The Chase

by Vanessa Fewings

  My sudden coyness surprised me and I felt like a naughty schoolgirl. “I didn’t encourage her. She just came to me. Offered me coke and, well, you saw the rest.”

  “My timing is impeccable, as always.”

  “You seem to know each other well?”

  “I’ve never fucked her.”

  “Never asked.”

  “You thought it.” He lifted my hands above my head and pinned them there. “And I certainly don’t pursue married women. You and I, we’re exclusive, right?”

  “Yes, I want that more than anything.”

  “Good. You don’t know how happy that makes me. Look, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. Maybe the rest of our lives?”

  “I need more of you.” That came out wrong and I cringed.

  He kissed the end of my nose. “Go on, then. Ask me anything.”

  There was no way we could avoid it any longer. Our pasts were so much of who we were and exposing ourselves completely and braving to be vulnerable in front of each other was how we’d sustain an us.

  “Your parents?” I said softly.

  “They’re no longer alive. But you already know that from your research on me.” He let go of my wrists and stepped back and said, “Sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  His gaze swept over the ground.

  “Your uncle took you in?”

  “He’s like a father.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Nine.”

  “Thank God you weren’t on that flight.” He broke my gaze. I read his face. “You were?”

  “Staying alive until help came proved more challenging. We crashed in the Outback.”

  “Australia? Were you alone?”

  There came a pained hesitation. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  His lips curved in a wry smile. “Well, I survived if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Oh, Tobias. I feel so...” Stupid came to mind and embarrassment bloomed for my tactlessness.

  With his thumb he lifted my chin and leaned in, kissing me tenderly, a slow leisurely melding of tongues as our lips locked passionately. He’d taken this tense moment and morphed it into sweetness.

  This man was letting me in.

  His lips slid to my throat, planting kiss after kiss, running his lips along to my shoulder and then my ear. “I promise to tell you everything. But not here.”

  Hand in hand we moved fast and headed toward the sound of laughter from the other guests. Music became louder as we returned to the foyer.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  “Sorry you didn’t get to see everything,” I said. “Hope I didn’t ruin the evening?”

  “Never.”

  We hurried toward the front door.

  “Zara Leighton?” came the screech of Nigel Turner.

  I closed my eyes as though that alone would make the nightmare go away. Tobias gestured to the coat checker and she disappeared behind a wall.

  He turned to face Nigel. “Good to see you again. Did you catch the swords? Great collection. Sorry we can’t stay and chat.”

  “So it’s true.” Nigel looked triumphant. “You two are dating?”

  “Your photographer caught us coming out of our hotel. I told him what I’ll tell you now. Bury the photos.”

  Nigel smirked. “Or you’ll bury us?”

  “I’m not morally bankrupt, Nigel, but thank you for the vote of confidence.” Tobias smiled as he took my coat from the coat checker. “Do you like being senior editor?”

  Nigel turned to me. “Love to know where that St. Joan went. Any ideas?”

  My gut wrenched and I turned to shrug into my coat that Tobias was holding for me.

  “We were discussing your intrusion into our privacy,” said Tobias. “I’m having lunch with your boss tomorrow. We’ll discuss it then.”

  “With Bert Sanders?” Nigel smirked. “You’ll be hard pushed to shut this down.”

  Tobias reached out and pulled me into a hug. “Actually, it’s with Rufus.”

  Nigel paled and worked hard at swallowing a lump in this throat.

  “Destroy the photos,” said Tobias, and he led me away.

  We headed out and down the steps.

  Tobias gave me a sideways glance. “That’s why you were hiding?”

  I gave a nod. “Looks like you rattled him. Who are you meeting with?”

  “Rufus Edwin Marshal.” He waved his hand toward the Bentley.

  I snapped my head to look at him. “Isn’t he that mogul who owns the Times?”

  “Let’s take you home.” Tobias gave Cooper a wave.

  “So that’s what you meant by ‘usual protocol’?”

  “We’ve had more than enough fun for one night. And by we I mean you.”

  “You missed it, then?”

  Tobias stood up straight and turned to face me, his eyes inquisitive.

  “In Violet’s safe?” My elbow struck his ribs. “You were so busy ogling our tryst you missed the bowl.”

  “What bowl?”

  “Exactly.”

  He opened the back door and ushered me in and I snuggled in the corner as a thrill of excitement curled up my spine. We were alone at last. Kind of.

  “Coops,” he called out. “Privacy, please.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The Bentley pulled out of the driveway and the sleek black glass divider slid up and cordoned us off from our chauffeur.

  “Violet told me the singing bowl is thousands of years old.”

  Tobias rolled his eyes.

