I sit in the bar and sip my Scotch. I went to work this morning, but left early.
Not in the mood for work today. Not in the mood for anything, really.
I have a lead ball in my stomach, one that isn’t going away. I screwed up on Saturday night . . . bad.
But in my defense, she’s fucking infuriating. Did she really think I would sit there all night and watch someone come on to her without consequence?
I glance at my watch, it’s 2 p.m. I haven’t heard from her and I know that I’m not going to.
Typical fucking Kathryn Landon, stubborn as all hell.
I go over my options: there aren’t any. I either have to grovel or kiss her goodbye. I know she isn’t going to come looking for me anytime soon.
I exhale heavily and scroll through my phone, find the number I’m looking for and give a disgusted shake of my head. This is a first, I’ve never done this before. I’m usually glad when they leave. Sucking up to a woman is a new kind of uncharted-territory hell.
“Hello, Park Avenue Florist,” the girl answers.
“Can I send some flowers as a matter of urgency please?”
“Sure. We can deliver that in an hour, where to?”
“Kathryn Landon, Miles Media building, level ten.”
“What would you like to send?”
“Ummmm.” I think for a moment. “What would you suggest for . . . to get out of . . .”
“An apology?”
“Yes.”
“Well, how big an apology do you need?”
“Pretty big.” I roll my eyes. “The biggest you’ve got.”
“Okay, so red roses?”
“I guess.”
“A dozen.”
I frown. “Umm . . . stubborn kind of woman.”
“Four dozen?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Okay, and what do you want the card to say.”
“Hmm.” I think for a moment. “Maybe just, ‘I’m sorry.’”
That’s so lame.
“Okay.” I can hear her typing. “Four dozen red roses and ‘I’m sorry’ on the card.”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
I frown as I think; I really should come up with something witty but I can’t think straight when she’s angry with me. “‘Love, Elliot.’”
Damn her.
She’s got me by the balls, and she fucking knows it.
“So, ‘I’m sorry, love Elliot’?” she asks as she checks the details.
“Yes. Can you call me as soon as they’ve been delivered, please?”
“Of course, sir.” I pay her with my credit card and I hang up and wait.
An hour and four glasses of Scotch later, my phone rings. “Yes.”
“The roses have been delivered, sir.”
“Did she receive them?”
“Yes, signed for them herself.”
“Thank you.” I hang up and roll my lips; this could go either way. I dial Kate’s number.
“Yes,” she answers.
I clench my jaw at the sound of her voice. She wants to fight. “Hello Kathryn.”
“What do you want, Elliot?”
“I . . .” I hesitate as I think what to say. “I wanted to see if you got your roses.”
“I did, thank you. However, there aren’t enough roses on earth to make up for your behavior.”
I roll my eyes. Did she even read the fucking card? “I’m sorry.”
She stays silent.
“I acted appallingly and I regret it.”
She stays silent.
“But in my defense, this could have been easily avoided. Why didn’t you just tell him that you had a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Elliot, you have made that quite clear.”
“Well, maybe you do,” I spit.
I scrunch up my face. Shit.
“Well, maybe my boyfriend is a fucking idiot.”
“It’s possible.”
“And maybe he better get his act together or else he’s getting dumped.”
I smirk. “Maybe you should be quiet now?”
“Don’t shush me, Elliot, and so help me God if you fucking ever flirt with someone in another language in front of me again—”
I cut her off. “You know I was only doing it to make you jealous.”
“It didn’t work.”
I can tell she’s smiling, I’ve nearly got her. “Maybe a little.”
“Elliot,” she snaps. “I swear to God, if you ever pull a stunt like that again . . .”
“Did you miss me last night?” I ask. “Because I missed you.”
“No, and I’m very busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Putting your roses through the shredder.”
I chuckle, I wouldn’t put it past her. “I have an art auction tonight, I’ll come over after.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow night.”
I sip my Scotch. I don’t want to get off the phone, this damn woman has me like a puppy. “Am I forgiven?” I ask.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Elliot. I’ll think about it.”
I smile and I know that I am.
I hear someone talk to her in her office. “Who are they from?”
“My boyfriend,” she replies.
I wince . . . fuck . . . boyfriend, how did that happen? Slipped that one in under the radar, didn’t she?
“Call me later.” She sighs.
“Okay.” I hang on the line.
“Goodbye Elliot.” She hangs up and I smile into my glass.
Mission accomplished.
I stare at the painting on the easel in front of me.
Immortal
“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I say to Christopher as he stands beside me.
He scrunches up his nose, unimpressed. “Hmm . . . I don’t even know what you see in this artist. It’s just a painting to me.”
“Harriet Boucher is not just an artist, Christopher. She’s a genius.”
