This stops me in my tracks. He’s what? Why the hell won’t he come out? Shocked, I sit up and bump my head on the edge of the granite countertop. Fabulous, now I have two lumps on the back of my head. “Did you explain everything? He’s signing my death warrant if he stays in.”
Greene sighs. I can hear exhaustion in his voice. It must be around two in the morning his time, and I know he’s as worried about Max as I am. “I didn’t talk to him.” He clucks his tongue. “I don’t think his handler explained the whole situation. They want to make their case, and they aren’t going to worry about you because what you told me was off the record. If you came clean, maybe I could do something. My hands are tied right now.”
“Damn it, there must be something you can do.” Between the stress and the bump, my head is pounding. I dig through my makeup bag for a bottle of Advil.
“You chose to keep secrets. This is what happens!”
Startled, I drop the bottle of Advil, the little brown pills scattering across the marble floor. In all of our time together, Greene has never raised his voice at me. I slide down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest as I hit the ground.
“We can only protect you when we know everything,” he says, his voice still curt. “You kept crucial information from us, and now we all have to deal with the consequences. I still can’t believe you didn’t trust us. I can’t believe you didn’t trust me.”
“I’m sorry, I really am. I screwed up. I never should’ve kept it from you,” I lie. I’m sorry he’s hurt and I’m sorry Max and I are in hot water, but I don’t regret what I did. It was my best option at the time and I took it.
“What’s done is done. We can’t undo it, so now we have to wait to see how it plays out.”
Easy for him to say. We talk for another few minutes and hang up. Greene’s icy tone melts a little, but I know the tension remains.
What if he’s right? What if my renegade actions were a short-term solution for a long-term problem? What if I get Max killed? I wish I could talk to Lorenzo. Damn him and his secrecy.
When the throbbing gets the better of me, I finally get off the bathroom floor and make my way to the kitchen. I tear through the cabinets looking for Ziploc bags to make an ice pack, but come up empty. Grabbing a handful of ice, I throw some in a dishtowel and some in a glass. I put the ice to the back of my head with one hand and pour vodka with the other. I add a splash of orange juice. That makes it breakfasty, right?
I had a laundry list of things to do today- work on my blog, figure out how to transfer my birth control prescription from the US, answer a million emails. None of those things happen. The jackhammer in my head is relentless, and I’m worthless. The vodka knocks me out until Gavin gets home. Sadly, the headache is still there. Gavin’s trying his best, but I’m cranky and irritable. We talk in circles about what I should do.
“Luv, I’m not sure there’s much more you can do. Max isn’t coming out until he has a resolution. When he gets out, I think we should talk to him and tell him everything. All of us can work together to figure it out.” He cups my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”
I let my head fall to his shoulder. “But what about Lorenzo? I can’t out him.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me back so he can look in my eyes. “Lily, it’s your life or his. They aren’t going to arrest him for helping you, so what if they know who he is? They probably already know who he is. You have to think about your safety.”
Tears well up in my eyes when I think about Max. “Gavin, I’ll never be able to live with myself if he dies because I went off book.”
He runs his thumb along my cheek. “Max is very good at what he does. You have to have faith he’ll get out of this.”
Faith? How can I have faith when everything ends in heartache?
******
On Thursday, I’m working on an article when I get a frantic call from Gavin.
“Luv, is there something you want to tell me?”
I stop typing and think. “We’re out of milk?”
“Anything else?” he growls.
I close my laptop. “Clearly you think I should be telling you something, so why don’t we cut to the chase, and you tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“What? Where the hell did that come from?”
“You were seen in an obstetrician’s office earlier this week.”
I laugh hysterically. So hard I can’t get any words out.
“Luv, I’m not sure why this is so funny. The tabloids have pictures of you filling out paperwork in an obstetrician’s office. At first I thought maybe it could be routine, but I called, that doctor only handles obstetrics. I don’t often buy into this bilge, but this is hard to dispute.”
“Gavin,” I squeak out in between laughs. “I’m not pregnant. When I went to see Alex, I forgot the suite number. I looked at the directory, then went to Dr. Baker’s suite. As it turns out, there are two Dr. Bakers in his building, and I went into the wrong one. Filled out paper work and even paid, before I figured out the mix up.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Thank heavens.”
“Relieved?” I ask, the humor now gone from my voice. I’m sure it must have been a shock, but does he have to sound so alleviated?
“Thank you for explaining. I have to get back to work.”
I drop my hand on the sofa. “You’re seriously going to drop that bomb and run?”
“Lily, I’m underwater here. My publicist called, and I needed to call you and get this sorted. Now that there isn’t anything to talk about, I have to get back to work. I love you. Hopefully I’ll see you later, luv.”
Too frustrated to work, I get dressed and head out for my day of errands. I walk by a newsstand on the way to the Tube. My picture is splattered over the front pages. A Baby for Lily! Where do they come up with this crap? Bump Watch? That means there’s no end in sight. They’re going to stalk me for nine months.
The press has multiplied overnight. Where we had just a handful, there seems to be an army. They shout at me so constantly, I almost miss my cell ringing.
