The National Portrait Gallery is a magnificent venue for events and one I am well acquainted with, having been there many times before: working security, sometimes as a guest and once or twice with a date.
But never like this.
Brynne brought a whole new meaning to the idea of possessiveness. At least for me she did. I thought I might be dead by the end of the night from keeping up with all the people who wanted a piece of her.
She looked so beautiful and perfect in her periwinkle lace dress and silvery shoes; every inch the model she was outwardly, but inwardly, that artistic mind of hers was brilliant and respected for the work she did in her field. My girl was a celebrity tonight. It damn well helped to see my gift around her neck too. She is mine, people! Mine! And don’t fucking forget it either!
The display of Lady Percival was indeed a hit. She’d been set up as a tutorial on the conserving process, as her restoration was only partially complete. And Brynne, of course, was credited as conservator for the project. As we went in to be seated for dinner, mention was made of her discovery in the welcome speech. The look of pride on her face was something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. All of the proceeds for tonight’s event went to support the Rothvale Foundation for Advancement of the Arts, and as I looked around the room, I could see big money and old names among the guests. It seemed that Mallerton was experiencing a renaissance of sorts, and Brynne’s disclosure of what he’d painted had helped generate interest in his work and, as a result, the Rothvale charity.
“Brynne, your Lady Percival is something else,” Gabrielle said. “I got a good look at her when I arrived. I love how they are displaying her as an opportunity for teaching about the conserving methods and process that go into a treasure like her. And, Ethan, you were instrumental in solving the mystery too, I hear.”
“Hardly instrumental. Just some word translation, but thank you, Gabrielle. I was glad to help my girl with a little French.” I winked at Brynne. “She looked so happy when she figured it all out.”
“I was ecstatic. That painting was a career maker for me. And I owe it all to you, baby.” She reached over and covered my hand with hers.
God, I loved when she did little gestures of affection like that. I brought her hand to my lips and didn’t care one bit who saw. I just didn’t care.
“I wonder where Ivan is. Do you think he’ll be here soon?” Brynne asked me.
My feelings of joy turned to pure jealousy in about two point five seconds, and I am sure I frowned before I caught myself and accepted she was just being nice. I was reminded that I needed to let him know about the pictures from today, but damn, Ivan would drool all over Brynne when he saw how beautiful she looked tonight.
Brynne turned to her friend and started in excitedly, “Gab, I really hope he comes tonight, I so want you to meet Ethan’s cousin. He has a houseful of Mallertons that need cataloging and God knows what else. You need to meet this man. I mean, you really need to.”
Gabrielle laughed, looking very happy and lovely in her own right, wearing a fitted green dress that did wonderful things paired with her coloring and matching eyes. This could be a very good fixation, I realized. An Ivan distracted by Gabrielle would be excellent for keeping him from flirting with Brynne. And something told me Ivan was going to be all over Gabrielle once he got a good look at her. I’d wager brass on it. And I’d win too.
“Hard to say, baby. Ivan sees time in his own set of parameters and he always has. It’s terribly annoying . . .” My words trailed off when I saw her across the table. Bugger me. Strawberry Blonde at three o’clock—all decked out and on the hunt. Not good.
I glanced away quickly and focused on Brynne. She looked over to where my eyes had just been and then back at me. Her mind was going in circles, I am sure. Brynne’s a smart girl. I tried to play it cool and prayed that Pamela or Penelope did not remember any better than I did, but I didn’t hold out much hope. She was a friend of Ivan’s and I just knew she would end up approaching me before the night was through. Where is the rule book for handling these awkward situations? Wasn’t it just plain vulgar to introduce the last person you’d shagged to the person you were shagging now? Bleh.
“Is everything okay?” Brynne asked.
“Yes.” I reached for my wineglass and put my arm on the back of Brynne’s chair. “Perfect.” I smiled.
“Oh look, there’s Paul.” She grinned and waved at my enemy, who raised his glass in our direction. I’d expected that he’d be here because he’d said so that morning when I wanted to introduce him to the sidewalk. “Be nice. Don’t even think of having another tantrum in front of him again,” she muttered under her breath at me.
