All In The Blackstone Affair Part 2 By Raine Miller

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Raine Miller Romance

RMR

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Power Bar; Land Rover; Range Rover; London Underground; University of London; London 2012 Olympic Games; Jimi Hendrix; Google; Wikipedia; iPod; Dunhill; Van Gogh Vodka; Djarum Black; Dos Equis; Crazy Town - Butterfly; Nine Inch Nails - Closer; National Portrait Gallery, London; Victoria and Albert Museum, London; Victoria Embankment Gardens, London; Los Angeles Times; Letter’s of John Keats to Fanny Brawne; Spotify; Joseph Arthur - Honey and the Moon; Michael Jackson – Thriller; Microsoft PowerPoint; The Lion King; Pinky and the Brain; Punk’d; Paranormal Activity 4

For you, Brynne. You made this possible.

Don’t know why I’m still afraid

If you weren’t real I would make you up,

now

I wish that I could follow through

I know that your love is true and deep

as the sea,

but right now

everything you want is wrong,

and right now

all your dreams are waking up,

and right now

I wish I could follow you,

to the shores

of freedom,

where no one lives

-Honey and the Moon, Joseph Arthur

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

In the words of Simba…

About the Author

Acknowledgements

This little story called The Blackstone Affair has taken on quite a life of its own over the months. It’s grown and grown into something I never dreamed it would become when I sat down one summer evening, right before the Olympics were starting in London, and began writing about an American nude model and the Englishman who bought her portrait. That little story has without a doubt, changed my life, and the course of what I’ll be doing with my days full-time from here on out. I’m a writer now. I can say that and know it’s really true.

I know whom I have to thank for it too.

To all of the fans of The Blackstone Affair who’ve bought the book and pimped it like mad on their blogs and in their book clubs, to their co-workers, friends, sisters, mothers, grandmothers and even a few husbands, I am eternally grateful. It’s only because of you guys that this story took off and flew. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart.

To all the bloggers who took the Advance Reading Copy and read it early, and gave their feedback, I LOVE YOU. You are the reason I can stay home and be a full-time writer.

In writing this second part of the series, I faced some new challenges. All In is Ethan’s story. It is the narrative of a British man the whole way through and while I knew it was how I wanted to write the book, I didn’t completely have a grasp of what it meant to do that until I was into it. Well guess what? I learned fast! I am, after all, an American woman. *snicker* So, to Gitte and Jenny at TotallyBooked, I have one ginormous thank you to you two girls, for your guidance and knowledge of the Queen’s English, and also for the not-so-proper British slang that I used much more of in this story. *wink* I never would have managed it without your help!

So now it’s onward with the series, and final installment, Eyes Wide Open, which I hope to release around the end of 2012. There’s much more to come for Ethan and Brynne and you can check in at Raine Miller Romance to get updates on the progression of Part 3 of The Blackstone Affair.

You have a nice little treat awaiting you at the end of this book and I want you to be sure to read it. You won’t be sorry. It’s a small piece of fan-fiction written by my dear friend, Franziska Popp. She has this talent of writing animal voices that entertain the hell out of me and many, many others on Facebook, namely one very special and adorable ferret character that enjoys a huge fan following and should have his own TV show. She does all of this for fun and it’s truly amazing to me because her first language is not English, but rather, her native German. So enjoy a very special telling of Ethan and Brynne’s story through the eyes of Simba the Lionfish. “You’re welcome.” *wink*

You’ll be happy to hear I’m working on drafting a spinoff series - The Rothvale Legacy, as well. The Rothvale Legacy will take us forward with the story of two special characters introduced in The Blackstone Affair, while keeping tabs on our original characters at the same time so you won’t miss them too much. Who knows where it will eventually lead into the future. Such is the magic of the written word.

♥ Raine

Prologue

2012 June

London

I left Ethan at the elevators begging me not to go. It was the hardest thing I had to do in a long time. But leave him I did. I’d opened my heart up to Ethan and gotten it stomped. I’d heard him when he told me he loved me and I’d heard him when he’d said he was only trying to protect me from my past. I’d heard him loud and clear. But it didn’t change the fact that I needed to get away from him.

All I can envision is the same terrifying idea over and over again.

Ethan knows.

But things are not always what they seem. Impressions are made without full disclosure. Ideas are formed based on emotion and not on factual events. Such was the case with Ethan and me. I found this out later of course, and in time, when I could back away from the events that had shaped me, I was able to see things a bit differently.

With Ethan everything was fast, intense…combustive. From the beginning, he told me things. He told me that he wanted me. And yes, he even said he loved me. He had no problem telling me about what he wanted with me, or how he felt about me. And I don’t just mean the sex. That was a big part of our connection, but it wasn’t everything with Ethan. He can share his feelings easily. It is his way—not necessarily mine.

I felt like Ethan wanted to consume me at times. He overwhelmed me from the first and was definitely a demanding lover, but one thing was certain, I wanted everything he’d ever given me.

I found that out once I left him.

Ethan gave me some peace and security in a way I’d never really felt as an adult, and certainly never before in regards to my sexuality. It’s just how he is and I think I understand him now. He wasn’t demanding and controlling because he wanted to dominate me, he was that way with me because he knew it was what I needed. Ethan was trying to give me something I needed in order to make us work.

So while those days without him were agonizing, the solitude was critical for me. Our passionate fire had burned white-hot, and we’d both been burned by the heat that sparked and raged so easily when we were together. I know the healing time was necessary for me, but it didn’t make the painful ache hurt any less.

I kept coming back to the same idea I had when I’d first found out what he was doing.

Ethan knows what happened to me and there is no way he could possibly love me now.

1

My hand throbbed along with my heartbeat. All I could do was breathe at the now sealed doors of the lift that was taking her away from me.

Think for one moment!

Chasing after her was not an option so I left the lobby and went into the break room. Elaina was in there getting coffee. She kept her head down and pretended I wasn’t there. Smart woman. I hope those idiots on the floor do the same or they just might need to find new jobs.

I threw some ice into a plastic bag and shoved my hand inside. Fuck, it stung! There was blood on my knuckles and I’m certain on the wall next to the lift. I walked back out to my office with my hand in the ice. I told Frances to call maintenance to come and fix the bloody ding in the wall.