“Bitch. You got knocked up, and I had to find out online?”
“Good morning, Em. No, I’m not knocked up. You should know better than to buy in to that. When have the tabloids ever been right?” I intentionally shout this loud enough for the reporters to hear. They’re not deterred, so I sneak into a coffee shop and grab a table.
“Okay, you’re forgiven. I’m not ready to be an aunt, that’s for damn sure. I’m coming into town next week, and the thought of going baby-shit shopping made me violently ill.”
“Em! That’s the best news. I can’t wait to see you. Do you want to stay at Gavin’s?” The women behind the counter glare at me with an evil eye. Perhaps because I’m talking too loud. Or maybe because there’s a herd of photographers blocking the door, preventing customers from coming in.
“The only time I don’t stay in a hotel is when you’re in desperate need of my supervision. Do you need me?”
“Hold on, let me order.” I put the phone down and order a hot chocolate from the waitress. Maybe if I order something and leave a big tip, they’ll stop giving me the hairy eyeball. “No,” I say back to Em. “I’m pretty good. Since I’m not pregnant and all.”
“Then I have no desire to listen to you and Brit Boy romping in the sheets all night.”
I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the back of the chair. “Gavin’s place is enormous. I could have an orgy, and you wouldn’t hear it.”
“I’ll think about it. Hey, have you heard from Boston?”
“Max? He’s on assignment. We won’t hear from him till he’s out, which could be months.” I wish I could tell her the truth, but it wouldn’t do Max any good and it’ll just stress her out. “Why, do you miss him?” I know she’ll never admit it, but there is something between those two.
“Hardly. I don’t miss boys. He hasn’t stalked me for a while, so
I wanted to make sure he hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth. I was worried for your sake.”
My hot chocolate arrives and I thank the waitress while Em tries to convince me she doesn’t care. “Sure, Em, you keep telling yourself that. If I were a betting girl, oh wait, I am, I’d bet a hundred dollars Max calls you the day he comes out.”
“If I cared, which I don’t, I’d take that bet. But I don’t, so I won’t. I’ve got to jet. I’ll see you on Tuesday, and I have crazy fun plans for us. Be ready.”
I love that girl.
The weekend comes and goes. I only see Gavin in passing until late Sunday afternoon when he collapses on the bed.
I run my fingers through his hair. “Gavin, you can’t keep up this pace. You need to slow down.”
“Are you doubting my stamina?” He flips me over so that I’m lying on my back underneath him. “Because I’ll show you right now what kind of pace I can keep up with.”
He tears his shirt off and kisses my neck. His hands find the back of my thighs and slowly slide up until he’s gripping my ass.
I trace his jaw with my finger, enjoying the abrasive feel of the scruff he’s sporting. “Gavin, I’d never question your stamina. But you can’t keep this up forever. Is there any sign of things slowing down?”
He unties my wrap-around sweater and notices I’m not wearing a bra. “Do you really want to talk about this now?” He softly kisses the valley between my breasts. “This is the last thing in the world I want to talk about. In fact, I have no desire to talk at all. I can think of far better things to do with my mouth.”
I hadn’t even been thinking about sex before he got home. Now my body is on fire craving him. I’ve gone from zero to desperate in seconds. What this man does to me…
He takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks on it while his hands pull off my pants. He strokes the sensitive spot behind my knee. Greedy for him, I use my legs to nudge his hand to my core. A moan escapes me when he touches my folds.
I can tell by the way he’s touching me that he’s trying to draw this out, but soft and slow isn’t what I need right now. “Gavin, please.”
“Please what, luv? Tell me what you want.”
The throbbing need between my legs is so intense I can barely think straight, let alone form words. “Gavin, I need to come. Now. Please.”
I’ve never been one to believe in the instant orgasm. I’ve read about it, heard men brag about being able to do it, but I’ve never believed it. It’s a myth. The sexual equivalent of an urban legend. I’m now reconsidering my stance.
Gavin slides down the bed, pulls my hips to his face, and devours me as though he’s been wandering through the desert and I’m his oasis. His tongue twists and twirls around my clit, driving me straight to the edge in mere seconds. I’m not sure if I’m that turned on or if he’s just that good.
It wasn’t orgasm on demand, but pretty fucking close.
Before my body has a chance to recover, Gavin’s inside me. As fast and intense as my orgasm was, he’s slow and deliberate. I think he’s on a mission to prove the length and breadth of his stamina. He takes his time, moving me in positions I don’t even think are in the Kama Sutra. Each position seems to find a new way to get him deeper inside me, hitting that magic spot that makes me see stars.
An hour and four orgasms later, he finally comes, and we collapse into a sweaty, breathless heap.
It takes me a while to catch my breath and come out of my post-orgasm coma. When I look at Gavin, I don’t see him moving.
“You alive over there?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, so I nudge him.
“That was so bloody incredible. I’ve heard about the whole tantric sex thing, but never really bought into it. Holy fuck, was I wrong. I’ve never come that hard.”
I turn toward him, resting my hand on his chest. “Is that what you were shooting for?”
“Well, it started off because I had something to prove—”
I scoff. “You’re so damn competitive.”