He rolls his eyes. “If you say so.” He glances at his watch. “How long is this going to take, I’m fucking starving.”
“The auction starts in twenty minutes.”
I look up across the crowd and I see the ballerina. My heart skips a beat.
She’s blonde and beautiful, a frequent visitor at art auctions, but she has always eluded me.
I have no idea if she’s an actual ballerina, but seeing as we don’t have a name for her, we’ve nicknamed her that.
What is it about this woman?
I’ve always gotten the feeling that I should know her, that she is somehow connected to something, although just what that is, I just don’t know.
Our eyes are locked across the crowded room, the air between us swirls with electricity.
Tonight, she seems different, her big eyes hold mine.
She’s not running, she’s not trying to escape; if anything, she’s trying to silently will me over.
I inhale a steady breath and drop my head.
Fuck . . . perfect timing.
On any normal day I’d be over there, pursuing her and persuading her to have dinner with me. Making myself known to her and wanting to know all about her.
I’ve always seen her across the room in the heat of an auction battle, but never once gotten to speak to her. She always disappears before I can find her. I’ve wanted her for so long. But it’s different now.
Kate.
My beautiful Kate is at home waiting for me and I am not going to fuck this up, so I drag my eyes from the ballerina and focus on the painting.
I can feel her looking at me.
“Holy fuck, look who’s here,” Christopher whispers. “It’s her.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try not to look.
“Oh my God, she’s fucking perfect,” he whispers.
My eyes flick up to her, and he’s right, she is perfect.
I clench my jaw and drag my eyes away again.
“What are you doing, get the fuck over there,” he whispers. “This is your chance, she’s not running tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not interested.”
“What?” He frowns. “Since when?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I whisper angrily as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Why now, of all the times in the world she could want to talk to me . . . it has to be now, doesn’t it?
“What’s wrong with you?” frowns Christopher. “You’ve wanted her for years. Go fucking get her.”
“Shut. Up.”
I don’t need this shit.
The auctioneer walks into the room and I am momentarily distracted. I look back over to the ballerina and she’s gone. This time, instead of disappointment, I’m relieved.
Good . . . fuck off back to wherever you came from, I don’t need temptation. Even if it is from someone that I’ve wanted for a long time.
I think of my girl at home and my heart swells.
I’m with Kate.
KATE
My phone buzzing on the bedside table wakes me and I scramble to answer it. “Hello.”
“I’m out the front,” Elliot’s deep voice says.
“I thought I wasn’t seeing you tonight.”
“You thought wrong, open the door.”
I make my way downstairs and open the door and there he stands. Sexy suit, gorgeous smile, and enough charisma to light up space. He takes me into his arms and kisses me. “Hi there.”
“What happened to seeing me tomorrow?” I ask.
“One night without you was bad, two nights is intolerable.”
I smile against his lips and take his hand and lead him up the stairs. If the truth be told, I missed him too.
I get back into bed and he sits on the side and stares down at me with a soft smile.
He’s different.
“What?”
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks softly.
I smile. “We’re not having sex tonight, just so you know.”
He chuckles as he leans in to kiss me, and his lips take mine with such tenderness that I feel all my defenses fly out of the window.
He kisses me deep and slow and oh . . . maybe we should fight more often. “I’m going to take a quick shower, sweetheart.”
“Okay.”
He kisses me again as he holds my face and I nearly lift out of the bed.
He’s just so . . .
He has a shower and ten minutes later he walks out in a white towel, his perfect body on display in the moonlit room. He drops his towel and I swallow the lump in my throat. No matter how many times I see him naked, it always floors me to see how gorgeous he is.
He pulls back the covers and climbs in beside me. He lies up on his elbow and kisses me, long and slow and oh God . . .
His big, powerful body is snug up against mine, his teeth graze my neck and his hard length rubs up against my panties in just the right spot.
For a long time, we kiss in the darkness, as if we have all the time in the world, and something about him making the boyfriend commitment has amped up my arousal tenfold.
His large body rolls over mine and I pant as he writhes between my legs, grinding me into the mattress. My hands roam all over his muscular back as he stares down at me.
He’s hot, hard, and ready to fuck.
And good God, I come just from the way he’s looking at me.
His breath quivers on the inhale and I know he’s close to the edge of control. I wrap my legs around his thick body and he pushes forward, his hard dick running over my clitoris, adding more heat to the already burning inferno.
“I need you.” He breathes against my neck; his hands knead my breasts with force.
He pushes forward, his cock coming dangerously close to breaking through the material of my panties.
“Elliot.”
“Fuck. Kathryn,” he whispers as if in pain. “You want me to beg? I’ll fucking beg.”
I stare up at him.
