Private Player

by Louise Bay

  I needed to go to Nathan and tell him my whole truth. I stopped pacing, headed to my wardrobe, and pulled out my running kit. We were just across the Heath from each other. I knew he had to work this afternoon—it was why we left before breakfast. But if I was passing on my run, he wouldn’t mind if I stopped by, would he?

  I pulled on my electric blue, Lycra running trousers, along with my favorite vintage Blondie t-shirt, and grabbed my phone. No time like the present. If I thought about it too much, I’d chicken out. And he might need a friend to talk to if my mother’s column had riled the chairman up again. When the last article hit, he’d told Nathan he was running out of chances. Was this the final straw? If there was anything I could do, I wanted to be there for him.

  My parents’ house backed onto the Heath, and within minutes I was headed in the direction of Highgate. I wanted to get there fast, before I had time to change my mind. At the same time, I didn’t really want to arrive in a sweaty mess. And I’d forgotten how uphill the route was.

  The road was busier than it should be for this time of day, but it wasn’t raining—that was all the encouragement people needed sometimes. I darted past other pedestrians and runners, through shortcuts between the trees, focused on where I was headed. My legs burned but I was spurred on by the thought that I’d soon be there. I had to tell Nathan who my mother was—that she was the one who was writing about him and Audrey in the Mercury.

  He was a decent man and I hoped he’d forgive me. Surely he’d understand my reasons for keeping it from him. But I couldn’t lie any longer, not when he’d shared so honestly. Regardless of our intentions, our relationship wasn’t purely professional any longer. If it ever had been. And I needed to share this with him.

  The longer I left it, the more likely it was that he’d find out from someone else, and I didn’t want that to happen. And I was sure there was an explanation for why Audrey was distraught on his doorstep on Friday. And why they had been spending so much time together recently. I thought back—there was the night at Annabel’s, the afternoon at Costa, then Friday night. Wasn’t it meant to be Mark that Nathan was close to? Why were they spending so much time alone?

  As I got to the other edge of the Heath, I slowed to a walk up the hill. I needed to catch my breath and figure out how I was going to tell him. I loved my mother, but not what she did. She found meaning in entertaining people and exposing celebrity hypocrisy, but I’d never wanted to follow her down that path. I might have been known to scan my mother’s column from time to time—she was a funny and absorbing writer. But it wasn’t what I wanted to do. We might share the same genetic code, even the same roof over our heads, but we weren’t the same people. Hopefully Nathan would get it.

  I turned into the Grove where Nathan lived and craned my neck to see if I could spot his car. I supposed he could have gone into the office. He’d seemed a little defensive in the car when I’d asked him what was happening in the insurance industry that was so important, he had to work on a Sunday. He’d never answered, and I hadn’t pushed.

  His car was in the driveway, just as he’d left it when I’d gotten out earlier this afternoon. As soon as I spotted it, I stopped. I should call him and not just turn up, right? I mean, he might be on an important call. Or in his underwear. I smirked to myself, remembering what Nathan looked like in his underwear. Maybe I shouldn’t call after all. The thought strengthened my resolve to come clean, and I picked up the pace. When I was fifty paces from the door, though, it opened. I stood rooted to the spot as someone emerged.

  Not just someone. A woman.

  And not just any woman—Audrey Alpern.

  Audrey was his work emergency?

  Despite the fact that I stood stone still, my heart raced like I was still running uphill. He’d seen her only yesterday. Why was she at his place again already? Audrey didn’t work with him, and even if she was a client, I couldn’t fathom a reason why her insurance policy would require such personal attention from the company CEO.

  He’d lied to me.

  He’d wanted to meet Audrey this afternoon. That’s why we’d left Norfolk early. There never had been a work emergency.

  Here I was, wanting to reveal who my mother was because I’d felt so guilty after his courageous honesty, but it was all a front. Perhaps it had been deliberate—tell me a secret from the past to throw me off what he was really hiding. Or perhaps it was all a lie, everything he’d told me. Maybe he’d not covered for Mark at all. Perhaps Nathan really had bought the paper.

