I let my head fall against Robert’s thigh as he strokes my hair.
He’s sitting back in his chair, a look of pure, unadulterated desire in his dark eyes. “We’re going to cause some damage together, little red,” he tells me, a slight tremble to his voice. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, slipping inside my mouth and then back out again.
He looks awed, like he never expected me to put on the performance I just did. Well, that makes two of us, because I never expected it, either. He stands to pull his trousers back up, and I take a napkin from his desk, wiping at my mouth.
“You can use the bathroom to clean up if you’d like.”
“I would, thanks,” I say, rising from the floor. “Do you want to go first?”
He sniffs and looks away. “No, I’m good.”
Okay. Maybe he likes having my spit all over him? When I return from the bathroom, I sit on Robert’s lap again, and he just holds me for the rest of his lunch break as we pick at the last bits of food. I get so relaxed as he runs his hands up and down my arms affectionately that I almost fall asleep. Just as my eyes are closing, though, the office door flies open, and in walks Alan. Jeez, I know it’s his company and all, but he could have at least knocked first.
He takes in the two of us cuddling and immediately puts two and two together. “Hello, Lana, lovely to see you again,” he says with a practiced smile before glancing at Robert and raising an eyebrow. “So, this is happening, is it? Can’t say I saw it coming.”
Robert kisses my forehead, smiling down at me. “Yeah, it is.”
“Right well, very good. If you’re finished with your lunch, I’d like a word.”
I begin scrambling out of Robert’s lap and fixing my dress.
“I’ll see you back at the house, yeah?” I say quietly, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
“Yeah, see you then,” he says, running his hand down my hair and pulling me in for a deeper kiss.
Alan nods to me as I leave and then closes the door. I hope he doesn’t give Robert too much of an earful for his behaviour yesterday. Unable to help myself, I stay a moment and listen in.
“You better be keeping your wits about you with that one,” says Alan, his distinctive voice sounding clearly through the door. Is he talking about me?
“I’m not discussing Lana with you, Dad. Now, what did you want to speak about?”
Oh, I guess he is talking about me, then.
“I mean, at least Kara comes from money,” Alan goes on, “and even she did a number on you with that apartment. Lana Sweeney hasn’t got a penny to her name. She’s clearly only with you for the advantages it will bring her.”
Okay, what the fuck? Alan’s tone is so recognizable. After all, I spent half my teens listening to Robert mimic it. Yeah, his father is definitely the one who taught him how to perfect the art of casual cruelty. I’m half tempted to walk back in and tell Alan where he can stick his opinions.
“Lana doesn’t care about shit like that, so stop judging her by your standards. Can we please change the subject?”
Alan lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine, but remember I warned you. Now, about yesterday…”
Once he starts talking business, I leave them to it. I exit the building, still shocked at how Alan spoke of me after being so charming and polite seconds earlier.
At Speaker’s Corner I find Fareed standing among a group of men, a fat brown cigar between his fingers, giving a speech titled “The Problem with David Cameron.” He’s divided his argument into six sections, one of which is simply called “David’s Hair.” He spends a good five minutes dissecting the Prime Minister’s method for covering up his bald patch and how it reflects his political actions. It must be a pretty good method, because I’ve never noticed said patch. He’s going for the comedic approach more than anything deeply political, and those listening seem to be enjoying his jokes.
He spots me just as he’s coming to the end of his argument, and salutes me with his cigar. When he’s finished, a dark-haired man steps up, intending to put some questions to Fareed, but he brushes him off and says he has somewhere he needs to be.
“Where are you off to?” I ask, smiling as he passes me.
He shrugs, glancing back at the group, who are continuing the topic he brought up without him. “Not in the mood for questions today, girl. Sometimes you just want to say your piece and leave it at that.”
And then, quite abruptly, he stubs out the end of his cigar on the metal fence and walks away. Huh. He’s in an odd mood. Then again, his personality as a whole can be just plain odd at times. It kind of defeats the purpose of giving a speech if you’re not going to allow questions after, but everyone has their own way of doing things, I suppose.
When I notice an old guy in a long beige coat giving me the glad eye, I decide it’s time to leave. London can be an exciting place to live. However, the downside is that you have to be wary of the creeps and weirdos lingering around every corner. It comes with the territory of a big population.
At the house I do my regular foot therapy massage and then get some study done. I had planned on doing lots of reading this summer, but Robert has kind of monopolized my time. Whenever he’s around, I tend to forget everything else. Not sure if that’s a positive or a negative.
My mum calls, and we chat for over an hour, and then Sasha texts me at six saying she’s bringing sushi home for dinner. Robert gets back later than usual just as we’re dishing up the food. He wraps one arm around my waist while popping a California roll into his mouth.