“I need it,” he moans as his lips take mine. “Please.” His eyes close as we kiss and I know he’s right here with me.
I need this intimacy too.
We stare at each other and, without a further word, he takes my panties off and he slides in deep.
Our eyes are locked in the darkness, his body deep inside of mine. His eyes flutter shut as he loses control; he tenderly moves inside of me, with care, so much tenderness and sheer adoration . . . I slip into the abyss.
“El,” I whimper.
“I know, baby.” He kisses me with his eyes closed. The emotion between us is palpable. A tangible force that we no longer control.
This is special. He is special.
Elliot Miles is everything I never knew I needed, and regardless of our differences I can’t deny it.
I am utterly and irrevocably in love with him.
ELLIOT
I lean on my elbow as I watch her sleep.
Her hair is splayed across the pillow as she lies on her side facing me, her bare breasts falling across her chest. I lean in and kiss her temple softly, the need to be closer to her almost primal.
We crossed a boundary tonight, broke through some kind of invisible barrier.
My heart is freefalling from my chest and I have no way of stopping it. Nor would I want to.
What’s happening?
I’ve never felt like this before.
There’s no border between us; the separation of the two of us is blurred. She’s like an extension of my body . . . only, in a better way.
She stirs and puts her hand out for me. “El,” she whispers.
“I’m here, baby,” I whisper as I snuggle in closer, put my head on her chest.
She smiles softly with her eyes closed and falls back to sleep.
In the darkness, in her arms, I listen to her heartbeat.
And I lose sight of mine.
“Good morning, girls,” I say as I walk through reception.
They look up from their tasks. “Good morning, Mr. Miles.”
Christopher is standing at his office door. “Hey.”
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” I smile.
He frowns. “Not really.”
“Oh.” I look out of the window and shrug. “Ah, but it’s not snowing, is it?”
“Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy prick of a brother?” Christopher replies dryly. “It’s like the fucking Sound of Music around here.”
The girls laugh and I walk into my office and unpack my computer as amusement fills me.
“What’s going on?” I look up to see Christopher watching me as he leans on the doorjamb.
“Nothing, why?”
“Well, you’re up, you’re down, furious, then quiet, you’re like a one-man fucking circus.”
I log into my computer. “A good night’s sleep is all we needed. I mean me,” I correct myself. “I slept well.”
He walks in, suddenly interested. “No, you said ‘we.’”
“I meant me.”
“No, you didn’t.” He sits on the side of my desk. “You’re seeing someone aren’t you?”
I type in my email login.
“Who is she?”
“None of your business. Get out.”
Knock, knock: I glance up to see Kate standing at the door.
Shit.
“Morning, Kathryn,” I say, my eyes roaming down to her toes and back up to her face. Her fair hair is down and tucked behind one ear and her smile instantly lights up the room. She’s wearing a black, fitted pencil skirt and a cream, silk blouse; her top button is undone with just a hint of what’s underneath—perfection.
I feel the blood as it rushes around my body.
Was she always this hot . . . or do I see it more clearly now that I know what she does with those killer curves?
I get a vision of her on top of me naked and I bite my bottom lip to push the pornographic thought away.
“Is now a bad time, Mr. Miles?” she asks. “I have the report you’ve been waiting for.”
“No.” Christopher smiles. “Come in, Kate. You can help me pry information out of him.”
“Information?” She looks between us.
“He seems to be in a very uncharacteristic good mood lately. I want to know what’s responsible.” He crosses his arms in front of him. “Or who?”
“Oh.” A trace of a smile crosses her face. “I don’t think you have to worry, in no time he’ll return to his ogre self. Let’s enjoy the peace while we can.”
“Fair call,” he agrees.
“Just give me the report and get out, both of you.” I sigh as I throw a manila folder onto my desk.
“Ah, there he is. Crisis averted.” Kathryn smiles. “Give it three minutes and he’ll be screaming the office down.”
“Keep going and I will be,” I snap.
Kathryn’s eyes dance with mischief as her eyes hold mine.
My cock throbs . . . stop it.
What is it about this woman? She turns me into a horny schoolboy. “Are you staying for this meeting?” I ask Christopher.
“No, I got my own shit to do.” He gets up and ambles out. “Do you want the door closed?”
“Yes.” My eyes hold Kate’s. “Thank you.”
Christopher leaves and I stand and walk to the door, flick the lock.
Kate’s eyes widen. “Elliot, no,” she whispers.
I walk toward her. “Telling me no is the ultimate aphrodisiac, Landon.” I grab her roughly on the behind and pull her toward me. I bite her bottom lip and drag her over my hard cock.
“Stop,” she murmurs against my lips.