  The tip of my shoe tapped his calf. “Time to make it up to you. Us leaving so soon.”

  He gave a mischievous look. “Very inconvenient. Remember, I’m a demanding lover.”

  “Remember, I’m more than capable of appreciating rare treasures.” I arched a brow. “I’m going to rock your world.”

  “Hands behind your back,” he warned. “Use your teeth to unzip me.”

  “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a punishment.” I slid off the seat and positioned myself between his thighs, my mouth watering for him.

  “What would you call it?”

  “A reward.” Through clenched teeth I lowered his zipper, my nose trailing down his groin, doing my best to calm my heart racing with how daring this felt.

  It felt incredible to be this risqué. His cologne fired up my senses and mixed with his heady erotic scent, sending thrills of pleasure to my sex.

  Tobias’s impatience forced him to help and he eased his trousers over his hips. “I felt sorry for you there.”

  His erection burst free and I licked the tip.

  “You’re so thoughtful,” I said with a Georgian lilt. “That’s my Scarlett O’Hara.” I caught him in my mouth and sucked the head.

  He hissed through his teeth. “I have a clever retort but it’s not worth the risk.”

  I peered up at him. “I’ve been fantasizing about doing this to you all evening.” I ran my tongue along his full length.

  His head crashed back against the headrest. “It’s the least I can do.”

  I sucked in my cheeks and took him all the way to the back of my throat, using my tongue to swirl and caress, feeling his thighs tense either side of me. I brought my hands round and cupped his balls.

  He rose off the seat a little. “Careful, I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

  My head bobbed as I continued to lavish him with affection, he was rock hard and felt powerful in my mouth, his sculpted marbled erection an extension of the dynamism he wielded.

  Seeing his eyes closed, his jaw slack, and hearing his gasps that were short and sharp, I pride
d myself on the effect I was having on him.

  Back at that grand Tudor house, Tobias had braved to open up to me a little. My chest heaved for the kind of grief he’d endured and now understood his reluctance to disclose more.

  I soothed him with licks and kisses and then sucked him into my mouth even farther, all the way to the back of my throat.

  Gently, I peeled back his shirt covering his Latin tattoo and wished I could read those italic words continuing down to his groin.

  “Zara.” He warned. “I’m close.”

  My tongue played around the edge of his head to torture him with pleasure and he let out ragged gasps, his fingers digging into leather until they made their way to my hair, his hands fisting in my locks and his strength owning my pace.

  His breath stuttered. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who can make time stand still.”

  Never had we felt closer, so intensely connected, and my heart soared that we’d managed to find our way to this precious intimacy.

  His final thrust came with a husky groan.

  Swallowing him, drinking and gulping the finest nectar, it was as though I was tasting champagne for the first time again. I reveled in its potency that had my own sex clenching with need, the purest essence of him on my tongue, filling my mouth, my throat with him.

  More than this, tonight I’d made a chink in his armor. He cupped his hand over his eyes. “How do you do that?”

  I lapped at the rest, taking more, wanting more and demanding more with my tongue as my lips payed homage to his cock. “Do what?”

  He sucked in the deepest breath. “You unhinge my soul.”

  And I looked up at him, at his beautiful face and the wonder of him.

  25

  We stopped off for a bottle of fine wine on the way home.

  I’d snuggled with Tobias in the back of his Bentley, all the way to Notting Hill. He’d wanted to return to The Dorchester but I’d persuaded him to bring me back to my flat. I needed an early start tomorrow to go over my files.

  “Zara,” he whispered and pulled me in closer. “You’re so right. You rock my world. God, you’re an obsession like no other.”

  Nuzzling against his warm chest I let out a sigh of happiness.

  I was relieved when he let Coops off for the rest of the night and held back my grin when I overheard him tell Cooper to pick him up from here in the morning.

  My toes had curled with excitement.

  In the kitchen, Tobias set about uncorking the cabernet sauvignon, a 2012 Laira from Australia, and I grabbed two glasses.

  We settled in the living room.

  “You seem to know a lot about wines,” I said, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

  He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa. “French ancestry. It’s in my blood.”

  It tasted amazing; delicious blackcurrants adding to the flavor.

  “Clara loves wine too,” I said. “She drags me along to wine tasting events.” We’d also had some epic trips to France but I wasn’t ready to share that right now.

  “I can only imagine the mischief you both got up to.”

  I gave a crooked smile. “Why technology?”

  “My uncle was into it. I suppose that’s why you chose art, because of your dad?”

  “Yes and no.” I thought back to Dad sharing his love of art with me. “I was about five years old when I visited my first museum. I became mesmerized by one of the paintings and forgot where I was. I couldn’t tell you the name of it now but there was a horse. I was worried because its rider was fighting a big dragon.”

