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By the time the sun came up, I was feeling more like myself. After the adrenaline crash from the whole allergic reaction ordeal, with my ex turning up like the proverbial bad penny, I’d finally slept without a single dream. That was the magic trick. Utter exhaustion.
My phone buzzed and I winced. Morgan.
She’d already called twice. I knew she was worried. I’d already texted her that I was okay, but she wanted to hear my voice and honestly, I didn’t have the energy for it.
Lance shouldn’t have called her. He worried too much. Simple food contamination. It happened. But when he’d come to get me yesterday, he’d clucked over me like a mother hen, even as he told me, he’d informed my entire family.
Not that Dad would care.
One more quick check up this morning with the doctor and I could get back to my life.
Except as I stepped out of my building into the dreary London drizzle, I was met with no less than four security men. Gavin I recognized immediately. “What are the chances I can tell you to go away and you will?”
“None,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “He wants to see you. Real quick before your appointment.”
I would ask how he knew I had an appointment but something told me I didn’t want that answer. “If I say no?”
“I’m asking you to say yes so this won’t get more awkward.”
“Awkward for you, or awkward for me?”
“Both of us.”
The biggest of the hulking men opened the back door of the sleek black Bentley for me and I reluctantly climbed in.
It was a fifteen minute tense drive with the traffic. Gavin didn’t bother trying to talk to me.
We pulled up to the Naughtly Building and I couldn’t be bothered to be impressed. The Naughtly Building was a brand new live/work/green space building from the architect Peter Naughtly. Of course it was a beautiful and expensive display of glass and steel and ultra-modern architecture mixed with green spaces of the future.
The entire ride up the elevator I kept grinding my teeth, so much so my jaw ached by the time the elevator doors slid open to reveal Atticus standing in a sleek, white, marble foyer, wearing charcoal slacks and a coal black light sweater that made his eyes appear a shocking, vibrant green.
Gavin stepped to the side as Atticus led me deeper into the flat. Though flat was a bit of misnomer. The apartment looked like a museum. Beautiful, but cold. The saving grace was that the walls of the living room were all glass with a spectacular view of Hyde Park.
The moment I was alone with Atticus, I whirled around and shoved him in the chest. Not that he budged even an inch. His eyes were fire as they roamed over me, but he didn't touch me. "What the hell?" I demanded. “You can’t just have me plucked off the street. I made it clear, I don’t want to see you.”
"Are you all right?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Am I all right? After everything that’s happened, that's what you have to say to me?”
“What the fuck do you want me to say? That after your office, my cock smelled like you all day? That I hated washing the scent of you off my body? That seems to be the least important thing right now, but I can't stop thinking about it.”
“You can’t say that to me.” Smart, Gwen. Smart.
"Or do you want me to ask why the fuck you were on a date yesterday?”
“It wasn’t a date. Not that it’s any of your business. Where are we anyway?" I asked.
"We're at my place."
"You have a place in London?" Just how long had he been here? All those times I could have sworn I saw him, had he been here? Or had my imagination been running wild?
“Yes. I'm here enough that it makes sense to have a place.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “How often have you been in London in the last month?”
There it was. I saw what I was looking for. The slight hint of… not deception, but shame, maybe? It was right there behind his eyes. Despite the fact that it had been a couple of months, I could still read him.
He pressed his lips together and avoided my gaze. “Every now and then.”
