Escapade: Her Billionaire - London (Her Billionare)

by Lisa Marie Rice

  So why was she feeling this way, as if they were going to be separated forever?

  Bennett fumbled with his pants and she slid hers down just far enough for him to enter her. She knew exactly what was happening, he didn’t want to wait, either. This wasn’t just sex. This was a confirmation of the bond between them.

  The sex was furious, hot and hard, an affirmation in flesh. His thrusts were so hard the bed shook and the headboard beat against the wall, faster and faster and faster …

  With a wild cry, Elle came and Bennett came a moment later. She held him tightly. If she could have, she’d have crawled into his skin, become one with him.

  But she couldn’t.

  And they were about to be separated.

  They were both quiet. There was so much to say but words couldn’t say it. Bennett lay in bed, one hand behind his head, the other holding Elle. She felt so goddamned right, lying warm and safe along his side.

  Goddammit! He wanted this for another few days. Few months. Few years.

  Forever.

  “Yeah,” she murmured and he realized he’d said it out loud. Bennett was known for his self control. Muttering things he shouldn’t was dangerous. He needed to get a grip.

  She sighed and stirred, ready to get up. No no no!

  Bennett tightened his hold but his cell buzzed. Even his phone hated this. The sound was harsh, imperious, grating. He took his time answering and the buzzing ceased. Immediately after that was the loud gong sound of an incoming text message. From Ricks.

  Where are you?

  Bennett could add the missing words. Where the fuck are you? is what Ricks wanted to write.

  “Is that my dad?” Elle asked, not looking at his phone but at him.

  He nodded, thumbing his response.

  On our way.

  He opened his mouth to say the words, we should get going. He simply couldn’t say them. There was a rock in his throat that extended down into his chest. Heavy and unyielding and painful.

  “I guess we should get going,” Elle said sadly.

  Why was this so hard?

  Elle felt like every single muscle in her body had seized up, simply wouldn’t work. Her feet felt nailed to the floor and she didn’t know what to do with her hands, numb and clumsy. It was hard to breathe and there was a harsh buzzing in her head.

  It had been such whiplash, from planning a perfect evening with Bennett Cameron — hanging out on the couch, munching junk food, watching a good adventure movie, smooching, was as good as it gets — to leaving this fun cocoon, going out in the driving rain to meet with her father.

  Even the weather disapproved of them leaving the apartment. Rain slammed harshly against the windows, though they were so soundproofed there was no noise. But there was a gray curtain outside with tendrils of fog, and the sky lit up from time to time with lightning. A real storm, trying its best to tell her and Bennett to just stay in and cuddle.

  Why couldn’t they listen?

  Her father was okay. The danger was over. She saw her father once a year, what made now so special? He obviously felt the same because other than the occasional Skype session on her birthday and his, and Christmas, he was always too busy to meet with her, even when they happened to be in the same city.

  But — Elle was hard wired for duty. She was highly self disciplined and nurtured a fondness for her father which he didn’t really deserve. Unfortunately, she really felt it, felt affection even though he’d been a neglectful father.

  He’d been through a harrowing experience. He’d been in danger himself and he’d be feeling guilty about putting her in danger. It made sense that he really wanted to see her.

  So, she was going to meet with him, reassure him that all was okay then … come back to Bennett? Finish what they’d started? Though she didn’t want to finish anything. Bennett had opened a door onto a big wide world she wanted to explore for a long long time.

  She stood and pulled in a deep breath, like a diver on the high board, about ready to dive in. Bennett was behind her, holding her in a very tight hug.

  His lips brushed her ear and electricity ran through her, head to toe. “I don’t want you to go.” His voice was a deep whisper.

  Elle crossed her arms over his. “Yeah. I don’t want to go. But —”

  “But you have to.” He released her, stepped back, and turned her around. She was surprised at his face. He’d lost some color and deep lines bracketed his mouth. His jaw muscles bunched. “Fuck.” He winced. “Sorry.”

  “Fuck about sums it up.” She took another step back. There were all sorts of things to think about. It was like her life had suddenly started up again after the ‘pause’ button had been pushed in Oxford. She had to pack and get in touch with her university, and there was that Las Vegas conference to start preparing for …

  She couldn’t do any of that. All she could do was stand stock still and stare at him. At this man who had become so central to her life in only a couple of days.

  “I need to —” she waved her hand awkwardly, unable to finish the sentence. Basically she needed to get on with her life, but she didn’t know how.

  She followed Bennett into the living room.

  “Just pack a few things,” he said. “I’ll pack up the rest. When you’ve reassured your father and you can leave him, tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up. Wherever you are, I’ll come for you.”

  Something in her that was hard and cold suddenly relaxed. She could breathe again. He would come for her.

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t think you have my numbers.” Bennett picked up her cell, put the battery back inside and started inputting numbers. “I’m giving you my work numbers and my personal number. For the work numbers, I’ll give orders to put you through to me right away, no matter what I’m doing.” He looked up from the screen, the light from her cell reflecting off his chin. “Listen to me. I want you to call me as soon as you can. Even before you know when you’ll be free. I won’t go to bed tonight until I hear from you. Okay?” His jaw muscles bunched again.

