“And then you were going to put them back?” asked one of the security men.
“Yes, or buy them,” Wren said.
“Let me explain.” Tomas drew both men away to the corner of the café.
Wren bristled. What the hell did he think he could do that she couldn’t?
“I didn’t, I didn’t,” Benoit kept repeating.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll sort it out.”
Moments later the two men left and Tomas walked over and slapped Benoit on the back. “Is okay now,” Tomas said.
Wren was intrigued and relieved in equal measures. Benoit still seemed as though he wanted to cry.
“Don’t worry, Benoit. It was just a mistake,” Wren said. “Sit down and drink your coffee.”
His head and shoulders were low like an abused animal’s. She made a mental note to speak to him privately. There might be something she could do to boost his self-confidence. And that wouldn’t include sending him to see Belinda.
“How long you teach at school?” Monique asked.
“Nearly two years.” But it felt like fifty.
“You like it?” Georg asked.
“Well, this is lovely.” Wren tried to be diplomatic. “Having a drink in a café with my students? Thank you again to Monique for paying.” Because there was no way Wren could have afforded to.
Monique shrugged. “It’s nothing. Is Olive Speke good boss? You like her?”
Why did she want to know that? Still—this was conversation practice and Wren could lie, say Olive was a wonderful boss, kind, caring and considerate when she meant mean, nasty and selfish.
“I plead the fifth,” Wren blurted.
Tomas laughed. How the hell did he know what that meant?
Shit, shit, shit. If Tomas wasn’t more careful, he’d blow his cover. He’d made Adam suspicious a few hours ago and now he’d been a smart-ass with Wren. He sat back in his seat, zipped his mouth and listened as Wren painstakingly explained what she’d said, and in the process avoided answering Monique’s original question about Olive. Why?
Benoit kept giving Wren lingering, lustful glances. Tomas didn’t blame him. She was cute and her new hair color made her even cuter. An image slid into his mind of Adam and Wren entwined naked, and his cock stirred. Christ. He wished he hadn’t unbuttoned his coat. Tomas reached for his coffee. He wondered how Wren would feel if she knew what he and Adam had done after the guy left her bed. Disgusted, horrified, excited?
Still, it wasn’t going to happen again, so what did it matter? He should have gone after Adam last night and made up some story, but he hesitated too long.
His phone rang and he sighed when he saw who was calling. He pushed to his feet, muttered, “Sorry,” and walked back into the books.
“Yes,” he said to Marco.
“I want to see you.”
“I’m in class. We’re in café.” He wondered if Marco knew what had happened in the alley last night.
“Veton will pick you up outside Ezispeke in thirty minutes.” Marco ended the call.
Now what?
Tomas went back and sat next to Wren.
“Sorry. My boss,” he said to her. “I plead the fifth. I like that expression. Get me out of trouble. You too.”
Wren shot him a little smile. “We’ve just been discussing the café. Everyone has to give me a sentence to describe it. You try.”
“A place where dreams are made.”
Wren gaped at him.
“It say on wall.” He nodded to the top of the chalkboard menu.
She tsked. “Say something original.”
“You have crumb on your coat.”
Wren looked down but he brushed it away before she could lift her hand. Tomas caught her swift intake of breath and felt the echoing hitch in his lungs that shot down to knot his balls.
As Georg began to stutter through some crap about the number of different coffees on sale, Tomas slid his hand onto Wren’s knee under the table. He had no idea why he’d done it. Well, yes he did. He liked putting her on edge. She tried to move her knee and he tightened his grip. Soft skin, no pantyhose, and he wished he could slide the rest of the way up her thigh. Was she going to slap him?
“W-well done, Georg. Duscha?”
No, the slap wasn’t coming yet. Tomas stroked the side of her knee with his thumb. She’d stopped resisting. No one could see, but Monique’s mouth quirked and she stared at him in a way that suggested she’d guessed. How far could he go? How far would Wren let him go?
“Time to leave,” Georg said.
Wren glanced at her watch. “Ah sorry.” When she tried to get to her feet, Tomas pressed on her knee to keep her down.
“I need talk to Wren. You go, we follow,” he said.
Tomas could hardly believe it when they all left without protest. Even puppy-eyed Benoit. Monique bustled them out, which was another surprise, and she took the books back. Wren sat trembling next to him. Her nervousness turned him on big-time. Her grip on his lower leg excited him even more. Fuck. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“How is backside?” he asked. Keeping up this stupid accent was a pain.
“What?” she blurted.
“You bruise when you fell?”
“It’s fine.”
“Want to show me?” He really wanted her to show him.
She rolled her eyes but clasped his leg even harder.
“You have other class now?” he asked.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. What am I doing?”
She gulped. “Playing with my knee.”
“Very nice knee.”
“That belongs to me.”
Tomas let out a delighted laugh.
“Let go,” she whispered.
“You first.”
She gave him a puzzled glance and he slid his fingers higher. Wren released a muffled groan.
