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I’m supposed to be trained to switch off my emotions. I’m an expert at putting on an act, known for my mask of indifference, yet with her, I can’t hide anything. She sees it all, and I fucking hate it. She makes me vulnerable and weak…which is something I can’t allow.

“I want answers, Teigan. Why the fuck are you back?” I grind out.

“Your dad just told you,” she spits defiantly.

I shake my head, pressing my hand against her windpipe just a little more. “Not good enough, Tee. I want to know.”

“It’s not my fault your dad doesn’t trust you enough to tell you things. Must be a real fucking ballache knowing you’re his heir, but he still doesn’t trust you enough,” she seethes.

I can’t help but flinch from her low blow, like she physically struck me. The side of her mouth tips up slightly, and I can see she’s proud she hurt me. I take a deep breath to claw back a little control, or my anger will run free, and I might really hurt her.

“The only ballache here is you, Angel,” I reply, and this time it’s Tee who looks like she’s been slapped.

Her brow furrows and her lips turn to a frown before she glares at me. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

Each word is punctuated, making it very fucking clear how much she doesn’t want me to call her by the nickname I haven’t used in years.

My lip tips up into a smirk as I press my body against hers, my hips caging her against the wall. A gasp tumbles from her lips, her breath fanning over my hand that’s pressed against her throat, and I have to hold back the shiver that threatens to ripple through me at how close we are.

“What’s the matter, Angel? Have you forgotten your nickname?” I taunt, loving the way she lifts her chin as much as she can in defiance.

“You lost the right to call me that years ago. Now get your fucking hands off me, or I will scream.”

My humourless chuckle slips past my lips. “I remember a time when you liked my hands on you like this. You used to love me taking control, only letting you breathe when you’ve been a good girl. And it’s been so long since I made you scream, I think I might quite like to hear it again.”

I roll my hips against her body, letting her feel how much I mean what I’m saying. Her eyes widen as she feels my hard length against her, and I watch as she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, biting to prevent herself from enjoying this the way she used to.

What the fuck am I doing? I’m supposed to be fucking fuming with this girl, not rutting against her in the fucking corridor like a horny teenager.

I step away, trying to clear my head, but her vanilla and strawberry scent seems to follow me, preventing me from thinking clearly. She stutters, like she’s trying to find the right words, but I need to get things back on track.

“Tell me why you’re here, Tee.” I use a softer voice this time, and it seems to be enough.

She sags a little in my hold, letting out a gentle sigh. “About two years ago, I found out Mum had a rare type of cancer. She was given a terminal diagnosis. The doctors here said they couldn’t do much to help, but they referred us to someone in England who they thought might be able to.

“I think we saw about five different specialists, but none of them knew how to help. They all just kept referring us to someone new. In the meantime, she started chemotherapy, though it was more to delay things while we looked for someone who could really help.

“Eventually, we were put in touch with a specialist in America. He was running a clinical trial that had seen some success in patients similar to Mum. He offered her a place on the trial, but because it was in America, it would need to be self-funded.

“Not only did I need to find the money for the trial, I also had to get enough to travel over there, and rent somewhere for us both to live while she had the treatment. It was a lot of money.

“I tried fundraising, but we could never get enough. I tried the bank, but a twenty-three-year-old with thousands in student debt, who just gave up her job wasn’t exactly a sound financial investment. So, I came to see Desmond,” she explains.

Without hesitation, I drop my hands and take a step away from her, ignoring how empty I feel now that I’m no longer near her. Shame and guilt fills me, as I think about how much she’s been through, and how she’s had to do it all alone.

Her mum’s the only family Teigan has, and they’ve always been close. Like best friends. So for her to be faced with the possibility of losing her, I understand why she would do whatever it takes to see her get healthy.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “How’s Cathy doing now?”

Her eyes drop to the floor and my heart sinks, knowing the answer before she even says the words.

“She never made it to America. Two days before we were due to fly, she had a complication following chemotherapy. She declined rapidly and passed away, almost a year ago now,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Tee… I-I’m so sorry.” I raise my hand out of instinct, moving to comfort her, but I quickly clamp my fist by my side. It’s not my job to comfort her anymore. “I still don’t understand why you’re working here.”

“I’d spent the money. I’d paid for the trial, rented the apartment, and the flights were booked. I couldn’t get most of the money back. None of it was insured, because nobody would insure a dying woman travelling against medical advice, so the majority of money was gone. Meaning I still have to pay it back.

“Desmond gave me some time after her death to get things in order. To grieve. But then I had to earn the money back somehow. I work mostly in one of his clubs, but I’m doing extra work like this whenever I can to pay off the debt quicker,” sheadds, and I can almost feel my blood bubbling away under the surface.