by Geneva Lee
Bollocks. Edward was right. I was falling for Smith. That or I’d swallowed a load of butterflies. It seemed that overnight I’d become one of those girls walking around with her thoughts in the clouds and a goofy smile pinned to her face—and I couldn’t care less. The lights overhead flickered momentarily as we shot through a tunnel, casting a shadow over my happiness.
There were things I didn’t know about Smith. We hadn’t spoken of our pasts, although I guessed he knew a lot more about me given how carefully he had screened my application. I shouldn’t be so easily consumed by him. Not until he started opening up, but considering how he made me feel, did it even matter?
I was still pondering this question two connections later when the overhead speaker called my stop. As soon as I was out, I checked my phone.
SMITH: Let’s spend the night together.
Apparently, the Stones had a song appropriate for every occasion. All of my doubts evaporated at the thought of his hands on my body. I had a million questions for him, but I couldn’t expect them all to be answered at once. Maybe his newly discovered playfulness was the first step in letting me get closer to him.
But I couldn’t help toying with him now.
BELLE: You can’t always get what you want.
That would get him riled up. In fact, I’d never met a man who so easily got what he wanted, especially from me.
Another message appeared on my phone, not from Smith. An address. Apparently someone had their numbers mixed up. I slid away the notification as another text arrived from him. I could almost hear his voice as I read it.
SMITH: Gimme shelter.
The song immediately began to play in all its raw, brutal power. That he’d chosen that one sucked the air from me. It was the crux of the problem. A wall separated us still, and I wanted nothing more than to tear it down brick by brick. I knew then that I would give him shelter. I would give him anything he asked. I only wanted to know what a man like him needed protection from.
I couldn’t continue the game. No response felt appropriate. The only thing I could offer him was myself. I had to hope that would be enough.
It felt good to be home. My flat had been my safe space for the last few months, protecting me from the threats of the real world outside. Jane had opened her door when I needed it most, and even now with life starting to finally look up, returning here felt like the solace I needed from the changes taking hold over me.
I threw my keys down next to a stack of yesterday’s mail and called out for my aunt. The voice that answered made me shudder.
“We’re in here.”
My mother’s voice.
Steeling myself, I forced a smile and walked into the living area. Some children look like their mothers, but once again I was struck by how different we were. I looked much more like my father, which was perhaps the reason my mother’s lips pursed as I came into view. I was an unwelcome reminder of the life that she had lost.
Her eyes were as dark as the raven hair pinned elegantly up on her head. It had begun to gray at the temples since the last time I saw her, but I kept this thought to myself. As always, she was impeccably dressed in a rose dress suit and pearls. We both liked expensive clothing. That was as similar as we got.
Mother scanned me, not bothering to hide her disapproval of my dress and its revealing neckline, but she didn’t say anything.
Our relationship was built on what we left unsaid.
“I didn’t know you were coming to town,” I said, leaning in for the obligatory cheek kiss. She accepted it without returning it.
“You wouldn’t commit to a meeting time,” she reminded me, “or tell me anything about this new job. My aunt hasn’t been forthcoming either.”
Jane smiled pleasantly at her and poured hot water into a chipped teacup. She held it out to her.
Mum took it, grimacing as she spotted its imperfection, and turned the irregular side away from her. I hated her for that.
“I’ve been very busy.” I dropped into an overstuffed armchair and crossed my legs, knowing that it drove her crazy.
Ladies cross their ankles. I heard her voice correcting me in my mind. Most of my memories of my childhood included useful tidbits such as that. If she had any idea how unladylike I’d become, she would probably faint.
“What is on your neck?” she asked, leaning forward to zero in on whatever she had spotted.
My hand flew to my throat, but it was too late. I hadn’t actually checked myself for marks. Now I had no idea what she was referring to. Bite mark? Bruise? Hickey? They all seemed pretty likely.
Jane swooped to my rescue. “It looks like her seat belt must have rubbed her the wrong way.”
“Seat belt?” Curiosity colored my mother’s words. “I didn’t know they used seat belts on the Tube.”
“Belle has her own car now,” Jane said.
I glared at her. So much for saving me. Jane shrugged, as if to say ‘let’s put our cards on the table.’
“Your own car?” my mother repeated in a strangled voice.
It didn’t matter that the family estate’s garage housed a dozen luxury automobiles that we couldn’t afford. All she heard was that I had betrayed her.
“It’s not mine,” I fibbed. “It’s for work. I only use it to run errands.”
I’d already decided if I ever left my job, I wouldn’t keep the car, which made it a perk of my position and nothing more. I left out that it was a Mercedes.
“What is this job anyway?” she snapped. “And before you get smart with me, I didn’t appreciate your off-color remarks the first time.”
“I’m not a stripper,” I reassured her. Well, not really. I didn’t know if there was a term for a woman who shagged her boss. “I work for a lawyer as his personal assistant.”
“At least it’s nothing important.” She leaned over and placed her teacup on the table in front of her. She might have just thrown it at me for all intents and purposes.
It amazed me that after all this time she could still hurt me with her words. Of course, I’d never developed a thick skin so much as I had a smart mouth. My sarcasm bothered her more anyway.