  “Yes. Okay.” He looked like he’d explode if she didn’t say okay.

  A swift nod and he continued inputting numbers. He seemed to have a lot of them. Handing over the cell to her, his hand lingered over hers. “Damn. I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered again. The words came from some place deep in his chest, raw and hoarse.

  She couldn’t even speak. Something hot and spiky was in her throat. She simply nodded.

  “This isn’t over. It isn’t even close to being over.”

  She nodded again. They were both beyond any kind of games. They had something, something real. “No,” she whispered.

  Bennett shuddered and clenched his fists. “I — I can’t touch you. If I do, we’ll never get out of here. Get a small bag ready and let’s go.”

  Elle nodded, went back into the bedroom. Their bedroom. God, only a few days had passed and already she had better memories of this room than she did of her bedroom back home in Boston, where she’d lived for seven years.

  She changed into a cashmere sweater, wool pants, ankle boots, took the big down coat off the hanger and then just stared at the closet full of fun, colorful clothes. She’d gone to town with the orders. She’d been angry and resentful and had spent a lot of money. Though as Bennett pointed out, her dad had tons of money, no problem. He would never even feel it. He had way too much for his own good and it had cost him everything valuable in life. But in a roundabout way, his greed had brought her to Bennett and that made up for a lot.

  No use packing much, she wouldn’t be staying long on her father’s yacht. One night, maybe two if he was really shaken.

  She put in another sweater, another set of underwear, pajamas, slippers, her beauty case, a cashmere shawl, placed the down coat over her arm, and she was ready. Not happy to leave, but bracing herself to do so.

  Bennett looked up as she stood on the threshold of the bedroom. They both froze as an invisible stream of en
ergy blazed between them. Elle was afraid to move, afraid to break that energy. It almost felt like it was the only thing holding her upright.

  How silly to feel like this. So lost and bereft. So unlike her.

  He broke the silence. “You’ll call me the instant you can.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was also the tenth time he’d said it.

  She nodded, heart in her throat.

  “Say it.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “And I’ll come get you.”

  She nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “You’ll — you’ll come as soon as you can. To get me.”

  “That’s right. Wherever you are. I don’t care, I’ll be there.”

  Elle clapped the back of her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob that rose swiftly from her chest. Do not cry, do not cry, she told herself fiercely. There was absolutely nothing to cry about. Why was she behaving like this?

  He was about to take a step forward, but stopped himself. “Are you packed?”

  She nodded, unable to speak, stepping aside to show the small carry-on she’d packed. He grabbed the handle and gestured for her to go ahead to the front door.

  In the hallway, Bennett morphed immediately into Super Security Guy, body tense and alert, eyes checking everything. He held her carry-on in his left hand and kept his right hand free, not even touching her.

  He was armed. She’d seen the shoulder holster under his jacket.

  The danger was over but for some reason Bennett was still on high alert.

  She felt on high alert too, but for a different reason. She felt like something important was ending and she had to commit these last fleeting moments to memory. Which was ridiculous. He’d spent the past hour repeating endlessly that they’d be back together soon.

  Why was she feeling like this? It was beyond her. She wasn’t a fanciful woman, she wasn’t given to feelings of gloom and doom, but here she was, feeling like a woman going to her own execution.

  They didn’t speak in the elevator, both staring straight ahead. She could see them in the polished brass of the elevator doors, both with grim faces and tense stances.

  The elevator passed the lobby level, passed the spa level and continued down to the garage. The doors opened onto a cavernous pristine white area. She’d been here before, obviously, but had no memory. She’d been drugged.

  It felt like a million years ago.

  Elle was walking slowly but Bennett kept pace with her, step by step, showing no signs of impatience. She simply couldn’t walk more quickly. Her steps echoed in the vast underground parking garage, sounding a slow dirge. Somehow, Bennett was making no noise at all, though he was wearing boots just like her.

  Bennett reached into his jacket pocket and a big dark blue car made a sound like an animal recognizing its master, lights flashing. He opened the passenger side door, settled her in, then got into the driver’s seat. Elle had no idea what make the car was, but it was a luxury car, smelling of leather and power.

  They pulled out, making for the ramp, then exited onto the street.

  It was as if she’d been living in a black and white movie and suddenly color switched back on. She’d forgotten about the world, but here it was in all its garish glory, lights and movement and people. It had been easy to forget about the world in her soundproofed beige cocoon, but now there was a huge dizzying burst of lights and movement. All silent.

  No sounds penetrated the luxurious car. Doubtless it was soundproofed and possibly bullet proof. But all the lights and colors of London were there.

  They were on the Strand and Elle looked out the window, watching the restaurants, theaters, shops stream by. All brightly lit, all bustling with people. It was dark and the street lamps were lit.

  No surprise, Bennett was a great driver. She recognized good driving because she was a terrible driver herself. She’d barely passed her driver’s license test on the third try and drove as little as possible. And driving on the left? No way. Driving on the right was bad enough.

  But he handled the big car like a boss.