Frances nodded without missing a beat and looked at the bag of ice at the end of my arm. “Do you need an x-ray for that?” she asked, her expression like that of a mum. What I envisioned a mother would look like at least. I barely remember mine so I’m probably merely projecting with her.

“No.” I need my girl back, not some cocksucking x-ray!

I went through to my office and shut myself in. I pulled out a bottle of Van Gogh from the bar fridge and cracked it. Opening my desk drawer, I fumbled for the pack of Djarum Blacks and the lighter I liked to keep in there. I’d been plowing through the smokes at a record pace since meeting Brynne. I’d have to remember to stock up.

Now all I needed was a glass for the vodka, or maybe not. The bottle would do me just fine. I took a swig with my busted hand and welcomed the pain.

Fuck my hand; it’s my heart that’s broken.

I stared at her picture. The one I took of her at work when she showed me the painting of Lady Percival with the book. I remembered how I’d used my mobile to take the photo and was pleasantly surprised to see how nice it came out. So nice in fact, I downloaded it and ordered a print for my office. Didn’t matter it was only the camera in a cellular phone—Brynne looked beautiful through any lens. Especially the lenses of my eyes. Sometimes it almost hurt to look at her.

I recalled that morning with her. I could just see her in my mind’s eye—how happy she was when I snapped the photo of her smiling down at that old painting…

♥

I parked in the lot for the Rothvale Gallery and shut off the engine. It was a dreary day, drizzling and chilly, but not inside my car. Having Brynne sitting next to me, dressed for work, looking beautiful, sexy, smiling at me, had me soaring, but knowing what we’d just shared together this morning was the fucking bomb. And I wasn’t talking about the fucking. Remembering the shower and what we’d done there would hold me throughout my day—just barely, but it was knowing that I’d see her again tonight, that we’d be together, that she was mine, and that I could take her to bed and show her all over again. It was the conversation we’d had too. I felt like she’d finally let me in a little. That she cared about me in the same way I cared about her. And it was time to start talking future with us. I wanted so much with her.

“Did I ever tell you how much I like it when you smile at me, Ethan?”

“No,” I answered, dropping the smile, “tell me.”

She shook her head at my tactics and looked out the window at the rain. “I’ve always felt special when you do because I think you don’t smile much in public. I would describe you as reserved. So when you smile at me I’m kind of…swept away.”

“Look at me.” I waited for her to respond, knowing it would come. This was another thing we had yet to discuss but was crystal clear from the very beginning. Brynne was naturally submissive to me. She accepted what I wanted to give her—the Dom in me had found my muse, and it was just one more reason we were perfect together.

I sweep you away, huh?

She lifted her brown/green/grey eyes to me and waited while my cock pounded in my trousers. I could take her right here in the car and still want her minutes later. She was that much of an addiction.

“Christ you’re beautiful when you do that.”

“Do what, Ethan?”

I tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear and smiled for her again. “Never mind. You just make me happy is all. I love bringing you to your job after I’ve had you all night.”

She blushed at me and I wanted to fuck her again.

No, that’s not right. I wanted to make love to her...slowly. I could just picture her gorgeous body stretched out naked for me to pleasure in every way I could manage it. All mine. For me alone. Brynne made me feel everything—

“Would you like to come in and see what I’m working on? Do you have time?”

I brought her hand to my lips and breathed the scent of her skin. “I thought you’d never ask. Lead on, Professor Bennett.”

She laughed. “Someday maybe. I’ll wear one of those black robes and glasses and do my hair up in a bun. I’ll give lectures on proper conserving techniques, and you can sit in the back and distract me with inappropriate comments and leering.”

“Ahhh, and will you summon me to your office for chastisement then? Will you detain me, Professor Bennett? I am sure we can negotiate a deal for me working off my disrespectful behavior.” I put my head down toward her lap.

“You are insane,” she told me, giggling and pushing me back. “Let’s go inside.”

We ran through the rain together, my umbrella shielding us, her slim shape tucked against me, smelling of flowers and sunshine and making me feel like the luckiest man on the planet.

She introduced me to the old security guard who was clearly in love with her, and led me back into a great, studio-like room. Wide tables and easels were set up with good lighting and plenty of open space. She brought me up to a large oil painting of a dark haired, solemn woman with startling blue eyes, holding a book.

“Ethan, please say hello to Lady Percival. Lady Percival, my boyfriend, Ethan Blackstone.” She smiled at the painting like they were best friends.

I offered a half bow to the painting and said, “My lady.”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Brynne asked.

I studied the image pragmatically. “Well, she is an arresting figure to be sure. She looks like she has a story behind her blue eyes.” I peered closer to look at the book she held with the front visible. The words were hard to read but once I realized they were French it was somewhat easier.

“I’ve been working on the section with the book in particular,” Brynne said. “She suffered some heat damage in a fire decades ago and it’s been a struggle getting the cooked on lacquer off that book. It’s special, I just know it.”

I looked again and made out the word Chrétien. “It’s in French. That is the name Christian right there.” I pointed.

Her eyes got big and her voice excited. “It is?”

“Yes. And I’m sure this says, Le Conte du Graal. The Story of the Grail?” I looked at Brynne and shrugged. “The woman in the painting is called Lady Percival right? Isn’t Percival the knight who found the Holy Grail in the King Arthur legend?”

“Good God, Ethan!” She grabbed my arm in excitement. “Of course! Percival… it’s her story. You figured it out! Lady Percival is holding a very rare book indeed. I knew it was something special! One of the first King Arthur stories ever written down; all the way back in the twelfth century. That book is Chrétien de Troyes’, The Story of Perceval and the Grail.” She gazed at the painting, her face glowing with happiness and pure joy, and I reached for my mobile and snapped a picture of her. A magnificent profile shot of Brynne smiling at her Lady Percival.

“Well, I’m glad I could help you, baby.”

She leapt at me and kissed me on the lips, her arms wrapped tightly around me. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.

