You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance

by Scarlett Avery

  "This has to stop. You can’t keep living like this. What they're doing is bloody harassment.”

  "Damn right."

  "They're fucking with your head," she continues.

  She’s as angry as I am.

  "I'm removing the kid gloves, Mum. Archer and Cormac are pure evil. I'm ready to play their dirty games."

  CHAPTER 37

  Charlie

  Five days later

  Barrett has been as quiet as a monk in the past few days. We exchanged a few text messages on Thursday morning before I headed to Kaffeine. They were short, but super sexy. All that changed by the end of the day. Something happened. I just don’t know what. As of late, Barrett has been sending me monosyllabic responses. I got lucky yesterday when he responded to my question about Jason’s case. “We’re still at it.” Four measly words. Jolly! All flirtiness is gone.

  Fuck. I hate that I care so much.

  Barrett always has a way of throwing me off my axis and now I’m paying the price. After another sleepless night, licking my wounds and trying to think about anything but the man my body craves—okay, my heart is in the game. Again. Every part of me still yearns for him, despite everything. That’s why I’m here.

  After exchanging a few niceties with the jubilant secretary, I head straight to the office of a man who might be able to help me. I knock a few times and the door swings open.

  “Charlie?”

  “Reverend Nesmith!”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Do we have an appointment?”

  “We don't. This isn't so much about business. Your secretary mentioned that you have several hours free. I thought I'd tempt fate.”

  "Indeed. After my early morning appointment, I got several cancellations.”

  "Perhaps you might have some time to talk."

  "I do," he smiles. “Please, don't stand in the corridor like a stranger. Come in,” he waves me in.

  "Thank you," I say, stepping inside his office.

  "Please, take a seat." I’m just about to lower myself in a chair, but he interrupts me. "Why don't we sit on the sofa, since this isn't a business meeting."

  "That would be lovely," I say.

  I stride towards the sofa, drop my handbag on the coffee table, take a seat and fold my hands in prayer position on my lap.

  To my delight, the Reverend sits right next to me.

  He offers me a warm smile.

  I return the favor.

  "I’ve never seen you without your preaching band or your clerical collar,” I note.

  “It’s funny how that jumps out at people,” he laughs.

  The pastor is wearing a pair of black trousers and a shirt in the same color. A few buttons are undone. Sweet. When I lower my eyes, I notice he isn't wearing a belt. I guess pastors aren't held to the same fashion ethics as regular men.

  "I didn't realize you were allowed to dress down," I say.

  My eyes travel the length of his torso. There's no two ways about it, the Reverend is in great shape. He's not nearly as muscular as Barrett, but he can hold his own.

  "Today is dedicated to office work and consultation sessions, so I can get away with it," he smiles.

  I'm just about to say something, but pause when I notice his belt poking from under his desk on the floor. He follows my gaze and when our eyes meet again, he's beet red.

  "That's a little embarrassing," he mumbles.

  "Not at all," I say quickly.

  "I should explain."

  "You don't have to."

  "Please, Charlie. Allow me."

  "Okay."

  "When I spend all day glued to a chair, a belt can quickly start to feel like a noose around my waist. I ditch it whenever I can," he chuckles.

  "Of course. That makes sense."

  "How can I be of service?" he asks averting his gaze.

  "Well, I was hoping to be of service. Not the other way around."

  His eyes snap back to mine. "I don't understand. I know in my heart we’ve hired the best publicist in the city."

  I scoot a little closer to him.

  “Oh, you most definitely did."

  We both laugh.

  "Oof. You had me worried there for a minute."

  My run in with Octavia still haunts me. My new client is exactly what the doctor ordered. Screw Barrett and his bloody brunette. Hello, Reverend Nesmith!

  "Back to me being of service," I smile.

  "What did you have in mind?”

  “Perhaps we might get to know each other outside of the confinements of this contract. Outside of this church, even. Sometimes it makes for a much better working relationship."

  His eyebrows knit together. "You mean dinner?" he asks.

  "That and getting more acquainted. You know… I tell you what I like and you do the same," I give him a flirty one-shoulder shrug. "I have many talents other than being a fabulous publicist.”

  He stares at me for long beat. His brown eyes peer into mine. I try to read him, but I can't.

  "I had a similar conversation with three other parishioners yesterday." I'm not surprised women are throwing themselves at him. He isn’t called the Sexy Pastor for nothing. "As a protestant, I'm not held to the same stringent rules my Catholic priest counterparts must abide by when it comes to relationships and, well, sex—”

  "Exactly," I purr. Now we’re talking.

  Reverend Nesmith lets out a heavy sigh. "Charlie, I don't know what to say." He pauses.

  Say yes.

  "I can’t believe a woman like you doesn't have a fleet of suitors banging down her door."

  I bat my eyelashes in response.

  "I've come to Ludlow Abbey with one specific goal in mind. I want to make my mark on the souls and the hearts of my parishioners. I want to help them become closer to God. So many people have lost faith. There are so many horrendous things happening in the world. My role is to help people understand that God is always watching over them. To do so, I’ve relinquished all matters of the flesh.”