“Fine,” I said, raising my glass and mentally wishing for direct knowledge of the dark arts so I could curse him into a toad. Wait, he already was a toad; it would have to be something different . . . a cockroach maybe?
“What are you thinking about?”
“How much I despise certain insects,” I said, taking a drink of wine.
She rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Umm-hmm. Not kidding. Cockroaches are just vile things, slinking around into places they definitely do not belong.”
She laughed at me. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned in closer. “But if you embarrass me in front of him again like you did that morning getting coffee, I will hurt you, Blackstone. And there will be lots of excruciating pain involved.” She looked down below my waist.
I laughed back and only because it was funny, and I didn’t doubt her threat for a moment, and the fact that The Cockroach was watching us from across the way. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman . . . just as long as he keeps his pincers to himself.”
She rolled her eyes at me again and I noticed how blue they looked paired against her dress tonight.
After dinner, I got the pleasure of being introduced to the very female, and very gracious, Alex Craven from the Victoria and Albert. I sent up a prayer of thanks to my mum that I never sent Ms. Craven the toxic text from “Ethan w/ the big knife” and figured Mum had to have been looking out for me that day. I never take my luck for granted.
It didn’t take long for Brynne to be whisked away by patrons who wanted a blow by blow of the conserving of Lady Percival. I resigned myself to that eventuality and headed off to get another drink. I sensed eyes on me and turned around to find Strawberry Blonde honing in fast. Shit. I knew this would happen.
“Hello, Ethan. It’s so nice to see you here tonight. I was just asking Ivan about you the other day.”
“Is that so?” I nodded at her, desperately wishing I remembered her name. “Drink . . . um . . . ?” I looked down, feeling like an asshole and wanting to be anywhere else at this moment.
“Priscilla.”
Well, I got the first letter right. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the ceiling. “Right—Priscilla, can I get you a drink? I’m just about to head back up to the Victorian Gallery.” Please say no.
“Yes! I’d love a Cosmo,” she gushed, her eyes lighting up as she perceived some interest on my part. She gave me a thorough looking over and I found it more than uncomfortable. This was something I’d put up with for years from women. I’d done it for the sex, of course. I mean, who will shag you if you don’t at least let them admire and pretend to be flattered by their attentions? But really, I didn’t like it, and it had been nothing more than a game for me. Before Brynne much of what I’d been doing had been games. I’d been a dog.
“And what did Ivan say about me?”
“He said you were very busy with your job and the Olympics . . . and your new girlfriend.”
“Ahhh . . . well, he told you the truth at least,” I said, looking for a way out of the room without being cruel. “I do have a girlfriend.” And I need to get away from you like right-the-hell-now!
“I saw her earlier at dinner. She’s a young little thing, isn’t she?” Priscilla stepped closer and put her hand on my arm, her voice laced with enough toxin to sting.
“She’s not that young.” I gulped a mouthful of vodka and prayed for some act of God to get me the fuck out of this uncomfortable situation, when in walked The Cockroach with Brynne at his side.
There’s your act of God, asshole.
“Baby.” I detached myself from Priscilla and went toward Brynne. “I was just getting a drink and ran into . . . um . . . Priscilla . . .” Bloody hell if I didn’t know her last name either! This sucked, and I just didn’t have the skills to do this shit anymore, not that I’d ever had them, but this was awkward as fuck.
“Blackstone.” Paul Langley gave me an accusatory look. “Brynne was feeling a little light-headed and needed to take a break.”
I took her hand and put my lips to it. “Are you all right?”
“I think I just need some water,” she said. “I just felt hot all of a sudden and weird.”
“Here, I want you to sit and I’ll get you some water.” But before I could move, there was good ole Langley pressing a crystal glass into her hands. I tried mental telepathy on him. You can leave us now, Langley.
It didn’t work.
“Thank you, Paul.” Brynne flashed him a grateful smile and started drinking.
“My pleasure, darling,” The Cockroach purred back at her.
Damn . . . I’d hoped you’d left the room. Langley, the epitome of manners that he apparently was, stuck out his hand to Priscilla and introduced himself. “Paul Langley.”
