by Parker Swift
Fiona was quiet. Really quiet. I had a feeling she actually did know the answer to this one.
“Fiona?”
“Promise you won’t make fun?”
“Cross my heart.”
She was quiet for a while longer, rubbing her knuckles.
“Jewelry,” she finally said in a near whisper.
“What? Really? Designing it or wearing it?” I said, looking at the long dangly earrings brushing her shoulders, and she gave me an exasperated eye roll.
“Designing it, you nag!”
She pulled out a thick binder from the side of her desk and handed it to me. I started to flip through, and there were pages and pages of sketches. They were elegant but understated. Cool, fashion forward, and totally original. “Have you made any of these?”
She shook her head, and when I looked at her, she was biting her thumbnail. “Fiona, they’re gorgeous.”
“Really? You really think so?”
“I know so. Would you make them yourself?”
“No, no. That’s not my skill. I’ve gone so far as to meet with a metalsmith who could do some mock-ups for me, but I’ve never had the capital to get it going.”
“You have to. You have to do this. These are fabulous. Have you shown Hannah?”
“Are you completely mad?” she asked, looking at me like I had just spoken Mandarin.
“You should!”
“No way.”
“This is me—the brazen American—telling you to go for it. Or you know what? Let’s think on it. I want to do this with you, help you, even just moral support, but practically if you want it.”
“Lydia, do you mean it?”
“Absolutely.”
We talked right through lunch, planning, scheming, and poring over her sketches. When the intern came back, I sent her all the way to Hampstead for paint swatches.
Eventually Fiona opened up to me about Ben too. They’d “had a row,” but she didn’t think it was over. Apparently he’d called her “daft” and accused her of not going after what she wanted, to which she’d replied that he was “a sexist wanker” and didn’t appreciate his male privilege. I had a feeling they’d get past this one.
And I really did love those jewelry sketches. I didn’t tell Fiona at the time—I didn’t want to get her hopes up—but I was convinced some of them would be the perfect complements to the ideas Hannah was playing with for next year’s spring line. She’d get there. All I knew was that I was so happy to have my friend back.
Chapter 20
I was walking on air after my reconciliation with Fiona. It felt like everything was looking up. We’d dragged Josh into our plan for an indulgent girls’ night in, complete with takeout and face masks. I was in such a good mood that I didn’t even mind when I received a bad news text from Dylan:
MONDAY, 4:43 pm
Damsel. Having trouble getting what I need here. Back Wednesday night. Sorry, baby.
MONDAY, 4:43 pm
It’s OK. Miss you!
MONDAY, 4:44 pm
I’m still taking you away. Don’t go getting all rebellious on me. I’ll want you nice and pliant, ready to forgive your dreadful boyfriend for depriving you.
MONDAY, 4:44 pm
Who says I’m deprived?
MONDAY, 4:45 pm
You’re in a cheeky mood, aren’t you, little one? Careful.
Don’t forget—you’re mine.
MONDAY, 4:45 pm
Always. Hurry home. XO
It was after eleven before I’d successfully convinced Fiona and Josh to call a taxi and head home. We’d eaten our way through half the menu at the local Thai takeout place and every dessert we could put our hands on, convincing ourselves we were burning at least that many calories laughing. I felt like I had my friends back.
And it turned out to be just in time. We were waiting for their car to arrive and I was searching YouTube for a Beyoncé music video they’d never seen when my computer dinged with an incoming email.
Somehow I just knew.
It was one of those moments when you forget the immediate surroundings, forget that there might be other people present, forget that maybe it’s not a good idea to act, and instead succumb to the inevitability of the whole thing.
The sender was the same, a random series of letters and numbers. But this time there was no text, just a video embedded in the email. I clicked PLAY before thinking, and immediately Dylan’s voice filled the room.
“Shh, baby.”
I gulped and then gulped again, starting to shake.
“So wet for me. I love this little pussy, you know that?”
Dylan’s voice again, haunting me. The image was clear, and you could see everything. Me. Spread out on Dylan’s bed at Humboldt Park. His hands on me.
“Watch—I want you to watch everything.”
“What the fuck is that?” said Fiona from across the room, clearly hearing the video. I immediately slammed the laptop closed and started to cry. This couldn’t be happening. It was too much. Too personal. I had no idea how long the video was, how far it had gone, but I did see that the little indicator was far to the left, suggesting several minutes of video would follow. The image had been crystal clear, as though the person taking the video had been right there in the room with us. How was that even possible?
I was mortified. Horrified. I felt dirty. I felt invaded. And for the first time really scared. There was no way Dylan knew about this. No way.
“Lovey,” Josh whispered, rubbing my back. “What’s going on?”
I heard him indicate to Fiona to cancel the car.
They sweetly moved me to the couch, and I told them everything. About every last email. About not going to the police. About not knowing who or why or what. About Frank. I had told Dylan this would be a secret, but the truth was I needed him in that moment. But he wasn’t there—my friends were, and I needed them too.
They reminded me to send the information to Dylan immediately so he could act on it, and I did. I did do that. He called me within minutes, and Fiona and Josh watched as I spoke into the phone.
