Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 11

"This place is amazing," I gasped, spinning around and letting my eyes drift lasciviously over the sumptuous cream decor, plush carpets and high ceiling. I wanted to take my shoes off and let my bare toes sink into the thick rugs. I wanted to run my hands along marble and chrome.

The open-plan apartment looked out, via a huge glass wall, onto the London skyline, and I felt ashamed that I never knew the city could look so beautiful. At ground level, all I ever saw was the dirt and the grime of the busy streets, the crushing pollution and the suffocating bustle of people. Up here, everything looked clean and magical; the lights of the city sparkling across the landscape like fairy lights.

"I guess removals pays well these days?"

Harper looked up from pouring me a large glass of white and smiled but said nothing.

He had picked me up from the end of my road, far enough away from the prying eyes of my neighbours and when I had approached the car, it was all I could do not to turn and flee back to the safety of my house. The problem was my house didn't feel quite so safe anymore and the truth was, I wanted to see him and the closer I got to the car, the more that want grew.

And now here I was, looking out at the most amazing scene that had me caught in a hypnotic thrall and I couldn't help but reach out and touch the glass, as if I could touch the sparkling lights themselves and banish the darkness that had been following me for days.

Suddenly I felt Harper move behind me and he reached around me with the glass, before planting a soft kiss just near my collarbone. I felt my body stiffen and I continued fixing my gaze on the city and taking occasional sips of the wine. He didn't move away and I could feel the static pass between our bodies as we stood there, not saying a word to each other.

"It's a long way down," he murmured. I shivered, feeling his breath tickle my neck and dragging my eyes away from the view, I moved away from him, feeling unnerved by his body so close to mine.

I ran my fingers along the top of the cream leather sofa and I glanced around, pretending to be interested in the framed art on the walls and the large ornaments dotted here and there around the lounge area. All the while, Harper's eyes followed me around the room; a small smile of undisguised amusement on his face.

"I've got to say I'm surprised. I expected something a bit....I don't know.... dark and masculine. You know, a bit of red here and there or navy....men always seem to gravitate towards navy. And a lot of men can't seem to drag their decor out of the eighties. But this is....beautiful. Classy."

I was babbling. I knew it. He knew it.

"You didn't think I could do classy?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," I stammered. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Of course, you can do classy, it's just it's so warm and chic. It feels like it's had a woman's touch somewhere. Is your interior designer a woman?"

"Megan..."

"Because ours was and I really think you can tell. They just do something different, create a different atmosphere, maybe, I don't know."

"Megan." His voice was louder now, firmer and his eyes glinted. "Come back over here." 

I smiled nervously as he looked at me from across the room yet somehow I found my feet moving, albeit unsteadily, towards him. As I stood in front of him, still desperately trying to keep some distance, he reached out and took the wineglass from my hand and placed both mine and his onto a low coffee table by the sofas. Then without a word, he turned me to face the window again, standing behind me and taking both my hands in his and placing them palms flat against the glass, so that his hands were covering mine and his body was pressed against my back.