“You did! You helped me so much. I’m going to call the Mallerton Society today and tell them what you discovered. They will be interested I’m sure. There’s his birthday exhibit coming in next month…I wonder if they’ll want to include this…”

Brynne rambled, excitedly telling me everything I could ever have wanted to know about rare books, paintings of rare books, and the conserving of paintings of rare books. Her face flushed with the thrill of solving a mystery but that smile and kiss was worth its weight in gold to me.

♥

…I opened my eyes and tried to get my bearings. My head felt like I’d been smashed with a board. A half empty bottle of Van Gogh stared at me. Djarum butts were sprinkled atop my desk where my cheek was stuck fast, filling my nose with stale cloves and tobacco. I peeled my face off the desk top and propped my head in my hands, supported on firmly planted elbows.

The same desk where I’d laid her out and fucked her only a few hours before. Yes, fucked. That had been pure, unapologetic shagging, and so good my eyes stung at the remembrance. The light on my mobile blinked madly. I flipped it over so I didn’t have to look. I knew none of the calls were from her anyway.

Brynne wouldn’t call me. Of that I was certain. The only question was how long before I tried calling her.

It was nighttime now. Dark outside. Where was she? Was she horribly hurt and upset? Crying? Being comforted by her friends? Hating me? Yeah, probably all of those, and I couldn’t go to her and make it better either. She doesn’t want you.

So this is what it feels like. Being in love. It was time to face some truths about Brynne and what I’d done to her. So I stayed in my office and faced it. I couldn’t go home. There was too much of her there already, and seeing her things would only drive me utterly mad. I’d stay here tonight and sleep on sheets that didn’t have her scent all over them. Didn’t have her in them. A wave of panic sliced into me and I had to move.

I heaved my arse off the chair and stood up. I saw the scrap of pink fabric on the floor at my feet and knew what it was. The lacey knickers I’d peeled off her during that session on my desk.

Fuck! Remembering where I was when that message from her dad came through. Buried inside her. It was agonizing to touch something that had last been against her skin. I fingered the fabric and put them in my pocket. A shower was calling my name.

I went through the back door to the attached suite set-up with a bed, a bath, a TV and a small kitchen—everything top of the line. The perfect bachelor crash pad for the busy professional man who works so late there’s no point in driving home.

Or more like a fuck pad. This is where I brought women if I wanted to fuck them. Always after hours of course, and they never stayed the whole night. I got my “dates” the hell out long before dawn. All of this was before I found Brynne. I never wanted to bring her here. She was different from the beginning. Special. My beautiful American girl.

Brynne didn’t even know about this suite. She would have figured it out in two seconds flat and hated me for bringing her into it. I rubbed my chest and tried to still the ache that burned. I turned on the shower and got undressed.

As the hot water poured over me I leaned against the tile and faced exactly where I was. You’re not with her! You made a cock-up of everything, and she doesn’t want you now.

My Brynne had left me for the second time. The first time she did it in stealth in the middle of the night because she was terrorized by a bad dream. This time she just turned and walked away from me without looking back. I could see it in her face and it wasn’t fear that made her leave. It was utter devastation at the betrayal, to find I had kept the truth from her. I had broken her trust. I’d wagered too high and lost.

The urge to pull her back and make her stay was so great I punched the wall and likely fractured something to keep from grabbing her. She told me never to contact her again.

I turned off the shower and stepped out, the desolate sounds of dripping water draining away made my chest hurt worse from the hollowness. I pulled down a plush towel and shoved my head in it. I stared at my image in the mirror as my face was revealed. Naked, wet, and miserable. Alone. I realized another truth as I stared at my motherfucker asshole self.

Never is a very long time. I might be able to give her a day or two, but never was irrefutably out of the question.

The fact that she still needed protection from a threat which could prove dangerous hadn’t changed either. I couldn’t allow anything to happen to the woman I love. Never.

I smiled into the mirror, my cleverness amusing even me in my sorry state; for I had just found a perfect example of the proper usage for the word never.

2

Day two of my exile from Brynne and it sucked. I was moving around and doing things but nothing felt right. How long would I be like this? Should I call her? If I thought about my situation too much, dread started to creep in so I left it alone. I left her alone. The empty space inside me pushed for action but I knew it was too soon to try to go to her. She needed some time and I’d made this mistake before. Pressing too fast and too hard with her. And being an utter selfish prick.

I parked on the street next to the house where I’d grown up. The lawn very tidy, the gate straight and the shrubbery clipped as it had always been. Dad would never leave here. Not the home where he’d been with my mother. My dad gave the term ‘stubborn old man’ new meaning and this was where he would die some day.

I picked up the cold beer off the seat and went in through the gate. A black cat dashed ahead of me and waited. It was not quite a kitten and not fully grown either. A teenage cat I suppose. It sat down right in front of the door and turned and looked at me. Bright green eyes blinked as if saying for me to hurry up my too-slow arse and let him in the house. When in the hell had Dad gotten a cat?

I rang the bell and then opened the door and stuck my head in. “Dad?” The cat slithered into the house faster than the speed of light and all I could do was stare. “You have a cat now?” I called out and went into the kitchen. I put the beer in the fridge and flopped on the couch.

Remote pointed, I turned on the box. European Championship. Fucking perfect. I could focus on football for a few hours, hopefully drink four out of the six beers and forget about my girl for a little while. And cry to my Dad.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Something furry and soft climbed into my lap. The cat was back.

“Ahh, well you’re here then, and I see you’ve met Soot.” My dad walked up behind me.

“Why did you get a cat?” I couldn’t wait for this answer. We’d never had cats growing up.

My dad snorted and sat down in his chair. “I didn’t. You could say that he got me.”

“I can imagine.” I stroked my hand down Soot’s sleek body. “He just came in the house the second I opened the front door like he owned the place.”

“My neighbour asked me to feed him while she left to take care of her mum who’s very ill. She’s had to move into her mother’s house and I got him by default. We have an understanding I s’pose.”

“You and the neighbour, or you and the cat?”

My dad looked at me shrewdly, his eyes narrowing. Jonathan Blackstone was very perceptive by nature. Always had been. I could never slip anything by him. He always knew if I came home drunk and when I started smoking, or if I was into trouble as a lad. I guess he’d been that way because he was a single parent for most of our lives. My sister Hannah and I were never neglected despite the loss of our mum. His senses got keener and he could sniff out problems like a bloodhound. He was doing it now.