“I’m fine,” I said, but I could hear how dead my voice was.
“No, you’re not,” he said sternly.
“I am. Dylan, it’s fine. I’m going to bed, I promise. Just please, please make them stop.”
“I’m working on it, baby. I’m working on it right now.”
I was pretty sure he could hear the shakiness in my breath.
“Trust me,” he said, as he had so many times before. But this time it somehow made things worse. There were only so many trust mes a girl could handle.
I pulled it together and glanced at Fiona and Josh, sitting on the couch. “I’ll see you Wednesday, knighty,” I said, but it was forced. The nickname didn’t have the same lightness it normally did.
* * *
Thankfully Fiona and Josh left shortly after that. I’d been so glad they were there so I could talk to them, but then talking about it made it impossible to forget. So I was also glad when they left, ready to sink into my bed and lull myself into an oblivion where none of this was happening.
I was in a restless sleep when I felt the sheets rustle beside me. My eyes flew open in a panic—a new fear had settled over me.
But Dylan’s hand stroked my bangs, and he leaned down to kiss my face, gentle pecks over my cheeks and lips.
“Don’t be scared, baby. It’s me.”
I curled my body into his and let him wrap his arms around me.
“How are you back? Why? I thought you weren’t going to be able to be back until tomorrow night,” I said, breathing him in, calmed by just the scent of him.
“Shh,” he continued. “I called the pilot as soon as I got off the phone with you. I needed to be here with you. I won’t let him hurt you or get that close to you ever again. I promise.”
It had to be near morning—the blue light of dawn was already creeping in my windows—but I fell back to sleep in his arms.
Whe
n I woke again, I saw the clock on my wall read ten in the morning, and I shot up, panicked. And then it all came flooding back to me—the night before, the video, Dylan in my bed.
“You came home,” I said at the same time that Dylan’s hands landed on my arms from behind.
“Of course I came home,” he said.
“I have to go to work,” I said and started to climb out of bed, but Dylan grabbed my hand, holding firm.
“Fiona texted me and said to say that she told Hannah you’d be in late today because of a dentist’s appointment.”
“She texted you?”
“Yes—I’m glad you told her what was going on. I’m glad she was here. She’s a good friend.”
“She is,” I said, falling back against his chest, relieved not to have to rush.
“Baby,” he started to say as he wrapped his strong arm around my chest, “we got the guy.”
I flung my head around and looked into his eyes. “Really?” I said, so hopeful. “Dylan, you really got him?”
Dylan nodded and smiled. “I got a call this morning, and they found enough evidence on this guy’s hard drive to make it pretty clear. He is denying it, of course, but it would be too coincidental, given the evidence.”
“Who is it?” I asked, scooching myself to sitting up next to him, still not believing this was behind us. Especially so quickly on the heels of that last email.
“It was just as I thought,” Dylan started and pulled me against him. “He works for an old Russian family we used to do business with, the Bresnovs. Back in my grandfather’s day we were partners with them—they were actually extremely helpful to my grandfather in getting Hale Shipping off the ground. But the last sixty years haven’t been good to them—they’re not the family they used to be,” he said, sighing.
“But why?” I asked, still not understanding. “Why would someone do this to me? To you?”
“Spineless pricks. I had my suspicions, but Christ, the assholes were hard to pin down. A few years back a deal we had went south, and it really left them high and dry. Honestly it left them without options—they were desperate and trying to send me a message. Plain and simple. But it’s over now, baby.”
“But what does this have to do with you? Hale Shipping is your father’s domain. I don’t get it.” I was now perched on my knees, my T-shirt collecting at my hips, my eyes searching his for understanding. Somehow it just didn’t feel real that it was over. I’d gone to sleep feeling so utterly creeped out.
“My father made the deal. I broke it.”
I searched him for more.
“I’ve never been very involved with the company, not until recently, but as a member of the board I do an annual check-in with the accounting group, to make sure everything’s on the up and up. When I learned about this deal…The Bresnovs stood to gain a great deal at Hale Shipping’s expense. I couldn’t let that stand, and I’ve kept a closer eye on things since then. This stunt was them trying to send me a message that the conversation isn’t over.” His muscular arms came for me, his hands wrapping around my middle, his strength pulling me to sit across his lap and against his bare torso. “But I assure you, baby. The conversation is over. I won’t let them harass you again.”
“Thank god,” I said, sighing into his chest. I could feel the stress leaving my body. “I still don’t understand how they did it. How did they get that video?” The longer I sat against him, the safer I felt, but remaining unanswered questions began popping up in my mind.
“My team is investigating. They found a camera in one of the rowing statues in my bedroom. They must have paid one of the staff or a visitor to sneak into my room and plant it. We’ll figure it out.” He kissed the top of my head.
I simply reached up and kissed him in reply before he continued. “I still couldn’t tell you why it took two months to figure this out—why this evidence was so hard to come by—but it’s done with. Now we’ll really have something to celebrate on our trip.”