Tomas leaned closer and whispered, “My cock’s so hard it hurts.” Then he waited. He expected a thump or an overturned chair as she stalked out. He didn’t know what game he was playing but he did know only her leaving would stop it. Her nails dug into his shin. Her other hand grasped her mug, but it was empty. He’d checked. He didn’t want to be soaked in coffee.
“You’re very rude.” She glared at him.
“And you’re turned-on.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You arrogant shit.”
He smiled. “You can let go of my leg now.”
Wren released her hold and stared down in horror at her hand. “I thought I was holding the table.”
“I thought you meant to hold higher.”
Tomas watched her face change. Christ, she’d be no use in his job. She didn’t hide a thing. He watched embarrassment morph to annoyance and then change to something cunning. What was she up to? He started when he felt her fingers back on his leg, clasping his knee. She looked into his eyes and slowly slid her hand up his thigh, under his coat and put her palm on his zipper. His breathing faltered. When she flattened her palm over the outline of his cock and squeezed, he stopped breathing.
“Bye,” she said and walked out.
He groaned and followed her, fastening his buttons. He caught up with her outside.
“You irresistible,” he whispered.
“Try harder.”
He smiled. “Don’t want to.”
Wren walked faster. So did he. When they reached the corner of the street leading to Ezispeke, he caught her elbow, swung her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. He was counting on her being surprised enough to give his kiss a chance to win her over. He’d told himself at the slightest sign of resistance he’d let her go.
He lied. She struggled and he held her tighter. Please. He ran his tongue along the line of her lips and then landed a series of fluttering kisses around her mouth. Please. She no longer struggled, nor did she kiss him back. Then he felt the tip of her tongue brush against his and he thought he’d melt where he stoo
d.
“Ahem.”
The cough sent his body rigid and his cock wilted. He didn’t need to turn to know who this was. Oh shit.
Chapter Thirteen
Adam sat in Leeds Art Gallery staring at a bronze sculpture by Rodin. It was a life-size figure of a naked guy standing with his clenched hand above his head. Apparently Rodin scandalized critics of the time who accused him of having cast the figure from a live model, though he denied it, but it enticed people to come and see for themselves. Adam preferred the real thing. He thought of Tomas and smiled.
Last time he’d noticed this bronze was in New York. There were likely many others scattered through major museums. It looked like the guy was just waking up, the figure balanced on the edge of movement, the stretch about to happen. Tomas was more beautiful, his muscles better defined, his body more appealing. And he was better hung. Adam stifled his laugh.
He leaned back and sighed. He’d spent the morning going through his emails, speaking to Daniel his deputy, calling clients, arranging appointments, writing a talk he was due to give next month, but his mind kept wandering to the two people who’d recently thrown his world into chaos.
Wren. Who was sweet, pressed all of Adam’s buttons, but didn’t deserve to be messed around with. Walking out like that had been cowardly and no matter that he’d thought at the time it was the correct thing to do, it wasn’t. He needed to speak to her and put things right. Though he had no idea how he could make amends.
Tomas. Who was not sweet, also pressed all of Adam’s buttons, but appeared to be fucking around with him. There’d been no trace of an East European accent when he’d talked on the phone. The prick had sounded as English as him and while he understood people sang without accents, he could think of no reason why talking on the phone would make one disappear. Conclusion, Tomas was pretending to be Croatian. Why? Adam shouldn’t have walked out without demanding an answer.
He’d done a search on his name, used channels unavailable to the average guy and found nothing. Well no, that wasn’t quite true. Some details were there. Born on the 14th of February in London to a British mother and Croatian father, both deceased. Tomas had moved to Croatia when he was twelve and lived there until two years ago. He had no siblings, no living grandparents, but he did have a respectable math degree from Zagreb University. Yet he worked in a bar. Adam’s attempts to uncover more information failed and he’d emailed one of his guys and asked him to work on it.
The biggest question in his mind was what he did now. He’d come to the museum to think but he hadn’t made much progress apart from deciding he had to speak to both Wren and Tomas. Adam wasn’t due to attend Ezispeke today but Wren would be there and he suspected Tomas would too. He pushed himself to his feet. Maybe he should let fate dictate whom he spoke to first.
* * * * *
The moment Tomas heard Marco cough behind him, he pulled away from a puzzled Wren and faced his boss.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” Marco smirked.
Tomas willed Wren to walk away. She didn’t.
Marco stepped closer. “But now I have, introduce me.”
“Wren, this my boss Marco.”
He held out his hand and Tomas wanted to scream at her not to touch him because she’d get sucked into an alternate dimension, go up in flames or catch the plague. She smiled, said hello, shook his hand and nothing happened.
“What’s your answer?” Marco asked her.
“I not ask yet,” Tomas said quickly.
“Why not?”
“She not best choice.”
Wren tensed.
“He’s talking nonsense,” Marco said. “I’m sure you’re an excellent teacher. Would you consider doing some private work for me?”
Say no, say no, say no.
“I don’t think you need any help with your English,” Wren said.
Marco chuckled. “Thank you, but it’s not for me.”
Tomas’ heart pounded. “She not allowed teach outside school.”
