Chapter Text
The first time Anthony locks eyes with Kate she’s on the dance floor at one of Simon’s parties. Normally, that fact alone would be enough to make her safe from any advances from him, he’s sworn off the posh girls and those who are trying to become ones that usually make their way onto Simon’s guest list.
Except that Kate doesn’t throw him a flirty smile or a wink when their eyes meet. They look at each other, or rather, Kate looks at him for far too long to be normal, and her face morphs into something terrified. Like she has looked right into his soul and found the darkness Anthony always knew he contained. Like she’s seen right through him.
He can’t not follow her when she runs off like a frightened doe. He needs to know what it is that she recognised in him. He half expects her to scream when he offers her his lighter, to cuss him out for not letting her be. Instead, she just talks to him, her voice soft and soothing like a light summer rain. He’s drawn to her, steps into her space until he’s caged her in, his arms bracketing her as he holds onto the railing of the balcony, and she doesn’t look scared. He realises then that she was never the prey, and she captures him then, her lips on his, and he’s only too happy to surrender.
***
The next morning he’s about to perform his usual spiel, offering coffee and breakfast with the caveat that he has lunch plans. It’s not even a lie, it’s Sunday and he’s expected at his mum’s, as are all his other siblings. Colin might be in town and Hyacinth had a big exam last week that he’s been meaning to give her a proper hug for.
Then there’s Kate holding his gaze as she swallows down his cock, Kate telling him to fuck her harder even as she’s on top of him, Kate moaning as she cums, looking like a vision with her head thrown back. She barely opens her eyes as she rolls off him onto her back, but she still manages to pull him on top of her and she lets him bend her in half as he thrusts into her, looking blissed out as she pleads for more.
Anthony doesn’t understand, he’s had great sex before, and it’s not even said that this would be the last time they see each other, but when Kate makes the familiar allusions to having plans for the day, something primal in him protests against it. Instead of offering her a towel after breakfast he’s touching her again, unable to let go. She’s wearing his shirt and it might be the worst kind of cliché, but he likes it a little too much.
He doesn’t mean to be so desperate, but it’s Kate who turns to lean over the kitchen counter, wiggles out of her underwear and spreads her legs. She’s still in his shirt and he’s like a man possessed.
Anthony hasn’t cancelled on Sunday lunch for two years, has put on a brave face even with the worst kind of hangovers and yet he doesn’t think twice about feigning illness today. He’s captivated.
They see each other again on Tuesday, then on Friday and he doesn’t expect it, is sure he’ll have gotten his fill by Sunday morning if they can even stand to spend that much time together, but then the day rolls around and he’s cancelled lunch again.
It’s all fine until his mother calls him about a bad result Hy has gotten in her test and she mentions how his sister didn’t want to bother him, under the impression he’s been suffering from the flu for ten days now and guilt rolls over him like a heavy wave.
***
He tries to change things after that. First, he does the obvious thing of distancing himself, trying to gain his sanity like an addict trying to quit their vice. It works, for about a week, before Kate sends him a picture, nothing saucy, just her at another of Simon’s parties with her friend that Anthony doesn’t think is a particularly good influence. She doesn’t even add a proper message, just a where are you? and he’s not sure if she thinks he’s already at the party and she can’t find him.
Anthony putters around the kitchen, cleans his counters another time, but it’s no use. He’s antsy. Just because for him Kate had been extraordinary doesn’t mean he holds the same importance. He might be replaced. Easily so.
When he arrives at the party there’s a sense of deja-vu when he sees Kate dancing in Simon’s living room once more. Again she catches his eyes. But this time, instead of running away, she walks towards him, smiling.
“I missed you,” she says and Anthony’s already crumbling plan turns into sand.
***
It shouldn’t be so difficult. It's not like they’re Romeo and Jiulet and there’s some generational family feud keeping them apart. Anthony is simply attempting what he’s never done before - have a serious, monogamous relationship. It’s become painstakingly clear to him that he’s not going to be able to let Kate go anytime soon. He’s addicted to her not only physically, but greedy for any snippet of her life she’s willing to reveal.