  “Oh.”

  “Maybe one day, I’ll meet a woman I’ll want to marry, but for now it's all about my devotion to God. You can understand that?"

  Swallowing against my suddenly dry throat, I nod.

  I feel like a cheap floozy for even hinting at corrupting the saintly pastor with a higher calling.

  What's wrong with me?

  Fuck. Barrett is really screwing with my head.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say in a meek voice.

  "I'm not offended. On the contrary. I’m flattered, but now you know where I stand."

  "I do." And I'll never suggest anything that stupid ever again.

  “May I ask you a question?"

  "Of course."

  "Before I hired you, I did several Google searches." That doesn't sound good. "You seem to catch the attention of men who are at the top of their game—in sports, business, law and entertainment. All of those men are excessively rich, powerful and influential. I have nothing other than my faith to offer. And, as we’ve already established, matters of the flesh are of little importance to me. I know I'm fairly young, but I'm very intuitive. Is this really about me, Charlie, or are you running away from someone?”

  Great. Even the bloody pastor sees right through me.

  CHAPTER 38

  Barrett

  One week later

  Since receiving those infuriating photos in Athens, I've been in the most irritable mood. Nothing seems to shake it off. Every time I flashback to Charlotte's naked body, I'm overtaken by a choleric wave. Don't even get me started on that asshole she's with. Still, I'm a professional first and foremost. Somehow, I was able to tame my peevish temper and wrap things up with Jason. Once I got the petulant teenager’s ass on the record company's private jet, I was off on my own.

  I’ve only been back in London since yesterday.

  After another restless night, I woke this morning frustrated and in an irritable mood. Not being able to wake up with Charlotte in my arms is unbearable. Her a
bsence has gashed a gaping hole in my existence that seems irremediable. No matter what I try, it’s impossible for me to find salvation.

  Whiskey doesn’t work.

  Wine? Same thing.

  Wanking is a waste of time.

  Porn? Why bother?

  Losing myself in work is a temporary distraction.

  Compensating by buying expensive shit I don't need has done squat.

  I want her, but those photos haunt me.

  This morning’s horrible dream left me angry as hell. The images flashing behind my closed lids were so vivid, I wanted to murder someone. I decided to channel my overwhelming rage for Marlon, Asher and Cormac or else I might do something I’ll live to regret.

  “You can bloody do this,” I coax myself.

  My chest is on fire and the exertion is almost enough to distract me from this bloody nightmare. Almost.

  I increase the speed on the treadmill, pushing my muscles to perform to breaking point. The burn makes me forget the pain.

  “Come on, mate,” I repeat as my feet pound against the belt.

  Usually a punishing workout is all I need to find my axis again. Today, I’m struggling to rein my thoughts in.

  “Argh!” I grunt as I turn up the volume on my iPod touch praying that the lyrics of Bring Me The Horizon’s ‘Throne’ will occupy my mind.

  “Every scar will build my Throne.”

  Damn right.

  Fuck you, Cormac and go to fucking hell, Archer.

  I increase the speed again for good measure.

  I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.

  Being inside of Charlotte in Athens knowing full well it was a temporary fix was the most perfect torture. Six months without her body was too much to bear. Like a junkie, I needed a hit. I knew it would end. That I’d be forced to keep her at arm’s length.

  “Bloody hell.”

  I’m running like a pack of hungry tigers are chasing me.

  I’m completely in the zone until someone comes and stands right in front of me, breaking my stride. It’s Tyler.

  “What?” I bark, glaring at my best friend. My annoyance is thick in that one word.

  His lips move and his arms go flying in the air.

  He’s angry.

  I jump off the belt and drop my feet to the side of the treadmill before yanking my headphones off. That’s when I notice a dozen pairs of curious eyes on me. I was so determined to numb my pain with a good dosage of sweat that I was oblivious to all of these people.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’ve been fucking waiting for you at the restaurant for the past thirty bloody minutes. Your messages go to voicemail. You aren’t responding to your text messages. I’ve been looking all over for you and here you are training for the next Ironman Triathlon. What the fuck?” My best friend shouts so loudly that people leave the room.

  “Shit. Sorry, Ty. I didn’t realize I’d been at it for the past ninety minutes.”

  “Jesus Christ, Barrett. We aren’t going to battle this afternoon. Our Navy days are behind us. You do know that?”

  “Sod off.”

  “Are you getting off that stupid thing or should I go back to my office?” Tyler waves an angry index finger at the treadmill.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Let me grab a quick shower. Go back to the restaurant and wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “You better be or else I’m leaving your ass here.”

  “Stop breaking my balls,” I snap, “I already said I was sorry.”

  * * *

  There’s a reason KX Life, in Chelsea, is the most expensive gym in the city. At six hundred pound a month, this is without a doubt a state-of-the-art facility. The luxury spa, incredible restaurant and private members’ club are worth the hefty monthly fee. That's why Tyler and I have been long-time members.

  As we both finish our club salad with extra chicken, Tyler drops his fork and knife before letting out a long sigh. I look up and meet his gaze.

  "Do you feel human again?" he asks.

