Crave Me

by Geneva Lee

  “Well, yes-s-s,” he stammered. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead, but I knew he couldn’t wipe it off in front of me.

  “Can you call him?” I asked sweetly, attempting to ratchet down my bitchiness.

  “I could, but—”

  “Either call him or find Norris, but do not make me call Clara’s mobile and wake up the baby!” Apparently remaining calm was a futile endeavor.

  “Yes, Miss. I mean, Ma’am. I mean, Sir.”

  I shook my head. “You’re heading in the wrong direction there, soldier.”

  “I’m not a soldier, I’m a—”

  I held up a hand, incapable of listening to his correction. “Just call him.”

  I watched through the guard stand’s window as he fumbled with the phone and eventually got someone on the line. A minute later, he came back and handed me my I.D. “I’m sorry for the confusion, Miss Stuart. We’ve tightened security.”

  “And you just started?” I guessed.

  The confused look I’d come to expect crossed his face. There was no point trying to help him through it. The kid was a lost cause. I waltzed up to the front entrance, marveling at the grandeur of Alexander and Clara’s temporary home. Soon they would be forced to make a move to one even larger, but for reasons known only to them and a few others, they’d stubbornly chosen to remain here for the time being.

  The guard at the door opened it for me and I stepped inside. Despite its spacious interior and the priceless antiques and art that filled each room, it had a cozy, casual feel. At least relative to most palaces. That was why they had wanted to bring their baby home to this place. Here they could focus on building their family instead of ruling a monarchy.

  Alexander met me at the top of the stairs. “Edward texted me. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

  “I figured you might not want mobiles going off with a newborn.” I brushed beads of rain from my hair.

  “That was thoughtful.” He sounded grateful for my caution. I supposed half of the world wanted to get a glimpse of Elizabeth or a statement from the new parents.

  The thoughtful Belle had disappeared when she crossed the threshold. “Of course. Now I need to see my best friend, and I don’t care if she’s resting. I really am sorry, but this is an emergency.”

  “And if I refuse?” he teased.

  “I’ll remind you that not only did I know her first, but I convinced her to sleep with you.”

  “You learn something new every day,” he said with amusement. “I suppose I owe you one.”

  “You owe me several,” I informed him as he guided me down the hall. “How is she?”

  “Breathtaking.” His voice was filled with the same awe that always accompanied his thoughts on his wife. “She’s never looked lovelier.”

  When I walked into the nursery, Clara glanced up and gave me a small smile. Elizabeth was in her arms, sleeping peacefully. Clara’s dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, and her skin glowed against the creamy backdrop of the nursery walls. The whole image reminded me of a portrait of the Madonna with child.

  “I can wait,” I whispered, realizing how insignificant my own needs were right now.

  “No, you’re fine,” she said softly. “I should put her down, but I can’t help wanting to hold her. Come here. She looks like an angel.”

  I tiptoed over, not wanting to wake her, and peered over Clara’s shoulder. The baby’s cheeks were rosy, and as I watched, she let out a tiny sigh and smiled in her sleep.

  “She’s perfect,” I murmured.

  “I have to agree with you,” Alexander said from the doorway. His powerful form filled the doorframe as he guarded his wife and daughter. He crossed over to us and leaned down to take the sleeping bundle from her arms. “I’ve got her. You two go talk.”

  I nodded my appreciation to him. Clara struggled to her feet, and I reached out to help her up.

  “This is going to be a long recovery,” she said with a sigh as we headed across the corridor to her bedroom. A fire had been lit, and we hunkered down into the two cozy chairs stationed beside it.

  Pulling my knees into my chest, I searched for where to begin.

  “Male trouble?” Clara guessed, flipping on a lamp next to her.

  “Is it that obvious?” Earlier today I’d been so certain my relationship with Smith was heading in a positive direction. Now I wasn’t.

  “I recognize the face you’re making. I believe I made it several times over the last year.” She screwed up her face into a cross between a frown and a grimace.

  “I hope I don’t actually look like that,” I said in a flat voice, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You look much prettier when you pout,” she promised me. “I’m still all swollen from last week’s blessed event.”

  “I think motherhood suits you. Alexander told me you’d never looked lovelier, and he was right.”

  Clara’s expression shifted, a smile lighting across her face at the mere mention of her husband.

  “Watching you fall in love with Alexander showed me how messy love can be, but also that it’s worth fighting for,” I told her. It had been messy with me and Smith from the start. After today things were bound to get worse. “What I don’t know is why you chose to fight at all?”

  She exhaled deeply, and I could tell she was choosing her response carefully. “This isn’t going to sound very helpful, but I don’t think I ever really had a choice. Being with him was inevitable. I actually tried to fight loving him and I couldn’t. That was exhausting. When I decided I wanted to be with him, it wasn’t any less difficult. It was simply easier to fight for us than against us.”

  “I think I understand.” I did understand. Since I’d met Smith, I had tried to keep him at a distance. Even after I’d given myself to him, I had pushed him away. And still we kept returning to one another. “Does it feel a bit like addiction?”

  “This is serious,” Clara said, shifting forward. She winced and grabbed her stomach.