There’s a little problem though - Kate doesn’t seem to be on the same page as him. Anthony is certain that she craves him as much as he does her, she’s spending more nights at his flat than not, but whenever he suggests a dinner, lunch, even something as cliché as a cinema date, she looks at him with those big eyes of hers and pulls him back into bed. Three months ago this would have been his dream scenario, but now it leaves him anxious.
It’s so non-committal, the way she flits in and out of his life. There’s no traces of hers once she leaves for work except the toothbrush he offered her that very first night. Everything else she packs up carefully, as if she were preparing herself to never see him again. She’ll freely tell him about her friends and past-hookups and where those two groups overlap, but won’t tell him her birthday. It’s maddening.
It takes him weeks until she agrees to a proper dinner date that isn’t just the three minute walk to the nearest shawarma place and even there she fights him at every step. It’s worth it though. He’s rarely felt pride like when he enters the restaurant with her. Not because she’s beautiful, although she looks absolutely incredible in the short dress she’s wearing, but because it feels like a declaration. Kate’s here with him.
The evening is wonderful and the night even better. She doesn’t reply to any of his texts for three days after it.
***
So Anthony learns. Learns that Kate, above all, does not like being told what to do. She’s not rebellious in the traditional sense, she has a strong moral code and sense of responsibility but only as long as she can understand the logic behind it. And Anthony pressuring her to go to dinner without explaining why did not fulfil those standards. At least that’s what he thinks.
He learns to be more subtle. He wouldn’t call it manipulation, but he’s good at reading her emotions and offering options in a way that leads to his favoured outcome. Dinners become more common, if never again as fancy as the first place he’d suggested in a bid to impress her. He even gets to meet her friends sometimes although he quickly comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t like many of them. Not that Anthony ever says so.
He gifts her a necklace for her birthday and never once utters any expectation for her to wear it. He’s calculated correctly, it’s beautiful enough that she takes a fancy to it anyway.
It starts feeling like a relationship. They talk about being exclusive (Anthony suffers until Kate brings it up after a mishap with the condom they were using), Kate starts leaving jumpers and socks and other miscellaneous items at the flat and he starts buying frozen blueberries because she likes them in their porridge. They are wins that are hard-won and precious.
***
‘It’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’ Anthony murmurs into Kate’s hair as he plays with the necklace she’s wearing. She’s lying on his chest wearing nothing else and it’s one of those rare moments in his days where he’d dare to think he’s content.
She runs her finger lightly along the chain until she meets his hand grasping the pendant. ‘That I don’t have anything like it.’
It doesn’t make sense, really, she’s the one with the jewellery, but she’s long come to realise the selfishness of his gifts.
‘I’d wear a necklace from you,’ he tells her truthfully. It’s an appealing idea, not least because it would be the first time she gifted him something.
‘You’d take it off around your family though.’
Anthony doesn’t bother denying it, even though he’s not sure he would, if maybe a sign from Kate wouldn’t be a comforting talisman when he feels overwhelmed. He doesn’t want to get into the ever-present thorn in their relationship that is his desire to keep her away from them.
‘You take off your necklace sometimes,’ he says instead.
Kate falls quiet for a second. ‘No, I don’t,’ she admits.
Anthony stares at her. She holds his gaze defiantly like she’s expecting him to make fun of her for it. He’d assumed she put it on especially for him whenever they saw each other. The thought that it’s always there, resting on her skin, even when he’s at work and she’s around all these people he’s never even met, it’s settling. It makes him hopeful.
Kate misinterprets his silence, always on the edge. She moves her head away from his chest, braces herself on her elbow.
‘It’s mine, isn’t it?’
Anthony pulls her on top of him, the necklace hanging between their bodies like a pendulum.
‘I’d wear anything you give me. I’d wear your name on my skin if I could,’ he confesses and uses the pendant to tug Kate down so he can kiss her. He’s not surprised when she immediately digs her nails into his scalp, always that bit rougher when she feels vulnerable, as if she needs to prove her toughness. If it’s to him or herself, he isn’t sure.