  "Barely," I chuckle. Even after a protein smoothie and the delicious salad, I’m still hungry. That workout did me in. "That said, I promise I won't eat anyone alive."

  "Can I also get your word that you won't beat anyone to death either?"

  "Promise. No violence today."

  "I'll be honest, mate, I've never seen you like that. You were working out so hard, I thought you were going to fly off of that treadmill."

  "I had a lot of pent-up frustration. It had to come out," I explain.

  "Talk to me. Your text was very succinct. What’s going on?"

  I let out a long and heavy sigh.

  "You have to give me a little more to go by," Tyler says.

  A few long seconds trickle by before I will myself to speak. "More photos."

  "What?" Tyler’s eyes widen. “Your mum?” I shake my head. “Ch—”

  "Yes." I interrupt him before he says her name.

  “This is puzzling,” he says. "I mean, the first time we couldn't even pin it on Marlon. But now, the idiot has been out of the country since last week. We shipped him from Los Angeles to Argentina over the weekend. He’s still oblivious to the fact that he’s chasing a fake scoop."

  “Exactly. I had a lot of time to think and it's clear as day now.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  "Why don’t I start from the beginning?"

  "Great idea."

  "As you already know, I've been struggling with this. When I'm this consumed, sleep takes a backseat. Of course, that's exactly what happened this morning—”

  "I'm sorry to hear that, mate."

  “It is what it is,” I shrug. “Determined not to let these circumstances—I can’t seem to control—paralyze me, I headed to the office early. Everything was going great until Felicity walked into my office holding an envelope.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” I pause. “Since she was as white as a ghost, I knew exactly what was in that envelope without her having to say a word. I didn't know if they were photos of Mum or my ex, but since Felicity had couriered racy photos of my ex a few days ago when I was in Athens—”

  “What? Why am I only hearing of this now?” Tyler asks.

  “I was too fucking upset to talk about it.”

  “Fill me in,” he demands.

  So I do.

  “Motherfuckers,” he growls.

  “Yeah, well it was a repeat this morning. I knew from Felicity’s expression, they were even worst than the ones from a few days ago."

  “Were they?”

  I nod.

  "Goddammit," Ty bangs his closed fist against the table. "These fucking idiots would push the sanest amongst us to consider murder as the only option."

  "Trust me, it’s crossed my mind a few dozen times. Up to this point in my life, I've never understood how someone can call a hit on another human being. Now I get it."

  I'm fully aware that my words are chilling, but I can’t help how I feel.

  "Obviously, I'd never do anything that stupid. Dad would rise from the grave and punch my teeth out. And I would crush Mum’s heart." I don't even want to think of how that would affect Charlotte.

  "So how the hell did those photos end up on your secretary's desk?"

  "That's the million-dollar question. Once again, it happened during Felicity’s morning coffee break."

  Tyler frowns. “Someone is watching her?" he asks.

  I cock an eyebrow. "It's not as if an invisible force strategically left them there."

  "Jesus Christ."

  "After I flew into a fit of rage that scared the shit out of my secretary and several of my employees, I decided I needed to channel this internal fury that was threating to cause my heart to stop. I told Felicity not to expect me for the rest of the day. I couldn’t wrap my head around work. That's when I fired off a text your way right before I headed to the gym to exorcise this anger."

  "No wonder you were pushing yo
urself so hard."

  "Now you understand."

  He nods. "If we rule out Marlon, I doubt Archer or Cormac have the balls to walk into your office again. Octavia is all talk. She's just a spineless bitch. As for Alvina, we all know she gets her sons to do her dirty work."

  "I agree." It's my turn to nod. “That leaves one answer.”

  It takes him a few seconds, but eventually he catches on. “Bloody hell,” Tyler grunts shaking his head.

  “That’s the only logical explanation,” I tell him.

  “After giving Cormac and Archer the boot when you discovered they were trying to defraud you, I thought you had cleaned house.”

  “I thought I had. I was never happier to say the words, “You're fired,” in my life right before security showed the evil Ascotts to the door. As for the junior lawyers and interns they had hired, I made sure to terminate their employment with us—conflict of interest."

  "People who have been working for your father are loyal. I doubt they’d ever betray you."

  "They wouldn't," I say with conviction.

  Tyler frowns. "Then this doesn't make any sense, Barrett.”

  I lean in.

  Tyler does the same.

  "People can be easily bought. I know it and you know it. I have a lot of new staff members.”

  "So you think it’s one of the people you just brought on board?"

  "Are they dedicated or is this just another paycheck for them?" It's a rhetorical question. I don't give Tyler a chance to answer. "Unless spirits are walking around my office and we’re dealing with a poltergeist, it's clear that I have a mole inside my firm."

  "Shit," Tyler hisses.

  "You tell me how else those photos landed on my secretary's desk. Again."

  "You need to figure this out. Fast."

  "Exactly the conclusion I came to. I need your help."

  “Anything, Barrett. Just ask and it's yours."

  It's moments like these that I know no matter how many times we butt heads, our friendship runs deep. Bloody hell, I love this guy.

  "I need to beef up security and I need cameras everywhere."