“Do you really want me to stop?” I grab her hair aggressively and pull her face back to mine. “Or do you want me to take you into my bathroom and pump you full of come. Like the naughty employee you are.” I knead her breast with force as I bite her hard on the neck, and she throws her head back, granting me full access.
Fuck I love these tits; her body was built for sin.
My sin.
“Elliot,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed, and I know that look.
She wants it.
I take her hand and drag her into the bathroom and close the door, fall onto the chair in the corner and in one quick movement, I unzip my fly and pull her skirt up. I pull her panties to the side and position myself at her entrance.
I put my hands on her shoulders and slam her down onto me, stretching her tight body to the hilt.
We fall silent as we stare at each other.
“You’re a bad man, Mr. Miles,” she whispers.
A slow smile crosses my face. “And you’re a dirty girl. Get those fucking legs up, Landon, and work my cock.” I bite her neck with force, the need to bruise her overwhelming.
With dark eyes she brings her legs up and puts her feet on the chair, bringing her into a squatting position. She’s only just learned how to take me like this; my size was an issue and we had to work up to it.
I feel every one of her muscles as they ripple around me, and it’s all I can do not to blow.
We’re in my office for Pete’s sake . . . this isn’t good, but there’s no way in hell I can stop. My addiction to Kathryn Landon isn’t slowing down. Like a forest fire in a wind storm, I’m completely out of control.
She fucks me.
Hard, unbridled, and wet.
Like animals, we feed from each other’s bodies . . . and I love every fucking second of it.
KATE
I walk down the street on the way to meet Elanor for lunch. She’s in London for a rare week, and I’m trying to patch things up between us. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately, but I do know she needs my compassion, not my anger.
My phone rings and I dig it out of my bag; the name Elliot lights up the screen.
“Hi.”
“How’s my girl?”
I smile at the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “Good.”
“I have to go to New York next week.”
I frown. “Oh . . . Okay.”
“I want you to come with me.”
I stop on the spot. “Why?”
“Because I can’t go seven days without seeing you.”
I smile goofily down the phone, and I know it’s true. We’ve spent almost every night together for weeks. We’re so besotted that it’s just assumed we will spend each night together, it’s not even a question. I can’t go seven days without seeing him either.
“I can show you my New York home and take you to my gallery. And besides, I want to have you to myself for a week,” he says as he tries to talk me into it.
Excitement fills me, I don’t need convincing. It sounds like heaven.
“I’ll have to work through the days of course, but I can arrange a meeting so that you have an excuse to be there—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’ll take leave, I have lots owing. I don’t want anyone from work knowing about us.”
“Okay.”
“I mean—” That came out wrong. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. Where are you?” he asks.
“On my way to meet my sister for lunch.”
“I keep forgetting that you have a sister, what’s her name again?”
“Elanor.” I pause for a moment. “Actually, do you know her? Elanor Landon.”
“I don’t think so, how would I know her?”
“She goes out with the kind of men you mix with, perhaps you’ve seen her around?”
“Hmm, the name isn’t familiar, who knows? Maybe I’ve seen her before, I’ll know when I meet her, I guess.”
I smile as hope blooms in my chest. He’s planning on meeting my family . . . Oh, this is going too good to be true, and not at all as I expected.
“So, you’ll come to New York?” he asks.
“If I can get time off work.”
“I’m pretty sure that your boss would insist on it.” I can tell that he’s smiling.
“Well, my boss is a sex maniac.” I smirk.
“Happily so,” he says in his deep, swoony voice.
Well, that makes two of us.
“Goodbye, Kathryn.”
I smile; not that long ago I hated it when he called me Kathryn, but now it’s a term of endearment.
“Bye, El.” I hang up and practically float to the restaurant. I’m going out with God’s gift to women and he’s taking me to New York and he thinks I’m fucking fantastic.
Life is good.
I walk into the restaurant and look around. Elanor is sitting at the back and she smiles and waves as she sees me. I smile and wave and make my way to her.
“Hi.” She stands and kisses me on the cheek, holds me by the arms and looks me up and down. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks.” I smile proudly—that would be all the orgasms. “So do you.”
I’m not lying, she really does. She’s wearing a fitted, cream woolen dress and knee-high boots. Elanor is a lot of things, but her beauty is unmatched.
“Sit down, sit down,” she says as she ushers me into my seat. “I ordered some wine.”
“I’m at work today.”
“One glass won’t hurt, darling.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m an idiot.
I fake a smile, ugh . . . here we go, Elanor and her condescending eye rolls.
She pours us both a glass of wine. “So . . .” She looks me up and down. “Why do you look so amazing, are you seeing someone?”
I beam with happiness. “I am, actually.”
“Hmm.” She sips her wine. “Well, happiness suits you. Anyone I know?”