He welcomes it though, the way she bites at his lip, and he returns the favour, pinches her nipple a little too hard and then her hand is on him, stroking, and she sinks onto him, still wet from before. She grabs his wrist when he tries to touch her and places his hand next to his head instead, an implicit command he readily obeys. Kate holds his gaze as she touches herself, rubbing her clit, the necklace moving across her collarbone everytime she raises her hips. It’s not common, her taking control like this, but if it’s supposed to be a punishment it fails to hit its mark. All Anthony can think about is that this is apparently as naked as Kate ever gets anymore, the necklace always a last remnant of his touch to her skin.
When she finally lets herself fall forward and buries her face in his neck, he knows she must be close. He holds her hips as he thrusts into her until he hears the familiar gasps in his ear and lets go himself.
‘Did you mean it?’ she asks afterwards. Anthony had gasped a number of filthy confessions into her ear, none of them lies, so he just says yes. Kate stays silent long enough that he thinks she’s fallen asleep and can feel himself drifting off as well. Not fast enough, however, to not hear her next words.
‘I don’t believe you.’
***
The tattoo artist, Brían, thinks he’s an idiot.
‘Look, mate, you sure about this? We can do just a “K” or some sort of symbol instead and then you can always add the rest of her name later.’
Anthony can’t blame him, not really. Objectively it’s a stupid thing to do, the worst kind of cliché, a joke so cheap it’s not even worth making anymore. Especially for a first and, most likely, only tattoo.
Brìan had tried to keep a straight face when Anthony first explained what he wanted, asked him who Kate was, probably holding onto hope that she was a daughter, a sister, something permanent, not someone Anthony even struggles calling his girlfriend.
There was no hiding the grimace though when, upon asking how long they’d been together, Anthony truthfully had answered, ‘Four months or so.’ He doesn’t bother trying to explain himself though. How would he put into words what Kate is to him? How does he tell Brían that it doesn’t matter anyway, his days are more limited than most. What’s a tattoo in the grand scheme of things, especially when it might mean that Kate stays.
He needs Kate to stay. At least for a little while.
***
Anthony doesn’t tell her about it. He’s timed it carefully, she’ll be on holiday for another week, enough time for the skin on his hip to have started healing. He probably should be nervous about the reveal, it is, according to most metrics, an insane thing to have done. Too intense, maybe even bordering the line of creepy.
But it’s Kate and when she’s back from holiday, back in his flat and notices the slight wince as she moves onto his lap during their spirited reunion.
“Everything okay?” she asks. “Are you hurt?”
She probably expects it to be some sort of sports injury when he answers, “Just a little, don't worry about it.”
He doesn't want to make it a big reveal, a huge “look what I did for you”. Anthony just made good on his word. It's not a big deal.
Kate's down to her underwear by the time she’s tugging at his trousers, pulling down his underwear with them. She freezes when she sees the ink, the letters a bit dull under his still healing skin, but unmistakably hers. It takes a moment before she raises her eyes from his hip to his face to where he’s on the bed propped up on his elbows. He feels vulnerable, exposed not just because of his naked chest.
“How did you get my handwriting?” she asks quietly.
“I save your notes,” Anthony answers truthfully, worried he’s miscalculated. He can’t read her face. Her face that usually projects her emotions to him so freely.
She lets her fingers gently run along the outer edges of her name, careful not to touch where the skin is still red and raised.
“Is it permanent?”
He wishes she’d look at him again, but she seems fixated on his hip. “It’s a tattoo.”
And now Kate’s eyes are on him again and this time there’s no mistaking her expression. Her pupils are wide and she looks a little dazed and so beautiful.
“It suits you,” she tells him.
***
He messes up. Kate leaves him.
It’s his fault. His father’s firm, Anthony’s firm, runs into some trouble with a particularly litigious client and there’s the real danger of their reputation, everything his father had worked for, being ruined. He’s working twelve-hour days, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He lives off meal replacement shakes and lets his sports, his hobbies fall to the wayside. If it weren’t for Kate he’d be living at the office.
When he tells her that he’s going to stop seeing her for a while the exhaustion makes his words jumble and suddenly they’re fighting and she leaves and they’re broken up.