“Priscilla Banks. Lovely to meet you.”
Marvelous. Now, can you two go off together and shag in the loo or talk behind our backs or something? Either of those would be fucking perfect.
To my good fortune, they did move away and begin a conversation. I looked back at Brynne and asked, “Feeling better?”
“Yes, much.” She glanced over at Paul and Priscilla and then back to me. “Who is that, Ethan?” she whispered.
“A friend of Ivan’s.”
She wasn’t buying it and gave me a look that spelled certain doom if I didn’t come clean. “Was she a friend of yours too?”
“Not really,” I offered.
“What does that mean, not really?”
I paused, unsure where to take this unpleasantness. A public charity event was hardly the place, but I’ve not always filtered my thoughts from what comes out of my mouth and therefore forged ahead anyway. “It means we went out one time together and we are not friends in any sense of the word. Not like you and Langley are friends.” I raised a brow at her.
“Okay. Fair enough,” she said, with a long, reflective look over at Priscilla and then back at me, before finishing the rest of her water.
Hmmm . . . so it seemed she was willing to let it drop for the moment. Thank. God. Now, if we could just escape The Cockroach and Strawberry Blonde things would be golden.
“Shall we go back up to the gallery? You must have legions of fans still waiting to talk to you.”
“Right,” she laughed, shaking her head. “But yeah, we really should go back. I want Lady Percival to get her due tonight. She’s been hiding in the dark for far too long.”
As I took Brynne up to the Victorian Gallery, I couldn’t help but think she was referring to herself metaphorically with that last part: She’s been hiding in the dark for far too long. It made me happy for some reason.
It didn’t take but moments for Brynne to get caught up in another round of interviews, and I sort of faded into the background and let her do her thing. She was just starting out in her career and I wanted her success for a few reasons. One, it was her dream, and two, a good job in her chosen field would keep her in London with me. I was just as motivated as my girl was.
“Enjoying the show?” Ivan’s voice came at my shoulder.
“Glad you could make it tonight. We’ve been wondering when you’d grace us with your presence. Brynne wants to introduce you to her friend.” I looked around for Gabrielle in her green dress but didn’t see her.
“Brynne looks very busy right now.” He glanced over at my girl admiringly. “Maybe later.”
“Look, Ivan, there was a pseudo threat delivered to my office today. I’m not horribly concerned, but I want you to know the details.” I handed him the envelope of photos I’d brought along tonight anticipating his attendance. I was a firm believer that everyone should know about the threats against them, no matter how insignificant. Crazy people never seem to get better, so everyone needs to know what could be a potential problem down the line.
Ivan and I had done this plenty of times before, so it wasn’t anything new. He grunted at the photos as he flipped through them and after a minute handed the whole lot back to me. “Thanks, E, for looking out. I’m sure it’ll all blow over when the Olympics are but a memory.” He looked at the drink in my hand. “At least I can hope, true?”
“It’s all we can do, mate.” I nodded, clapping him on the back with one hand.
“I need to have something along the lines of what you’re having.” He waved off and left for the bar.
I nursed my vodka for a few more minutes before deciding a smoke would be just the thing. Brynne was still too busy to be interrupted, so I found Neil and told him where I was headed. I located an exit door down at street level, propped it open just enough so I could get back in the same way I’d gone out, and stepped into the cool, fresh night.
The clove tasted so fine I think I got a tad hard. Just a few more hours and we’d be on our way out of London and I’d have her all to myself. The city lights and sounds were a comfort swirled with the scented smoke that wrapped around me like a cloak. As I stood there and indulged in another coffin nail, I wondered how I’d ever get off the smokes completely. I was really trying to limit my consumption, but I’d been at it for so long, I just didn’t know how to let go completely. Addiction was a powerful component of the body and the spirit. And the cigarettes had more hold on me than just the nicotine. I suppose some professional help was needed and it was time to face up to that reality as well as some others.
I felt a vibration against my chest, and it gave me a zing because it took a moment to determine what it was. Brynne’s old mobile in my front jacket pocket. The thing had been silent for so long that I’d nearly forgotten to bring it tonight, but out of habit I kept charging it and turning it on.
