by K C Luck
Georgia pulls a cell phone from the pocket of her black duster jacket and tosses it to me. “Only one name in the contacts. Give it a call. Operators are standing by,” she says with a grin. I don’t hesitate to dial the number.
Chloe’s voice, with her familiar Australian accent, answers. “Hello, it’s me,” she says without preamble. “And I’m fine. Quite well, in fact. But don’t make any deals with her.”
I meet Georgia’s eye knowing I’m about to press my luck. “Do you know where you are?”
Georgia snorts a laugh. “Seriously? Like I would leave stationary announcing our accommodations in her room?” she asks, clearly not expecting an answer. “Just hurry up and ask her what you want to make sure she's fine, and let's move on.”
Madison moves closer to me and holds out her hand. “Let me,” she says, and I comply, knowing the long history of the two women will help us quickly confirm Chloe is okay. She holds the phone to her ear.
“Hold it,” Georgia snarls. “Put it on speaker. I don’t want any games.” Madison does what she asks.
“Okay, Chloe, you're on speaker now, so let's make this quick. If you are in no immediate danger …”
Georgia shakes her head. “Oh, for God's sake. Like I have her tied up hanging over a pool of sharks?” She laughs, but there is no humor in it, only bitterness. “This isn't some James Bond movie.”
None of us comment for a beat, and then Madison finishes her question to Chloe. “… if you are safe and unharmed, tell me her name.” Furrowing my brow, I am puzzled by the question. It seems to me there could be many answers to it, and the long pause on the phone makes me think Chloe is just as confused. Then, she says one word.
“Hope.”
For a second, my mind goes back to the name of Chloe's ranch. Hope’s Vale Station. Then, Madison disconnects and tosses the phone back to Georgia. “We’re good,” she says. “Now what? You want to be my best man or some fucking thing?”
Georgia smiles, and a twinkle of evil amusement comes to her eyes. “Nothing quite that intimate, although the idea is intriguing. We can watch your blushing bride walk down the aisle toward us together.” I see Madison clench her jaw, but she holds her tongue. Seeing her adversary is not taking the bait, Georgia shrugs. “Fine. I’m sure Lila and her pet have filled you in. I attend your wedding tomorrow, take a picture or two, and then exit stage right. No funny business, and no one gets hurt.”
Following Madison's example, I don't react to the other woman's barb as to my relationship with Lila. It doesn't keep me from asking about the logistics behind Georgia’s plan. “And Chloe? Is she your plus one?”
Georgia holds up a finger. “Precisely. She and I will meet you at sea on a speedboat. Then, we will both board to watch the no doubt touching nuptials.” She glances at Claire, and I watch my friend raise her chin defiantly. If the obvious interest in her causes any concern, she hides it perfectly. Unfortunately, it only seems to egg Georgia on, and she laughs. “I can’t wait,” she continues, but then returns her gaze to meet mine. “When the ceremony is over, assuming none of you are stupid enough to try anything, I will go the way I came, leaving Chloe behind.”
“And that’s it?” Claire asks, and I can tell she is surprised by the simplicity of the plan. I have to agree. As much as I dislike this dishonorable woman, her strategy will make it very difficult to trap her. There is no doubt in my mind Georgia will have other boats, possibly even a helicopter, nearby in case something goes wrong. But then, so will we.
“That’s it, my dear,” she replies. “Thanks to your press, I know where you’ll be sailing from tomorrow, but I'll be watching online for the word of an exact time to rendezvous.”
Madison nods. “I’ll make sure that happens. Are we done? I want you the hell out of my house.” Georgia narrows her eyes at the insult, and her hate for Madison fills the air.
“We are done,” she replies and turns on her heel to go back to the house. After a few steps, she looks back over her shoulder at Claire. “Can’t wait to see your dress.”
Madison takes two steps toward her adversary, fists clenched, but I move to block her progress. “Let her go. She’s not worth it. And think of Chloe.”
“That's good advice,” Georgia adds, now having turned around entirely to walk backward away from us. Then she pauses, holding up a finger. “Oh, I almost forgot. The amateur threats over the last few months?”
