Fall Into Me (A British Rockstar Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  That gave me pause. I lowered my eyes, considering the Captain’s offer. If he was right, the absolutely best case scenario was that it wouldn’t reflect poorly on me. I’d go back to my job exactly how I left it, Nathan would become someone else’s problem, and I could refocus on other parts of my life that mattered much more than some billionaire’s welfare.

  But an image flashed in my head, or rather a series of them: Nathan’s impossibly green eyes; his lazy, lopsided grin; the way he’d stepped in at the last second and potentially saved me from a thug with a gas can and biceps that could have snapped my spine like a twig.

  No, that wasn’t right—there was no “potentially” about it. If Nathan hadn’t shown up at that moment, that guy was going to put my training to the test. Even if I took him down, one of his men was almost certainly going to kill me and set the whole place on fire, maybe not even in that order.

  The sad fact of the matter was that I owed him one. I tried not to think about how, strangely, I didn’t really mind. A small part of me was looking forward to a few days shacked up with Nathaniel Hale. I had to take a moment to push that thought straight out. This was all a game for Mr. Hale, and if I didn’t assert myself all I’d ever be is the girl he bent over his desk whenever he wanted to. That chapter of my life was over now. I wanted to stay safe inside my web of lies where Nathan’s compelling stare couldn’t reach me.

  Right, so I owed him one. We’d go with that.

  “No,” I told Captain Pierce. “I mean—yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Captain Pierce looked both surprised and almost impressed. “Fair enough, detective. Pack only what you need.”

  I nodded, then stepped out of his office and into the hall. My stomach was churning with the implications of what I’d just done—upended my entire life for a man who probably wouldn’t even appreciate it—when I nearly ran face-first into Nathan’s warm, hard body.

  “Jesus!” I yelped, clutching at the collar of my blouse as though it would help the breath return to my lungs. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Nathan looked down at me, grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry about that, detective. It’s probably the shoes.” He lifted a foot, showing me the soles. “My company has been importing them from Japan where this guy, this designer, Shinji Watanabe, started a brand new line of samurai-inspired fashion. His footwear collection is largely based off traditional Japanese designs, and this is his take on the jika-tabi, soft-soled shoes that give you tactile connection with the ground…. and… uh…”

  I stared at him. Not a single iota of me cared one bit about his fancy goddamn ninja shoes. Two seconds with this guy and I was already ready to shove one of them down his throat.

  He must have seen the look on my face, because he quickly summed up:

  “Anyway, they don’t make much sound. So that’s probably why you didn’t hear me.”

  “Well, I imagine I’ll be hearing a lot of you very soon, not to mention seeing,” I said, moving past him. He fell into step beside me. “Your demands have been met. I’ll be your handler for the next seven days.”

  “I thought it’d be for the best,” Nathan explained, handing me a Starbucks cup with my name across it. “You know, we made a pretty good team back there. And besides, it’ll look good for you—the woman who took down the Irish mafia and convinced billionaire Nathan Hale to testify,” he added, spelling out the headline with his free hand while using an overblown radio-style voice. “And besides… I wasn’t really sure who else I could trust.”

  I sniffed the contents of the cup through the little opening in the lid. Whatever it was smelled sweet. I took a tentative sip and nearly melted. Mocha anything was my jam. How the hell did he know?

  “That’s only if it all goes as planned,” I reminded him, quickly taking the steps down to the lobby. “Hopefully there won’t be too much more excitement. But I gotta ask,” I whirled to face him once I hit the bottom, “did you come up with our cover story, too?”

  Nathan paused two steps above me, clutching his own Starbucks cup to his chest like a shield, like it would protect him from my question, and possibly from me. He hadn’t stopped grinning since he saw me come out of Captain Pierce’s office, but I watched the corners of his mouth curl even more mischievously.

  “No,” he said. “Scout’s honor—I would’ve never picked a name like Candy. I think somebody thought he was being funny.”

  I felt my own lips betray me, pulling into a faint smile. “And the other thing? I’m supposed to play house as your girlfriend?”

  He shrugged and took a long drink from his cup. “That might have been my idea,” he said calmly. “Besides, you said it yourself, I don’t have a girlfriend right now. I thought I’d treat myself.”

  I already wanted to throttle him, but when I realized he wasn’t going to elaborate further, I simply rolled my eyes and turned away.

  “Right. Well, I’ve got to go pack for our little vacation at the Peachtree Overlook.”

  “The Peachtree Overlook, huh?” Nathan called out behind me. “Sounds like a nice little place.”

  I could have corrected him, but I only smiled. Nathan had inflicted quite a few surprises on me today. It was only fair that I got to inflict one on him.

  3

  “You can’t be serious.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling as Nathan and I pulled into the parking lot of the Peachtree Overlook, which must have looked like a dump compared to the estates he’d lived in his whole life. His mansion just outside the city wasn’t his family home, and given that it was meant for only one person, I couldn’t begin to imagine what the house he’d grown up in had looked like.

