Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)

by Phillips, Christina

  I hitch in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It doesn’t help much. “Do Harry and Lucas know?” They can’t. If I didn’t, how could they—unless Dad’s already told them?

  “I don’t think so,” Dad says. “They haven’t said anything, and I haven’t had a chance to call them yet. Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  “Sure.” I nod and cross my arms as though that’s going to help keep my shattered thoughts together. “So, how long have you, um…” I can’t even ask. I can’t even believe it.

  “About eight months.” Dad takes Margo’s hand, and I can’t tear my shocked gaze from their entwined fingers. Eight months? Were they ever going to tell us if they hadn’t been caught doing—whatever they were doing which I don’t want to think about—on camera?

  “Why…” I clear my throat. “Why did you keep it a big secret?”

  “I know how much you miss your mum,” Dad says. “We all do. That’s never going to change.”

  “I loved her, too, Mac,” Margo says softly. “I miss her every day.”

  Not as much as I do. I bite my tongue. No way am I saying that out loud. Even if it’s true.

  There’s nothing else to say, and I make my way to my room. I need to conference-call my brothers and let them know what’s happening. But once I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, I can’t even do that straight away.

  Harry has Alice. Lucas is with Violet. And now Dad and Margo are together. I hug my legs and drop my forehead to my knees.

  Everyone in my life is moving on. Everyone but me.

  I shake it off. I am moving on, and the last thing I need right now is a relationship. There’s only one thing I need to focus on—improving my grades. And the sooner I remember that, the better.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will

  Come on, Mac.

  I don’t usually check the time every few minutes when I’m waiting for a girl. But then, Mac isn’t just any girl. And this isn’t a regular date. I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t had as much fun as I did this weekend in years.

  Except for having my dream cut out from under me.

  That clears my head. It’s not as though I’m out of it entirely. I’m still a consultant, and when I finally join Oakland full time, there’ll still be plenty for me to do.

  It’s not the same, though. Not what I’d always imagined.

  Is there a way I could leave the company earlier?

  I’ve never seriously considered that, but ever since Mac mentioned it, I can’t get the possibility out of my mind. The long-term planning strategies Mum was so stressed out about when she had her stroke are all on course. It’s not an impossible scenario to restructure the board.

  To give me my freedom earlier.

  Except I promised her. Four years. I can’t go back on my word. She’s relying on me.

  Not going to think about that now. Not when Mac’s due…five minutes ago.

  I leave my ground-floor flat and check the street. Doesn’t look as though she’s arrived yet. Stately Georgian houses flank the garden square, although most of the buildings have been converted into luxury apartments. And while the address is one of the most prestigious in London, the parking is a bloody joke.

  Two more years. Then I can sell this place and buy something where I can breathe.

  Headlights turn into the square, and I shade my eyes. It’s her. And there’s nowhere to park. She pulls to a stop in the middle of the road, winds down the window and gives me a smile. “I’ll go around the block again.”

  I pull open the passenger door and hop into the car.

  “What’re you doing?” She frowns at me, but not in a bad way.

  “There’s no way you’re walking in the dark around here.”

  She scoffs as she drives along the road. “I’m not completely defenseless.”

  I know she’s practiced Krav Maga for the last ten years, but that’s not the point. “Never said you were.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard, remember?” She shoots me a teasing smile. “But thanks.”

  She finds a parking spot, and hand in hand, we walk back to my flat. Funny how right this feels. As soon as I shut the front door behind us, she winds her arms around my neck. “I missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” It’s only been a couple of hours since I dropped her home. But it’s true. I have missed her. How crazy is that?

  She lets out a long sigh, and her head drops to my shoulder. The subtle scent of her coconut shampoo is a hell of a turn-on, and I thread my fingers through her hair, so soft and silky, and it brings back vivid memories of the weekend.

  There’s time for a quickie before we go out.

  “Have you spoken to Lucas?”

  My lascivious thoughts freeze. Lucas is the last person I want to speak to this week. Why would she think I had? “No.” There’s no mistaking my wariness. “Have you?”

  Jesus, did she tell him about us?

  She pulls back, her hands sliding along my biceps. There’s a haunted expression in her beautiful eyes, and I forget about Lucas and any justified repercussions of the weekend.

  “Hey.” I stroke her cheek with my finger. “What’s happened?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  I’ve no clue what the problem is. How much could happen in two hours? “The beginning?”

  “I don’t know the beginning.” She takes a deep breath. “I just found out Dad and Margo are…together.”

  Shock zaps through me. I’ve known Margo for as long as I’ve known Lucas. Even before their mum died, Margo was around. It doesn’t seem likely. “You sure about that?”

  “They told me. Can you believe they’ve been, you know, for eight months?”

  “They didn’t tell anyone for eight months?” Then again, no one knows about Mac and me hooking up a couple of years ago.

  There’s a big fucking difference between her dad and Margo, and Mac and me.

  “I know. They said they didn’t want to upset me. Like I’m a stupid kid or something.”

  “Yeah, but Lucas didn’t know.” There’s no way he wouldn’t have told me that.