I pulled it out and saw the multimedia message alert. That meant a picture. I felt myself go cold and knew the frightening blade of fear slice into my gut. I pressed open and tried to breathe.
ArmyOps17 has sent Brynne a music video on Spotify.
Oh, fuck no! This is not happening right now. I pressed accept against my better judgment, but I was compelled to look. The professional in me had to see exactly what it was. I knew the song the moment it started playing. Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer.” The one that was used in the sex video with Brynne. I let it play through because I had to, but I felt ill throughout the whole song. And it was just the official music video and not the one of Brynne.
Thank. Holy. Fuck.
Images of a monkey on a cross, a pig’s head twirling on something, Trent Reznor in a leather mask swinging from shackles, wearing some fetish ball gag, and a medical diagram of the female sex . . .
I pulled in a breath the moment it ended and just stared at the screen. ArmyOps17? Who the fuck was sending this shit? Oakley? My intel on him was about as secure as it could get. Lance Oakley was in Iraq and not going anywhere soon, unless it was in a body bag back to San Francisco if I got that lucky. It could happen, I reasoned.
The text came through a moment later: Brynne, Help me; I’ve broke apart my insides. Brynne, Help me; I’ve got no soul to sell. Brynne, Help me get away from myself. Brynne, Help me tear down my reason. Brynne, Help me be somebody else. Brynne, HELP ME!!
My fingers definitely shook as I replied to that freakish mess of words: Who are u and what do u want from me?
The reply was instant: Not you, Blackstone. I want Brynne. Put out your smoke and go back inside and give her my message.
My head jerked up and scanned the perimeter and then the rooftops. This motherfucker was on me right now?! I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life, but I had one purpose and one only—find Brynne and get her the hell out of here.
I ducked back inside and started running. I got Neil on headset and told him in brief to wrap it up.
“On-site security just got a bomb threat called in. They’re evac-ing the whole place, E.”
What? My mind was reeling with connections, but there was no time to play Sherlock. “Stay on Brynne and wait for me!” I barked.
Neil paused before replying. Not a good sign.
“Do not fucking tell me you aren’t on her right now!”
“I think she went to the ladies, and in-house approached me—I’m going now to find her.”
“Fuck!”
I changed directions and the alarm system went off. Really bloody loud. All of the exits lit up and doors started opening. Gabrielle emerged from a door just ahead of me and bolted like she was in a foot race, which was remarkable considering the heels she’d worn tonight. Her hair was all askew, and so was the skirt of her green dress as she fled.
I didn’t have time to ask what was doing with her, though; I needed to find my girl. I heard pounding footsteps behind me and turned. Ivan. He didn’t look much better than Gabrielle with his hair rearranged and his shirt halfway tucked. I had to wonder if they’d been together back there . . . I really don’t have time for this!
“Bomb threat. That’s what this is.” I gestured to the flashing lights. “Everyone’s being evacuated.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?! All this is because of me?!” Ivan exploded.
“I don’t know details. I was out having a smoke when the alarm went off. Neil said in-house security got a bomb threat called in and they’re closing everything down. We’ll sort it later. Just get the fuck out!”
I left Ivan and ran for the Victorian Gallery. The place was an absolute crush of insanity. People shouting and running around in a panic. A lot like me.
Brynne, where are you?!
I looked for a flash of periwinkle in the crowd and did not see it. And my heart sank.
“Do you have her?” I got Neil on headset again.
“Not yet. I’ve checked two different loos on that floor. Empty. I told Elaina to bring her along if she spotted her on the way out to the street where they’re herding people. I’ll keep checking.”
In my desperation I think I would’ve made a bargain with the devil himself if I could just find my girl safe and sound. I headed back to the wing where Lady Percival was on display, hoping she might offer me a clue. I remembered Brynne saying something about access to the back room where she’d helped out when Lady Percival had been moved from the Rothvale over here for this show tonight. I looked for a door and there it was not ten feet down, blending into the wall—the outline of the seal, and then a small sign marked Private affixed to it.
Jackpot!
I turned the handle and pushed into a large work storage room with more doors—one of which was marked Toilet.