“Belle is quite happy with her new position.” Jane rose to my defense, glowering at her. There was nothing like seeing my aunt’s feathers ruffled.
“Unless it pays the mortgage then it’s not important,” Mum explained. She looked to me as if I would volunteer to write her a check.
My salary could pay many of the estate’s expenses, but it would leave me with very little to get back on my feet. Since I’d left for school, the ties that bound me to my childhood had frayed. In the last year, they’d broken entirely. Still, guilt tugged at me.
“Just enough for rent,” I lied.
Jane bit back a smile across from me, barely hiding it before my mother turned on her. “It’s disgraceful that you would charge your own niece rent.”
“London is very expensive.” Jane blinked as if this was reason enough. Neither of us were about to tell her that I hadn’t written Jane a check since I’d moved into her spare room.
“I came with good news.” Despite this announcement, my mother sounded anything but happy. She twisted the strand of pearls around her neck.
“Please share,” Jane finally prompted when it was clear she was waiting for us to show a respectful amount of interest.
“We’ve been approached to rent the estate to the BBC for that period drama the Americans like so well.”
“Wexford Hall?” I offered, frowning.
“Yes, they were unable to reach a deal with the Abernathys. Apparently, Philip was quite demanding in his negotiations and suggested they contact me about using our home for future filming.” Mother’s pointed look could pierce flesh.
“He wasn’t doing us a favor.” I got right to the heart of the matter.
“Don’t kid yourself, Belle.” She dismissed my response with a wave of the hand. “It was clearly a peace offering. Philip wants to make amends with you.”
“Philip is engaged to the woman he cheated on me with.” Only my mother would walk into my own home and suggest I take back the asshole.
“He’s very unhappy. He feels he made a mistake.”
I froze for a moment as I processed what she was telling me. Clutching the arms of the chair so I wouldn’t fly out, I leveled my gaze with hers. “Please tell me you’ve become a psychic.”
“He came to see me earlier this week. I gave him my blessing to approach you.” It was clear from her tone that she saw no issue with this.
“He’s engaged!” Maybe if I said it louder, she’d finally hear me.
“Men make mistakes. Lord knows your father made plenty.”
“Father didn’t sleep with other women. He was loyal.” The rage simmering inside me began to boil over.
“Yes, but he made mistakes. However, the estate was always his top priority. How would he feel to hear you were shunning a chance to protect it from ruin?”
That was my mother. It was up to me. It always had been. Staff needn’t be trimmed. Cars couldn’t be sold. Considering the BBC offer was the first concession she’d ever made regarding her lifestyle. “His loyalty to that estate—to you—killed him.”
“He killed himself,” she said coldly.
My hand clapped over my mouth as an unwanted mirror swam into my head.
Dangling, lifeless feet. Daddy was being silly and he wouldn’t stop. I got on a chair and tugged his leg, but he still wouldn’t come down.
Screams. Screams from her mouth.
And then I hit the floor hard. I curled into a ball. Mummy didn’t even care that she’d knocked me off.
She just kept screaming.
Screaming and pulling on him.
Tears filled my eyes as I covered my ears.
Jane’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I tried to claw my way back to the present. When I found myself back in my flat, the tears belonged to me and not the five year-old girl in my memory.
“Get out,” Jane said, pointing toward the door.
“We have business to discuss,” my mother said, ignoring her. “Thanks to your father’s poor business acumen, all decisions regarding the financial state of the estate must be approved by my daughter.”
“You don’t have a daughter,” I croaked past the rawness creeping up my throat.
“How I wished that was the truth. A son would have been useful. He would care about his family. Instead I was stuck with you,” she snarled.
The barb didn’t stick. I’d known she felt this way my whole life. “Do whatever you want with it. Because if you leave it to me, I’ll burn the fucking place down.”
“Language!” she reprimanded me.
“You obviously didn’t hear me,” Jane roared. “Get out of my house, Ann!”
She stood, tugging down her tailored jacket and cast a hateful glare at me. “I’ll send the BBC contract for you to peruse. Either sign it or take Philip back, but standing by and ruining what I’ve rebuilt is not an option.”
Her final words were still ringing in my ears when the door slammed closed behind her. It was a joke really. In the last nineteen years, she’d rebuilt nothing.
Certainly not me.
The contracts were in my inbox when I arrived at the office three hours ago, and I was still staring at them. One stroke of the pen would sever a tie that had bound me far too long to past mistakes—mistakes not of my making. But it would also introduce scrutiny. The decision to withdraw my inherited stakes in my father’s nightclub shouldn’t raise any eyebrows, but it would. I’d set the wheels in motion months ago, hoping to dissolve my interest quietly. There had been nothing to risk then.
Now that had changed.
My extended family could offer Belle protection. That was never a question. The question was what it would cost me—and her. And that protection was absolute until my partners deemed either of us a threat. Whether or not I chose to sign the papers decided the man I’d become. For a fleeting moment, I considered if my father had faced a similar dilemma.
The door to my office creaked open, and Belle poked her head through the gap.