I was still in a state of disbelief and extreme relief. This haunting nightmare, one I now realized I’d been minimizing, was finally over. I let my weight sink just a little deeper into Dylan’s chest.
“So where are we going?” I asked sleepily, knowing that soon I would have to get up and go to work, but it would feel like a brand-new world when I did.
“Nope,” he said, shaking his head and giving me a look that said he was up to no good. “It’s a surprise.”
Chapter 21
Thirty hours later and I was stepping into Dylan’s silver Mercedes no wiser about where he was taking me. Both of us had skips in our steps. Weights had been lifted in the last couple of weeks, and I imagined this was what a real vacation was supposed to feel like—an expanse of time that had freedom and new beginning written all over it.
“So where are we going?” I asked, sidling up next to him.
“Nope.”
“But somewhere where I need a passport?” I asked—he’d told me to leave it for him that morning.
“Maybe.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m just supposed to wear this our entire trip?” I asked, gesturing down to the wool pleated skirt and silk camisole I had worn to work that morning. I had tights and ankle boots and a jacket but otherwise just the odds and ends that filled my tote bag. There might have been a spare pair of underwear in there if I was lucky, although fat lot of good they’d do me with Dylan around.
“I’ve got you covered. Literally,” he said with a cheeky smile, wrapping his arms around me.
“Uh-huh.” I smirked back at him. “That’s probably Dylan-speak for the fact that I’ll be naked the entire time we’re there. Wherever it is we’re going…Come on, Dylan. Where are we going?”
“Right now, to the airport,” he started, and I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his stubbornness. “Then somewhere beautiful and quiet. We’ll stop for provisions on the way.”
“Fine. Have it your way. But know that I’ll be furious if I have to ski in tights and a skirt.”
“No skiing,” he said, turning in his seat to look at me as he draped one arm over the top of the wide bench seat and twisted my ponytail in his fingers. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so relaxed. “So everything is good with the shop?”
“Hannah couldn’t care less that I am leaving for a few days. She is so thrilled that Thomas Pink has agreed to produce a line of neckties with the print she is using for the next season—”
“A deal you put together.”
“Well, not quite.” He looked at me disapprovingly. “I mean, yes, I made the connection, but the whole collaboration was her idea.”
“As long as she knows it wouldn’t be happening without you,” he said protectively. I loved that he was my backer, like an angel investor in my life. In his eyes I would never be given the credit I deserved, and I loved him for that. For years my dad had wanted to be able to do that for me, and he had in his own way—his leaning on me the way he had spoke of his confidence in my ability to handle it all. But this was different. Dylan didn’t need me to take care of him. He just believed in me.
“I think she does. Oh, and Holt and Carroll are fabulous. They are possibly the most professional people I’ve ever worked with—they’re delivering early on everything.”
“As it should be.” Dylan was never surprised by people bending over backwards for him.
“I think the merchandise will arrive in the next couple of weeks, and we should be able to open in time for the Christmas rush. And that gives me time to figure out the concierge service that Emily suggested.”
“Christ, that’s fast. Baby, you’re a force.” He really did look stunned as he praised me.
“Well, let’s be honest. I’m sure your name is part of why this all moved so quickly. I get the sense no one wants to mess with me these days. Everyone wants to impress me. No. Actually everyone wants to impress you. I’m just benefitting.”
“That’s not true.”
I gave him an oh please look. “Just don�
�t break up with me until the store’s open. Okay?”
Dylan hauled me onto his lap and pulled me against him. “Never joke about that, baby. Not going to happen.” He kissed me on my head, but his lips quickly moved to my cheek and neck. Suddenly I felt a little nip at my jawbone, and my breathing spiked in response. His hands were wandering, his fingers caressing and sliding beneath my camisole, searching. I could feel the lightness between us, the eagerness, the shared understanding that we were about to have six days together instead of six hours. I grabbed his face in my hands and brought his lips to my own, taking the kiss I really wanted, sliding my tongue between his lips, gently taking his upper lip between my teeth.
“This is going to be fun,” I said, putting every delicious desire for the next few days into the word fun.
* * *
We only had another minute to indulge before we pulled onto the private airstrip. There was a smallish private jet waiting, with an attendant at the top of the stairs. I saw Lloyd bring Dylan’s leather duffel to a second attendant. I had to wonder what I was going to do about clothing on this little adventure. Dylan had told me to leave out only my toiletry bag and passport for him to pack and said he’d take care of everything else.
The young woman ushered us aboard and showed us to our seats. There was a couch lining one wall and a few captain’s chairs that swiveled. Plush, leather, and wood, the cabin screamed luxurious comfort. I wondered at what point spending time with Dylan wouldn’t necessarily involve some crazy thing that landed so firmly on my I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening list.
“We’ll depart in about five minutes, sir,” said the attendant. “And we should arrive in Athens around eleven p.m. local time.”
“Thank you—” Dylan started.
“Athens!” I said simultaneously. “We’re going to Athens?” Dylan politely nodded to the attendant with a huge smile on his face.
“For one night,” he clarified, still looking mischievous.
