Surrender to Me (I Surrender Trilogy Book 2) Page 2

  “You work in a kitchen, cooking Ava.” V looks over at me with that damn incredulous look in her eye. “Yes, I respect it’s a restaurant they charge you for the air you breathe, but seriously, you wear an apron most of the time, so what’s the go?”

  I knew V would start this, and I was actually going to change before I saw her. But being the spur-of-the-moment kinda gal that she is, she foiled my plans. I pay no attention to my subconscious, which is yelling at me to analyze why I would do that.

  LA has already given me a headache!

  “You haven’t answered my question,” V says, tapping the steering wheel with her pointer finger, awaiting my response.

  She won’t let this slide, and I really don’t want to do this with my best friend who I haven’t seen for months. I am tired and my excuses are transparent, so I decide in this circumstance, honesty is the best policy.

  “Because Harper bought them for me.”

  V slaps the steering wheel angrily, which results in her swerving abruptly. I hold onto the door handle for support, while checking my seat belt is buckled in tightly. At this rate, I will be arriving at The Four Seasons with a severe case of whiplash!

  “I knew it! Seriously, we’re back here again? I was afraid you’d say something like that. Ava, have you not learnt your lesson?” V spits while blowing out a frustrated breath.

  Turning to look at her with a gaze that clearly states I am in no mood to talk about this, she surprisingly stops with the inquisition.

  And that lasts for about thirty seconds.

  “Well thank God I still have time to convince you that Harper is still the jerk he always was, before you go and do something stupid and marry the bastard. He’s maybe a little better dressed, but he’s still a jerk.”

  Luckily she doesn’t notice my stiff upper lip, or my finger with the faint engagement ring indentation. The missing diamond in question is stowed away in my purse, which I stashed when I went outside to make my alleged phone call.

  Welcome home Ava, I internally mumble while staring out the window, at the place I used to call home.

  Chapter 2

  Four Seasons

  V drops me off in front of the intimidating building that is, The Four Seasons hotel. She looks extremely unimpressed with my home for the next couple of weeks. A concierge walks down the long undercover walkway, discreetly fanning his nose, as V’s old VW is smoking out the place. A few snooty guests look at us appalled, and I have an urge to poke my tongue out at them, but resist-only just.

  Giving V a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, she says, “Don’t forget we have dress fittings tonight okay.” And here comes bridezilla.

  “Yes I know, you have reminded me like fifty times, I’ll be there,” I nod, reassuringly.

  V looks at me apprehensively. “Are you sure? I know the wedding is going to be hard on you because of Jasp...”

  Quickly cutting her off, not wanting to hear his name, I reply, “Of course I’m sure. I need to try on my dress. And by the way, it better not be a pink puffy meringue,” I warn playfully, cocking my eyebrow at her.

  V only laughs, thankfully ignoring the J Bomb slip.

  “Hey, I forgot to ask you. Who is the best man?” I query, totally shameful for not showing more interest in my partner to be.

  V gives me a strained smile. “Oh…um…” V lost for words, never a good sign.

  “It’s Lucas’ brother Abel,” she says in a rushed breath.

  “Abel? He’s like fourteen. Isn’t he a bit young for all the responsibilities that come with being a best man? He better not try and feel me up like he did the last time I saw him.” I smile, thinking back to the memory of a pubescent Abel trying to pull the moves on me.

  However V doesn’t seem to find this funny. She only nods and lowers her eyes.

  What is she up to now?

  Before I have time to question her further, she gives me a quick goodbye hug, before pushing me out the door, and taking off faster than the wind.

  Okay, that was weird, even for V. But she is probably just nervous and on edge about the wedding. I know I am, and that’s because of a certain someone. But I only have to see him on the day of the wedding, and hopefully he will be hidden amongst the crowd, so I won’t even have to look at him-much.

  I wait for Harper, as thanks to V’s NASCAR driving, we got here in record time. His car approaches ten minutes later, and as Harper steps out, he looks like he belongs here, amongst the rich. I however, I’m not sure where I belong. Being back here is resurfacing insecurities I wish I could bury.

