by Chloe Liese
She smiled in embarrassment. “Yes, well, when you’re a retired footballer with nothing but financial portfolios and sore knees to manage, what else is there to do but trip on your own feet?”
Lucas smiled wider at her as Zed rolled his eyes. “My thoughts exactly.”
Twenty
Nairne
I chickened out on telling Zed. Justified it to myself that I had security, and told myself that there was no need to kick up a painful history with no plausible bearing on the future. I had a new life here in England. It was stupid to speak of the Dark Days. It felt like if I did, it would be inviting the ghosts of my past to sully my bright new future.
I had the centrifuge spinning and fresh plates ready to go when an over-cologned male body leaned against my workspace. Christophe smiled and folded his arms. “Shall we try this again? Perhaps without the black eye this time?”
“Christophe, I’ve told you I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding.” I shoved my goggles onto my forehead. “Besides, you certainly didn’t help anything, challenging him that way.”
“I had no idea who he was to you.” His eyes searched mine. “I would say I’m still not sure based on how little you’ve said, but then I saw the paper yesterday, and by that, it’s quite obvious.”
Zed was already a public figure. I was private. Or at least I wanted to be. That whole PR nonsense of me confirming a relationship was not happening, and I wasn’t confirming it to work colleagues either. I glanced back at my computer screen and its blinking cursor inviting me to pour out my thoughts and observations.
“I have work to do.”
“Come on, Nairne, you are très mince. You need some lunch to keep the meat on your bones.”
Sighing, I threw off my goggles entirely. “If it will get you off my back the rest of the day, I’ll go eat a bloody sandwich with you. Let me just tell my man.”
Christophe laughed. “My assailant or the man he hired to watch you?”
“The latter,” I muttered as I typed a message to Tom on my phone. When I was done, I snapped it shut. “I should keep close so I can get back quickly.”
He frowned. “I’m French, Nairne. I don’t rush my meals.”
“Yes, well I’m Scottish. I’d like to sit on my arse relaxing over food all day, too, but I’ve got loads more work than I have time, and I don’t expect anyone else to do it for me.”
“Oh.” He smacked his chest. “You wound me. I don’t expect you to do my work.”
I rolled my eyes as I wheeled myself around and headed toward the door. “The hell you don’t. I can’t wait until the rest of the team shows up in a few weeks. Then I’ll have a buffer from your lazy nonsense.”
He chuckled as he held open the door for me. “I’m not lazy, ma belle. I just have my priorities straight.”
The facility was highly modern—fast lifts that gave you that zero g moment in your belly as they came to a soft stop on your floor. We made our way out of the lobby into an exceptionally sunny day for London and turned right toward a series of cafés that served light, fast lunch fare.
After we ordered sandwiches and drinks, we took a table outside that sat in a pocket of sunshine. I faced it head-on and smiled as I felt it heat my cheeks.
Christophe drummed his fingers across the table. “I can see your freckles coming out already.”
“That’s generally how freckles work.”
He stared at me curiously. “In the paper with you—was that the Bertrand girl?”
Someone came by with utensils and poured us waters, and I borrowed that moment to think about how to answer him. “Why do you ask?”
His mouth pursed as stared at me through his sunnies. “She looked familiar to me. Elodie’s her name, if I remember correctly. Her parents have that massive wealth management business.”
I sipped my water and stared out at the street, watching it grow crowded with the lunch rush. “You’ve met her before then.”
Christophe grinned and faced out to people watch as well. “You could say that. We certainly met. Didn’t do much talking, though.”
That riddle was solved. Elodie fucked liberally. She was picky while passionate. You’d think those two formulas would be unsolvable, but Paris was an anomalous solution, home to an inordinate amount of appealing men. Apparently, Christophe had been one of them.
“Ah.”
He smirked. “I met her at some function in Paris for young entrepreneurs sponsored by HEC last year. You know it?”
I nodded. HEC was arguably the most prestigious business school in Europe, and Elodie was almost done with her Master in Management degree. “I do.”
“She looks well by the picture.”
I cleared my throat and thanked the waiter as our meal was served. “She’s well, yes, thank you.” My sandwich smelled incredible, and tasting it bought me time to redirect the conversation. I chewed slowly, then swallowed. “So, what brought you from Paris to London?”
Christophe looked thoughtful as he set his sandwich down. “I needed some space. My family is…a bit ruthless. My father passed away—”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He waved his hand as if it were inconsequential. “I hated him. But thank you. Anyway, he and my aunt were joint heirs of a textile company. Well, the textile company in France, really, Mercier. The will said that upon my father’s death, I would inherit his share.” Christophe paused to drink his water, then set it down. “I was still in university, and whether it seems like it or not, I actually do like my studies, Nairne.”
I grinned and ate another bite of my sandwich. “I know you do.”
“I asked my cousin, who was heir to his mother’s portion of the company, if I could pay him to manage my part of the business while I finished my degree and secured a research position in France. I planned to divide my time between the textile business and this field. Figured I’d hire someone to handle the administrative minutiae and then I’d devote my energies to the relevant side of the business—the science of textile design and production, which was my father’s passion and probably the only good thing that he passed on to me.” Christophe paused.