“Brynne?!” I yelled her name and slammed my hand hard. I tried the knob, but it was locked.
“I’m here,” came a weak reply, but praise the angels, it was her!
“Baby! Thank Christ…” I tried the knob again. “Let me in. We have to go!”
The door latch clicked and I wasted no time wrenching open the final barrier between me and my girl. I would have torn it off and thrown it if I’d had the ability.
She stood there looking pale, with her hand over her mouth, sweat dotting her forehead, in her beautiful periwinkle dress. The most gorgeous color in the whole bloody world right now! Maybe forever. I didn’t think I would ever forget how I felt in this moment. The stark relief at finding her just about took me to my knees in thankfulness.
“What’s going on with the fire alarm?” she asked.
“Are you okay?” I wrapped my arms around her, but she pressed a hand to my chest to keep a distance.
“I just threw up, Ethan. Don’t get too close.” She kept one hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank the gods I remembered about this bathroom being so close by. I was in here bent over the toilet and then the alarms went off—”
“Oh, baby.” I kissed her forehead. “We gotta go now! Not a fire but a bomb threat called in!” I grabbed her other hand and started pulling. “Can you walk?”
Her face paled even further, but she revived somewhat. “Yes!”
I fired off a call to Neil as I got us the hell out of that building.
Adrenaline has amazing powers on the human body. There are many small things to be thankful for, but the greatest thing of all was safe in my arms.
• • •
What a cluster fuck the last hours had been. I ruminated over what’d gone down as I drove into the night. Change of plans, I’d decided as soon as we got home. I called Hannah and let her know we were driving up to Somerset tonight. She seemed surprised but said she was glad to have us early and that the house would be open so we could get in whenever we arrived.
Brynne was a bit harder nut to crack. She didn’t feel well for one thing and then was worried about the bomb threat and all the paintings. So far, there hadn’t been an explosion, but the whole mess was on every news station and being categorized as a terrorist risk. I would have my people investigating the bomb threat as a compulsory measure, but what concerned me far more were the messages on her mobile tonight. Whoever sent it was close by. Close enough to see me having a smoke behind the National Gallery. And if he was close enough for that, then he was too fucking close to my girl. I could hardly make sense of the text message either—just lyrics from the song typed out with Brynne’s name attached to them. Gave me chills, and made my decision to get her out of the city a very easy one.
I looked over at her sleeping in the front seat, her head tilted against the pillow she’d brought along. I’d rushed her out of the city, and I knew I’d have some explaining to do later, but thankfully she hadn’t been in a mood to challenge me and went along with everything. We’d changed out of our formal clothes, grabbed the bags, and hit the M-4 for our three-hour drive to the coast.
She stirred about two hours into the drive and woke up with a direct question. “So are you going to tell me why you dragged me away tonight when the plan had been to go in the morning for weeks?”
“I don’t want to tell you because it won’t be nice for you to know and you’re already feeling bad.” I reached for her hand. “Can we wait till tomorrow to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Baby . . . please, you’re exhausted and—”
“Remember our deal, Ethan,” she cut me off. “I have to know everything or I can’t trust you.”
The tone of her voice was very hard and scared the shit out of me. Oh, I remembered our deal very well, and I hated what I knew. But I also knew what I’d agreed to with Brynne. And if keeping the information from her broke us apart, then it wasn’t worth the cost to me.
“Yeah, I remember our deal.” I reached into my pocket for her mobile. “A message came through on your mobile while I was out back having a smoke. That’s why I didn’t know where you were. I’d left to go outside and the bomb threat happened about simultaneous with that text message on your phone.”
She reached a shaky hand and took it from me. “Ethan? What’s on it?”
“A music video first and then a text from someone calling themselves ArmyOps17.” I put my hand on her arm. “You don’t have to listen. You really don’t—”
Her face looked absolutely stricken with fear, but she asked the question anyway. “Is it—is it the video of . . . me?”
“No! It’s just the music video of the song by Nine Inch Nails—look, you don’t have to do this, Brynne!”
“Yes, I do! It’s to me, this message! Isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“And if we weren’t together it would have still been sent to me, right?”
