by Nana Malone
Nick shook off his jacket and helped Selena’s arms into it, smiling softly at her the whole time.
They rode through the city streets, weaving in and out of traffic, sometimes a little too close for comfort, which had Selena gasping and laughing. The whole damned ride was a risk—the cars and the trust she was putting into this guy who had royally let her down before. But something inside her hushed those memories. She knew he was a good guy at heart. He’d been pulled in the wrong direction before, but he was in charge now. They were in charge.
As Nick steered the moped round a tight bend she clung tightly to his hard body, smelling his familiar scent as she burrowed her face into his shirt. She felt like she was home. Right there, on that bike, cutting through the streets—that was home. Because as long as he was there, that’s where she wanted to be.
Nick slowed to a stop outside an office block. He hopped off and held out a hand for her. She pulled off her helmet and looked up at the building.
“What are we doing here?”
“This is where I work now, but that’s not what I want to show you,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Follow me.” He wrapped his hand around hers and led her into the main entrance. The security man gave Nick a nod and a wink as they passed and made their way to the elevator. It eventually pinged and the doors opened. They entered and Nick selected the top floor with a grin etched on his face that looked so powerful it could never fade.
She edged towards him and put her hands around his waist, eyeing him intensely. He dipped his head and his lips grazed hers, sending shockwaves through her core. It really had been as intense as she remembered. She hadn’t been making it up this whole time. She felt weak, yet indestructible at the same time. She pressed her lips hard against his, feeling his hot breath on her cold cheeks. Heaven.
The elevator doors pinged open to reveal the rooftop. There was a cold breeze up there but she gasped to see the glittering city from such a spectacular height. He led her by the hand around the corner where she let out a cry of shock to see a makeshift shelter, built of canvas, lined with twinkling string lights and lanterns glowing inside. He gestured for her to sit at a bistro table with two chairs and joined her. On the table was a bottle of red wine, two glasses and a vase of pink roses. He pulled a wicker picnic basket out from under the table and lifted the lid to reveal an array of treats—French cheese, baguette, strawberries…
“Oh Nick, this is amazing,” she said, her eyes glistening with moisture. “It’s Paris.”
“I love you. And I will do my best to give you Paris every day. I didn’t have anything to offer you then and maybe I don’t have enough to offer you now. But I am sorry. I have loved you from that first meeting and that’s not going to stop.”
“Nick—“
He didn’t let her finish. “I will tell you how beautiful you are every single day until you believe it. You changed the whole course of my life. I was a cocky prick. Still am a bit of a prick. But I’m the cocky prick who loves you and I will never hurt you again.”
“Nick—“
“I love you.”
She laughed. “Damn it. I’m trying to tell you I love you too.”
He snapped his mouth shut. “What?”
“You heard me.”
He grinned. “You’re right. I just wanted to hear it again.”
“I love you too.”
His kiss was tender as he pulled her close, but now that he had her again, he was never letting her go. “You’re my girl. And I’m never leaving your side.”
“I think that’s a deal I can live with.”
They were finally free to be with each other. No interruptions. No secrets. Just love.
** LONDON BONUS BOOK **
London Bound
BACK COVER - LONDON BOUND
What would you leave behind to follow a dream?
It wasn’t exactly like spunky, photography student, Abbie Nartey ran away from her life…except, that she left under the cover of darkness and put 3000 miles between her and her ex-boyfriend’s betrayal. She went to London searching for her dream. She never expected to find love, or herself.
Heir to a a billion dollar tech fortune, Alexi Chase, is looking for freedom—from his family and from his past. What he’s not looking for is love. With secrets like his, he can’t afford to let anyone get too close. But a chance rescue has him wondering if the price of keeping secrets is too high.
48
Where the hell was it?
Abena Nartey frantically checked the pile of mail. Bill, bill, advertisement. Nothing from University of West London. Worry knotted her stomach. All her other graduate school acceptance and rejection letters had come by now. She’d expected to hear word from them over three weeks ago.
“Hey, Evan, was this all the mail? Was there anything with the packages?” A part of her held on to that last thread of hope.
“Sorry, sweetheart. This is all of it.” Her boyfriend, Evan Peters, leaned against the doorjamb between the hallway and the dining room, still dripping from his run, creating little puddles of sweat on the floor. “You have some perfectly good schools to choose from. I don’t know why this one is so important to you.”
Abbie clenched her teeth and tried not to focus on the fact that, as usual, he didn’t support her choices. She also tried not to focus on the tiny puddles. Puddles she’d be expected to clean.
Instead, she focused on his face. Even covered in a sheen of sweat, he was still handsome–creamy café au lait skin, strong jaw, whiskey-brown eyes. His family was also wealthy enough to sway political turnouts. Her friends liked to remind her how lucky she was to have him.
If only they knew.
“Look, I know. I need to make a decision, especially if I want to start in January, but I really wanted this program.” She inhaled sharply the moment she caught the look of displeasure in his eyes. “But you’re right.” No he’s not. “I’ll pick one. If London comes through, I can always pull my acceptance or something.”