“What the hell happened to you, son?”

Brynne happened.

“That noticeable, huh?” The cat started purring in my lap.

“I know my own child and I know when something’s off with you.” My dad left the room for a minute. He returned with two of the beers cracked and handed me one. “Mexican beer?” He lifted an eyebrow at me and I wondered if I looked the same way when I did it. Brynne had remarked on my eyebrow quirking more than once.

“Yeah. It’s good with a sliver of lime shoved down the neck.” I took a slug and stroked my new ebony friend. “It’s a girl. Brynne. I met her, and I fell for her, and now she’s left me.” Short and sweet. What else was there to say to my own father? This was all that mattered or all that I could think about. I was aching for her and she had left me.

“Ahhh, well that makes more sense.” Dad paused for a moment as if letting it all sink in. I am sure he was surprised by the revelation. “My lad, I know I’ve told you before so this is not news by any stretch, but you came to your good looks from your mum, rest her soul. All you got from me was the name and maybe my bulk. And your blessings in the Adonis department made it very easy for you with the ladies.”

“I’ve never chased women, Dad.”

“I didn’t say you did but the point is you never had to. They chased you.” He shook his head in remembrance. “Gods, you had the females clamoring for you. I was sure you’d get caught sowing your oats and make me a granddad long before you should have done.” He gave me a look that suggested he’d spent much more time worrying about this than he’d wanted to. “But you never did…” Dad trailed off and got a rather sad look in his eye. After school I’d shipped off to the military and left home. And nearly didn’t come back...

Dad patted my knee and took a pull on his beer.

“I never wanted anyone like I want her.” I shut my mouth and started in earnest on the beer. Someone scored a goal in the game and I forced myself to watch and pet the cat.

Dad was patient for a while but he got his questions in eventually. “What did you do that made her leave you?”

It hurt just to hear the question. “I lied. It was a lie of omission but still I didn’t tell her the truth and she found out.” I set the cat off my lap carefully and went into the kitchen for another beer. I brought back two instead.

“Why did you lie to her, son?”

I met my dad’s dark eyes and spoke something I’d never said before. It had never been true before. “Because I love her. I love her and didn’t want to hurt her by bringing up a painful memory of the past.”

“So you’ve gone and fallen in love.” He nodded his head knowingly and looked me over. “Well you’ve got all the signs. I should have realized when you showed up here looking like you slept under a bridge.”

“She left me, Dad.” I started on the third beer and pulled the cat back onto my lap.

“You’ve said that already.” Dad spoke dryly and kept looking me over like I might not be his son at all but some alien imposter. “So why did you lie to the woman you love? Best to tell it, Ethan.”

It’s my Dad and I trust him with my life. I am sure there is no other person I could tell, apart from possibly my sister. I took a deep breath and told him.

“I met Brynne’s father, Tom Bennett, at a poker tournament in Las Vegas years ago. We hit it off and he was good at cards. Not as good as me, but we developed a friendship. He contacted me recently and asked a favour. I wasn’t going to do it. I mean, look at what’s on my plate at the moment with work. I can’t provide protection for an American art student slash model when I have to organize VIP security for the fucking Olympics!”

The cat flinched. Dad merely raised a brow and got comfy in his chair. “But you did,” he said.

“Yeah, I did. I got a look at the picture he sent me and I was curious. Brynne does modeling on the side and she is…so beautiful.” I wish I had her portrait in my house already. But the conditions for purchase were that it stayed on display at the Andersen gallery for six months.

My dad just looked at me and waited.

“So I arrive at the gallery show and buy the damn portrait within a few moments of seeing it, like a sodding poet or something! As soon as I met her I was ready to send in the guard to keep her safe if need be.” I shook my head. “What the hell happened to me, Dad?”

“Your mother loved to read all the poets. Keats, Shelley, Byron.” He smiled just slightly. “It happens that way sometimes. You find the one for you and that’s all there is to it. Men have been falling in love with women since time began, son. You just finally made it to the head of the queue.” Dad took another drink of his beer. “Why does…Brynne, need protection?”

“That congressman who died in the plane crash has got a replacement. Name is Senator Oakley from California. Well, the senator has a son, one Lance Oakley, who used to date Brynne. There was some trouble…and a sex tape—” I paused and realized how horrible it must sound to my dad. “But she was a very young girl—only seventeen—and terribly hurt by the betrayal. Oakley was a right prick to her. She sees a therapist…” I trailed off wondering how my dad was taking all this in. I drank some more beer before telling the last part. “The son got shipped off to Iraq and Brynne came to study at University of London. She studies art and conserves paintings, and she’s absolutely brilliant at it.”

Dad surprised me by not reacting to all the ugliness I’d just told. “I am assuming that the senator does not want publicity about his badly behaving son to hit the news.” He looked annoyed. My dad hates politicians no matter their nationality.

“The senator and the powerful party that’s backing him. Something like this will lose them the election.”

“What about the opposing party? They’ll be looking for it as hard as Oakley’s people are trying to bury it,” my dad said.

I shook my head in question. “Why are you not working for me, Dad? You get it. You can see the bigger picture. I need about ten of you though,” I said wryly.

“Ha! I’m very happy to help when you need me but I’m not doing it for pay.”

“Yeah, I am very aware of that,” I said, holding up one hand. I’d tried to get him to come and work for me for a long time and it was sort of a joke between us. He never would accept any money though—stubborn old fool that he was.

“Has anything happened to suggest that your Brynne needs protection? Seems a bit alarmist really. Why did her father ask you?”

“The senator’s son is still finding trouble it seems. He was home on leave and one of his mates got killed in an altercation at a bar. More loud noise that politicians hate for a reason. It causes digging into places they don’t want people to know about. Could just be an isolated incident, but the friend knew about the video. Brynne’s dad went on full alert at that point. In his words, ‘When the people who know about that video start turning up dead, then I need to protect my daughter.’” I shrugged. “He asked me to help him. I said no initially and offered a referral to another firm, but he sent me her picture in an email.”