  “This is it,” I told him, trying to keep the demented glee out of my tone as I parked the old sky blue Honda the department had lent me in one of the narrow spots. The car was an auction vehicle, a prize seized from a dealer or some other low-level criminal who couldn’t afford anything better.

  It was all part of the plan to make Nathan and I look like a couple just barely keeping our heads above the poverty line. Those were the kinds of people nobody saw, the ones who weren’t homeless, but who stood one small disaster away from losing everything. Nobody wanted to talk about those people, because that meant they’d have to acknowledge they existed and might need help. And nobody wanted to be inconvenienced enough to actually help them. It was easier just to forget about them and move on.

  Nathan was, quite clearly, one of those people. As I killed the engine and stepped out of the car, he kept staring at the apartments with a wrinkled nose and slack jaw. There was nothing but contempt in his eyes for the place. I couldn’t resist making a remark.

  “You know, some people would be damn grateful to live in a place like this.”

  I’d expected him to scoff and say something about how he wasn’t one of them, but instead, he only sighed and opened his door, muttering that it would have to do.

  We took our duffel bags stuffed with only our necessities out of the trunk and lugged them up the stairs to the second floor. Our room was 213, situated in the perfect spot in the middle of the hall where we had a view of the stairs, the lot, and partway around the corner from our living room window. It would make keeping an eye on the activity outside our apartment easy enough, and I immediately felt my nerves settle.

  If you need anything, just holler, Captain Pierce had said. As close together as these units were, I figured the other officers would have no problem hearing me.

  “Do you want to do the honors?” I asked Nathan, offering him the dirty bronze key to our new home.

  He smiled at me and plucked the key from my hand. “Sure, Candy,” he answered, but his smug grin faded a moment later when we saw what lay in wait for us inside.

  Captain Pierce had failed to mention that this unit was an efficiency. The bedroom—if it could even be called that—was right on the other side of the living room and separated only by an old floor screen with tattered cloth panels. The kitchen had abou
t six inches of counter space on either side of a Fifties-style stove beneath a microwave stained yellow from a previous tenant’s tobacco addiction.

  At least, I hoped it was a tobacco addiction. Anything harder could leave a place coated in the kind of nasty things you definitely didn’t want to touch.

  The single, small bathroom set off from both the living room and bedroom looked snug—or rather, claustrophobic—and included an all-in-one shower and tub combo with a fixed showerhead covered in limescale buildup. The toilet, thankfully, was clean, but it had one of those cushioned seats with little tears in it that reminded me of the nursing home my grandmother had died in.

  I ran a hand through my shoulder-length hair and thanked God I’d recently splurged to have it styled at a salon. There was no way I would’ve been able to do it properly in this place. It was going to be a long week.

  “Home sweet home,” Nathan mumbled, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

  “I guess so,” I said, looking at the twin-sized bed just beyond the shoddy divider. “You go on and take the bed. I’m good with the couch.”

  “Oh, that’s not fair,” Nathan answered, inspecting the floral comforter. “The couch is in better condition!”

  I smiled and shrugged, tossing my duffel bag onto the cushions to claim it. “One of the perks of being the girl in charge, I guess. Anyway, it puts me nearest the door in case anything goes wrong, and I can use the window to make sure no more of Wallace’s men come tromping up the stairs without our knowledge.”

  “Fair point,” he begrudgingly agreed, setting his own high-end luggage case on the mattress. It groaned in protest. “Well, Candy, given the state of things here, I’d say it’s either takeout or starve.”

  “In here, it’s detective,” I said, opening my bag and fishing out my fake ID and credit cards. “Or Sandra, if you’re feeling lucky.”

  “Let’s go with that last one,” he said. “If we’re going to be spending this much time together in such a small space, I think ‘detective’ and ‘Mr. Hale’ are going to wear thin pretty fast. Besides, I’d like to think we can get along on a first name basis, seeing as I already know every curve on your body.”

  “Don’t push your luck. You know damn well that little fling ended years ago and I’m not about to go jumping back into bed with you.”

  “We’ve been a new couple for less than two hours! You’re telling me you aren’t committed to this relationship?”

  I looked at him over my shoulder. There was something about the way he said it, something about his inflection or the soft purr of his voice that made him almost sound hurt.

  “Look, Sandra, I get it. I’m not your favorite person. I never meant to hurt you. I took you for granted… And I’m sorry.”

  “There was a time when I wanted to hear you say those words, Nathan, but I’m not that girl anymore. I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” I replied, turning away from him.

  “I’ll stop making light of the situation. This must be uncomfortable for you, but it’s terrifying for me. I’ve barely slept in weeks. You’re the only one I can trust right now. I just thought since we’d be living here together for a few days, we might clear the air.”

  His words made me equal parts uneasy and flattered. I’d never seen Nathaniel Hale as anything less than in control. In his little world, things happened the way he wanted them to happen. I’d fallen into that circle of influence once, and it had taken me years to break free. Now, he had no control. I was responsible for his safety, and there were no nets strung out beneath this trapeze act. His eyes were drilling into my own, but the look on his face was grateful, rather than self-satisfied... It almost made him seem… Human…

  I lingered in the heat of Nathan’s stare just a little longer. Some secret part of me was reveling in his attention. All those times we had been together, I was so desperate for this man to look at me like this… Like someone he respected, instead of someone he fucked. Breaking away from his gaze, I flipped my hair and stood up straight, reaching out to hand him the credit card with Candy Love printed on it.