I open my mouth to tell her who it is and then I shut it again. What if she blurts it out to the world? I’m sure she would know the same people that Elliot knows. But he did say he was my boyfriend?
Hmm, but he hasn’t announced anything yet. I’ll guess I’ll wait to tell her until I’ve spoken to him first. “Nobody you would know, just a guy from work,” I reply. Technically that is true. “What about you, are you seeing anyone?”
“No, I broke up with Frederick.”
I frown. “What happened to Alexander?”
“Oh.” She screws up her face. “I broke up with him months ago, he got so boring. When we had sex he would come in two minutes flat. I have needs that I’m not compromising on.”
Poor Alexander. I wonder if he knows she’s telling the world about his performance. Seriously . . . what a cold bitch. I take a big gulp of wine. Jeez. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Don’t say it.
“Tell me, how’s that boss of yours doing. Elliot Miles, the gorgeous specimen.”
I cough as I choke. “What?” I wince.
“I’m in London for a few days, I might look him up.”
Horror runs through me. “Do you know him?”
“We’ve seen each other before, but no formal introduction. Although I’m making sure that changes.”
“He’s getting married,” I lie.
“And?”
“Well, he’s taken,” I scoff.
“Darling.” She smiles as if I’m stupid. “If I want Elliot Miles, I will take him from whoever I have to.”
I clench my jaw as fury runs through me. “You would actually stoop so low as to break up a happy relationship?”
“Of course, why not? I’ve done it before and I can do it again.” She casually sips her wine. “Where does he go out to? What clubs? What do you know?”
My angry heartbeat echoes through my ears. “I’m not sure.” I tip my head back and drain my glass.
She stares into space as she thinks. “Maybe I can come and see you at work, accidently knock on his office door.”
My eyes widen in horror. “No. You won’t do that,” I snap. “I forbid you to try and see him, Elanor. This is my job, don’t ruin it for me.”
“Oh hush.” She rolls her eyes again. “Always so dramatic. You’re acting like you have a crush on him or something.”
“Maybe I do,” I blurt out.
She gives me a smile and raises her glass in the air as a silent salute. “Well then.”
“Well then, what?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs casually as if she has a secret.
“What, Elanor?” I snap.
“You’ve worked for him for years and you haven’t snagged him, it’s obviously not going to happen. Is it?” She sips her wine. “And besides, you’re seeing someone else.”
Damn it, why did I lie?
“What makes you think he would fall at your feet anyway?” I snap.
She flicks her hair over her shoulders. “Because he will.”
I sit at the table and push my food around my plate with my fork.
“What’s wrong?” Elliot asks as he watches me. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
I exhale heavily. I know this is going to make me sound insecure and pathetic but I can’t help it, I have to say it.
“My sister told me today that she is making a play for you.”
He frowns.
“And she’s beautiful, Elliot, and she gets whatever man she wants.”
His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he tries to hide his smile. “And there she is. My beautiful, vulnerable Kate.” He takes my hand over the table.
I roll my eyes, knowing how pathetic I sound. “Don’t.”
“Well, did you tell her that I’m taken?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she say?”
“She told me she could get you to leave any woman.”
He picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips, clearly amused by my insecurity. “I’m with you. Your sister . . . or any other woman for that matter, doesn’t stand a chance.”
My eyes search his.
“You have my word,” he promises.
I give him a stifled smile. “I just know—”
“She’s not you, Kate,” he cuts me off, leans over, and takes my face into his hands and kisses me tenderly. “There is only one Landon sister that I want, and she’s right here.” He puts the palm of my hand over his chest.
I smile against his lips, feeling a little better.
“And just so you know, if one of my brothers made a play for you? They wouldn’t survive it.”
My heart swells, and just when I think I can’t care for this man more than I already do . . .
He proves me wrong again.
I wake alone and stretch in the dawn light as it streams through the window. Where is my man? I make my way downstairs; the house is empty. Where is he?
I look out the back and catch sight of him in the gardens.
Elliot has his back to me and is looking out over the lake, fully dressed in his suit with his coffee in his hand, the steam from his cup rising in the cold air. The ducks are around his feet, happily pecking at the ground. He walks along, totally entranced by his surroundings as they all follow him like long-lost friends. Every now and then a duck gets too close and he kicks his leg out to clear himself some space.
I lift my phone and take a few photos of him. He really does love this place and I can’t say I blame him. I love seeing him so happy here.
A loud sound comes up the drive and I look out of the window to see a utility truck pull up.
I watch through the window as Elliot walks over and talks to the man in the truck. They shake hands as they introduce themselves.
Who’s that?
I go out to the front just in time to see the man unload Billy the goat from the back of his truck.