“Well? What happened?”
“My cousin forced me out. Spun lies about my disinterest, and took over the whole company when his mother, my aunt, fell ill suddenly. Some sort of bizarre infection. Then she passed away last month, conveniently leaving everything to my cousin.”
I gaped at him. “You say conveniently like you’re suspicious. Are you implying your cousin murdered his mother? For a company he was going to inherit anyway?”
He glanced from me to the sea of people milling about. “I’m not sure. She wasn’t old. It would have been some time before he had complete control, as he likes. Perhaps my suspicion is misplaced and I’m just angry at him. We were like brothers growing up. His betrayal hurts me deeply.”
Friends were deliberately few for me. I had no cousins that I was close to either, but the thought of what I’d feel if Elodie were to do something of that nature soured my stomach. “I’m sorry, Christophe.”
He shrugged. “Such is life. Ç'est la guerre.”
“But that’s not what family should do. Can’t you fight him for it, win back your rights to the company? It’s not just a loss to you personally but financially. You deserve your share.”
A bitter laugh left him. “You don’t know my cousin. He can be cruel. He’s always had this side to him. I’m ashamed to say it, but it never bothered me much, until it was turned on me.” Christophe pushed away his plate of half-eaten food and folded his arms. “Trust me, it’s not worth it. He’d make my life hell.”
“Sounds like he already has.”
Christophe sighed and ran his fingers along the condensation of his water glass. “Yes.” He glanced up at me and smiled faintly. “And next month I have to welcome him here, make a show of our unity, pretend like everything is amicable.”
“What for?”
“He just made a very generous contribution to the
Global Health Alliance and earned himself an invitation to the gala.”
I stared at him blankly. “What gala?”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a hermit. It’s the event for world health initiatives.”
“Oh. But why did he make a contribution to it?”
Christophe sighed. “I’m not sure. He has to have some motive. I’ll figure it out, hopefully before he finds something else to take from me… But why don’t you know about this?” He sipped his water. “This year it’s here in London, at The Lindley Hall, and our department is presenting on our research. You’ll need to be there. You should have received an email with the details by now.”
“Well, I didn’t. And besides, I don’t do public functions like that. I’m an awkward, nervous wreck.”
“Nonsense. You’re personable, lovely, and smart. Professor Larkin personally asked if you’d present with me on the study’s findings—says we need young faces front and center, the next generation of scientific research.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. You present. You seem all for it.”
“I like charity balls. I grew up going to them. Of course, they can be a lot of posturing that seems to offset their philanthropic goals, but I personally find them very enjoyable nonetheless.” He nudged me. “You must come. Preferably without that American of yours. Tête brûlée.”
Hot-head, he called him. Funny thing was, between the two of us, I was usually the greater hot-head, but Zed certainly hadn’t shown Christophe his most rational side.
“I’ll consider it. But I’d prefer not to present. Pick on some other unsuspecting victim from the lab, all right?”
“I’ll convince you yet.”
I decided to redirect us before he got any more obstinate. “So, your cousin’s coming, and you don’t know why he made this donation to get himself here?”
Christophe shrugged. “At the least, I suspect he wants to put me in my place and enjoy the attention. He’s not a humble fellow.”
“I still think it’s bollocks you can’t take him to court and make him give you your fair share of the company.”
“He owns the police. The judicial system in France. Our family is old and corrupt. You can’t be a descendent of a filthy rich aristocrat, who managed both to preserve his fortune and escape execution during the French Revolution and reign of Napoleon, without having some despicable genetics.”
“Genetics are powerful. Nature shapes us, but so does nurture. So does choice. Perhaps he could be persuaded.”
His face sobered. “I don’t think so, Nairne. He is…he is not a good man. I see that now. And I won’t stoop to retributive action. I’m trying to be different than those who came before me. I don’t want to be a monster, and yet it does not necessarily seem that doing the right thing always yields the right results.”
I shook my head and picked up my sandwich. “You and I both know nothing in the universe is that simple. Science proves this every day. We do what we think makes sense or will guarantee a certain outcome, and it blows up in our face. All we can do is keep picking ourselves up, learning what didn’t work, and trying again tomorrow.”
Christophe smiled. “Oui, ma fille. As we say in France, Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid, non?”
I smiled, remembering how my favorite coach in Paris would say that. Little by little, the bird makes its nest. Perseverance. Patient dedication. That’s all you could do. That’s all any of us could do, wasn’t it?
Twenty-One
Zed
In the past few months, my life had changed monumentally. I’d defected and helped bring down a huge network within the criminal underworld. I’d joined the realm of soccer that I’d always dreamed of playing. I’d moved across an ocean to a new country, and for the first time in my life, lived apart from my nuclear family.
Most of the chaos that had fueled my anxiety, my rabid need for control and order, had been eliminated. No worries about collateral damage, hits, or targets. No grabbing my gun every time someone knocked at my door. Or so I thought.
But then reality hit.
