Free The Berkeley Method by J. S. Taylor

says. “Because I didn’t want you to feel crowded by me. I wanted to make sure I didn’t frighten you off.”
    Hmmm. Crowded by James Berkeley. That doesn’t sound so bad.
    “But I was hoping that, at some point, you might decide to spend your nights with me,” he continues. “In my apartment.”
    In his apartment?
    The suggestion surprises me.
    “Every night?” The words are out of my mouth before I realise.
    “Not if you don’t want to,” he backtracks hastily. “I just wanted you to know that I’d like us to spend as much time together as possible.” He stares into my eyes.
    Whoa. Can I handle this? It’s not like he’s asked me to live with him. But every night in his studio apartment is still a big deal.
    “Of course, we’ll have to take steps to hide where you’re staying,” he adds.
    I feel any enthusiasm for the suggestion vanish.
    Is this all we are? I think resentfully. Some shameful thing, to be hidden?
    “I’ll think about it,” I say flatly, taking in the beautiful interior of the chalet. It would be a shame not to enjoy this, in any case.
    I step towards a hand-crafted bookcase and run my fingers along the titles. There are both novels and DVDs on the shelf.
    “I chose them for you,” says James from the other side of the room.
    I turn back to him in surprise, and then return my attention to the shelf.
    He chose these titles for me.
    As my eyes flick along the DVDs, I can see they are mostly romance movies. My eyes touch on Casablanca and Amelie . Is this his way of showing me he cares? I feel a lump well up in my throat.
    He is by my side suddenly, leaning over my shoulder.
    “I am trying to be a better man for you,” he whispers in my ear.
    “You didn’t have to do this,” I say, feeling tears in my eyes.
    “Those movies say what I feel about you better than I could say it,” he says, moving to nuzzle my neck. “I am a damaged man, Isabella. I am broken and I am difficult. But since I met you I… It is the first time I have thought it might be possible for me to change.”
    I stay rigid with his head on my shoulder, not trusting myself to speak. James kisses me lightly on the neck.
    “I have work to do,” he says suddenly. I realise I might have hurt him by staying silent. But the threat of tears is still overwhelming.
    “James…” I mutter weakly, “I…”
    He kisses my cheek.
    “I’ll come collect you later and give you a proper tour,” he says. “For now, I want you to settle in and enjoy yourself. Some of the other actors are already on set. You’ll likely find them in the coffee shop or the restaurant.”
    Then he turns and walks out of the open-plan living space, leaving me staring at the love letter he’s written me in movies.
    Oh James , I think, staring at the range of classic romances. You are a much better man than you give yourself credit for. How can I make you see it?
     

Chapter 11
     
    Left alone in the room, I have free reign to be completely over-awed. And the accommodation certainly doesn’t disappoint. The beautiful open-plan living space leads to a designer kitchenette, complete with cappuccino-maker and a fridge stocked with gourmet food.
    I open one of three small cupboards to find Italian coffee, loose-leaf teas, and some kind of hot chocolate from an organic plantation in Venezuela.
    Just a little bit higher end than I’m used to.
    I close the cupboard door softly, trying to make sense of my giant leap in circumstances.
    There’s a menu on the countertop of food which can be delivered to the chalet, and at what time. Fresh pastries can be brought from 6am, and after midday there’s a selection of hand-cut sandwiches and salads.
    There’s a separate form for breakfast options where I can tick what I’d like to be sent and leave for the housekeeper to manage. I can also specify food I would like the cupboard and fridge to be stocked with.
    A housekeeper? I glance around the chalet distractedly. I’d better keep this place super