  “I’m glad you got here in one piece with Veronica’s driving,” Harper smiles, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  As we head into the hotel, I ogle the sight before me in complete awe, totally getting why your Madonna’s and George Clooney’s stay here. This place is amazing. The high ceilings are bright and elegant, and there is a slight classic, glamorous feel to the place.

  Harper picks up our keys and we travel the elevators to our suite, appropriately named, The Royale Suite, as this room is indeed fit for royalty.

  There are two double doors leading out to balconies overlooking Hollywood Hills, and the view is breathtaking. The two seater brown velvet couch, and the two red recliners in the living room look so comfy, I am tempted to curl up and read a book in them.

  A beautiful stylish brown rug covers the dark hardwood floors, and a very elegant coffee table rests upon it. The intricate designs suggest that the table is antique, and probably very expensive. The mantle is white marble with lovely trinkets sitting upon it, giving the room a homely feel. Above the mantel is a huge plasma TV, which is mounted to the wall, and beneath is a fireplace covered with a glass pane. The fireplace is finished off with an exquisite rose colored marble, giving the room a splash of color.

  Stepping into the hallway, I enter the vast bedroom with another balcony overlooking LA. The color theme of the room is a light cream, with a splash of brown. The bed of course is king size, and is scattered with cream and brown throw cushions. The bedroom has its own bathroom, with a double shower, and a humongous bathtub. I look around shocked. I don’t even want to go out and look at the kitchen. This place is a palace!

  Harper comes up behind me, kissing my ear. “Nothing but the best for my girl,” he whispers.

  I really am flattered, but this is all too much as I would have been happy anywhere, nevertheless, I appreciate the gesture.

  “It’s beautiful Harper, but I would have been happy staying at my parents,” I say, still looking around the room.

  “Don’t be silly, I told you I was going to spoil you. I stay true to my word,” he replies, leaning in to kiss my neck.

  I should be grateful, and I am, but Harper believes making up for his aloofness and detachment can be done so materialistically. If he could guarantee he would sleep in that huge bed with me, every night, snuggling with me while watching movies, then I’ll eat my words, but I know he won’t. I know this first hand, as it hasn’t been uncommon for me to find Harper curled up on the sofa in his work clothes, in the early hours of the morning. And this happened even before we were engaged. It happened as soon as we moved to Singapore, and sadly, he hasn’t changed. When I questioned where he was at such a late hour, it’s always the same excuse; a meeting ran late, or he had to meet with clients, as Singapore is the city that never sleeps. You want to test drive a Ferrari at 3am, Singapore is the place for it.

  So, this is now my life. I may be a different person in fancier clothes, and close to becoming a qualified culinary wiz, but am I happier now?

  Looking around the room, I sigh, as all these nice things, they mean nothing if you don’t have anyone to share them with.

  “Hey, where’s your ring?” questions Harper, grabbing my hand.

  Spinning around to face him, I lower my eyes shamefully. “Oh, I took it off. My hands were all sweaty, and I didn’t want it to slip off.”

  Harper looks at me, and I am unsure if he believes me as he onl
y shrugs. “If you don’t like, I can exchange it. Get you something bigger?”

  “No! Please, its big enough,” I reply quickly, and berate myself when I see a hurt look pass over Harper’s face.

  “Okay, but I don’t like you not wearing it, especially while we’re here. I really must insist you wear it.”

  I know why he is insisting, and that reason is the same reason why I won’t wear it. Just thinking about that reason makes me anxious.

  Harper senses my nervousness. “Babe, go down to the spa, and book yourself a massage. You’re all tense. I have to go take care of some business anyways, and I’ll be a while, so go treat yourself.”

  I knew this was coming. “Harper, you promised you wouldn’t be working the whole time we were here.”

  “Ava, we only just got here…” Harper turns to straighten his tie in the mirror.

  “Exactly my point,” I interrupt before he can finish.