Soccer players in the States, even the good ones, paled in importance compared to professional American football or basketball stars. We were respected, sure, and we had a select fan base, but we didn’t garner unrelenting photojournalist attention. Though with all that there was to my reputation back in Boston, I’d pulled more than most, unfortunately. And I’d stupidly assumed it wouldn’t be much more intense in England.
How wrong I’d been. Photographers followed me everywhere. Crazed-looking people ran up to me, asking me to autograph personal items I wouldn’t want to see or hold if we were best friends, let alone absolute strangers. How that impacted Nairne filled me with guilt. I knew she’d always tried to live privately. Thanks to her own professional athletic career, some aspect of her life had been tarnished by interest from the press. She had a past that had suffered for being thrown into the limelight. And here I’d just heaped it on her in droves.
I’d been trying to be less of an overbearing bastard. I was always going to boss and throw her around in bed because she came like a queen to that shit, and you bet I did, too. But I knew taking a chill pill on the whole barking orders and tracking her whereabouts for my sanity’s sake would have been nice to tone down. And to a degree, I thought I could say, and Nairne would agree, that I was successful. But because this was unfamiliar territory to me, and I spent more time away from her, traveling for games and PR, I felt myself fraying fast along the edges, as familiar anxiety tugged the fabric of my peace.
I sprinted up the steps to my place, praying she was there like I’d asked. I needed the pieces to fall into place, and her long willowy body, that porcelain skin and wild auburn hair, spread and waiting for me.
My hands shook as I punched in the code for my place as a mix of adrenaline and desire shot through my system.
“Innamorata?”
Her voice floated from the bedroom. “You can unwind your knickers, I’m here, as requested.” She said that with an abundance of sarcasm.
I slammed the door shut behind me. My duffle bag got dumped unceremoniously in the foyer before I jogged to my room. For the first time in two days, I breathed easier.
She might be a smart mouth, but she was mighty happy to see me, judging by the smile on her face. “Hallo, handsome.” She shifted a little and my eyes roamed her beautiful body, waiting for me.
I ripped off my shirt, tugged down my joggers, and when I walked toward her, she reached for me and I threaded our fingers together. God, it felt good. To hold her and orient myself.
Her eyes flicked to my cock. She smiled slowly and scooted down. The woman loved oral, giving and receiving, and I wasn’t going to complain. I let her hands go. She grabbed my ass and pulled me into her mouth.
I grasped her hair when she opened her throat and hummed around my dick. “Jesus, Nairne.”
Nairne was good at everything she put her mind to, and this was no exception. Another appreciative hum and a few rough pumps of her hand had me barreling toward an embarrassingly fast orgasm. She tugged my balls just how I liked, and I bucked into her. “Shit. Slow down, fragolina.”
She didn’t. Because while she liked being bossed around in bed, she liked rebelling just as much. And that was just how I loved her. I pulled back and came on a roar all over her chest.
She smiled at me and smacked my ass. “Welcome back, Salvatore.”
I sighed and kissed her as I fell next to her. Cleaned my animalistic show off of her skin, then tossed the tissues behind me.
“What are you worried about?” she murmured.
I leaned back and stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Nairne pursed her lips. “You’re acting like your old self, but—”
“Worse?” I offered.
“No, Zed, not worse. Just more…anxious.”
I searched her eyes. “I’m anxious about you. Being chased down by the paps now that they put us together. And then that fuc
king creeper in your lab, and basically any other male that exists near you. But mostly the goddamn photographers everywhere.”
She laughed and her eyes glowed as her hands reached for me, slid down my chest, and tugged at my hips, pulling me close to her. “The paps aren’t my favorite, but I can handle myself. I’m pretty good at keeping a low profile.”
“Go on.”
She frowned.
“The dudes, tripping all over you,” I said. “Wooing you in supermarkets and over Bunsen burners. I need a little pep talk about those guys, too.”
The curtains parted with the breeze and let a jolt of sunlight inside the room. I watched it ricochet off her irises and transform them from jade to peridot, the palest green. She smiled slowly and slid her cool hand up the hot skin of my arm. “I wasn’t even going to gratify that concern with a response. You know I don’t have eyes for anyone else, Zed.”
I kissed her hard. “But you see why you need to live here, so we can have morning sex every day. Then you’ve got my smell all over you. Keeps the other alphas away. And because we both like morning sex a lot.”
She laughed her belly laugh and it made me grin. “Sometimes you really are an animal.”
“Clearly.”
I was hard again, because that’s what she did to me. My cock slid against her. I nudged her thighs apart and pressed inside her. We both groaned at the contact.
I sat back on my heels, grasped her knees, and pulled her toward me. Shoved a pillow under her, so she was right up against me. I pulled out slowly, feeling my heart race as I watched my effect on her. Her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed in shakily. I drove in and heard the air whoosh out of her. Grabbing her waist, I thrust into her with practiced intensity that wasn’t too forceful, but rough enough to scratch her masochistic itch.
Nairne bit her lip, like she was trying to stifle her noise. That wasn’t what we did though. She was vocal and unfettered, and I’d gotten addicted to hearing every step of her pleasure unfold.