He frowned, and Abbie braced herself. Stupid.
“Abena, it’s bad form to rescind an acceptance. Especially if it’s at a school where I pulled strings for you, like Georgetown or George Washington. Some dreams aren’t meant to come true. I mean, let’s face it, your photos are okay, but you’re not exactly doing gallery openings, are you?”
Abbie bit her tongue. As if she wouldn’t have been able to get into those schools on her own. As if his talking to a couple of professors had been the thing that made the admissions boards sit up and take notice. He’d only just graduated himself and was an associate with Walters and Logan, a big law firm in town. His family name might have pull, but he, himself, did not. She’d gotten in on her own merit.
But with practiced ease, she kept her thoughts to herself. “I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to do that. I’ll think about it carefully.”
He snatched up the hem of his sweat-sodden T-shirt and used the material to wipe his brow. The view of his six-pack and strong chest muscles should have had her salivating, should have had her begging to join him in the shower. Too bad she knew what was under the perfect façade. And it wasn’t pretty.
She wanted him to be supportive. She wanted him to believe in her. She wanted him to be who he pretended to be. But right now, mostly, she wanted him to get into the shower so he would stop dripping on her floor.
“I’m getting in the shower. What’s for lunch?”
Abbie swallowed. “I’m making chicken salad.”
He sighed, clearly unenthused, but headed off toward the shower anyway.
As much as she hated to admit it, she was pushing the dates for accepting an offer. Letters of acceptance into law programs from Georgetown, George Washington, John’s Hopkins, American University, and University of Maryland all beckoned to her in a neat stack. But she didn’t want to have to think about them. Evan had left them there purposefully, so that every time she walked through their dining room she’d have to see them. The spiteful part of her yearn
ed to disorder the tiny pile. But she restrained herself. Petty isn’t a good look.
Only problem was, she didn’t want to be a lawyer. Sure, it was the natural choice in a family full of them. Both her parents were. Even her oldest sister Akosua was. Her middle sister, Ama, had broken the mold to go to medical school, but still it was a profession the whole family approved of. Not like Abbie’s passion, photography.
The University of West London had the best Masters of Photography program in the world. There, she’d have a chance to work with Xander Chase, one of the youngest, most renowned photographers in the world. He’d even exhibited at Hamilton’s in London.
Some dreams aren’t meant to come true.
Maybe Evan was right. Maybe London was just a pipe dream.
Unless you went on your own.
As quickly as the betraying, insidious thought popped into her head, she shuddered and quashed it. Going on her own wasn’t an option. She’d once tried to interview for a job in Los Angeles right out of college. The bruises he’d left on her body had made it very clear that she wasn’t going anywhere without him.
She’d been with him since she was sixteen, and he’d come to her school to talk about the benefits of NYU as a college. Even then, everyone had pointed out how lucky she was that a college guy was interested in her. That a Peters was interested in her. Then why don’t I feel lucky?
Nobody saw what she saw. She’d made her bed and picked the wrong guy. He had his moments when he could be sweet, and she could forget what he was really like. But his temper was always at the forefront of her mind. Although that didn’t stop her from wanting some freedom and wanting to do something other than what was expected.
Her phone rang in the kitchen, pulling her out of her reverie, and she raced to grab it, a smile tugging at her lips when she saw who it was on the caller ID. “Hey, Dad.”
“Abena, how are you?” Her father’s baritone voice with its accented English never failed to calm her down.
“Oh, I’m good. Just making some lunch.” She stalled, wondering what he was calling about. Neither of them was particularly skilled at small talk. A call from him was not the norm. They always relayed messages through her mother or via text. Nevertheless, she was happy to hear from him. “What’s up, Dad?”
He expelled a breath, as if happy to be able to cut to the chase and forego the social niceties of asking what she was making for lunch.
“I need the valuation papers for the condo. I’m trying to up the insurance, given the renovation we just did to the bathroom.”
“Sure, I’ll grab them.” She jogged into the study that Evan had taken over upon moving in and kept an ear out for the sound of the shower turning off. Once Evan was finished, he’d want to eat, so she needed to hurry up with lunch. “One sec, I have no idea what Evan’s filing process is.”
Quickly, she searched the stack of folders on the desk and found what her father was looking for. As she relayed the information, her gaze landed on the corner of an envelope peeking out from the desk drawer. A Queen Elizabeth stamp affixed on the thick paper.
“Thank you, Abena.” Her father hesitated. “Are you well? You sound off.”
Abbie sighed. His way of asking if she still thought she’d made the right choice by moving in with Evan. Her parents had been so against it. After all, in Ghanaian culture, it just wasn’t done. You only moved in with someone after you’d done a traditional engagement ceremony.
The mere thought of marriage made Abbie’s stomach clench. Not that Evan hadn’t hinted it was the next logical step. But every time she thought about it, it felt like someone was tying a noose around her neck.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she said as she tried to pull the drawer open. It didn’t budge.
“Have you selected a school yet?”