Now the woman has my full attention. “What about them?” I snap.
Georgia glares at me. “Don’t growl at me. I’m trying to actually help you,” she says. “Although, now I’m wondering why. Anyway, I had some of my people ask around. No one fessed up, so I strongly suggest you all take a close look at your own colleagues.”
“You can’t be serious?” Lila blurts out. “That is preposterous.”
Georgia holds her hands out, palms up. “Don't shoot the messenger,” she says. “But if it was me, I'd be looking to see who has the most to gain. Other than me, naturally.” With a wink and that bit of advice, Georgia disappears into the house, leaving us to consider her words. Someone wants to make Lila's life, maybe all the billionaire’s lives, difficult or worse, but who? And why?
26
“As the person assigned to protect you, I can’t let you attend this wedding,” I say once Madison and Claire say goodnight. The hour has grown late with last-minute preparations, but I am too wound up to sleep, so we are still in one of the mansion's living rooms. It includes a small wet bar, and I consider having a drink. Although I usually avoid alcohol, perhaps a glass of wine will help relax me. When Lila doesn’t comment on my statement, I walk toward the small selection of wines in the rack on the wall. “Glass of wine?” I ask, thinking a change in the subject will help her absorb what I’ve said and consider the possible danger in going.
“Wine would be nice,” she agrees, not commenting on my other statement. Lila sinks into one of the two gray, fabric sofas to relax taking off the navy and white silk ruffle scarf around her neck. “Château Margaux, if there is some.” From the bar, I see the scarf in her lap. The memory of how we used just such a scarf not long ago causes a tightness to form in my stomach. Our first night together. Our chemistry, so intense. The passion like I’ve never felt before. Lila has become so special to me now, and I must make sure she stays safe. Still, I also am aware that she might try to go against me on this. When she wants something, she is hard to stop.
“There is some,” I answer about the wine as I open the bottle and pour two glasses. When I return to her side, she is looking at her hands. There is a sadness about the set of her shoulders, and I hate to see it. “Lila,” I say as I sit beside her. “I know this is disappointing for you—”
With that, Lila exhales a long breath, and I see her resolve returning. “No,” she interrupts me. “I will not miss my dearest friend’s wedding. No matter the cost.” She takes her glass and enjoys a long sip before looking me in the eye. Once again, I cannot read all her emotions, but I see there are many. Fear? Excitement? Maybe even something deeper? She touches my face. “I’m sorry, darling. I know this is not what you want.”
She is so right. The thought of us on a sailing boat, even one as large as Madison’s, in open water makes me incredibly nervous. Add in a notorious character aboard, with who knows what agenda, and this is my nightmare. Setting my wine on the end table, it is time to appeal to Lila in a different way. I take her hand and try to control my now racing heart. Throughout my military career, I have faced countless dangerous situations, yet this moment is possibly the most frightening.
Taking a deep breath, I return her stare. “If my concern for your safety as your bodyguard is not going to dissuade you, then maybe a plea from someone who adores you will?” She opens her mouth to comment, but I charge ahead. “Please let me finish, or I'll lose my nerve.” Now, her eyes widen, and she pulls her hand from my grasp to stand up and step away.
“Don't,” she says without looking at me, and for some reason, this
hurts me deeper than I expect. Looking away, I am suddenly not sure what I am feeling for Lila. As if sensing my confusion, she turns back and meets my eye again. “You are precious to me, darling, but there can never be anything deeper between us.” Standing up, I go to her and take her face in my hands. She doesn’t pull away making my determination to finish what I need to say stronger.
“Lila, I’m honestly not sure what I am feeling, but don’t try to sweep whatever might be starting between us away. We have something special.”
Lila pulls her face away and turns her back to me. “Please don’t say that. I can’t …”
“I know about your doctor, the one you lost, who you loved so much. Look at me. I am not her.”
Lila doesn't move for a long time, but I am patient. Always patient, with her especially. Finally, she turns around, and I see the wetness of tears on her cheeks. “I know you're not. I promise. I just don't trust this, fate I mean.” She wipes at her eyes and walks closer. “Make love to me, Jael. I can't handle the rest, but I need to feel you.”