  “Where are we headed?” The sound of her voice was almost shocking in the silence. Bennett never took his eyes off the road, but he did lift his hand from the gearshift on the console to pick her hand up and bring it to his mouth.

  “Canary Wharf. The Isle of Dogs. That’s where your father booked a berth, remember?”

  “I don’t know London that well. I’ve never been to Canary Wharf. Don’t even know where it is.”

  “Well no surprise if you’ve never been there. It’s a new development about a mile and a half downriver from here. We’ll be there in about half an hour, depending on traffic. Are you tired? Do you want to take a little nap?”

  She shook her head.

  A nap? And miss these last minutes with Bennett? She looked at his hard profile hungrily. No way.

  God. Last minutes. Where did that come from? They’d already made plans to meet again, as soon as possible. Bennett was backing away out of respect for her father, but he wasn’t backing away forever. He’d made that more than clear. They’d see each other again soon.

  But somehow Elle was mired in sadness, an emotion so alien to her she hardly recognized it. Maybe she was tired. That was it. Though she’d been tired before — she often worked through the day and night to exhaustion — this sad and desolate mood had never happened to her. It wasn’t usual and it wasn’t warranted, but there it was.

  She sighed and resigned herself to getting through the next half hour, then the following hours with her father, reassuring him she was all right, maybe listening to his version of what had happened. Counting the minutes until she could get back to Bennett.

  Wow. Had he slipped some love potion into her drink? She glanced again at his grim, set profile, not the look of a gentle lover. If anything, he looked pissed off. Not at her, but at the circumstances.

  She sighed. He was definitely a man you could love, though. Elle used that term for the first time inside her head as referred to a human being, particularly of the male persuasion. Up until now she’d used it mainly for pizza and math.

  Did she love Bennett? It felt an awful lot like love, though she was only familiar with the feeling second-hand. Books and movies, the go-to emotional coaches of single women. The addictive rush of emotion when she saw him or even thought of him, that was exactly what the books described.

  Was it sex? Probably. Certainly it was the best sex she’d ever had and infinitely better than anything she’d thought possible. But Bennett was no stud. Or at least not just a stud. He was a strong and honorable man, thoughtful and smart and kind, while being savvy about the way the world worked in a way she deeply admired.

  She herself wasn’t too savvy about the world, she knew that. She’d always preferred the academic to the practical. Working with him on real world solutions to real world problems had been thrilling.

  But she was also aware of the fact that she was at several removes from what he’d had to face as a soldier. She could never have done that and come out sane the other end. He had. He’d faced blood and death and hadn’t come out jaded and cynical.

  They were driving down twisted narrow streets. Bennett drove unerringly, the way London taxicab drivers did, which always astonished her when she was in the city. Most American cities were complex, but were basically a big grid. Not London, which had at its heart narrow crooked lanes. She always got lost when she was here. But then she didn’t have much of a sense of direction.

  “Where does your dad want to take you?” His deep voice broke the silence.

  Elle blinked. She hadn’t even thought of that. “I — I don’t know. He won’t want to take me to his headquarters in New York, not on the yacht. He has offices in Paris and Amsterdam. But bottom line — I don’t know. I don’t know my father all that well. It’s only recently that we’ve been communicating more. But I don’t know the man. Not really. I know my step dad much better than I do him.”

&nbs
p; Without moving his head, Bennett shifted his eyes to her. She sighed.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, he’s been a terrible dad. And he was a terrible husband. I don’t remember much about him from when I was small. My mom married my step dad when I was eight and he raised me. He was a great dad to me. My father — my biological father — is more like an elderly uncle you rarely see. So, bottom line — I have no idea where he wants to take me.”

  It began to rain harder, the sky dark and low. A flash of sheet lightning flickered and water poured onto the city, sluicing down cobble-stoned streets, bouncing off awnings, drumming loudly on the car roof.

  Great. Not even the weather wanted her to leave.

  She so fiercely wanted to be back in Sparrow Square, warm and snug with Bennett on the couch, watching Tom Cruise do his thing, knowing she was leaning against the very strong body of the real deal, not an actor playing a part. Someone who could take down terrorists for real.

  The rain picked up its tempo, cutting visibility down to a few feet.

  She saw something steely gray at the end of a street and realized that they’d reached the Thames again. He’d cut through the heart of the medieval city.

  “We’re close,” Bennett said and the air in the car grew even heavier. Elle didn’t have that much expertise in flirting and in relationships, but if this were a romantic comedy, they’d be laughing and smiling, reminiscing about the good times they’d had. Happily planning to get back together again as soon as they could.

  Cool and relaxed, the troubles over.

  This didn’t feel like that at all. This felt like … like the exchange of prisoners on Bridge of Spies, where you didn’t know if you’d make it across the bridge.

  Bennett turned onto a narrow street that was more an embankment than a street. Right at river level. They rolled up to a gate with a guard in a hut. Bennett buzzed down his window, not blinking at the cold and rain that swept in.

  “Bennett Cameron for Mr. Clifford Ricks,” he said. The arm across the road clanked and started lifting.