“I suppose. But we are together and I want to keep you from having to worry about shit like that. It kills me, Brynne. It fucking kills me to see you like this!”
She started to cry. It was the silent kind of crying. The way she usually did it, and somehow the silence of her tears seemed to be screaming loud in the car between us.
“That’s one of the reasons why I love you, Ethan,” she sniffed. “You want to protect me because you really care.”
“I do, baby. I love you so much. I don’t want you to have to see that piece of sh—”
She pressed start and the song rang out as she played the video. I watched her and held my breath.
Brynne held it together for the whole thing, watching it through to the bitter end, in all its mad-scientist-themed fetish crap. I had no indication from her as to how she felt about seeing it, though. At least not outwardly. I couldn’t possibly know.
I knew how I felt from watching her, though. Utterly helpless.
Then she got to the text message part.
“He was there? Watching you smoke?! Oh shit!” She clamped her hand over her mouth again and gagged. “Pull over!”
Fuck! I defied the laws of physics and the road and somehow got us off to the side. She was out and heaving in the bushes the instant the tires stopped. I held her hair away and rubbed her back. Could this night get any worse?
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she gasped. “Can you get me a napkin or something?”
I pulled some towels from the glove box and got a bottle of water so she could rinse her mouth. And kept my trap shut, positively sure I was having an out-of-body experience. This just couldn’t be happening right now.
“I feel better,” she panted. “Whatever that was tonight seems to have passed.” She slowly straightened up and lifted her head up to the night sky. “Gawd!”
“I’m so sorry, baby. You’re ill and I’m dragging you on a road trip and everything’s so royally fucked up—”
“But you’re here with me,” she blurted, “and you’re going to help me through whatever that shit was on my phone, aren’t you?” She stared at me, her eyes still wet, her chest still heaving from being sick in the bushes, and utterly amazing to me because of her bravery.
“I will, Brynne.” I took the couple steps that separated us and drew her close. She folded into my arms and rested her cheek on my chest. “I’m going to be here every step of the way to keep you safe. I’m all in, remember?”
She nodded. “I’m all in too, Ethan.”
“Good. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” I rubbed up and down her back and felt her relax a little.
“I do feel better . . . even if I smell like puke,” she said. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s good you feel better. And you only smell slightly of puke.” I kissed the top of her head and she squeezed me in the ribs. “But we need to get off the side of the road. It’s not much further, and I want to put you into a bed so you can get some rest. Freddy’s a doctor. He can check you out tomorrow after you’ve had sleep.”
“All right. One hell of a night, huh?”
“You’re a fun date, Miss Bennett.” I put her into her seat. “But I think I prefer staying in to going out with you.” I kissed her on the forehead before I shut the door.
She laughed at that and I was glad I could still get her to smile after the cock-up of an evening we’d just endured.
“Can you smell the ocean?” I asked after we got a bit further coastward.
“Yes. It reminds me of home. I grew up with the smell of the sea.” She looked out the window. “Tell me about Hannah and her family.”
I wondered if reminding her of home was a sad memory I’d just brought up, but I decided not to pry. It was something maybe for another time.
“Well, Hannah is five years older than me and bossy as hell, but she loves her little brother. We’re very close . . . probably because of losing our mum at such an early age. We all just hung together very tight once she was gone. Our dad, Hannah and me.”
“Sounds so nice, Ethan—how much you all care about each other.”
“I can’t wait for them to meet you. Freddy’s a good bloke. He’s a doctor, like I said before, and runs a practice in the village at Kilve. Their home is called Hallborough, an old estate out of Freddy’s family—the Greymonts. These big houses on the historic registry are difficult to keep up, so they do a high-end bed-and-breakfast that Hannah runs, along with raising three fabulous kids.”
“What are their names and ages?”
“Colin will be thirteen in November. Jordan just turned eleven, and my fairy princess of a niece, little Zara, was quite the surprise for everyone when she arrived just five years ago this month.” I couldn’t help the grin at thinking about Zara. I had a soft spot for little girls. “She is something else, I’m telling you. That little miss runs circles around her brothers.”