Not even for a moment do I consider saying no. Pressing her to examine us now is not the answer. Instead, I will show her I am not going anywhere. Moving in, I lean down to touch my lips to hers. Gentle, almost tender, but in an instant, I realize she is hungry for me, and the passion between us leaps from a smolder to a flame in seconds. Even after only our short time together, I know what she likes, and as she parts her lips to let me take her mouth, my hands go to her blouse. Starting to finger the buttons to undo them, there is suddenly a different need inside me. If Lila can’t admit something is happening between us, perhaps I can make her feel it enough there will be no denying our connection. With a quick movement, I rip her blouse open, buttons scattering. She gasps into my mouth, but I hold the kiss while I reach behind her to unfasten her soft, pink, lace bra.
She breaks away, breathless, and reaches for my belt. “I want you to fuck me, right here,” she murmurs against my lips. “Until I scream.”
We are of precisely the same mind, and as soon as my belt is open and pants unbuttoned, I press her onto the couch with enough force she lets out a cry of surprise. Nothing will stop me from taking her now. When I look into her eyes as I push up her skirt, I see she knows it too. And it excites her. Like with the scarves, she wants to be dominated. Taken. Fucked. I don't even bother to pull down her panties, but instead, push them aside to slide two fingers into her. Her wetness, already making her slippery, lets me know I am giving her exactly what she wants.
Taking her invitation, I push hard, going deep quickly, and she sucks in a breath. Normally I would ask if she is okay, but not now. Not after she has denied what we have is special. Suddenly I realize a part of me wants to overwhelm her, almost punish her for not listening, and I hesitate. This is not how I treat a woman, especially not the woman I care so much for and yet… “Is this what you want?” I growl as I slide out and then in, deeper, harder. “Is this all you need from me?” She doesn't answer, and a hint of anger blooms. I stroke her harder, now with three fingers. She is tight around me but squirms with pleasure under my touch.
“Answer me,” I say unable to hide the bit of hurt and anger in my voice while I drive into her again, now moving faster. Her body grips my fingers, but she is also slippery with desire. As I keep going, she starts to buck her hips to meet my thrusts. With my thumb, I slide over her clit, and she whimpers. It is not enough. I grab her wrists and push her arms over her head. They press against the end of the couch, and with my weight on top of her, she is trapped. “Is this all you want from me?” She only clamps her eyes shut and shivers with excitement under me. My hand inside her is moving hard, in and out of her. When I touch her clit with my thumb again, I feel how ready it is, how turned on she is at my touch. But it is not enough. She needs to see me as more than a throw-away lover. “Am I only here to fuck you?”
I watch her bite her lip. She is conflicted, I know it. I feel it in my heart. This woman does care for me at her core but is afraid. Her walls start to tighten around my sliding fingers, and she is close. Almost to the crest of an orgasm. I want to give it to her, but then I don't. Not yet. Pulling out, I press against her with my body to control the rise and fall of her hips. “Admit it.,” I insist. “Tell me we have something, and then I will make you come.”
Suddenly her body stills, and I realize I have gone too far. Too intense. Too insistent. Lifting off her, I see there are fresh tears. “God, I’m sorry,” I apologize saying anything to try and fix this. She covers her breasts with her arm and sits up pushing me back even further.
“I can’t be what you need me to be,” she declares again standing. “I think you should sleep in your own room tonight.”
My heart is truly breaking. I have been so stupid. So impatient. Watching her walk away, I only blame myself. She is not ready to accept what I think I am feeling, and I realize, maybe she never will be.
27
Madison’s sailboat, Water’s Edge, is impressive. Thirty-five feet long and the sleek lines make me confident the craft can go fast if necessary. I personally hope that fact is not something we will need to test. As I stand at the rail and watch us cut through the gray-blue water of Los Angeles Harbor, I want nothing but a simple, uneventful ceremony on the deck. Just two people who clearly love one another committing to each other for life. A small tug at my heart takes me back to my mistake last night. I respected Lila’s wishes and slept in my own room thinking we could talk this morning. Unfortunately, my ‘good morning’ received nothing but a nod. So far, Lila's kept up a cold shoulder, and we've hardly spoken. The limousine ride to the marina was awkward as she wouldn't even meet my eye, let alone let me take her hand.