“And you couldn’t say no after you’d seen her picture.” Dad worded it as a statement. I knew then that he understood how I felt about Brynne.

“No. I could not.” I shook my head. “I was mesmerized. I went to the gallery show and bought her portrait. And when she came into the room, Dad, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She intended to walk to the Tube in the dark so I introduced myself and convinced her to let me take her home in my car. I tried to leave her alone after that. I really wanted to…”

He smiled again. “You’ve always been a protective lad.”

“But it became so much more for me than just a job. I want to be with Brynne…” I looked over at my father sitting quietly and listening, his big body still fit for a man of sixty-three. I knew that he understood. I didn’t need to explain any more about my motivations and that part was a relief.

“But she found out that her father hired you to protect her?”

“Yes. She overheard a telephone call in my office. Her dad exploded when he realized we were seeing each other and challenged me on it.” I figured my dad might as well know the whole bloody mess.

“She felt betrayed and exposed I imagine. If her past with the senator’s son, or whomever, is something that you know, and didn’t tell her you knew?” Dad shook his head. “What were you thinking? And she should be told about the death of that other bloke—about the possibility of a threat toward her. And that you love her. And that you intend to still keep her safe. A woman needs the truth, son. You’ll have to tell her everything if you want her to trust you again.”

“I did tell her.” I blew out a huge sigh and leaned my head back on the couch to look at the ceiling. Soot stretched and rearranged himself in my lap.

“Well, try harder then. Start with the truth and go from there. She will either accept you or she won’t. But you don’t have to give up either. You can keep trying.”

I took out my mobile and pulled up the picture of Brynne looking at the painting and held it out for Dad. He smiled as he studied her image through his glasses. A reminiscent suggestion in his eyes told me he was thinking of my mother. He handed it back after a moment.

“She’s a lovely girl, Ethan. I hope we get the chance to meet some day.” Dad looked me straight in the eye and told me like it is. No sympathy, just the brutal truth. “You’ll have to follow your heart, son…nobody can do that for you.”

♥

I left my dad’s place later in the afternoon, went home and worked out for three hours in my gym. I kept at it until I was nothing but a quivering mass of aching muscles and sweaty stink. The bubbly soak in my tub after was nice though. And the smokes. I smoked too much now. It wasn’t good for me and I needed to tone it down. But fuck, the urge was strong. Being with Brynne had soothed me enough so I didn’t crave it as much, but now that she’d left, I was chain smoking like the serial killer we’d joked about in our very first conversation.

I hung the Djarum off my lip and stared down at the bubbles.

Brynne loved taking baths. She didn’t have a tub at her flat and told me she missed it. I loved the idea of her naked in my bathtub. Her naked… This was something that did me absolutely no good to think about but yet I’d spent many hours doing it. And if I reasoned why, was the basis for everything that’d happened with us. Her naked… That photograph Tom Bennett sent to me was the same one I bought at the show. From a pragmatic view it was just a picture of a beautiful naked body anyone would appreciate, male or female. But even with the little he told me in the beginning, paired with that picture of her in all its vulnerability, allure, and stark beauty; the thought she could be in danger or that someone would purposefully hurt her, polarized me to go out to the street and get her safely into my car. I just couldn’t walk away from her and keep my conscience intact. And once we’d met my mind went mad with fantasies. All I could see in my head while we talked was…her naked.

My bath started losing its heat after an hour, and understandably, its appeal. So I got out and dressed and went in search of the book. Letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne.

Something Dad mentioned reminded me of it. He’d said my mother loved reading the great poets. I knew Brynne loved Keats. I’d found the book on the sofa where she’d obviously been reading and asked her about it. Brynne had confessed her love for him and wanted to know why I even had the book in my house. I told her that my dad was always giving me books that people left behind in his cab. He hated to toss them out so he would bring them home whenever he acquired anything decent. When I’d bought my flat, he’d hauled over a few boxes of books to fill the shelves and it must have been in the lot. I truthfully told her I’d never read any Keats.

I was reading now.

Keats had a way with words I was discovering. For a man who died at only twenty five, he sure packed some emotion into his letters to his girlfriend when they were apart. And I could feel his pain like it was my own. It was my own.

I decided to write her a letter using a pen and paper. I found some nice cotton stationary in my office and took the book with me. Simba flickered his fins from the aquarium when I walked up, always expecting a treat. I am a sucker for begging animals so I dropped in a frozen krill and watched him devour it.

“She loves you, Simba. Maybe if I tell her that you are pining and off your feed she’ll come back.” So I was talking to fish now. How in the hell had I got to this lowly point? I ignored the urge for a cigarette, washed my hands and sat down to write.

Brynne,

“I do not know how elastic my spirit might be, what pleasure I might have in living here if the remembrance of you did not weigh so upon me. Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammeled me, so destroyed my freedom.

…All my thoughts, my unhappiest days and nights have, I find not at all cured me of my love of Beauty, but made it so intense that I am miserable that you are not with me…I cannot conceive of any beginning of such love I have for you but Beauty.” July 1819

I know you will recognize the words of Keats. I started reading the book you like. I can say I have an understanding now of what the man was trying to express to Miss Brawne about how she had captured his heart.

Like you’ve captured my heart, Brynne.

I miss you. Thoughts of you never leave me, and if I can say it once more and have you believe me, then I guess there is some comfort in that. I can only try to make you know what I feel.

I am immensely sorry for keeping my knowledge of your past and how I came to notice you a secret, but you need to know something because it’s the brutal truth. I had no intentions of taking the job. I planned to give your father the name of another agency to secure you. I couldn’t do that though, as soon as I met you. I wanted to tell you that night on the street that your father was trying to arrange protection but when I saw how you looked at me, Brynne, I felt something—a connection with you. Things moved inside me and clicked into place. The missing piece of my puzzle? I don’t know what it was, I just know it happened to me the night we met. I tried to keep a distance and let you slip away back into your life, but I couldn’t do it. I was drawn to you from the first moment I saw your portrait. I had to know you. And then to be with you. To have you look at me and really see me. I know now that I fell in love. I fell in love with a beautiful American girl. You, Brynne.