  Nathan followed behind Audrey and pulled her into a hug before she got into the car.

  My limbs felt heavy, as if they were sucking me into the ground. Despite the fact I wanted to turn and run, I found myself unable to move.

  Nathan had said he’d wanted a time-out last night. It had never occurred to me that taking a break from our purely professional relationship might also mean taking a break from a purely personal one on his end. I should have believed him. Norfolk had just been a one-off. I’d been kidding myself when I’d thought he wanted more. I’d been a fool.

  It wasn’t me he wanted more with. It was Audrey Alpern.

  Audrey drove away and Nathan disappeared back into his house.

  I should call him, ask him, give him a chance to explain, but I couldn’t hear more lies. We were within the M25 and therefore the only relationship we needed to have was strictly professional. There was no way I was going to confront him, show him how disappointed I was, reveal that although I’d agreed to the time-out, I’d been secretly hoping for more.

  Finally finding some energy, I changed course and headed to the high street. I needed to walk. Think. Figure out how I was going to keep seeing Nathan in a professional setting after what had happened in Norfolk and after seeing him this afternoon. With Audrey.

  Crossing over the road, I rounded the corner and got a view of the city I’d called my home my entire life. The North Sea-gray watercolor of buildings piled on top of each other vibrated with energy. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought that whatever was between us was more than just sex? The stuff he’d shared with me—had that all been crap? Had the way he’d looked at me, as if I was precious—had he just faked that? I just didn’t understand it. And I wanted to.

  The energy from the city seemed to ignite something in me. I turned and raced back to Nathan’s house. I was here now, and I wanted answers.

  I didn’t even think before I pounded on the black-paneled door. I deserved an explanation and I was going to get one.

  Nathan swung the door open, a scowl on his face that softened as soon as he saw me. “Madison. What—”

  I pushed him back inside. “What was that in Norfolk?” I asked. “Was any of it you, or was it a huge act? Are you really so hard-up for sex that you have to manipulate women into bed?” I realized I’d been charging at him and we’d ended up in his kitchen.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Nathan said, scooting out of my way and heading back toward the front door.

  “I’m not leaving. I’m here for an explanation,” I called after him.

  “Take a seat then,” he growled from the hallway, but I stayed standing. He wasn’t going to tell me what to do. He reappeared, pushing his hands through his hair. “The door was open and I’d rather not be burgled as well as assaulted this afternoon.”

  “It was hardly assault. I deserve an explanation.”

  He looked at me as if I was going to elaborate.

  “I’m waiting,” I said, folding my arms in front of me.

  “For what?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m upset.”

  He took a step toward me and I stepped back. “Last thing I knew, we were kissing. Then you were making up crazy excuses why I couldn’t drive you home. Which still makes no sense to me. And now you’ve lost it for no discernable reason.”

  Of course he’d try to gaslight me and make me out to be crazy. He didn’t realize that I’d seen Audrey leave his
house.

  “No discernable reason? Are you kidding me? You want to explain how your work emergency—the one that pulled you away from your family early—was actually some kind of liaison with your—I don’t know what you’d call her. Mistress?”

  His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as if he were about to explode. What was he annoyed about? I was the one who’d been lied to. I was the one who had been misled by his soft touches and meaningful glances. I was the one who was angry. He should have the decency to look sorry.

  “So you think I’m lying?” he asked.

  “I know you are.”

  He shook his head, turned away from me, and headed for the fridge. “Of course.”

  So he was admitting it without remorse? “So that’s it? You lied to me and you just . . . don’t care.”

  “There’s nothing to say if that’s what you think.” He pulled out a can of drink and slid it onto the work surface. “You should leave.” His voice was pinched and clipped, as if I’d offended him to his core. The heat of his indignation seemed to come off him in waves. If I stayed a moment longer, he’d lose it. But I wasn’t ready to go anywhere.

