Love to Hate You

Chapter Fourteen - Wounded

'What the hell did he do to you?' Vicky roared, as soon as she stepped inside Mattie's flat, and took one look at the bruise to her cheek.

'It's alright,' Mattie shrugged, looking awkwardly to the floor. 'Doesn't hurt too badly.'

'Well, I know you still look beautiful, but it doesn't look too good,' Vicky chided, cupping her friend's bruised face. 'That tosser could have hurt you a lot worse. He's been getting more aggressive of late, hasn't he?' Mattie only shrugged. She didn't like her father – it was hard to like a man who had given up on life, and proceeded only to ruin his own and hers – but she did love him; he was her dad, and she'd already lost her mother.

'It was alright. Rafe turned up and scared him off.'

'Rafe?' Vicky gaped. 'Rafe Paxton, as in, sexy, sinful boss?'

'Yeah – just after Brad had gone. He came round to tell me about a job he'd found for me,' Mattie explained, turning to the sofa. 'You were right about Brad, by the way; there was no job for me at the bank. He just wanted to sweet talk me, because Melanie Carmichael doesn't want babies, and no doubt Brad's mother is getting impatient. But the job's sorted now, anyway; thanks to Rafe. It's PA to a bigwig at an accountancy firm.' Vicky looked at her friend sharply; her eyes narrowed in assessment. Rafe might have offered Mattie a job, but Vicky was quite certain that his arrival at the flat – not long after Brad had left – was not a coincidence.

Of course it wasn't, Vicky told herself. He didn't want Brad making a move on Mattie, so he stopped by. I knew he cared. But looking at Mattie's oblivious, bruised face, she didn't think her friend knew any such thing.

'So you're taking this new job, then?' asked Vicky. Mattie nodded. 'And that's the end of Rafe Paxton?'

'Obviously. We work together; that's all. Once I stop working for him, we've no need to see or speak to each other again.'

'But he helped you out with your dad. That has to count for something, right?'

'Yeah, it means he doesn't approve of violence against women,' replied Mattie, archly.

'Well,' shrugged Vicky, 'I think it earns him major brownie points. Whatever you might think of him, I say there's something odd about this Bianca bitch, and I'd give that sexy devil the benefit of the doubt. Good men are hard to come by, Mattie,' warned Vicky. 'Good men who are sexy and successful? Well, you don't let them slip through your fingers.' And Mattie didn't want Rafe to slip through her fingers, either, but he had; the moment Bianca turned up, and he revealed that he had a wife. If you ever had him in your grasp to begin with, Mattie, she warned herself. You didn't. It was a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but make-believe, nonetheless.

***

Mattie was late into work that Monday, because she'd had to faff around with concealer and foundation to cover the bruise on her cheek. She only ever wore light make-up to work – so that you'd hardly notice – and even when she got dressed up for a special occasion, her make-up regime was limited to lips, eyes and a bit of blusher. She never used concealer, because she had clear skin, so trying to camouflage her bruise with concealer – which was about three years old and didn't quite match her skin tone – was a laborious task, which had taken Mattie far longer than she had anticipated.

'Hello,' Rafe said, his brow dipping as he studied her; cheeks flushed from running into the office; her fingers tearing anxiously at the buttons on her coat in an attempt to set to work before someone like Chris Colville pointed out that she was not six minutes late – nor seven – but twenty-six minutes behind schedule.