There were many times I wanted to say how I came to find you that night at the gallery. I stopped myself every time because I was afraid of hurting you. I could see how haunted you were when you woke up with the nightmare. I could only guess as to why, but I would do anything to keep you from being hurt. I knew somehow that telling you your dad hired security to protect you from powerful political enemies would scare the hell out of you. It scares the hell out of me to think of anyone targeting you for harm, emotional or otherwise. I know you said I was fired, but if anything happens or somebody frightens you, I want you to call me and I will come to you in a moment. I am deadly serious about this. Call me.

You are someone so very special, Brynne. I feel things with you—emotions and ideas and dreams; a deep understanding that brings me to a place I never thought I’d find with another person. But I have demons too. I am terrified of facing them without you. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time but I do know how I feel about you. And even if you hate me for what I did, I’ll still love you. If you won’t see me, I’ll still love you. I’ll still love you because you are mine. Mine, Brynne. In my heart you are, and nobody can take that away from me. Not even you.

E

A week passed before I sent Brynne my letter. Longest fucking week of my life.

Not exactly true, but I’d smoked enough Djarum’s to either bankrupt me or give me cancer. I told the florist purple flowers and to include the letter. It was Sunday afternoon when I ordered them and the florist told me they would be delivered on Monday. I had them sent to her at work instead of her flat. I knew she’d been busy with school and wanted to wait until her final exams were over and finished.

Brynne and I are not over and finished. This is the mantra I continued to tell myself during those days because it was the only option I could accept.

3

They make you believe things that are not true. They tell you so many times, you accept what they are telling you is the truth rather than lies. You suffer for it like it’s the truth. The most effective torture is not physical—it is mental of course. The mind can imagine terrors far more horrific than you could ever physically bear, just like the mind will tune out those physical hurts when the pain surpasses what your body can endure.

The nerves in my back screamed like acid had been poured onto the destroyed flesh. The pain took my breath away it was so acute. I wondered how long till I passed out, and if I did, would I wake again in this life. I doubted I could walk more than a few yards. I could barely see from the blood in my eyes and blows to the head. I would die here in this hellhole and probably soon. I hoped it was soon. My dad and Hannah couldn’t see me like this though. I hoped they never found out how I met my end. I prayed there wouldn’t be a video of my execution. Please, Christ, no video of that—

Luck of the draw. I’d had no luck when they ambushed our team. No luck when my weapon jammed. No luck when I didn’t die trying to evade capture. These fuckers learned their techniques from the Russians. They loved to get western prisoners. And British SF? I was a fucking crown jewel. And totally expendable to my country. Luck of the draw. A sacrifice for the greater good, for democracy, for free will.

Fuck free will. I had none.

My tormentor this day loved to talk. He never stopped talking about her. I really wish he would shut his filthy hole. They don’t know where she is…they don’t know how to find her…they don’t even know her name. I kept telling myself these truths because it is all I have at my disposal to work with.

The backhand to my face roused me. And then another woke me fully.

“We will make you watch when we take her. She will scream like the whore she is. An American whore who does naked photographs.” He spit in my face and jerked my head back by the hair. “So disgusting your women…they deserve everything that happens to them. To be used like a dirty whore.” He laughed at me.

I stared at him and memorized his face. I would never forget it and if the opportunity arose I would cut out his tongue first, before I killed him. Even if the killing was simply imagined in my mind. He did not like my reaction. Inside I was frozen with fear. How could I stop her from being taken? I wanted to beg but I didn’t. I just stared and felt my heart thump inside my chest, verifying my status as alive. For now.

“Every guard will have a turn between her thighs. Then when their lust slackens she may watch when we take your head. You know this will be the way you meet your end, don’t you?” He held my neck back and dragged his finger across my throat. “You will be begging for mercy like the pig you are…about to be slaughtered. You won’t be proud then.” He laughed in my face, his yellow teeth flashing under his beard. “And then we will kill your American whore in the same way—”

I bolted up in my bed gasping, my hand on my cock and dripping in sweat. I leaned against the headboard and took stock of where I was…and thankfully where I wasn’t. You aren’t there anymore. It was just a dream. That was a long time ago.

My nightmare was the sort that takes all the bad shit that ever happened to you and stirs it together into a dreadful brew you must bathe in. I closed my eyes in relief. Brynne was not a part of the horror from Afghanistan. She was of the here and now. Brynne lived in London, working and taking her graduate degree. It was just your subconscious mixing together everything that’s bad. Brynne is safe in town.

She just wasn’t with me anymore.

I looked down at my cock, hot and hard and wrapped my fist around the shaft. I closed my eyes and started stroking. If I kept them closed I could remember that day in my office. I needed the release right now. I needed to come so I could stop the bloody shakes invading from that fucked up nightmare. Whatever worked. It’d be a temporary fix but would have to do.

I remembered. The first time she came to see me. She had on red boots and a black skirt. I told her to sit on my lap and made her come with my hand up her quim. So fucking sexy showing up in my office. She looked beautiful falling apart in my arms, from what I did to her, from what I made her feel.

Brynne had tried to pull away from me and I didn’t want her to. I remember she had to tug herself off my lap. But when she slid to her knees and touched me through my trousers, I understood. She told me she wanted to suck me. I knew I loved her in that moment. I knew because she is honest and generous with no artifice. She is real and perfect and mine.

Not now she isn’t. She left you.

I kept my eyes closed and remembered the vision of her beautiful lips closing over the bell end of my cock and taking me in. How wet and warm and exquisite her mouth felt that first time. How beautiful the moment when she swallowed and looked up at me in that sexy, mysterious way she has. I never know what she is thinking. She is a woman after all.

I remembered everything—the sounds she made, her long hair all about her face, the slick slide against her warm lips, the grip on the shaft as she twisted and pulled me deep into her beautiful mouth.

I remembered that special time with Brynne back then, as I jerked myself to an empty climax in my very pathetic and lonely present. I had to remember or I wouldn’t have got off. I cried out as the spunk shot out the top of my cock in a near painful rush, all over the sheets on my bed, shiny white against the black. It should be her! I panted against the headboard and let the release spread throughout my body, angered that I just wanked off to her image like some desperate freak.