“My apologies,” Elliot says as he takes the rope tied around Billy’s neck. “I don’t know how he got out?”
“This is the fourth time in two weeks,” the man says.
Elliot notices me. “Alan, meet Kathryn, Kathryn, this is Alan. He owns the property next door.”
“Hello.” I smile. “What’s happened?”
“Your goat keeps getting out. I found him on the road.”
“Oh.”
“I’m worried he’s going to cause a car accident and someone will be killed.”
“Yes.” Elliot frowns as if imagining the scenario. “Thank you for bringing him back. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get out again,” he says.
“Nice to meet you.” Alan smiles as he gets back into his truck. We give him a wave and he drives away.
“What did you do?” Elliot snaps at his goat.
The goat looks up at him, totally clueless.
“Bahahaha,” Billy bleats loudly.
“You want to run away? That’s fine with me.” He pulls the rope and the goat follows him on the leash. “Just don’t do it on the fucking road.” He keeps walking over toward the paddock.
“Bahahaha.”
“Go inland, fuck off to bumfuck nowhere and don’t come back. But don’t do it on the fucking road.”
“Bahahaha.”
I roll my lips as I follow them to stop myself from laughing out loud.
Elliot opens the gate to the top paddock and leads him in. “You are now grounded to the top paddock.”
“Bahahaha,” Billy bleats.
“Seeing that you can’t be trusted.”
Oh my lord, this is priceless.
Tough guy Elliot Miles grounding his goat.
He undoes the rope around Billy’s neck. “I’m watching you, fucker. One wrong move and it’s off to . . .” He pauses as he thinks of the right wording. “The knackers.”
“Bahahaha.”
“Do you know what they do to naughty goats there?” he asks.
I burst out laughing.
“Go inside,” Elliot snaps.
I turn and walk inside as I continue to laugh.
“Bahahaha,” Billy bleats.
“Stop making that noise, too,” Elliot barks.
I giggle as I walk up the stairs. My life is officially complete.
I’ve heard it all.
“Bahahaha.” The loud noise echoes through the silence.
I glance at the clock: 1 a.m.
“Bahahaha.”
“Fuck this,” Elliot whispers as he throws the blankets back.
I scrunch up my face to stop myself laughing; this is comical. Billy hasn’t stopped crying all night.
Elliot opens the window in a rush. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” he yells, the sound of his voice echoing around the valley. He slams the window shut so hard it nearly breaks.
He gets back into bed and rustles around.
“Bahahaha.”
I smile into my pillow.
“Dumb fucking goat,” Elliot whispers under his breath.
“Bahahaha,” the loud bleat echoes.
This really is bad.
How the hell are we supposed to sleep at all?
“Bahahaha.”
“That’s it,” Elliot explodes, and he jumps up and storms downstairs like the Hulk.
I hear the front door open in a rush and I run to the window and open it to watch what he does.
He marches out to the paddock. “What?” Elliot cries with his arms wide. “What the fuck do you want?”
Billy looks at him blankly.
“You have food, you have water. You have the whole fucking paddock to yourself. Is that not good enough for you, you spoilt fucking goat?”
“Bahahaha,” Billy bleats.
Elliot turns and kicks a bucket as hard as he can; it goes flying into the air and crashes spectacularly to the ground. “See that?” he yells at Billy. “There’s more of that coming your way if you don’t shut up.”
I laugh out loud.
Elliot marches back inside and I hear the front door slam. He stomps up the stairs and picks up his phone and sits on the window seat.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Googling how to kill a goat, what do you fucking think?”
I laugh.
“This isn’t funny, Kathryn,” he growls.
“It is.” I get up and walk over to him and sit on his lap. Oh my God, he really is googling how to kill a goat. I take his phone from him and throw it on the floor, kiss him softly. “Maybe there’s something wrong with him,” I whisper.
“There is—impending death.”
“No, I mean maybe he’s sick.”
He stares at me.
“Put some earplugs in, take a sleeping pill or something, and tomorrow we’ll call the vet. He will know what to do.”
Elliot lets out a shaky breath as he tries to calm down.
I smile up at my man and push the hair back from his forehead. “He’s just a little goat.”
“Who’s ruining my fucking life.”
I stare up at him in the darkness. I always knew he was a hothead, but I thought it was only me who annoyed him to boiling point. Every day a little more of the Elliot Miles puzzle falls into place. And every day, he becomes a little more endearing.
“Come on. Bed.” I pull him by the hand.
“How?” he snaps. “This is intolerable.”
“Oh . . . boohoo.” I roll my eyes as I climb into bed.
He cuddles my back and pumps me with his hips. “I’ll give you fucking boohoo.”
I wake alone, and exhausted.
