Page 64 of Love and Lies

“Just give me fifteen minutes, twenty max. Will you… still be here?” The whole thing had taken us both rather by surprise. I didn’t regret a second of it, but that didn’t necessarily apply to Helena.

She smiled. “Yes, of course.”

I leaned down to give her a quick kiss before grabbing my hateful necktie, along with my key card. And in full knowledge of the effect it would have, I strode to the door and left the room without looking back.

29 Helena

Jess left, and I was alone in his room. I needed a few moments to process what had just happened. Where I’d led us with the words Break them. How overwhelmed I’d been by the chemistry between us. My first time with someone had never been so intense, and at the same time so intimate. Kissing him, touching him, his touching me… it was all so incredibly good. I could still feel him beneath my fingers, his muscle tone, the heat of him. The sounds he made when I did something he liked. And this was just the beginning, what would it be like if we went further? All the way? Even the thought of it was already turning me on again.

I got up and went to the bathroom to cool off a little. Taking a small hand towel from the edge of the bath, I held it under the cold water and dabbed my face with it. I recognized the person looking back at me in the mirror—I just hadn’t seen her in a long time. My eyes positively shone, and there was still a little heat in my cheeks. But alongside that wonderful, weightless feeling, with every second I was alone, another sensation came crowding in: guilt.

Only three hours ago, I’d promised Lincoln I would stay away from Jess, and just now I had given in to that irresistible pull between us and almost had sex with him, despite knowing exactly what I was risking. I was risking everything. Was I wrong? Was it completely selfish? Or had I earned the right to something that felt good?

I ran a hand through my hair a couple times and left the bathroom, pacing up and down the room, my thoughts and feelings nothing but chaos. Now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. What would happen when we said goodbye tomorrow morning? Would we be able to keep meeting without anyone finding out, Jess and I? Or was this a one-time thing, anything else doomed to failure? When I thought about not being able to see him again after tonight, panic rose within me. But equally terrifying was the thought of trying to make a go of it against all odds—and our families eventually finding out what was going on between us. Whatever that was. After all, I didn’t know if he felt the same as I did. I didn’t even know exactly what it was I was feeling.

I sat anxiously on the bed and waited for Jess to get back. It was hell. Not that I thought I should leave—I didn’t want to do that. I wasn’t going to force us into the same situation that had gotten us here in the first place. No, I had to talk to him. We needed a solution, and I couldn’t find one without him. And besides, there was a part of me, the wholly irrational part, that was pretty eager to pick up where we’d left off.

Just as I checked the clock for the tenth time to see if the twenty minutes were up yet, my cell phone rang. I turned around to look for it and finally found it on the floor next to the bed. It must have fallen when I took off my robe. I quickly picked it up and answered, without registering who the call was coming from.

“Hello?”

“Helena?” I heard my mother’s voice. “Where on earth are you?”

“Hi, Mom.” What was she doing calling so late? “Um, I’m in my room. Where else would I be?”

“You tell me—I’m standing in your room right now. And unless you’ve suddenly turned invisible, you’re not here.”

Shit. Where did she get a key card for my room?

“Okay, no, I’m not there. But I will be in a sec. Hang on.” I hung up and slipped into my shoes, fastened my robe and grabbed a notepad and pen. Be right back, I scribbled, then ripped off the sheet of paper and threw it on the bed. I didn’t know if I’d be able to come back once I’d persuaded my mother that all was well. But I wanted to. Fuck, I had to come back later, or I’d go crazy. In more ways than one.

I left the room and set off toward the stairwell at a run, pushed open the door, and hurried up the stairs. As I turned the corner on my floor, I saw my mother already waiting outside my room. The door was open, her arms were folded, and her mouth was an extremely thin line as she looked me up and down appraisingly.

“What in the world are you doing out here in that ensemble?” She beckoned me toward her and followed me into my room.

“I was just in the hallway; there’s a balcony back there,” I said. “My head hurt, and I went out to get a little fresh air. The windows in the rooms don’t open.”

My mother’s laser stare bored into me. “You were on a hotel balcony in the middle of New York City in April, in a silk robe, in forty-degree weather?” She reached for my arm, and when she felt that my skin was anything but cool, she scoffed. “Tell me where you really were this instant, and don’t even think about lying to me.”

Something in her tone put me on alert. Had Lincoln spilled the beans about what had happened with Jess earlier?

“I was just getting some fresh air, really,” I repeated, doing my best to assume an innocent expression. But this time I actually did go cold. If she found out I’d been in Jess’s room, of all people, I’d be on the next flight out to London Heathrow. With no hope of coming back this time.

“Well, the air in room 612 must be quite something. Do the windows open in that one?” My mother’s face was a stone mask. “Don’t deny it. You were seen going in there. Shall I call reception to ask whose room it is, or will you spare us and tell me yourself?”

I pressed my lips together. It seemed Lincoln hadn’t ratted me out, so all was not yet lost.

“I’m waiting, Helena.”

What now? I could pretend it was, say, Celia Woodraw’s room, that we’d got on so well at dinner I’d stopped by to see her. Mom would be delighted if I befriended Celia; surely I’d get away with that? Or wait, no—I had an even better idea.

“It’s Wilson Woodraw’s room,” I said firmly. I didn’t like lying to her, not like this. But if there was a way for me to stay in this city, I would take it. After all, I had much more to lose now than just the chance to clear Valerie’s name. A sharp pain shot through my chest at the thought that I might never see Jess again.

“Wilson Woodraw?” my mother repeated. “Of the Bloomingdale’s Woodraws? But you can’t stand that man. At your debutantes’ ball when you were fifteen you said you’d never met anyone so boring.”

“That’s right, I did,” I said, nodding. “But I’ve changed, and clearly he has too. He wanted some tips for his foreign exchange semester in Cambridge, so I went to his room to talk about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you couldn’t have done that in normal clothes? Wilson Woodraw is a highly respectable young man. I’m sure this didn’t leave a good impression.”