I couldn’t care less about the mess. Sheets can be washed. My mind cannot.

I can remember every time I was in her.

The emptiness invading me is something almost cruel, and the climax definitely no substitute for the real thing. Very hollow and utterly useless.

No possible way, Benny! He’s far too beautiful to have to resort to his hand for an orgasm.

Yeah, right. I got up and stripped the sheets from the bed and headed for my shower. Nothing but her will ever be enough.

♥

She rang me that afternoon on my mobile. I missed her call because of an idiot meeting. I wanted to hurt the morons who’d taken my time but I hit voice mail instead.

“Ethan, I—I got your letter.” Her voice sounded thready and the urge to go to her was so great I didn’t know how I would manage to keep away. “Thanks for sending it. The flowers are beautiful too. I—I just wanted you to know that I talked to my dad and he told me some stuff—”

She lost her composure then. I could hear the sounds of muffled crying. I knew she was, and it broke my heart wide open. “I have to go...maybe later we could talk.” She whispered the last. “Bye, Ethan.” And then she hung up.

I thought I would crack the glass in my mobile punching buttons to redial, praying she picked up and would speak to me. Time slowed down interminably while the call connected. Once, twice, three rings. My heart pounded and the need for air increased—

“Hi.” Just one little word. But it was her voice and she was directing it to me. I could hear noises in the background. Like traffic.

“Brynne…how are you? You sounded upset on your message. I was in a meeting…” I trailed off realizing I’d started rambling. I forced my mouth closed and desperately wished for a lovely black clove cigarette.

She breathed heavy into the receiver. “Ethan, you said to call if anything weird happened—”

“What happened? Are you all right? Where are you right now?” I felt my blood run cold at her words and the sound of her voice. “Are you outside?”

“I’m on a run at the moment. I had to get out of my head for a bit and just take a break.”

“I’m coming to you. Tell me where you are.”

She got quiet. I could hear the cars moving around her and I hated being forced to endure the imagined visualization of where she was at the moment. Alone on the street. Vulnerable. Unprotected.

“Will you tell me, please? I have to see you—we need to talk. And I want to hear what worried you enough to ring me and leave that message earlier.” More silence. “Baby, I can’t help if you won’t let me in.”

“Did you see it?” Her voice changed, becoming harsh.

“See what?” I swear I only wanted to go to her and get her in my arms. Her question didn’t register at first. The cold silence on the other end helped me to figure it out real quick though.

“Did you watch it, Ethan? Answer my question.”

“The sex tape of you and Oakley?”

She made a sound of anguish.

“Fuck no! Brynne…” The fact she even asked me such a thing pissed me off. “Why would I do that—”

“It’s hardly a sex tape!” she yelled into my ear. My chest ached like a knife had been shoved in.

“Well, that’s what your dad told me it was!” I yelled back at her, confused by her questioning and utterly at a loss in this fucked up conversation we were having. If I could talk to her in person, get close to her, make her look me in the eye and listen, I might have a chance. But this fractured argument was getting us nowhere fast. I tried again in a more reasonable tone. “Brynne, please let me come to where you are.”

She was crying again. I could hear the soft sound of her against the fainter sounds of traffic. I did not like that she was out running alone either. Cars on the street speeding by her, men looking at her, indigents bothering her for handouts...

“What the hell did he tell you, Ethan? What did my dad say about me?”

“I don’t want to do this on the telephone—”

“Tell. Me.” And then silence.

I closed my eyes in dread, knowing she wouldn’t accept anything but the brutal truth, hating like hell to say it to her, but knowing I had to. How to start? I didn’t know any other way than by just jumping in feet first. I sent up a silent prayer to my mum for strength.

“He told me you and Oakley dated in school. When you were seventeen Oakley made a sex video without your knowledge and spread it around. You dropped out of school and had trouble after that. The senator shipped his son off to Iraq and you came here to study and start afresh. Now the senator is trying to win an election as vice president and wants to make sure nobody ever sees the video…or hears about it. Your dad told me one of Oakley’s mates has died under an unusual circumstance and he’s worried people connected to that video may be targeted...including you. It concerned him enough that he contacted me and asked a favour—that I look after you and watch for anyone who might approach you.”

What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now. The silence on the other end was painful to bear but after a few interminable beats I heard the welcome sound of her saying words I wanted to hear. Words I could work with. Something I understood and could do something about. “That scares me.”

Relief washed over me hearing that. Not that she was scared but that she sounded like she needed me. Like she would let me back in. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you, baby.”

“I got a weird message on my cell phone two days ago. A man. From some newspaper. I didn’t know what to do—and then when I got your letter today I—I read what you said about calling you if anyone did something to bother me.”

The feeling of relief vanished instantly. “Enough of this shit, Brynne! Where are you right now? I’m coming to get you!” I would have crawled though the fucking mobile if the laws of physics allowed it. I needed to get to her and that was all, period. To hell with the bloody yammering, I had to have Brynne next to me in the flesh where I could put my hands on her.

“I’m at the south end of the Waterloo Bridge.”

Of course you are. I rolled my eyes. Just hearing the word Waterloo annoyed me. “I’m leaving now. Can you get over to Victoria Embankment and wait for me there? I can find you quickly that way.”

“Okay. I’ll go to the sphinx.” She sounded better to me. Less afraid and the feeling did wonders for my stress level. I was going to get my girl. She might not know that yet, but it was in fact the reality of what was about to happen.

“That’ll do. If someone approaches you just keep to the open spaces where there are people about.” I kept her on the line as she made her way to Cleopatra’s Needle on foot while I drove like a fiend and avoided London’s Finest.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Are there others around you?”

“Yes. There’s a walking tour and some couples and people with their dogs.”

“Good. I’m parking now. I’ll find you.” We ended the call.

My heart pounded in my chest as I found a place to park and started walking down to the embankment. How would this go? Would she resist me? I didn’t want to pick at our wounds, but fuck if I’d let this bloody mess go on for another day. It ended now. Today. Whatever it took to fix this cock-up got figured out right here, right now.