  “What do you like—Chinese?”

  “Seems like the easiest choice,” he said, taking the card from my hand.

  Our fingers met for one single, glorious instant, and I felt the ripples of his touch race all the way up my arm and into my chest, heat blooming near my heart. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry and my stomach suddenly filled with a thousand anxious butterflies.

  What the hell is wrong with me? He’s an asshole, remember? The man who took what he wanted and used you like some kind of call girl?

  Maybe it was because he was starting to change. Maybe it was because he was demonstrating concern for others and a willingness to sacrifice his comfort for the good of the city. Maybe it was because I’d never truly expected him to accept any responsibility for anything…

  It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to change my mind, especially not this quickly. Was he manipulating me? Was all of this just a ruse because he needed protection?

  I pulled my hand away and tried to temper my expectations as he pulled the burner phone out of his pocket and began rifling through the kitchen drawers in search of a menu. A few moments later I was on the couch with the TV on, trying to lose myself in some trashy ‘reality’ show while he placed his order with whatever restaurant he’d managed to dig up.

  He covered the phone with one hand and called to me from the kitchen-cum-bedroom. “What about you? Maybe some orange chicken?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “How’d you know I like orange chicken?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Who doesn’t like orange chicken?” he said, the moved his hand away and began speaking to the restaurant again.

  “You know, we could go out,” he added a moment later, presumably while he was on hold. “I’m pretty sure the Paddies aren’t going to be hanging around some two-bit Chinese place after what happened today. We should be safe as houses. And it’d be a lot nicer than hanging around in here all day.”

  “I’m not up for it,” I answered, which was the sad truth. After what had happened this afternoon, I wasn’t in the mood to put myself in a room full of completely unpredictable people. “Besides, we’re safer here with the other officers around. Laying low right now is not the worst idea in the world, you know.”

  He shrugged. “It’s no fun, either.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We can worry about fun after you’ve testified.”

  Nathan smirked as he got back on the line. “Then it’s a date.”

  I was going to object, but he was already speaking to the restaurant again. That hadn’t been what I’d meant, but the longer I let it settle, the less I wanted to correct him. Sure, we had fucked, but that’s all we’d ever done. A date was never on the table…

  I curled up against the armrest of the couch and hide my smile behind my hand. One date when this was all over? That couldn’t hurt, could it?

  4

  “Wake up sleeping beauty. Dinner is served.”

  I opened my eyes. The TV screen was flickering in front of me and a soft, warm glow was coming from elsewhere in the darkened room. I could smell the Chinese food we’d ordered, the aromatic mix of soy and spices. It must have arrived when I was sleeping.

  But I never heard the driver…

  As if sensing my confusion, Nathan sat on the coffee table in front of me and smiled. “You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you. I met him outside and brought the food in myself.”

  Then he extended his hand to me. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

  Groggily, I reached out and put my hand in his. When his fingers closed around mine, I felt my flesh sizzle. My nerves burned for him, and I realized that I never wanted him to let me go. That’s how it always was with Nathan. It didn’t matter how much I loathed him, or how little respect he showed me… He awakened a desperate need inside me the first time I met him, and that fire had never truly went out.

&nb
sp; I curbed those desires, instead letting him help me up and sitting down at the little table he’d prepared for us. “Look, you can’t be taking any chances here. You don’t go out that door without me,” I said firmly.

  Nathan just let out a little sigh. He’d managed to find a few plates in the cabinets, and he used them to arrange our meals in a way that looked a hell of a lot more appetizing than it would stuffed in those pagoda-style boxes. My orange chicken popped against the lush green broccoli beside it and the sauce-stained rice resting underneath. He’d even poured me a glass of green tea, probably the kind you could get from the vending machine down the hall.

  But the best part was the candles. With the rest of the lights dimmed, they made the room look cozy and quaint. I felt much more at home than I had when we’d first walked in together.

  I smiled, looking up at Nathan as I tucked my hair behind my ears with my fingernails. “This looks incredible… But where in the world did you find the candles?”

  He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. “A man needs to have a few secrets. Anyway, it’s the least I could do since I I’m the reason you’re stuck here.”

  But that was the thing—I didn’t feel stuck.

  “You’re important,” I told him, picking up my fork as he sat down. I stabbed at a piece of orange chicken, measuring my words, trying to ensure that what I said was both enough and not too much. I needed to appeal to his ego. “This city needs to see a man like you stand up for what’s right. Your testimony is going to make sure Wallace never hurts another innocent person ever again. Can you imagine what that means to the women and girls he’s devoted a decade to enslaving?”

  Nathan didn’t answer. He only smiled weakly and skewered a bit of his broccoli beef onto his fork.

  “Oh, come on,” I teased him. “You don’t have to be modest—not in here with me. You can brag a little, if you want.”