“Of course she is.” Marco turned to Wren. “I run several businesses, including a cleaning company. My employees speak poor English and I’d like a teacher to improve their language skills so they’re better able to meet clients’ needs. You could come after work. Two hundred pounds for two hours.”
Not going to happen. Not going to—
“Okay.” Wren beamed at Marco. “That sounds great.”
Tomas’ stomach clenched.
“Tonight?”
“Fine,” Wren said.
No it isn’t. He shoved his fists in his pockets. “We have date tonight.”
“Rearrange it,” Marco snapped. He handed Wren a card. “My number. What’s yours?”
He took out his phone and as Wren gave him her number, Tomas memorized it.
“I’ll have you picked up from here at six and taken home afterward. I need to speak to Tomas now, if you’d excuse us.”
“Of course. Thanks again.” Wren walked away.
Shit, now what?
Marco caught the sleeve of Tomas’ jacket and pulled him around the corner. “Take that look off your face.”
“What look?” He spoke through gritted teeth.
Marco raised his eyebrows. “Jealous?”
“She’s mine.” He regretted the words the moment they were out. He knew better than to hand Marco ammunition.
Marco nodded toward his grazed cheek. “Was Sanjay rough?”
What? He means during sex? Did Marco not know Sanjay had gone down—and not in a fun way?
Marco put his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off several notes and held them out.
Tomas’ gut roiled and bile rose into his throat. “He paid you for sex with me?”
“He’s an old friend. I owed him a favor.” Marco shrugged.
“You have good dentist?” Tomas wondered when he’d been more furious.
“Calm down,” Marco barked. “The way you looked in Cirque, I could have fancied you myself. I’ve been wasting your talents. Next month you go with Veton to bring back our…merchandise. No one will be able to say no to you.”
He felt as though he was being ripped apart. Marco sending him on a trip to Albania was what he and Julia had been hoping for. A chance to unravel more strings of the organization, except Marco was not only dragging Wren into this, but last night the guy had gone too far and Tomas couldn’t—wouldn’t—stand for it.
“Am I not allowed to say no?” He flicked his thumb over the mark on his cheek. “Sanjay attack me outside Cirque. He pull knife.”
“He what?” Marco sounded shocked but Tomas knew better than to trust any reaction from this guy.
He stepped forward, invading Marco’s space. “You don’t own my body. My girlfriend not going to work for you. Take your money and your fucking job and stick it up your ass.”
He strode away, his heart blocking his throat. Julia is going to kill me. I’ve just blown this. Fuck.
“Tomas!” Marco shouted.
He kept going when he knew he should have stopped. She really will kill me.
“Tomas!”
He’d only intended this as a bit of chest beating, but once he’d started to walk, the temptation to keep going was very strong. But not strong enough. Tomas slumped. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and wait for Marco.
“I apologize,” Marco said. “I was out of line with Sanjay. Won’t happen again. You drive Wren to Cardigan Street tonight. You drive her home. Nothing will happen to her.”
Tomas nodded and Marco walked off. Oh hell. What have I done? There was no way he wanted Wren within a thousand miles of that place and now he’d have to deliver her into Marco’s hands. He took out his phone and stored her number.
* * * * *
Adam stood in the shelter of a bus stop across the road from Ezispeke feeling as though he watched a play without words, unable to make much sense of it. Or maybe too much sense.
He’d watched Tomas kiss Wren. Not for long and she’
d looked surprised, but she hadn’t pulled away. His fingers had tightened on the edge of the shelter and as he’d tried to figure out how he felt, an older guy had come up, talked to the pair of them and Wren had left acting as if all her dreams had come true. A moment later, Tomas stalked off, only to wait as the other guy caught up to him. After the stranger walked away, Tomas just stood there, tapping into his phone, shoulders down, managing to look miserable and furious at the same time.
Adam’s feet had taken him halfway across the road before he realized it. Tomas straightened when he saw him approaching, shoved his phone in his pocket and tightened his mouth into a hard line. Adam’s brain frantically computed what he ought to say and then for the first time in his life, he did something totally unplanned and out of character. He pulled Tomas into his arms and there in the middle of the street, he kissed him. For a long second Tomas was as shocked as Wren had seemed and then he kissed him back.
No sooner had Tomas started to respond than Adam pulled away.
“Talk to me,” Adam said.
Tomas opened his mouth and closed it again.
Adam sighed. “Try not to lie.”
He glanced around before he spoke. “My boss wouldn’t have given me the job if I didn’t have a Croatian accent so I manufactured one.”
“Is Tomas Adzovic your real name?”
“Yes.”
“You speak English as well as I do. What are you doing at Ezispeke?”
“Getting information for my boss.”
He made a guess. “The guy who just walked away?”
Tomas nodded.
“What sort of information?”
“I can’t tell you. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything. I can’t lose this job.”
Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why didn’t you come after me last night and explain?”
“I didn’t think you were in the mood to listen.”
He frowned. “Yeah, well I don’t like being lied to or messed around with. Are you messing around with Wren?”
Tomas bristled. “Messing around?”
“I just watched you kiss her.”
His mouth twitched. “You think I’m dicking around with her when last night you came straight from her bed and a couple of steps toward mine?”
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