The sun was just starting to set when I spotted her. Her track shorts hugged her body like a second skin. She had her back to me as she leaned over the rail to look out at the river, the wind blowing her ponytail to the side, one long leg bent toward the railing with her hands resting gracefully on the top.

I slowed down because I simply wanted to soak in her image. I was finally looking at her after a week of starvation. Right in front of me. Brynne.

I needed my hands on her. They itched to hold her close and touch. But she looked different—slimmer. The nearer I got, the more visible it became. Christ, had she stopped eating in the past week? She must have dropped nearly half a stone. I stopped and stared, anger mixing with concern, but more so understanding that this shit with her past was way bigger than I’d realized up to this point. Lucky us, we can be fucked up together.

She turned around and found me. Our eyes connected and some powerful communication flowed through the breeze between us. Brynne knew how I felt. She should know. I’d told her plenty of times. She had never told me what I’d said to her though. I was still waiting to hear those three words come from her. I love you.

She said my name. I read her lips. I couldn’t hear the sound through the wind, but I saw that she did indeed speak my name. She looked about as relieved as I felt, to see her in one piece and just a few steps from each other. And utterly beautiful to me, as she always was and always had been.

But this was where I stopped. If Brynne wanted me she needed to walk over here and show me how she felt. It would kill me if she didn’t, but my dad’s advice was spot-on true. Everyone had to follow their heart. I followed mine. Now Brynne needed to do the same.

She stepped off the railing and parts inside me thudded when she paused. Almost like she waited for me to make a gesture or come and get her. No, baby. I didn’t smile and neither did she but we certainly made contact.

She had on a turquoise sports top that hugged her breasts and made me think about her naked and underneath me, my hands and mouth taking her all in. I wanted her so badly I ached. I guess that’s what falling in love will do to a person—make you ache in a way for which there is only one cure. Brynne was my cure. Images of her and me making love flashed through my head as I waited for her; the scenes of my desires haunting relentlessly with a craving that burned me from the inside out. I burned for Brynne. Mr. Keats sure knew what he was talking about in his poems.

I held out my hand and locked my eyes onto hers but my feet stayed planted. And then I saw the change. A flicker in her lovely eyes. She understood what I was asking of her. She got it. And again, I was reminded of how good we were together at the most fundamental level. Brynne got me, and that alone made my hunger for her even stronger.

She kept coming until her arm lifted. Closer still until our fingers touched, her smaller, finely formed hand resting in my much bigger one. My fingers wrapped over her wrist and palm in a firm grip and pulled her in the rest of the way. Right up against my chest, body to body. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my head in her hair. The scent I knew and craved was up my nose and in my head again. I had her. I had Brynne again.

I pulled back and took her face in my hands. I held her in that position so I could really look at her. She never wavered with her eyes. My girl was brave. Life sucked at times but she hung in and didn’t shirk away. I looked at her lips and knew I was going to kiss her whether she wanted it or not. I hoped she wanted it.

Her lovely lips were just as soft and sweet as before. More so because I’d been without them for too long. It felt like heaven having my mouth on hers. I sort of got lost in the moment and forgot we were in public. Lost in my Brynne the instant she responded to me.

She kissed me back and it felt so good to feel her tongue tangling with mine I groaned against her mouth. I knew what I wanted to do. And my requirements were few. Privacy. Brynne naked. If only things were that simple. I remembered we were standing amid a crowd of humanity on the Victoria Embankment and unfortunately not anywhere near private.

I stopped kissing and brushed over her bottom lip with my thumb. “You’ll come with me. Right now.”

She nodded into my hands and I kissed her once more. A thank you kiss.

We didn’t talk as we walked to the Rover. We held hands though. I wasn’t letting go until I had to in order to put her in the car. Once she was in the passenger seat and the doors locked I turned and really looked at her. She looked half starved and it made me angry. I remembered the first night we met and how I got her the Power Bar and the water.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“First? To get you some food.” It came out a little harsher than I wanted it to.

She nodded at me and then looked away, out the window.

“After you eat we’ll get a new cell and mobile number for you. I need to have your old one so I can track whoever tries to contact you. All right?”

She looked down at her lap and nodded again. I almost pulled her into my arms and told her everything would be fine, but I held off.

“Then I’m taking you home. My place—home.”

“Ethan, that’s not a good idea,” she whispered, still looking down at her lap.

“Fuck good ideas,” I exploded. “Would you at least look at me?” She turned her eyes up to mine and smoldered in the seat, a hint of red fire flickering, making them look very brown. I wanted to drag her to me and shake her, force her to understand that this bullshit break-up was a thing of the past. She was coming home with me, period. I turned the key in the ignition.

“What do you want from me, Ethan?”

“That’s easy.” I made a rude noise. “I want to go back to ten days ago. I want to be back in my office, fucking on my desk with you wrapped around me! I want your body underneath mine looking up at me with some expression other than the one I saw when you left me at the lifts!” I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and took in air.

“Okay…Ethan.” Her voice sounded shaky and more than a little defeated.

“Okay, Ethan?” I mocked. “What does that mean? Okay I’m coming home with you? Okay to you and me? Okay, I’ll let you secure me? What? I need more from you, Brynne.” I talked to the windshield because I was scared to see her face right now. What if I couldn’t make her understand—

She leaned toward me and put her hand on my leg. “Ethan, I—I need—I need the truth from you. I have to know what is happening around me—”

I immediately covered her hand with mine. “I know, baby. I was wrong for keeping the information from you—”

She shook her head at me. “No, you don’t know. Let me finish what I was saying.” She put her fingers to my lips to shut me up. “You always interrupt me.”

“Shutting up now.” I grabbed at her fingers with my other hand and held them to my lips. I kissed her fingers and didn’t let go. Hell, I’d take any small opportunities I could get.

“Your honesty and bluntness is one of the things I love about you, Ethan. You always told me what you wanted, what you intended to do, how you felt. You were true with me and it made me feel safe.” She tilted her head and shook it. “You have no idea how much I needed that from you. I didn’t fear the unknown because you were so good at telling me exactly what you wanted to happen with us. That really worked for me. But I trusted you implicitly and you damaged that part between us by no

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 963