  “So that’s it? Norfolk was a lie. The wedding was a lie. Everything that’s between us has just been manufactured by me in my head?”

  “Yep. I’m a born liar. I never keep my word. I’m not to be trusted. You need to leave, Madison.” He swept past me and took a seat on one of the sofas by the window.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” I said, determined to stay angry, despite Nathan quasi-admitting what he’d done. “I didn’t say you were a born liar.”

  “If you think I’m a liar, if you think that this weekend was all some huge manipulation, then you should go. Because that would mean I don’t know you and you, sure as shit, don’t know me.”

  This man was acting like the injured party when he was the one who’d lied to me. “Nathan, I saw Audrey come out of your house less than half an hour ago. She wasn’t your work emergency. What am I supposed to think other than that you’ve lied to me?”

  “You’re supposed to know me better than that. You. Of all people. I told you I didn’t buy Mark’s test, which means you’re the only person in the world who shouldn’t think me capable of cheating. Yet you think I’m lying to you? Having an affair with Audrey?” He sighed.

  His words deflated the balloon of anger in my stomach and I slumped on the sofa opposite him. “Nathan,” I said, my tone pleading. I wanted him to talk to me. To explain.

  “I needed to come back to London,” he said. “It was an emergency. I never said it was a work emergency. You must have assumed that.”

  I thought back. I was certain he’d said it was work, but maybe it was his mum or one of his brothers that said something about it being a work emergency.

  “Seeing Audrey is an emergency?” I asked him.

  He looked me straight in the eye. “Yes. Being there for my friend in her time of need is an emergency as far as I’m concerned.”

  Regret whispered up my spine. “Why didn’t you tell me it was about Audrey?”

  He slid his drink onto the coffee table between us. “Because Audrey is going through some stuff that’s very private.”

  Well, that put me in a difficult position. I wanted to know what was so private, but pushing him to tell me would dismiss the seriousness of his respect for Audrey’s privacy. I couldn’t ask him to betray her confidence, and he wouldn’t, even if I had. Nathan wasn’t that man. I knew that.

  But I’d still jumped to conclusions and forgotten who I knew him to be.

  I should have known better than to assume he was lying and manipulating me.

  I should have trusted him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, scooting forward on the sofa, trying to catch his eye. “You’re right. I know that you’re a decent man. I suppose that’s what had me so upset. Norfolk was so . . . so perfect, and you’d shared so much.” I tipped my head back. “I assumed the worst of you.” I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been surrounded by my mother’s work all my life, seeing the proof that with wealth and fame came hypocrisy and corruption. Maybe it was because I’d come to care about the man in front of me, had allowed myself to feel close to him, and part of me was scared enough to look for a reason to end it. Whatever the reason, something in me had caused the problem, not something in him. He’d done nothing to warrant my suspicion. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry,” I finally said. When he didn’t reply, I wondered if I should just leave. I stared at him, his long eyelashes flickering as he blinked. All I wanted was to make it better. “You’ve never done anything to give me reason to doubt you.”

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t.”

  I moved from my seat and sat on the coffee table between his legs.

  “I promise I won’t allow myself to doubt you again.” I slid my hand over his, and he flipped his over so our palms met in some kind of truce.

  “What were you even doing in Highgate anyway?” he asked.

  I should tell him the truth—that my mother was one of those journalists he hated so much. Explain that she was the one who broke the story about him and Audrey. I had the arguments mapped out—how her type of journalism and mine were very different. And how I’d spent my entire career trying to carve out my own path that wasn’t about scandal and exposing peoples’ private lives . . .

  But somehow I couldn’t find the words.

  “I was just running on the Heath,” I replied. I didn’t want to rock the very shaky foundations that currently needed rebuilding. Telling Nathan who my mother was may take a wrecking ball to them. I’d tell him. Just not yet.