  I dropped to the floor in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She waved off my concern and leaned back again. “I’m still recovering, remember? Now stop trying to change the subject.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her and scrambled back into my seat. “Believe me, I want to talk about this. I can’t seem to sort it out on my own. It’s like my head is a jumble.”

  “You’re falling in love,” she said in a gentle voice, “and that is scary for you, especially after Philip.”

  “I never loved Philip,” I admitted to her.

  “I suspected that, but that doesn’t mean your relationship with him didn’t affect your life. You may not have loved him, but you trusted him and you gave your loyalty to him.”

  “And then he royally screwed me,” I finished for her, tacking on a sheepish, “No offense, Your Majesty.”

  “You are never allowed to call me that,” she informed me. Her eyes went distant for a moment as a wry grin spread over her face. “Look how much has changed for us since we left Oxford. I’m married and you’re shagging your boss.”

  “Plus you becoming the Queen of England,” I added dryly. Neither of us had seen any of this coming, which is why it made the rocky terrain more treacherous to navigate, especially since we were increasingly doing it alone. Or rather, with someone else at our sides. It felt good to be here with her now. It was as close to normal as either of us were getting. “You know I always have your back, right?”

  “I count on it,” she said. “Back to this whole falling in love business.”

  I groaned. So much for our moment. “I don’t know if I’m in love with him.”

  “That’s the thing about the fall. You don’t really feel it until you hit the ground.”

  “And up until then?” I asked. Since admitting I hadn’t loved Philip, I realized I’d never been in love before. All of this was new to me, and it was a change that wasn’t entirely welcome given today’s revelations.

  “You feel exhilarated—like
you’re flying. There’s moments of panic, of course, but then you let go again.”

  “And when you hit bottom?” I asked.

  “Just hope he’s already waiting to catch you.” Her words were bittersweet, almost wistful.

  “Like Alexander caught you?”

  She shook her head, pursing her lips ruefully. “I’m pretty sure I caught him.”

  “Only you would be strong enough to,” I told her. I moved to the arm of her chair and sank down beside her, hugging her close to me.

  “It’s worth it,” she continued.

  “What is?” I murmured.

  “The fall. The hard landing. If you know it’s the right person.”

  There was a time when I would have asked her how I knew I was choosing correctly. I didn’t need to tonight.

  Night had fallen, but I hadn’t moved. I belonged here among the moss and ghosts—a shadow of a man adrift in the space between life and death.

  The soft crunch of footsteps on grass came near, and I startled out of my malaise. Knocking over the empty bottle, I hurried to my feet to face the intruder. At this time of night, it was either a sentimental tourist wanting to commune with the dead artists buried all around me or someone who knew where to look for me. In either case, I wasn’t interested in company.

  “God, I can smell you from here.” Georgia came into view, waving a hand over her nose. She was dressed in leather pants so tight that I imagined she’d had them sewn on and a matching motorcycle jacket. She’d obviously come here from the club. “How much did you drink?”

  “Not enough,” I said, kicking the bottle at my feet. “I’d offer you some, but Dad and I drank all of it.”

  “You are drunk if you think your dad is here. Newsflash: he’s worm food.” She dropped to the grass, folding her legs beneath her. Apparently she thought she was invited to my private party.

  “You’re comforting as always.” I sat back down beside her. I could ask her to leave, but expecting a favor out of Georgia was like believing in life after death. Utterly pointless.

  “I had no idea you still came here.” She gazed past me at the tombstone and let out a long sigh.

  “I haven’t been here in years.”

  “Why tonight?” she asked, fixing me with a penetrating stare that would leave lesser men fumbling for words.

  She’d never had that effect on me. “The better question is why are you here? Or rather, how did you know I would be?”

  No part of me believed Georgia had simply stumbled into the graveyard and happened upon me. She was seeking me out, which was never a good sign, particularly since we’d chosen to limit our contact with one another.

  “You’re not nearly as mysterious as you think you are. Hammond mentioned he visited you at the office.”

  “Did he mention I nearly choked him?” I asked her, wishing I hadn’t finished the bottle of Scotch so quickly.

  “It might have come up,” she said wryly. “And since my father reminds you of yours, I played a hunch.”

  “You’re good at that.” Too damn good. It was unnerving how easily she got into other people’s heads, especially when it was my head. It was what made her good at her job and better at her hobby. Not that there was much difference between the two. Either way, she was screwing somebody.

  “I didn’t come here to discuss dear old dad.”

  “I didn’t think you had.” At least she had found somewhere relatively safe to talk. The only witnesses to our meeting had lost the ability to tell tales long ago.

  “Your charming new plaything showed up at Velvet today.”

  The boozy haze enveloping me evaporated instantly, and I was back on my feet, looking for something to hit besides marble grave markers. “How the fuck did that happen?”

  “A third party sent her the address—on your private mobile.”

  Goddammit, Hammond hadn’t been lying when he’d told me he’d gotten to my people. “I’ll have to fire my staff.”

  “Including your assistant?” Georgia pressed.

  “I doubt she sent the message to herself,” I said coolly as I mentally calculated severance pay.