“I can’t wait to meet Zara then. It’s good to see a woman who can control all the men in her life, and at such a young age too.”
“Well, you’ll get your chance in the morning, because we’re here.”
I pulled into the gravel driveway that ran in a half circle up to the Georgian house of pale stone. There had been some mixing of architectural influences over the centuries during various remodels. The Gothic windows and points were a nice touch if you wanted historic. It was still a fine-looking house perched as it was above the coast; not bad for a seaside cottage. That always cracked me up. According to Freddy, Hallborough had been the summer cottage retreat for his family two hundred years ago when they needed to get away from Town. If this was a cottage, then what did those people back then consider a house?
“God, Ethan, this is amazing.” She looked up at the façade and seemed suitably impressed. “It’s gorgeous, and I can’t wait for a tour.”
“Tomorrow.” I gathered up our bags from the back and locked the car. “Time to get you into a bed. You need sleep.”
She followed me up to the side door entrance, which was unlocked, just like Hannah promised.
“What I need is a shower,” she murmured behind me.
“You can do a bath if you want. The rooms are kitted out superb,” I whispered as I led her up the main staircase. I knew which suite I wanted for us when I called Hannah and asked. The blue one at the corner of the west wing with the full ocean view all the way to the Welsh coast across the bay.
Brynne was impressed when I opened the door and led her in. I could tell by her expression. I think she was struck speechless as her eyes went around the room.
“Ethan! This is . . . simply stunning.” She smiled wide at me and looked happy. “Thank you for bringing me here.” But then she looked down and shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry tonight was such a mess.”
“Come here, baby.” I held my arms out and waited for her to move forward.
She practically leapt at me and I picked her up, letting her wrap her legs around me in the way I loved for her to do. I tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned away and gave me her neck instead.
“I need to get a shower and brush my teeth before we do anything,” she mumbled against my ear.
“We’re not doing anything. You’re going to sleep after you have your shower or your bath or whatever you’re having.”
“Hey.” She lifted her head and gave me a look. “Are you denying me your body, Mr. Blackstone?”
I am sure it was the very last thing I expected her to ask me. “Um . . . why . . . err . . . no, Miss Bennett. I would never do such a moronic thing as deny you my body when you are so obviously in need of it.”
“Good thing, because I am feeling much better now. Much better . . .” She held my face in her two hands and smiled a beautiful smile.
“Ahhh, I can see that you are.”
She flexed against my cock and pulled us tighter together with her legs wrapped around me. “And I can feel that you are completely on board with my plan, Mr. Blackstone.”
Well, of course I am when I have your legs wrapped round my arse and my cock up against a very nice part of you.
I walked us into the bathroom carefully and set her down on her feet. I found the light switch and enjoyed the second gasp out of her when she got a good look at the bathtub and the view.
“Is that the ocean out that window? Good Lord! It’s so beautiful in here I can hardly stand it.”
I laughed. “Now, I’m not so sure if you’re more interested in that bathtub or in ravishing me anymore.”
“But I can multitask just as well as you can, baby,” she said, pulling her hoodie over her head and letting it drop.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you call me baby?”
Her strip-show was going to be so damn good I could already feel my body starting to hum all over.
“Maybe a time or two you’ve said so.”
She pulled off her T-shirt, and that’s when I saw it.
“You wore your necklace.”
She nodded at me, standing there in a lacy blue bra and the heart pendant I’d given her at the beginning of our hellish evening.
“When we changed clothes I didn’t want to take it off.” She flipped her eyes up to mine and fingered the heart.
“How come?” I asked.
“Because you gave it to me, and told me you loved me and—”
“I don’t want you to take it off,” I blurted out in the middle of her sentence.
“—because you said you were all in.”
“I am. With you, Brynne, I am, and I have been from the very start.”
And I meant every word. I knew what I wanted. I understood it crystal clear, and there was no turning back with her now.
All in is forever, baby…
When I reached for my girl and showed her how much I did indeed need her, and told her with words too, I knew then that the best gamble of my life had been not the cards I’d played but that one night on a London street, when a beautiful American girl tried to walk out in the dark, and I played the most important hand I’d ever been dealt and went . . . all in.