  He looks at my reflection in the mirror while addressing me. “I was going to say, we only just got here, so let me take care of what I have to, sooner rather than later, and then we can spend all our time together.”

  “Okay,” I reply unbelieving.

  He turns around once he finishes with his stupid pristine looking tie, and kisses my cheek while grabbing his jacket, and is out the elegant door before I can say goodbye.

  I slump onto the bed annoyed, as I don’t know where Harper is off to, as he never clarifies what his ‘business’ entails.

  But I trust him.

  What’s a marriage without trust right?

  *****

  As expected, Harper has taken all day, and I am sitting alone in this awe inspiring room, bored out of my mind. I pick up my Blackberry and text V:

  Can I come over now?

  What better way to spend the afternoon than with my best friend. I am trying on my dress tonight, so I may as well head on over now, and it also gives me a chance to see my cat Oscar, who I have missed dearly.

  She replies after a few minutes:

  As long as u r alone, sure thing kiddo

  I can’t believe my best friend and fiancée are arch enemies. It makes living in a different country a blessing.

  Yea, just me, c u soon

  Taking a quick shower makes me feel human again, but now I am faced with the dilemma of what to wear.

  Zipping open my suitcase, I groan while looking at the flashy garments sitting before me. Everything is so pricey and…silky.

  Reaching for the only thing I don’t hate, I step into a tight black pencil skirt, and slide into a very elegant gold camisole. It doesn’t sound very stylish, but it cost $1200! I was there when Harper insisted he buy it for me. It is by some designer whose name I cannot pronounce, but out of all the fashionable expensive things I own, this is my favorite. Slipping on my black platform wedges, which again cost way too much for shoes, they are thankfully comfy, and add some height to my frame. I grab my bag, and am out the door within twenty minutes. Feeling refreshed after my shower, and smelling like lemongrass and lime after using my designer body wash, I wonder, when did my life become all about designer clothes, and designer hotels and designer body wash? I feel like an imposter at times, as this is not who I am. The simple things in life give me most pleasure, but now, I can’t even remember the last time things weren’t so elaborate.

  Lost in thought, I step out under the entrance and curse myself as I don’t have a car. It is too much of a favor for V to drive out here, fighting the mad rush, even though I know she would do it. So I decide to cab it. Looking up the street, about to hail a cab, I see a driver approach me. What the hell?

  “Ms. Thompson, my name is Roberto. I am to drive you wherever you wish.” I look at Roberto and scrunch up my nose.

  “Really?” I ask, somewhat surprised.

  “Yes, Mr. Holden gave me strict instructions to escort you to any destination you require.”

  “How did Harp… I mean Mr. Holden get to wherever he was going?” I ask suspiciously.

  No way would Harper walk, especially in his expensive Italian shoes. Roberto only looks at me like he isn’t to disclose this private information.

  “It’s okay Roberto, I’ll just catch a cab,” I reply annoyed.

  Harper thinks he can just boss me around, and this Roberto is probably Harper’s little informant.

  “Oh Ms. please, I insist. I have been given strict orders by Mr. Holden to drive you,” Roberto says uneasily.

  I suddenly feel very sorry for this balding, middle aged man as he looks to be shit scared of Harper.

  “Fine,” I sigh, giving up on arguing with him.

  We walk over to the Black BMW 730ld Saloon, and he opens the door for me very graciously, but totally uncalled for. Stroking the black interior once inside, I know Harper would have insisted for the best car to be driven around in during our stay.

  “Where to Ms.?” Roberto asks, looking over his shoulder at me.

  I look at the LA skyline; it’s so different from Singapore. Singapore has been my on/off home, but looking at all the familiar landmarks, I know Los Angeles will always hold me prisoner with her beauty.

  Giving Roberto V’s address, he nods happily and we’re on our way.

  I try to make conversation, but I think Roberto’s strict orders also included not talking to me. Giving up, I look out the tinted window, and although I am happy to be home, I’m also scared to face the next two weeks. I am frightened to face old memories, and more importantly, I don’t want to deal with the decisions I have made. Living in Singapore, just Harper and myself, I could pretend that I was happy with this new life. But seeing V, and being back here, I know I won’t be able to keep up with this act for much longer.

