By: Kay Schubach

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HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO FOR LOVE?

Kay Schubach almost has it all – a great job, a beautiful apartment, a life of champagne and mixing it with Sydney's A-list, and a steady relationship.

By chance she meets handsome and charismatic Simon. He sweeps her off her feet with promises the one thing her younger boyfriend won't give her – a baby. She takes the biggest risk of her life, leaving all certainties behind for love.

All too quickly, the romance turns sour, and Simon goes from charming to controlling, from magnetic to threatening. By the time Kay uncovers his violent past, Simon has decided he will not let her go – and he's not a man to be argued with. Trapped in a terrifying relationship, isolated from friends and family, Kay must decided what she values most, and fight for it.

A brutally honest cautionary tale, this is a true story of obsession and desire.

I sat at a table in Fu Manchu, a sleek, cool Chinese restaurant in Darlinghurst. It was a Tuesday in late October, the days just turning warm and sunny. I turned to my friend Tod. Our conversation had been disjointed as we batted around bits of chatter; we were together but disengaged. Very Sydney. We'd been meaning to catch up, and had cancelled on each other for weeks, but a quick lunch wasn't too much time out of our lives. Anyway, I needed the distraction, to get out of the apartment, away from my desk and working alone.

The sliding door of the restaurant opened. Leaves rushed in, skidding along the floor. The air changed. I looked up to see a man silhouetted in the doorway. He walked in and casually sat down next to us at the long table. We three were the restaurant's only customers. He was a beautiful man. I saw the muscles of his stomach beneath a white cotton shirt, his body a lean line. He was wearing well-cut jeans, black leather boots and a tailored jacket – the picture of classic elegance. I stared at him, transfixed for a moment, before looking away. I tried to pick up my conversation where I had left off, mid-sentence, but had lost my train of thought. Tod, munching away on his dumplings, took up the thread and continued whatever we'd been talking about. I glanced back at that man.

He had a strong profile – high cheekbones, full lips, a prominent jaw – short taupe-coloured hair closely cut, thick, dark lashes, and one of those cute childlike upturned noses that on adults can be so becoming. He sat leaning back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. He scanned the menu quickly and ordered.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He knew I was looking and didn't appear to mind; in fact he seemed to relax into it, like a cat stretching out in the warmth of a fire. He sat there quietly while he waited for his order to come. I thought he was listening in on our conversation – Tod's silly jokes, my chatting about bits and pieces, the great seats I'd had at the Prince concert the night before.

The man pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted away until his food arrived. Then he picked up his chopsticks and started talking to us as though he had always been a part of our conversation, as though he knew us intimately. He mostly addressed Tod. I watched on.

'Who's that actor you look like?' he asked. Tod loved that.

'Oh, I've just got one of those faces; you know, handsome, everyone wants to know me.' I laughed. The man slid his sunglasses along the table to Tod.

'Try these on, they'll suit you.'

Tod picked them up, examined the brand – Gucci – and tried them on. He did look good. Tod kept them on, posing for us, before the man clicked his fingers to signal for them back. Game finished. My friend took them off, handed them over.

'Check out the guy across the street,' the man said. 'He's got his pants pulled up so high he's going to get a rash under his armpits.' I followed his gaze out the restaurant window, across the road to a hobo; he was shabby but dignified-looking, tall and very thin, with a mat of grey hair, and faded red pants pulled up high. A too-easy target. I laughed, a little uneasily this time.

The man gave his appraisal of the food he was eating, saying he had dined in the world's best restaurants, recommending Kingsleys, here on the waterfront, just down the road. His conversation was unusual, and his words seemed to have been chosen to intrigue and entice. His topic of choice jumped here and there, the banter kept sharp and witty. I was fascinated that he could just take over like that. He was charming, and at once interested and dismissive. I clocked him for yet another upstart eastern suburbs wheeler and dealer, one who probably drove a 5-series BMW and drank at the Woollahra Hotel after work with the other cool young stockbrokers and bankers. I imagined at the weekends he sailed around Pittwater on a friend's yacht. I thought I knew his type yet I was also drawn in by his confidence.

Most men I thought of as boys. Or else, there were the older men, arrogant, puffed-up sorts with rampant egos, the ones who think they're the masters of the universe. The man sitting next to me had a palpable masculinity, an ease with himself. Beneath this was a strength or a hardness, I wasn't sure which.

He finished his food, and pushed his bamboo bowl away – finished, over, nothing more to do with it. It made me think, suddenly, of the way he might roll over after fucking, turning his mind to something else, having satisfied his appetite. An unexpected thread of electricity ran through me.

I turned back, talking to Tod about working from home, and the man butted in to our conversation again.

'What do you do?' It was the first time he had directly addressed me, and he looked me straight in the eyes. His glance was piercing. My heart beat high and fast in my chest.

'I manage high-end households, but I'm freelancing with a music manager at the moment,' I answered.

'You'd need good contacts for that.' He openly checked out the brand of my watch and then shifted his gaze to my earrings. Was he gauging if I was the right calibre?

I smiled at the challenge. 'I've worked for some pretty good names.' I had counted on a response to that, but instead he simply acknowledged what I had said with a tiny dip of his head. But that little gesture created something between him and me, a line connecting us that effectively excluded Tod. It was like we were the only ones who existed.

The way he'd looked at me made me suddenly aware of my body – I heated up, pulsed, and I could feel every inch of my skin. I sat up straighter, was conscious of the way my bare legs beneath my black linen skirt were crossed sideways under the table, so that my body was focused on him. There was an agitation deep inside, like friction between atoms at boiling point. Chocolate melting in the sun. I knew it was dangerous, that I was flirting when I really shouldn't have been, but I was enjoying the game.

He got up to leave and walked to the counter. I panicked, not wanting him to go yet. He pulled out a small black-leather bill fold, and paid while chatting with the young camp waiter. I watched him walk back over to us. He reached over Tod's shoulder and handed me a card from the restaurant. On it he'd written his name – Simon – and his phone number. I noticed we wrote our sevens the same way.

'Call me if you feel like having a coffee.' His confident smile, the glint in his eye – he knew he was taking liberties. He put his hand on Tod's shoulder. 'I know you understand,' he said, with an easy laugh.

I stretched out my hand to shake his, to seal the deal.

'I'm Kay.' He took my hand. I felt his skin, warm, strong, soft. Electric.

'Give me a call.' He swung round and walked out the door. I watched him leave. It was as though a part of me had just left with him.

ISBN: 9781921901218
ISBN-10: 1921901217
Audience: General
Format: Paperback
Language: English
Published: 22nd February 2012
Dimensions (cm): 23.000 x 15.4
Weight (kg): 23.0