“Am I disturbing important lawyering?” she asked, but her cheerful smile didn’t reach her eyes.
I pushed back my chair and patted my knee. “You are always welcome to disturb me, beautiful.”
She hurried over to me and settled onto my lap. She was as stunning as when I’d dropped her off this morning, polished and radiant, except for the red rims around her eyes. Tipping her chin so she faced me, I studied her anxiously. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m tired.” It was a lie, but a well-meaning one. It wasn’t the dishonesty of someone ashamed of wrongdoing. I’d spent enough time around guilty people and criminals to know. This was the lie of someone guarding herself. She had been hurt. I stiffened in my seat, attempting to remain calm. It would wound her more to force the issue, even though doing nothing to the offender left me feeling murderous. Then it occurred to me that I might be the assailant. Perhaps I’d pushed her too far yesterday evening.
“Maybe we should take it easy tonight,” I suggested. “Grab takeaway and watch a movie on the sofa.”
“You have a sofa and a television?” she said in mock surprise.
Her mood was shifting, and I pulled her into me, determined to lighten it entirely. “I’ll admit I don’t often use them.”
“Too busy bedding women?” she guessed, nuzzling under my chin.
“Do I detect some jealousy?” I had, and I liked it. “Usually I’m stuck at work at night. Lately, I’ve had a reason to go home though.”
“A quiet night sounds nice,” she finally said, “as long as it ends with a good shag.” She shifted, straddling her legs over my lap and bunching her skirt in the process.
My fingers dug into her hips, holding her there. “That I can promise you, beautiful.”
“I took my knickers off before I came in, so I’d be bare and ready for you,” she whispered, grinding her pussy against my trousers. The raw eroticism was at odds with the sweet flutter of her lashes. She was chaos, charming one moment and wanton the next. Knowing her was the most exquisite turmoil I’d ever experienced.
A knock at the door startled us apart. Belle shot me a questioning look. I couldn’t blame her. It was a Saturday afternoon. We should be the only ones here. There were only four people who had keys to the front door. I didn’t have to guess who was visiting.
“Hammond,” I informed her. “We had some business to discuss.”
Another lie so close to the truth that the edges of it blurred. He would be here to talk business, but I wasn’t expecting him. His presence indicated news had moved more swiftly through the grapevine than I had predicted. I’d hoped to confront this next week. Now Belle would be here to witness the fallout.
“Come in,” I called out, bracing myself for the fast approaching storm.
“I should go,” she murmured, and I did my best not to look relieved. There were things she would learn about me in time, but it was too soon to unveil the ugly underbelly of my life. Not while she could still run.
Belle smoothed down her dress swiftly, regaining her composure before Hammond strode through the door.
“The lovely Miss Stuart.” Hammond spread his hands in greeting. “Can I pour you a drink? Smith keeps the good stuff socked away for me.”
Picking up her purse, she fluttered her lashes sweetly at him. “I was just on my way out. Next time.”
Next time. My hands balled into fists at the thought. Every time she was in the room with him, I swore there would never be a next time.
“I’ll see you at your place?” Belle spoke to me, but her eyes were glued on Hammond as though he was a snake that might strike at any moment.
I’d always liked smart women.
“It may be a few hours.” I glanced to Hammond, who confirmed this with a wink. I wanted to kiss her but not in front of him. It would only be ammunition, and frankly, I didn’t want to share he
r even for a moment with him. God knows even the most innocent action could be perverted to suit Hammond’s twisted desires. Belle disappeared out the office door with a faint farewell, but despite her graceful exit, I sensed her need to flee.
Hammond lit a cigar as the office door clicked closed. Thick puffs of spicy smoke wafted through the room, and my mind flashed to my father sitting in this office. Both the memory and my current visitor were unwelcome.
“I’m told you’re pulling out of Velvet.” He didn’t waste time. No, time was money to a man like him, and he’d never let you borrow one red second of it.
I dropped onto the sofa and slung an arm over its low back, releasing a heavy sigh but none of the exhaustion that had brought it on. “Where did you hear that?”
“Does it matter?” He took the chair opposite of me and assumed the same position. He’d always loved the imitation game. Although he seemed to have forgotten that he’d taught it to me. Mimic your opponent. If they act casual, be casual. If they lie, lie as well. When they ask questions, ask another.
“I suppose not. It’s not a secret.” I crossed my leg and watched as he did the same.
“Then why not come to me?” What he was really asking was whether or not everything was on the up and up.
“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d care. It was my father’s hobby, not mine.” Hobby was a kind word for it. Obsession would have been more appropriate. Aberration still more correct.
Hammond stroked his jaw, his eyes and thoughts distant. Mentioning my father always had that effect on him. The memory of the man was enough to send us both spiraling back through time. “You can’t cut your father’s legacy from your life, Smith.”
“I can try,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You might as well slit your own throat then and drain his blood from your veins. It would be just as practical.” Hammond’s words took on the stern, fatherly tone that I loathed. I’d found it soothing once. That had been my first mistake.
“I’m a silent partner. Georgia can handle Velvet without me. I haven’t even stepped foot—”