“Uhm…” Her voice trailed as she grabbed the letter opener and tried to slide it into the drawer to pop the latch. “I need to. I was hoping to hear from University of West London.”
Her father harrumphed. “A photography course does not qualify as school.”
Abbie could almost see him grumbling and pacing in his office. “Dad, actually, it does. The program is prestigious, and it’s at an accredited university.”
Her father’s accented voice pitched lower. “Abena, what do you think you’re going to do with a Masters in Photography? You’re supposed to go to law school.” Of course, to Ghanaian parents, the only appropriate professions and worthwhile educational pursuits included law, medicine, and engineering. He ignored the prick of pain his disappointment caused. She was used to it by now.
“Dad. You already have one daughter who’s a lawyer. Besides, with the photography, there’s a lot I’m planning to do. With a recommendation from my professor, opportunities in production would open for places like National Geographic and a career in documentary films.”
And she was sure a recommendation from Xander Chase would open those kinds of doors. But she didn’t care about those doors. What she was after was the apprentice position offered to his top student.
“Abena, you can’t put all your eggs into one basket. You have to have a backup plan.”
“I know. I know. I’ll be looking at all the offers tonight, and I’ll make a decision by the weekend.” She could only hope and pray that the acceptance came before then. She really only had two more days to stall.
The drawer opened with a splintering pop, and for a second, she was worried she’d broken it, but it slid smoothly on its grooves. Her father mentioned something about her sister, but Abbie had already tuned him out. She pulled out the envelope with its maroon stamp of the Queen, and her breath caught. With her blood rushing in her ears, she carefully scanned the return address.
University of West London.
Twice, her brain tried to make her lips cooperate. Twice it failed. On the third attempt, she managed with a shaky breath, “Listen, Dad, I have to go. Evan’s going to want his lunch soon.”
She bid a quick goodbye to her father. Unable to swallow and unable to breathe, she slowly reached into the already opened envelope and pulled out the papers contained inside.
Her brain short-circuited as her eyes flitted over the cover sheet. …Great happiness that we offer you a spot…our students…we look forward to hearing….
Numb with shock, the only coherent thought her brain managed was, Get lunch ready, otherwise it’s going to get ugly.
In the kitchen, her body worked on automatic pilot. Chicken salad would not have been her choice of lunch, but Evan hated any Ghanaian food she cooked. She added the mayonnaise and the additional spices she knew Evan liked. She always saved the scallions for last because he liked them fresh but not too big and not too fine like the food processor would have done.
“God, I needed that shower. That run was brutal.” Evan’s voice was jovial.
She was too numb to answer, rage battled for dominance with disbelief and sadness. Instead, she just continued chopping. Her mind was unable to form coherent thoughts anyway.
He continued without waiting for a response. “I went down by the library then up Independence. It was pretty. Still spring but with a touch of summer heat in the air.”
Abbie smoothed the scallions off the knife into the chicken salad with her finger. While she worked, the bitter scent burned her nostrils. She still didn’t speak.
“What’s with you?” His tone was cold and held little note of concern.
She knew the moment his eyes landed on the envelope from the school. The air around him shifted subtly, and she braced herself.
His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. “Where the hell did you get that?”
Stupid move or not, she wasn’t going to let this one go. If there was ever a time to stand up for herself, it was now. She was not the pathetic girl he thought she was. She had been strong once and she reached deep into the depths of a long forgotten girl to find a sliver of that strength. “Where the hell you hid it.”
She’d braced for shou
ting, but nothing happened. Instead, when Evan spoke, his voice was pleading. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but you have to realize that London isn’t going to happen. We won’t survive if we don’t go together. Law is a more stable profession than photography. I mean, what are you going to do with that anyway? I had your best interest at heart.”
Her best interest? Her best fucking interest?
Her fingers curled around the knife handle as her anger bubbled to the surface. She forced a deep breath, then another, and peeled her fingers off. “You lied to me. Every day I asked you, and every day you hid it from me.” She searched his handsome face. How had she become this? What had become of the real her?
He waved a dismissive hand. “Look. I did it for you. You needed to make a decision. The right decision. And you wouldn’t have been able to make it if you’d seen that envelope. Besides, you and I both know that you wouldn’t be happy in London.”
“Don’t!” Her body vibrated with fury. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. You did it for yourself because you wanted me to make the choice that you wanted. You’re dispica—”
The stinging crack across her cheek snapped her head to the side. A pinball of pain ricocheted in her skull. The burning pain spread from her face to her neck and well into her hairline. She knew from experience now would be a good time to shut the hell up.
But it was as if the stronger woman inside her finally refused to be silenced. “I will not shut up. You lied to me. You hid this from me. You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to make this dream happ—”
The next crack was enough to knock her over, and she tasted blood on the tip of her tongue. Desperate to steady herself, she reached up to the counter for purchase, but only managed to bring the diced chicken, mayonnaise, and chopping board down with her.
Evan kneeled in front of her. His tight face registered a barely concealed mask of rage. This was it, she’d done it now. There would be no concealer good enough to hide the bruises he would give her. And she didn’t give a damn. She was tired of cowering.