It’s for the best, probably. He can focus on not leading his father’s legacy to ruin rather than rushing home to see her. Maybe afterwards, when he’s proven himself not to be a worthless idiot, he can seek her out again. He doesn’t deserve the respite she gives him right now anyway.
Anthony doesn’t even consider getting the tattoo removed. What would be the point of it? It’s not like there’s going to be someone else to take her place. This was his chance and he’s proven that he can’t handle it. He’s been selfish. He should have paid more attention to his responsibilities.
He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s almost texted her from the office at two in the morning, begging for her forgiveness. The amount of times he imagines a notification from her pop up only to be disappointed. It’s awful enough for his concentration that he’s blocked her number. So it takes him a moment to fully register it when he sees her at the tequila event Colin helped organise. He’s frozen in place, his eyes pulled towards the corner as if Kate were waving a big red flag at him and not just sitting there in a much too familiar dress.
Anthony feels drunk from sleep deprivation and for a moment he just basks in the oasis that the sight of her offers, be it real or imagined. He's so focused on her that it takes him a moment to register her company. Not that he can see much of him, just a full head of blond hair and wide shoulders, but it doesn’t need a genius to understand what this is. Kate having drinks with a man. Kate in a nice dress. A very nice dress. He should know, he was the one that bought it. He wants to throw up. Better yet, he wants to go up to that man and push him away and take his rightful place. Kate is his.
Anthony thought he could do it, be selfless and let her go, take care of his family like they deserve, but he was always fooling himself. He’s not a good person like his father. Being with him is going to ruin Kate’s life and if he were an honourable man, he would accept that she deserves better even if that means another man touching her. Another man making her smile, taking care of her.
He's already formulating a plan to convince Colin to kick the blonde man out of the bar when Kate spots him staring. His heart stops. She gives him a small wave, a fake smile on her face and something in Anthony ignites. He doesn’t need the plan.
Kate has many talents, but she’s a terrible actress. She wasn’t surprised to see him. She’s here for Anthony.
There’s a current running through him, a mission other than working through case law and appeasing his clients to complete. He makes his excuses to Ben and heads back to the hotel reception to book a room. Worst comes to worst he’ll sleep here and go straight back to the office. The hotel’s closer to it than his flat anyway.
Anthony takes his guard post by the bar and doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s not watching Kate. To anyone else it would look like her date’s going well, the way they’re leaning into each, the little giggles Kate’s letting escape from her mouth every other minute. The man certainly looks very self-satisfied, and Anthony has to resist the urge to laugh. That man is never going to see Kate again. He’s going to make sure of it.
When she gets up and approaches the bar, he forces himself into a casual position, as if his every muscle weren’t coiled and ready to sweep her off her feet. She doesn’t look at him, just props her arms onto the counter and that blonde idiot has no idea that this feigned disinterest is worth more than a hundred sweet giggles.
‘Don’t tell me, he’s making you pay for your own drinks,’ he drawls. Kate doesn’t look at him, but he knows she’s heard him from how her back arches and her lips purse.
‘Maybe his company is good enough that he doesn’t have to throw money at a girl to want to spend time with him.’
He snorts. It’s not like he’s fundamentally opposed to women paying. He’d let Kate pay for her drinks if she had the income and family money he had, of course he would, but it’s a first date for goodness’s sake. Have some class. He knows this type of man. The ones that think working hard at the gym removes the necessity to make any other effort. The ones so full of themselves because they will let the woman buy them a drink. It's tacky.
‘Oh, I’m sure him going on about his workout stats is absolutely fascinating.’
‘I’m sure he’d be happy to give you some tips if you want them.’
The answer stings more than he'd like to admit. He's been skipping the gym in favour of work and he knows it shows. He's lost some of the carefully maintained broadness with which he tries to make up for the few inches of height he's lacking compared to his brothers.
He tries to sound dismissive as he watches Kate order her drinks, still demonstratively turned away from him. It’s fine. It gives him a chance to drink in the sight of her and he feasts on it like the man starving that he is. He remembers when he bought her that dress, the first time she wore it for him, pretending it was some kind of chore. Like she wasn’t revelling in the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, every time she adjusted the straps unbearably tempting.