The last time I looked at the clock it was 4:38 a.m.—we’ve hardly slept at all. I throw on some clothes, go to the bathroom, and make my way downstairs. “Elliot,” I call. No answer. I walk to the sliding glass door and look out to see a car as it comes up the driveway. Who is it now?
Elliot meets the car and a man gets out; they fall into a deep discussion and head toward the paddock.
Oh no, who’s that?
I quickly walk out of the house. “Hello.”
The man turns to me. “Hello. I’m Mathew, the vet.”
“Oh.” Relief fills me.
A trace of a smile crosses Elliot’s face; he knows who I thought it was, a hired goat hitman. “This is Kathryn.”
“Hello.”
“He’s this way.” Elliot gestures to Billy’s paddock.
For fifteen minutes we both watch in silence as the vet checks Billy all over.
“Well,” Mathew says. “You have nothing to worry about, he’s perfectly healthy.”
Elliot sighs. “What’s wrong with him then? He keeps running away, he’s crying all the time.”
“He’s looking for a mate,” Mathew says. “It’s normal for a goat of around this age to want . . .”
“He’s horny?” Elliot fumes.
“Figuratively speaking. Yes.”
Elliot glares at Billy and gives a subtle shake of his head. “How old is he?”
“Around three years, at a guess.”
“And how long do goats live?”
“Approximately fifteen years.”
Elliot exhales heavily. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, please send me the bill.”
“No problem at all.” They shake hands. “Goodbye, Kathryn.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
He drives off and Elliot marches back down to Billy. “Are you fucking kidding me? You kept me up all night because you’re horny?” he whispers angrily. “Just what I need, a sex maniac goat.” He storms back up to the house.
“What do you expect?” I call as I pat Billy’s head. “He is your son . . . after all.”
“Shut up,” Elliot calls as he walks. “I’m not in the mood for your shit today, either.”
I walk down the street with Daniel, who’s come to have lunch with me; it feels like forever since I’ve seen him. “Can we have Thai?”
“No.” I sigh.
“Why not?”
“Because then I’ll have to eat an entire kilogram of rice and I’ll be tired as fuck all afternoon.”
“Hmm, the dreaded carbohydrate coma.” He exhales as if exasperated and I feel guilty.
“Fine.” I sigh. “Thai. I’ll have you know I’m tired as fuck today. Elliot’s goat kept us up all night.”
“What?” He screws up his face. “Elliot Miles has a goat?”
“Yep. And ducks, and a weird sheep . . . -like thing.”
He widens his eyes as if surprised. “Who knew?”
I giggle.
“When are you going to invite me over?”
“Soon.” I shrug. “It’s only early days, you know.”
“Oh my God, look who’s coming.” He looks up ahead.
“Who?”
“It’s Rande Gerber.”
“Who?”
“Cindy Crawford’s husband.”
I screw up my face as I peer down the street.
“He’s gone now.” He cranes his neck to look. “I swear it was him.”
“Let me ask you this, if you got a chance to sleep with Cindy or her husband, who would you choose?”
“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “That’s an excellent question.” He twists his lips as if really thinking hard. “Probably Rande.”
“Okay.” I smile as I think of another. “If you had the chance to sleep with me or Elliot Miles, who would you choose?”
He chuckles and throws his arm around me. “No contest.” He kisses me on the forehead. “You.”
I smile. “Why?”
“Well, because you are totally fucking hot.”
“And?”
“I’m pretty sure Elliot Miles isn’t going to take it, which means I would have to, and to be honest I think he’s a little too much man meat than I could handle. I’m not entirely sure I would survive it.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re right, he is a whole lot of man meat. Even for me.”
At 7 p.m. the Bentley pulls into the driveway at Enchanted, behind a truck. We’re just getting home from work and are exhausted.
No sleep last night has really taken its toll.
Andrew parks the car and it’s then I see the herd of goats in a pen behind the truck. “What’s going on?”
Elliot gets out and smiles at the men. “Thank you for coming,” he says. “I’ll go get him.”
Huh?
Elliot disappears, and a few minutes later returns with Billy on a rope leash.
“As you requested, Mr. Miles, these are the three-year-old females that we have.”
What in the world?
Elliot lets Billy into the pen with the goats. “Pick one,” he instructs him.
Billy’s little tail begins to wag and he sniffs all of the goats.
Oh my God . . . Elliot had female goats brought here so that Billy could choose his own mate.
My heart constricts as another piece of the Elliot Miles puzzle clicks into place.
The rest of the world has their opinion of my man—hell, I know it well, I used to share it. But now, I really can see him. Here he is, the epitome of power, in his ten-thousand-dollar suit . . . worrying about his farm animal’s feelings.