  “That explains the Lycra,” he said, quirking an appreciative eyebrow.

  “And the sweaty face,” I replied, my shoulders dropping as I saw in his softened expression that I was forgiven.

  “Maybe you need a shower?” he suggested, shifting and lifting my bottom and pulling me onto his lap so that my legs straddled his hips.

  “Perhaps I need to get a bit sweatier first. And then take a shower?” I said, rocking my hips over him and finding him deliciously hard already.

  What was it with this man and the way he could just look at me and have me restless and ready for him? Yeah, he might be the best-looking man I’d ever seen. He might have a body like Jason Momoa, but it was more than that. It was the way he looked at me, as if I were the only woman he’d ever seen. Like he’d swim through shark-infested waters just to hold me. Like he’d never lie to me. It was the most intoxicating, exhilarating, thrilling feeling.

  “Tell me you know who I am?” he asked me as his fingers dug into my bottom, pushing me against him.

  “I do,” I said. “I know you’re loyal. And brave. And determined. And principled. And I know you’re honest.”

  Nathan’s hands clasped my face and he pulled me in for a kiss, claiming my mouth as if he wanted to taste the words I’d just uttered. As if he needed to believe them as much as I did. His tongue pushed into my mouth, desperate to consume me. In a moment I was transported back to Norfolk, back to when the only thing I had to think about was him and me, the rest of the world locked out.

  He slipped his fingers under my t-shirt and pulled it over my head before pushing me to my back on the sofa. “Stay,” he said. “Stay here with me tonight.”

  I pushed my hands through his hair. “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  All my concerns about conflicts of interests seemed to just dissolve. Nothing stood a chance against this tidal wave of feelings that enveloped us both. Nothing mattered except being with this man. Except being together.

  He pulled down the cups of my bra, bit at my neck, pressed his teeth into the flesh of my breast, and then grazed his teeth on my nipple. Sparks ignited in my belly, and flashes of need shot between my legs. I lifted my pelvis, shamelessly trying to get closer to him, needing to feel him against me, wanting to let him know how much I needed him.
<
br />   “Madison,” he groaned, rocking against me.

  I fumbled between us, needing to release him, wanting him inside me as soon as possible, needing that connection, wanting him as close as he could be. Like desperate teenagers, we grabbed at zips and buttons and pushed and pulled at electric blue Lycra until finally I could feel him against my thigh, hot and throbbing and as needy for me as I was for him.

  There was nothing slick about the way he wanted me. It was messy. Unchoreographed. And it was precisely because this version of Nathan was so far away from the player image the public saw—the image my own mother did so much to create—that made it so right. The man between my thighs, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and one leg in his jeans, was exactly who I needed. Nathan Cove, the man who didn’t quite feel worthy despite his success, the man who needed me to see deep down into his soul, the man who wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

  Finally, his fingers found my heat. The way he bit out the word fuck let me know that I was really as wet as I thought I was. “You’re so ready for me,” he rasped.

  “Always,” I said, taking his hand and encouraging his fingers inside me.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked. “My fingers inside you?” He stole another hot, needy kiss as he pushed inside me with two fingers. I couldn’t hold back a groan, but the sound hardly captured how good it felt. “Two can get so deep,” he said, pushing in. I grabbed his shoulder, trying to force myself to breathe. “So, so deep.” He circled and curled his fingers and my heart banged against my ribcage, as if it was serving a life sentence and just wanted one last chance at freedom.

  He sank a third finger inside me, stretching me so wide I couldn’t catch my breath. I dug my nails into his shoulder and he held my gaze, never faltering.

  “Trust me,” he whispered.

  And as if his words had some magic power to tip me over the edge, I started to come. The pulsing started in my stomach and radiated out until every inch of my skin was vibrating. I floated higher and higher, the climax so intense I couldn’t do anything but look at him as he coaxed my orgasm from me, teasing it, stretching it out so it went on and on, lasting for what seemed like weeks.