  “True,” she concedes. “Anyway, I phoned him and Harry to clue them in, and guess what? Lucas said Violet always thought there was something between Dad and Margo. I mean, what the ever-loving fuck? How would she guess that? She’s only met them a few times.”

  “Beats me.”

  “At least the photo wasn’t as bad as I was imagining. They were just kissing. But you know. Kissing-kissing. There’s no way you’d mistake that for a friendly peck on the cheek kind of thing.”

  I’ve no idea what photo she’s talking about, but I get the general idea. “Could’ve been worse, then.”

  “It’s just…I don’t know. It feels wrong. Like a line’s been crossed.”

  The way everyone would condemn what I’m doing with Mac as wrong. Because I sure as hell have crossed the line. Guilt snakes through me and, with it, empathy for Margo.

  “At least you know her.”

  “Huh?” She frowns, obviously not on my wavelength.

  “He could’ve hooked up with anyone, Mac. Imagine if he was dating some twenty-year-old chick.”

  “That’s disgusting.” She glares at me. “My dad wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “That’s just an example. I mean, look. It doesn’t mean he’s stopped loving your mum, just because he’s found someone else.”

  She presses her lips together and scrunches her nose, the way she always does when she’s trying to accept something she doesn’t want to. Her tense muscles slowly relax. “I know you’re right. And I want Dad to be happy. Because he hasn’t been. Not really.” She heaves a sigh, and I wrap my arm around her waist to let her know that I’m here for her.

  “You think you’ll be okay with Margo?”

  “Yeah.” She gives me a reluctant smile. “I’m not going to give her a hard time. She was always there for us after Mum passed. I mean, she l
oved her like a sister. I still think it’s all freaky weird, but I’ll get over it.”

  “Good.”

  “Only because it’s Margo. I’d need bloody therapy if Dad was dating someone younger than me. Seriously, Will. Thanks for that. I need to scrub my brain with bleach now.”

  “You think that’s bad? Try having your mother seeing a guy who’s twenty years younger than her.” What the hell? I haven’t even told Lucas about Jeremy fucking Jones. I try not to think about him unless we’re in the same room together.

  Her eyes widen. “Your mum’s…?” She doesn’t finish the question, just gapes as though she can’t quite believe what I just said. And since I can’t take it back, I shrug.

  “Nearly a year.”

  “Huh.” She appears to be thinking about it. I wish she wouldn’t. “Do you get on okay?”

  I can’t believe she even asked that. “No.”

  “Well, you might’ve. What’s he like?”

  “What do you think he’s like?” Irritation burns through me, although it’s not directed at her. “Why’s he really with my mother? That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “You think he’s a hustler?”

  I have the overwhelming urge to say yes, he fucking is, except I don’t have any proof, and as far as I know, he’s never attempted to extort anything. And although I can’t understand Mum’s obsession with him, she’s far from a soft touch.

  It’s frustrating, but I can’t lie. “I did a background check on him. Mum would kill me if she ever found out. But nothing came up. No police record. No dodgy dealings.”

  “Wow. Parents can be such a worry sometimes, can’t they?”

  She can say that again. “And now she’s on a cruise with him.”

  “There’s one good thing about it, though.”

  I can’t think of any. “What’s that?”

  She gives me a wicked grin. “At least he’s not younger than you.”

  It’s still dark when I’m pulled from a hot dream of Mac going down on me, to the reality of her tongue swirling over my dick. I groan and thread my fingers through her hair, and her teeth graze me as I feel her smile.

  “Morning.” Her voice is husky, and she looks up at me from where she’s wriggled down the bed to my thighs. Shame all I can see is her outline, but hell, I’m not complaining.

  “Best wake-up call I’ve ever had.”

  “Your compliments are improving.”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  She wraps her hand around me, and an agonized groan burns my throat. Her lips are driving me out of my mind, but she doesn’t take me into her mouth.

  Panting, she raises her head. “Chuck down a condom.”

  I swing out my arm in the general direction of my bedside table, but my coordination is wrecked, and I knock the lamp onto the floor. She snorts with laughter, her naked tits jiggling against my thigh like erotic instruments of torture. Somehow, I yank open the drawer and scrabble around to find the bloody thing.

  “Take your time.” She licks me before teasing my balls with the tip of her finger. I drop the fucking condom onto the floor. “I’ve got all day,” she adds in a sultry purr that fries whatever’s left of my motor functions.

  This time I find an unopened box, and relief pounds through me. “Here.”

  “Wow. You’re optimistic, aren’t you?” She takes the box, and I collapse back onto the bed.

  I feel an explanation is necessary, but words are way too hard to find. “Always,” I manage, which at least makes her laugh again.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She rolls on a condom, taking so much care I can only think she wants me to beg for it. I’ve never begged in my life.

  I might for her.

  She sucks me into her mouth, hot and wet, and rakes her nails over my abs. I arch into her, can’t help it. So goddamn good. Her scent is intoxicating, spicing the air, and it fills my lungs with every harsh breath I take. Not gonna last long. I need to slow her down, need to claw back control. Need to fucking come. Her hair falls over my hips, brushing my skin with a teasing caress, and I forget everything but the slide of her mouth and touch of her hands.