With a lot of bleats and sniffing, Billy stays close to one goat. She’s a pale color and has a pretty face. She seems to like him too.
Elliot stands back, his arms folded, and eventually he speaks. “We’ll take that one.” He ties the rope around her neck and leads her into the paddock and Billy runs after them.
He turns to the men in the truck. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Send me the bill.”
The men begin to herd the goats back onto the truck.
That just may be the sweetest thing I ever saw.
I get out of the car and move to go inside, and as I walk up the stairs I glance back to see Elliot and his two goats in the distance, and a smile crosses my face.
Casanova Miles, goat-matchmaker extraordinaire.
“Do you have everything?”
“Uh-huh.”
Elliot wheels my suitcase out of the front door.
“Oh, I forgot my computer.” I take the stairs two at a time. “I won’t be a moment.”
“Hurry up. Why do you always forget something?” he calls as he disappears to join Andrew.
We leave for New York today and I’m excited and nervous and wound up and I hardly slept last night for overthinking every little thing. I know I shouldn’t be nervous, but I can’t help it, I am.
New York is Miles Media territory and I really feel like this is a make-or-break week for us.
I take one last look in the mirror and swallow the lump in my throat.
May the gods be with me.
Twelve hours later, the doorman opens the door to Elliot’s apartment in New York and the air leaves my lungs.
Wall-to-wall glass with the most spectacular view of a city I have ever seen.
It’s huge, grand, and super modern, and I’m instantly reminded who I’m with.
A Miles Media mogul.
Son to one of the most powerful men in the world.
It’s easy to forget who I’m with when he’s screaming at goats in his underpants.
But here . . .
The power that emanates out of him, the way the staff downstairs were scrambling when they saw him, this apartment.
His life.
It makes the time we spend together seem so insignificant, or maybe it’s just me that feels insignificant.
I knew coming here with him would throw me, to take a peek at the life he lives.
The life he left.
I walk through his apartment with my heart in my throat; he stays silent as he watches me.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper nervously.
I have never felt so out of place as I do here.
He presses his lips together as if stopping himself from saying something.
“Would you like a drink, sweetheart?”
I nod.
“Wine?”
“Tequila.”
He chuckles, clearly amused. “Tequila, coming right up.”
The vibration of Elliot’s phone buzzing on the bedside table wakes us and he frowns.
“Elliot,” I whisper. “Your phone.”
“Go away,” he mutters.
“Something might be wrong at home.”
“Huh?” He jumps up and answers it.
“Happy birthday,” I hear a voice say as clear as day.
I sit up. What? It’s his birthday?
“Fuck off, Tris, it’s too early for this shit,” he grumbles sleepily as he rubs his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I hear the voice ask.
“You woke me up.”
“Are you alone?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’m alone.” He reaches over and tweaks my nipple hard and I buckle to get away from him.
“Hurry up and come into the office, Mom and Dad are coming to see you at nine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He hangs up.
“It’s your birthday?” I whisper, wide-eyed.
“So?”
“And when were you going to tell me this?”
He smiles and crawls over me and holds my hands over my head. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
“Why?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a happy day for me”—his lips touch mine—“if I didn’t get to see you.”
I smile up at my beautiful man. I didn’t get him a present, I want to do something special for him. “I’m making you breakfast.”
“Happy to eat you.”
I giggle as I crawl out from under him. “No, tonight. You have to go.”
I have to get him a present today . . . Fuck. What the hell do you buy a man who has everything?
I get out of bed and pull my boxer shorts on and throw on his T-shirt from last night. “Is there food here?” I ask.
“Yes, it would have been stocked. You don’t need to cook, we can eat out.”
“We can be seen together here?” I frown in surprise.
“This is New York, I have a lot more privacy here through the day.”
“How come?”
“There are much more exciting celebrities for the paparazzi to chase. Nighttime is a different story, but daylight is good. London is like a fishbowl with nowhere to hide.”
“Oh.” I walk toward the door. “I’m going to make you the best damn breakfast you ever did see.”
He jumps up, fully naked, and picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist. His lips take mine and he opens the bedroom door. “But first.” He walks out of the bedroom as he holds me up. “I am going to fuck you on every hard surface of this apartment.”
I giggle as we kiss.
We hear a woman’s gasp. “Elliot.”
We turn to see Jameson, Tristan, Christopher, and Mr. and Mrs. Miles just standing there. Mrs. Miles has a Happy Birthday balloon in her hand, and her eyes are wide.
“Mom,” Elliot gasps.
Everyone’s mouth is open in horror.
“Surprise.” Jameson smirks as he raises an eyebrow.
Oh fuck. The blood drains from my face.
Tristan throws back his head and laughs hard.
My worst nightmare just came true.