He wonders if she thought about that day when she put it on. ‘Nice dress.’
***
He texts his brothers his goodbyes as he leaves the bar. They’re used to it by now, with everything that’s been happening at the firm, although they perform their standard routine of trying to convince him to stay for one more drink.
Instead, Anthony orders a glass of whiskey via room service and waits. It’s a luxury he hasn’t afforded himself in weeks, every spare moment filled with work, but he can’t risk Kate walking in on him buried in case law. So, after his drink is delivered, he steps out onto the balcony and looks out onto the city, the people coming and going.
He thinks he spots a tall, blond man leaving by himself and the anticipation that has been steadily building now threatens to overwhelm him. He fiddles with his shirt sleeves, but resists the urge to down his drink and make it look like he’s been waiting too long. When he hears the whirr of the keycard unlocking the door, Anthony wants to rush to Kate and hold her close, cling to her and never let go, but this too he won’t allow himself. Her choice. His challenge.
He feels ecstatic when she steps out next to him, alone despite the careless comment he’d made. Anthony holds out his glass to her, almost incapable of believing his luck.
‘Date didn’t go so well after all?’ he teases her.
She takes a sip, and he watches her throat move as she swallows.
‘Oh, he’s already texted that he’d like to see me again.’
There’s no regret or guilt in her voice, nothing to suggest the man had been anything but a pawn to her. He’d call her callous, but he hardly has a leg to stand on. Instead, he just basks in the amazement of having her next to him again. She’s made her choice. He puts his hand on her waist.
‘Shame you're not going to.'
She makes him wait that one moment longer as she takes another sip, but he’s not worried. If she wants to tease him, challenge him a little more, he can deal with it. She can do whatever she wants to him, it’s not going to change anything.
'No, I'm not,' she admits and finally, finally, he kisses her. It’s an enormous relief not having to keep his distance anymore and he’s so overcome by it, there’s little finesse to his movements. He’s desperate to touch her, to claim her as his again. His hands wander to the zipper by pure instinct. Her bare chest is a revelation and Anthony is so overwhelmed by emotion, he’s quick to hide his face by lowering his mouth to her breast. The taste of whiskey in her mouth when he kisses again feels like another stake claimed, the celebrity tequila and date already forgotten from her body.
Kate tries to pull him back inside and he wants to, desperately wants to lay her out on the pristine white bedsheets and worship her body, but he doesn’t allow himself that pleasure just yet. He can’t fall to his knees, as much as he’d like to. So he challenges Kate once more, another allusion to being watched, to that guy seeing something Anthony would never allow him to set his eyes on.
It has its desired effect, her breath hitching, the way she scratches at his scalp as he bites at her neck. He might be a damaged man, unable to give Kate everything she deserves, but he knows this, knows how to give her what her body craves.
The sight of Kate, naked except for her underwear and the necklace, kneeling in front of him is so heavenly that Anthony is back to questioning the reality of it all. Except that the kiss to his hip bone is so gentle, so unlike Kate, that he wouldn’t have dared dreaming it.
***
There are moments where he thinks he can figure it out, where he thinks he can slot the puzzle pieces of his life together into one big happy picture. When Eloise is doing better, when Benedict holds down a job for two whole months and Daphne is so close to being called to the Bar and he thinks he can do it. Introduce Kate and not worry about them latching on to her and pulling her into their mess. Where he can leave lunch after having eaten and not have to look over documents, make sure Greg and Hy’s school bills are paid, their inheritance managed and a myriad of other things his mother never had to learn because his father took care of it.
He doesn't blame her. For eighteen years her time was more wisely used dealing with pregnancy and enough children to staff a rugby sevens team. It's not like he had to raise Hyacinth. Not after the first year at least.
Always, inevitably, there's another crisis and it's selfish, but he doesn't want to taint his time with Kate with it. He can't bear the thought of her turning to him over breakfast and asking if he’s remembered to send the money for Hyacinth’s new football kit. With Kate he can relax. With Kate him taking care of her isn't demanded nor expected. Quite the opposite, it's rallied against and it's so much better than the the way his family just takes it for granted. At least she notices.
***