“Yes, I am, and you love me for it. After I felt like I’d given a sound demonstration of my stamina, then I just wanted to see how long I could go. It was unbelievable.”
“That good, huh?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
He leans over to kiss me, then, too tired to hold himself up, he falls back on the bed. “You’d better get used to it, because we are doing that again.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he quietly snores. I pull the blankets over us, then nestle into his side.
When the alarm goes off the next morning, Gavin yanks the clock out of the wall and throws it across the room.
“Not ready to wake up, Oxford?” I ask.
He’s typically a morning person, so this grumpy side catches me off guard.
“I just don’t want to go in today,” he says with his face still in his pillow. “I’ve been there every day for over a week, and we’re no closer to solving the problem. I’m exhausted, I miss you terribly, and I’ve spent so much time with my staff they’re all driving me mad.”
I slide over to him and drape my arm across his stomach. “What’s going on? You’ve never really explained it.”
He places his arm over mine. “The new system we created has a glitch, and we can’t figure out what the cause of it is. It’s crucial we solve this problem. If the product fails, it could cripple the company.”
“No wonder you’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you go back to sleep and go in late? You’ll be more productive if you’re res—”
His phone cuts me off.
He crawls out of bed to answer and immediately starts fighting. Guess he won’t be coming back to bed. He leaves the room because he paces when he’s stressed and he knows it makes me crazy. I climb back into bed. A loud crash jerks me up and out of bed five minutes later.
He storms back into the bedroom, seething mad. Gavin is always so collected and calm, and seeing him this angry is like seeing a fish out of water. Something horrific must have happened for him to lose his cool like this. Not wanting to push him, I don’t ask any questions. I look him in the eyes, trying to show him that I’m here for him.
“Olivia,” he says through gritted teeth while he paces around the room. “IT just figured it out. She embedded code into the program so that it would report like it was failing. I can’t legally prove it, but they’re confident she’s behind what’s going on.”
I sit up and wrap the blankets around me. “I thought she was your assistant. What was she doing writing code?”
“She was my assistant on the trip. I was trying to bring her over to the executive side, but she’d been working on the tech side for the past three years. From what I hear, she’s very good at what she does, but she’s bored by it. Hence why she wanted to move.”
I bring my knees to my chest. “I don’t know her, but it seems crazy that she would do that intentionally. Maybe she just wrote bad code?” I ask.
“The IT guys tell me this is deeply imbedded into the code, and quite intentional. George only found it on accident. He called it ‘masterful’. He suspects she did this right as she was leaving. The program worked fine whilst she was here. As soon as she leaves, it falls apart, making it look like the rest of the team botched the whole thing. They think she concocted this plan, so I would have to ask for her help. She’d come in and with a few keystrokes, she’d fix it all, and I’d no choice but to hire her back.”
“What a twatwaffle. I’m sure she thought she’d save the day and you’d run right into her arms. She’s watched too many bad soap operas.”
“I still don’t think she has feelings for me. Something else is going on,” Gavin insists. He sits down on the edge of the bed and fidgets with the edge of the duvet.
How can someone so smart be so oblivious? “Regardless of her motivation, she’s a manipulative bitch. You need her out of your life and out of your company,” I say as scoot closer to him “Can they undo whatever she’s done?”
“Ye
s. Now that they’ve found it, they say it’s an easy fix,” he says.
I wrap my arms around his stomach, tracing the contours of his abs with my fingertip. “What’re you going to do?”
He sighs, and his body goes slack. His chin falls to his chest and his shoulders slump. This is eating him up. “I think I need to talk to her.”
“You need to stay the hell away from her.” Up until this point, I’ve been calm about her. I thought she was an annoying gnat that wasn’t worth the energy to swat away. Now I think she needs to be squashed.
“She’s a longtime family friend. We have history. I have to trust that I can resolve this,” he says.
I may not have known her my whole life, but I know for certain that girl is as trustworthy as a viper.
Chapter Eleven
Em arrives tomorrow, and I can barely contain my excitement. I’m enjoying London, but it’s been lonely. I’m getting a lot of writing done, but this trip is supposed to be a way to test the waters to see if I could live here. I haven’t made friends of my own yet, but I haven’t put myself in a position to either. That’s a problem for another day.
Between the few days Em will be in town and the time I’ll need to recover afterward, I know I won’t be working for at least a week, so I spend the day writing. At twelve thirty, I get a call from downstairs about a package. I was writing in my tank top and boy shorts, so I throw on some clothes and head downstairs. Willis isn’t at his post, which is strange.
A teenage boy, probably about sixteen, steps out from behind a corner.
“Lily Clark?” he asks.
I bet this is some damn trick by the press. I haven’t run a comb through my hair, and the only makeup I have on is whatever’s leftover from yesterday. I put my hands on my hips, and glare at him. “Yes?”
He hands me a manila envelope and walks out the door.
Before I lived with Max, I just would have torn into the envelope. Having some experience with this now, I do my best to touch the envelope as little as possible. I open it using a pair of tongs and a boning knife. I feel ridiculous while I’m doing it, but I know my friends at the FBI would be proud.
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