  Without warning she releases me, but before I can even groan a protest, she straddles my hips. “Need you inside me,” she gasps.

  “Do it,” I growl, like I’m a Neanderthal, and hell if that image doesn’t make me harder than ever.

  She sinks onto me, her hands flat against my chest as she rides me like she owns me. I fucking love it. With a surge of primitive need, I wrap my arms around her and flip her onto her back.

  I grasp her calf, and she hooks her ankles together at the small of my back. There’s not enough light to see her face, but I don’t need to. Her gorgeous eyes and sexy lips are imprinted in my brain, and my control unravels like a promise in the wind.

  She shudders and gasps my name, and it’s fucking incredible how hot that is. Too hot. I hammer her into the bed as she convulses around me, until the whole damn world implodes.

  Yes…

  I collapse onto the bed by her side and pull her into my arms. Don’t want to move. Don’t want to think. Just want to lie here, with her soft body wrapped around mine. All day. Why not?

  Sounds like a plan. Her fingers caress my jaw and trail over my shoulder, and sleep drifts on the horizon.

  Next thing I know, sunlight pierces my dreamless mind through a gap in the curtains. I crack open one eye, and Mac’s snuggled against me.

  Stealthily, so I don’t wake her, I reach for my watch on the bedside behind me. She stirs, making sexy little moans as she stretches, and I squint at the time.

  “Shit, I’m going to be late.” Like, majorly late, and I’m never late for work, even after a heavy night of partying. I untangle myself from her, roll out of bed, and bang my foot on the fallen lamp. I pick it up, and she lets out a long sigh.

  “You have the sexiest bottom.”

  I sling her a glance over my shoulder. “Perv.”

  “Not my fault. If you insist on flashing your bum in my direction, what am I supposed to do?”

  I swagger around the bed, making my way to the bathroom. “You really want me to answer that?”

  “Rude,” she says, pulling the sheet up so it just covers her nipples.

  At the door, I turn to grin at her. Her black hair is a tangled mess, her cheeks are flushed, and she has a sleepy, sated smile on her kiss-bruised lips.

  She looks thoroughly fucked.

  Guess I shouldn’t be proud of the possessiveness that streaks through me at that, but screw it. I like the way she looks in my bed. And I love that I’m the one who put that sexy glow on her face.

  “You got plans for tonight?” Because I sure have. And they involve her.

  “Hmmm.” She appears to think about it before cocking her head. “Do you want to watch the latest Reese Witherspoon movie?”

  Chick flicks aren’t my first choice in movies, but it feels right watching them with her. “Sure. We can Netflix and chill all night.” I grin, and she throws a pillow at me.

  “No, I’m talking about going out. It’s showing at the Electric Cinema. I’ll get the tickets, and we can meet there.”

  I’ve never been inside the Electric Cinema, but I know of it. It’s over a hundred years old, and not far from where she lives.

  “Sounds good.”

  Her smile is sweet, with no hint of the mockery that often lurks there. And as much as I enjoy how she loves winding me up, there’s something adorable in the way she’s gazing at me right now.

  I’m looking forward to tonight already.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Will

  Ready when you are.

  I send the text to Mac before getting out of my car. I parked down her road, but not so close that her dad could see me if he looks out of the window.

  It’s not that I want to hide the fact I’m seeing her, but I don’t want awkward questions. She wants to keep this on the down low, and I’m good with that.

&n
bsp; You don’t want her family guessing what you’re really doing.

  Okay. I don’t. Two years ago, I played with fire, and it’s taken all this time before she’s forgiven me. And while what we do is our business and no one else’s, I don’t want to fuck up my friendship with Lucas. Or with Mac. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having her in my life until she was back.

  I glance at my phone as a reply from her comes through. Be right there!

  All we’re having this week is fun. I don’t do serious, and she’s focused on gaining her degree.

  The only question is—can we stay friends when it ends?

  I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we do.

  She appears by my side, her familiar smile on her face. “Skulking in the shadows?”

  “Didn’t think you’d want me knocking on the front door.”

  “I suppose you have a point. Although I did say I’d meet you at the Electric.”

  Since we’ve now crossed the road and out of danger of possible discovery, I sling my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “Told you before. You’re not walking in the dark alone when I’m around.”

  “Big bad protector.” She kisses my cheek. “When did you get so chivalrous?”

  “Hey. I always have been.”

  “If you say so.” We stroll along the Portobello Road until we reach the Electric Cinema. She pulls a couple of tickets from her pocket, and we go inside the Edwardian building. The décor is retro, and after I’ve bought us a couple of beers in the adjoining bar, she orders a double serving of nachos.

  “How long before the movie starts?” I ask, because at this rate we’ll have to scarf the lot down.

  “Ha,” she says. “We can take them in with us. Wait until you see the seats.”

  The cinema is something else. Big leather seats with their own side tables and lamps. But she leads us to the back of the room, where there are double sofas paired with a luxurious footstool.

  “Whoa. Okay, this is cool.”

  “I know, right.” She places the nachos on one of the side tables, lifts the lid to the footstool, and pulls out a blanket. “Cashmere. Is this turning into the best movie experience of your life so far?”