  “You know it’s the right move. She needs to be cut loose, Smith.” The cattiness she’d exhibited toward Belle was absent from this proclamation. Georgia was being rational and undeniably smart. I couldn’t feign security concerns with Hammond if I kept her on.

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Don’t tell me that you didn’t see this coming. Or were you too blinded by your erection to think straight?”

  “Fuck you, Georgia,” I growled.

  “We swore no attachments. Not even with each other. I believe your words were ‘we have to be calculating.’” Her tone dared me to challenge this fact, but I couldn’t.

  “We’re not the type to get attached.” Which is why I hadn’t seen Belle coming.

  “She was chosen to fulfill an objective,” she continued. “Now that’s been blown to hell. There are other avenues for us to pursue.”

  “We can pursue them without me abandoning her. If anything, her continued presence is a smoke screen. Her connections haven’t escaped Hammond’s notice. If he suspects—”

  “Jesus, do you hear yourself?” she interjected, shaking her head and sending dark locks blowing in the breeze. “She’ll be a target. Is that what you want?”

  “It’s a smart plan,” I hedged.

  “You’d risk her life? She must be nothing more than one sweet piece of ass. That’s cold, even for you.”

  “I learned from the best.” I couldn’t look at her. The truth was that I had learned ruthlessness from someone else. Georgia had merely honed my capacity for it.

  “Destroy her then.” Georgia shrugged and pushed up to her feet. Brushing off the back of her pants, she continued, “It’s no skin off my back, but we both know you can’t handle more blood on your hands.”

  “I thought I was cold.”

  “You are, but you’re also not a murderer. It’s the one sin you’ve avoided.”

  It didn’t feel that way though. I’d never stolen someone’s final breath or stopped a heart, but I’d been stupid. People had died. Although technically, she was correct, and I hated her more for it. “Unlike some.”

  “I was born for sin. It’s in my DNA,” she said with a scoff, unwounded by my barb. “So take my advice. Let her go.”

  “Why should I?” I demanded. It wasn’t like Georgia to get sentimental. Getting in her way simply meant getting knocked down.

  “Because you care about her,” she said in a soft voice, “and if you’re still capable of that, maybe there’s still hope.”

  For the rest of us. She left it unsaid but it was there, hanging in the air between us.

  “Don’t hope for absolution,” I warned her. “God abandoned us long ago.”

  I took the lift down to the lowest level, stripping off my dress in the corridor and kicking off my heels. I needed to think, clear my head. Today’s revelations had settled over my chest, leaving me gasping for air. I pushed open the door and walked to the edge of the pool. Without thinking, I dove in, instantly freeing myself of my own weight. I stroked across the bottom, only emerging to suck in a breath and disappear once more below the glassy surface.

  Smith’s past didn’t belong to me. I couldn’t hold him accountable for the life he’d lived before we met. But I no longer understood how I fit into it. Our relationship had evolved rapidly into a compulsion. The mere fact that I was here now was proof of that, and it forced me to ask what I actually needed from this.

  I knew what I wanted. His body. His soul.

  Him.

  Every part of me craved more. He’d consumed me, but what happened on the other side of this affair? If I walked away now, it would destroy me. How much worse would it be in a week or a month? Or a year? I could only dream of holding onto him that long. I floated to the top, keeping my face under water until my lungs burned from the effort. I was searching for proof that I was
alive outside of his existence. My arms drifted to my sides and I let it all slip away. The fear. The anger. Until all that remained was desire. It had to be enough.

  I was dimly aware of a surge of water. The sound of a splash. I lifted my head, sputtering and sucking in air as two arms coiled around me, drawing me higher out of the water.

  “Belle!” Smith shouted, slapping the side of my face. There was no playfulness. Only a thwap that stung across my cheekbone.

  Thrashing in his arms, I broke free and dove away, swimming as fast as I could, but he was on me. This time when he caught me, he hauled me around and crushed me to his chest. I blinked against the burn of the chlorine and gathered my strength to fight him off again. My palm collided with his chest, catching on wet fabric. Startled, I looked down to discover he was fully clothed. My eyes flashed to the edge of the pool where only his shoes rested.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed.

  “Oh God.” He grasped the nape of my neck and forced me to him. My body reacted immediately, ceasing to struggle against his hold on me. I dissolved into his arms, tears mixing with water until I no longer knew if I was crying or drowning.

  It was how I always felt around him.

  “I saw you in the water,” he choked out. “I thought…”

  I saw it through his eyes then. My body floating on the surface, weightless and still. The image flashed to my father’s feet.

  And then I knew. No matter what I did. No matter how far I pushed it. He had brought me to life, breathing essence into my being with his kiss—with his touch.

  “You promised me things,” I accused, losing what precious little control I had over my emotions in a torrent of sorrow and betrayal. “You promised to protect me, but you never told me why I needed protection.”

  “I know.” He brushed water from my cheeks, hushing me with gentle sounds until I’d calmed. “I heard what happened today—where you went. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “Because it was your dirty little secret or because it’s what you have planned for me?” I bit out, smacking his hard chest until my hands ached.

  “You don’t belong there. I never wanted you to see that place.”