The divide between us is even more frustrating as I consider what might happen after this wedding. It was never my intention to push her to make her move faster about us than she felt comfortable. Yet, that was precisely what I did, and if this is the end for us, if she asks that I be reassigned after this, I will never forgive myself. All I can hope is once the events are over, I can convince her to speak with me privately. If we could sit somewhere alone, perhaps I could fix this mess I’ve made of things.
Shaking my head, I know this is not the time to be distracted. We are quickly moving toward the open sea. Madison and Claire are below deck in separate rooms getting ready. Lila is with Claire, and Kris is with Madison. The decision to have Kris officiate had been a hard one to make. It seems unlikely Georgia DeLane would guess Kris is part of the Lesbian Billionaires Club. Frankly, she looks the least billionaire-like of the group, in my opinion. Still, we might be giving our adversary another piece of the puzzle. It seems unavoidable. Someone who knows the stakes needs to be here with Madison today. On the final conference call with the club, it was unanimously voted the shy and awkward computer mogul be the one.
With a sigh at the complexity of it all, I turn from watching the ocean roll by and look at the horizon. We are on a long trajectory to end up at Catalina Island, where the reception will be held at the beautiful city of Avalon. So far, there is no sign of any boats, not to mention one with Georgia on it. I know Madison worked with both her own security team and the Coast Guard to keep the lane clear for an hour while we make our way to the island. They are also standing by at a distance out of sight in case we find ourselves under duress. There is no telling what Georgia is planning. Trusting her is last on my list.
We are relatively confident Georgia is aware of the rendezvous point and the time. Kris sent the information out as a coded post. To anyone else, it would seem random and be nonsense, but the keywords included should do the trick. I expect to see our villain arriving at any time. “Is she here yet?” Madison says as she climbs the stairs from below deck, dressed in a traditional Bottega Veneta black tuxedo. Watching, I am impressed by how well the formal clothing looks on her. She was born to wear a tux. I don’t know her beginnings, but this moment is her destiny. As is Claire. I can only pray nothing happens to ruin it.
&
nbsp; “Not yet,” I reply as the woman crosses over to take the ship’s wheel and ensure the autopilot is working. Kris has followed her up and comes to stand beside me. She too is dressed in a tuxedo but unlike Madison appears uncomfortable as she pulls at the collar of the white dress shirt. She looks at her watch and frowns.
“She’s late.”
Madison joins us at the rail. “Well, fuck her. I’m not holding up my wedding for that woman. She gets three more minutes, and then we move forward,” she growls. I hold my tongue but wish she would be more patient. This entire interaction with Georgia is a giant chess match. We have our security teams on notice, although they have no idea who will be joining us. I am also armed and ready for anything. Still, I have no doubt Georgia arranged for extra protection too. Just because we can’t see anyone doesn’t mean they aren’t just out of sight around the far side of the island we are slowly approaching. “Are you sure she has the right time and place?” Madison asks Kris. The woman shrugs.
“As sure as I can be. Not like it was an RSVP card in the mail,” she says. A quick glance at Madison confirms she is not happy with this answer. She is a creature of action and concrete answers, not maybes or what-ifs. Kris’ nonchalance flies in the face of all of that. I see she is about to shoot back a retort and so hold up my hand to stop her.
“She will be here,” I say, not sure how I know. Something in my gut tells me Madison’s key adversary would never let an opportunity like this go by. I hope her promise not to cause trouble is real. Things should run smoothly if everyone plays by the rules. “But there is no reason to not get ready to start.”
Madison puffs out a frustrated breath but then nods. “You’re right. She would never miss this,” she says and moves away to recheck our course. After a moment, she nods my way. “Everything is ready. Go downstairs and knock on Claire’s door. Please.” I watch as a smile crosses Madison’s face. As stressful as this moment is, she is also about to marry Claire. Her true love. Her voice softens. “Tell her I cannot wait to see her.”