  Finally arriving at V’s, an hour after being stuck in peak hour traffic, I tell Roberto to go back to the hotel as V will drive me back tonight. He is hesitant, but I don’t give him much of a choice when I walk off, putting an end to our discussion.

  Walking up the stairs to the house I used to call home, I feel nostalgic. I have so many good memories here. So many memories I have been trying so hard to force down, but all of a sudden, they are bursting open at the seams.

  Taking a steady breath, I ring the doorbell, as this isn’t my home anymore. V yells for whoever it is to come in, and when I open the door, my mouth drops in astonishment.

  V has been robbed. And the thieves have replaced her belongings with endless wedding paraphernalia! Looking around the once inhabitable living room, all I can see is red and white- everywhere!

  I can just make out V’s head amongst the chaos, and she is examining something that looks like salt and pepper shakers. But these aren’t your standard salt and pepper shakers, no, they are red and white, and are in the shape of a bride and groom. I wonder what they are for.

  Her long hair is tied messily into a bun, with a pen holding it securely in place.

  I don’t think she has seen me, so I may be able to escape without detection.

  “Don’t even think about it. Get your ass over here and help me. That’s your job as Maid of Honor. You are to stop the bride from having a meltdown.”

  Damn.

  Trudging over and feeling a little claustrophobic with all this wedding stuff on display, I really don’t know if I’ll be any help with V’s meltdown, as I am headed that way in about two seconds.

  “Sit,” she commands.

  I do as she asks, as I am more afraid of this bride to be V, than the normal bossy V.

  “Do you think these are tacky?” she asks, holding up the cute bride and groom figurines.

  I look at them and shrug. “Depends. What are they for?”

  “For the bomboniere.” She is spinning them from front to back, examining them with deep scrutiny.

  I know I resemble a confused dog, tilting my head from side to side. “For the what? That sounds explosive.”

  V laughs hysterically. “No silly, it’s what you call the gifts you give your guests to thank them for attending your
wedding. It’s a European tradition, and seeing as Lucas’ grandparents are Italian, I thought it would be appropriate.”

  Huh, who would have thought?

  “Shouldn’t they be the ones giving you gifts? I am so confused,” I reply, feeling out of my league.

  “Ava, just answer the question. Pretend I was giving you these as a gift for being such a wonderful friend,” she says, still looking at the figurines.

  Looks like I fail in the Maid of Honor department, because I totally had no idea these things existed until now.

  “Well, I would be a little concerned seeing as they,” I say pointing to the “bomboniere”, “are kissing. But apart from that, no, I don’t think they are tacky.”

  V squeals. Okay, I think that was the right answer. Score for me. I can do this wedding stuff, easy.

  “Okay, now do you think I should have an online wishing well, or just a traditional one?”

  And now I have just eaten my words. “Again, please clarify.”

  “Ava, God help you the day you get married,” V giggles.

  If only she knew that day may be sooner than expected. Yes, I know I am a shitty friend. I am yet to tell V I am engaged because, well there is an endless list of reasons, but mainly it’s because I know she won’t approve. I know no one will.

  I am just newly engaged, like two weeks newly engaged, and I need time to get used to the idea, before I go telling the people I love.

  To distract myself from that thought, I peer around the room, wondering where Oscar is. Poor thing probably took one look at this carnival of chaos, and hitchhiked the hell outta crazy town.

  “Hey, where’s Oscar?” I ask curiously.

  V stops writing something down, and bites on the tip of her pencil. I await her response, but it doesn’t come. What is up with her? It’s not like her to be so vague. She was all apprehensive today when I asked her who I am to be partnered up with, and now this. What is she up to? I am almost afraid to ask.

  “I... um... look, can we talk about your cat later. We have a wedding to plan, and you’re not helping by bringing up things that don’t relate to my special day, so focus!” she says, clicking her fingers together.