him, and he is smiling at her, his eyes brimming with bemusement. Is he mocking her?

‘Well, go on then,’ she commands.

‘My parents are coming to Europe,’ Theo says. ‘They are going to Amsterdam first to visit my grandparents but then they thought they would come and see me, us, here in Milan.’

‘They know about me?’

‘Of course they know about you!’ he laughs. ‘We’ve been living together for six months, Valentina. They are dying to meet you.’

She looks at him in horror. He is completely relaxed, as if this is something of small consequence. The fact that his parents are coming to Milan. That he wants her to meet them. Her mouth dries up for a minute and she is unable to speak.

‘They’re not coming until the end of November,’ he continues. ‘I know it’s ages away, but I wanted to give you fair warning.’ He hesitates, beginning to notice the expression on her face. ‘I know you’re not keen on family stuff.’

She shakes her head vehemently.

‘No, Theo, I’m sorry. I can’t meet your parents.’

‘What?’ He looks astounded. His mouth drops open in shock.

‘I told you this before. This is how I am,’ she says stiffly, pulling back the covers, straining to get out of bed. Theo catches her arm, restraining her.

‘Valentina,’ he says softly. ‘Really, it’s nothing to be worried about. They are nice people. I’ve told them so much about you. They just want to meet you.’

She whips her head around.

‘You told them all about me!’ she spits.

‘Of course I did. You’re my girlfriend.’ Theo looks wounded.

‘That’s the first I knew about it,’ she says cruelly.

Theo’s forehead creases in confusion.

‘Well what are you then, if you’re not my girlfriend? We’re living together, Valentina. We’ve already been through—’

‘Don’t say it . . . I told you not to mention it again . . .’

‘But Valentina . . .’

She holds her hand up, stops him before he starts to speak.

‘I am your lover, Theo. And that role is something very different from a girlfriend. The term “girlfriend” implies that we have some kind of vested relationship, a possible future. “Lover” is a more transitory term. It is a temporary condition.’

‘Christ, Valentina!’ Theo exclaims. ‘You are an infuriating woman.’

‘Remember, Theo,’ she says calmly, and it is a good feeling, this sensation of being in control, ‘when you moved into this apartment, I told you it was convenient. It suited us both. But I also told you that it wasn’t going to be for ever, remember?’

She listens to her voice. It is outside of herself, and she is unpleasantly reminded of her own mother speaking. Don’t let him possess you.

‘Valentina, I am not asking you to make any big commitment. It’s just my parents. I’d like you to meet them, that’s all.’

‘I’m sorry, Theo,’ she says, climbing out of bed and looking down at him. ‘I don’t want to. They can stay here, but I’ll go away. You’ll have the place to yourselves. It’s much better that way.’

Theo looks her up and down in disbelief. Just his gaze causes her nipples to harden, and she can’t help noticing his reaction to her naked body in return.

‘It’s not better that way,’ he says softly, entreating her with his rich blue gaze. A part of her wants to give in, to fall back into the bed, sink into his arms and comply. Yet her terror dominates. She can’t bear the thought of meeting Theo’s parents. It brings her too close to him, too much into his world. And if that happens, how will she find her way out again when it ends, because surely one day they will tire of each other? Nothing lasts for ever. She sighs deeply and turns away from him, picks up her dressing gown from where he discarded it on the floor and puts it on, tying it tightly around her waist.

‘I can’t talk about this right now. I have to get ready. I’ve a lot to do today.’ She wanders over to the dressing table and picks up her hairbrush, pulling it listlessly through her hair. She watches Theo getting out of bed, defeat still clear in his features, and she feels guilty. It’s time to change the subject.

‘Do you want to go to Antonella’s opening tonight?’ she asks, trying to sound more upbeat. Theo pauses in the doorway of the bedroom, towel in hand.

‘Sorry, I can’t. I have to go away. I’ve another job.’

‘Again?’

The word slips out. Deadly. Valentina wishes she could snatch it back. She turns away quickly, yet she can still see his face in the mirror. His expression is impassive now.

‘Do you not want me to go away?’ he asks.

She backtracks furiously.

‘No, of course I don’t mind. It’s just a surprise. I didn’t know you were going away today . . .’ Her voice trails off and suddenly she feels foolish, exposed.

‘Would you like me to cancel?’ he asks, leaning against the doorway and looking at her with interest.

‘No, of course not,’ she snaps crossly. ‘I was just wondering where you’re going. It’s not that big a deal.’ She tries to sound indifferent, focuses on arranging her hair.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?’ he asks. She can feel the heat of his gaze, although she still refuses to catch his eye.

‘No, I told you, I don’t care,’ she says harshly. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’ She softens her voice.

Theo drops his towel and walks over to stand behind her. As he leans over her and strokes her hand, she can feel his erection pushing against her silk-clad back. She knows he is trying to entice her to turn around and touch him. Yet she resists.

‘I always thought you weren’t that interested in where I go or what I do,’ he says quietly.

‘You’re right. I don’t know why I asked you really. I like mysteries,’ she explains, trying to keep her voice light. ‘They keep things from getting boring.’

‘I see.’

He spins her around on her stool and he is smiling at her as if he knows something she doesn’t.

‘What is it?’ She pushes her finger into his belly, which is so firm it almost springs back. What art critic has a stomach like that?

‘I have a present for you,’ Theo says. ‘I believe it will stop you from being bored while I am away.’

‘Oh really?’ she says huskily, reaching towards him now. Maybe she does have time to make love before she has to go to work. She is aching to feel him inside her. The morning’s conversation has made her feel unsettled. She knows that if they make love it will calm her down. Yet just as she is about to touch him, Theo steps back and shakes his head, looking at her flirtatiously.

‘Now, now, Valentina,’ he says, walking across the room towards the wardrobe. ‘Patience.’

He opens the wardrobe and takes out a large package, placing it on the dressing table in front of her.

‘But why have you got me a present?’ she asks, and their eyes lock in the mirror. He hesitates for a minute, holding her with his gaze that seems to say so much. Words she doesn’t want to acknowledge. She casts her eyes down.

‘Because I believe it’s time for you to have this,’ he tells her.

So it’s not something she might want, or like; it’s something she should have. Why is he being so obtuse? She leans over to unwrap the package, but Theo puts his hand over hers and pushes her fist into his palm. She looks back up at his reflection in the mirror. She feels as if time has st