  “St. George and the Dragon?”

  “Probably. The rendition looked so real. Like a photograph. When I finally broke from my trance my dad had moved on to the next room.”

  “He should have been holding your hand.”

  “I don’t remember being scared. Just ran off to look for him. He was in the adjoining showroom looking at another painting. Hadn’t even realized I was missing. What I remember from that day was how that painting made me feel. Invisible, I suppose. It drew me in and made me feel safe. I didn’t understand it then. Now I need to be around art or I get antsy.”

  He gave a nod of understanding. “Art set you free.”

  “Yes.” The wine warmed me and I sighed with contentment. “Each time I step foot inside a gallery it’s as though I’m drawing on the strength and the wisdom of the artists. Their profoundness. Art speaks to us. Connects without boundaries. There’s no other explanation for why it feels so timeless.” I placed my hand on my heart.

  “Art teaches us how to be.”

  “It stirs love.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “You help me see art differently, Tobias.”

  “How?”

  Resting my palm on my chest, I let out a wistful sigh. “I feel like something’s opened up inside me. These feelings go deeper now. They’re more authentic.”

  I studied his face, trying to read his reaction.

  He rose to his feet and strolled over to the window. He pulled back the curtain. “You have a nice neighborhood.”

  “I like it.”

  He seemed thoughtful as his gaze scanned the view.

  I went to ask if he’d like me to put music on and thought better of it, sensing his comfort with the silence.

  Pulling my legs under me I continued to nurse my wine and rested my head on my arm and watched him.

  He peered out. “I like it here.”

  “Me too.”

  “I think you might have something to do with it.”

  He looked so beautiful standing there and seemed more relaxed than I’d ever seen him and I loved being part of the reason he’d allowed himself these precious hours to recharge.

  The quiet between us felt welcome and I knew we both needed this time to decompress.

  He turned and faced the room as he sipped his wine, his frown deepening. “My dad was flying a painting from France to Sydney,” he began softly. “I’d accompanied him on the trip to Australia. Our plane went down in the middle of the night. The pilot and my dad died instantly. Mom...”

  My hand went to my mouth and I held back from speaking, realizing how fragile this moment was.

  “I don’t remember much. Flashes here and there. The mind’s way of protecting me, I suppose. Tau, an Aborigine, found me just in time. I’d run out of water. I’d heard somewhere that you should stay with the plane. So I did. I’d never been so damn thirsty.”

  I wondered if Tau had seen the plane go down.

  “He was on a tribal challenge. They’re hunters and gatherers, as you know. He’d just turned seventeen and had been sent out there to prove he could survive in a rite of passage. They didn’t expect him to bring back a souvenir in the way of a nine-year-old. The tribe took good care of me until help arrived.”

  My face flushed with the realization his tattoo on his right arm wasn’t Polynesian, it was Aborigine. He’d immortalized his experience in ink.

  “A team retrieved my parents’ bodies and flew them to the States. The painting survived, if you can believe that. Two weeks later I made the journey that ensured it reached its destination. Reni was an old friend of my parents’.” He breathed through a wave of pain. “These were my mother’s final wishes spoken seconds before she passed away.”

  “Oh, Tobias.”

  “I’ll never forget Reni’s face when I turned up with her Madonna Enthroned with Saint Matthew.”

  “By Annibale Carracci?” I whispered it.

  “It’s at the Getty now.”

  And yet those people viewing the Madonna would never know the bravery behind it hanging there.

  “My uncle Fabienne flew out and helped me get to Reni’s place in
Sydney. After my parents’ funeral he took me back with him to France. He didn’t want me to forget my dad’s legacy, so when I turned fourteen we returned to Massachusetts and the town where I grew up. I enrolled in school there and later studied technology at Stanford. My uncle returned to France.”

  “He was good to you?”

  “He’s wonderful. Like a dad.” He smiled. “Now I just hop on a plane and see him whenever I like.”

  It was so good to know he was still close to his uncle.

  “Turned out I had a knack for business.”

  All that had happened to him was what drove him now, all that pain, all that fear, those suppressed memories his consciousness must have battled every day.

  I swiped away a tear.

  He gave a solemn nod. “Tau found me just in time. I’d woken up to see my leg gnawed off by a kangaroo.”

  I gasped and then realized his joke. “Tobias!”

  He burst out laughing. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Zara. Look at your life. Your house burned down as a kid. You never knew your mom. I got a good nine years with mine.”

  “Still.” I blinked back tears as I thought of that small, scared boy.

  He brushed his hand over where his tattoo lay beneath his shirt. “Once I turned eighteen I got this.” He rested his palm on his arm. “Now I have the influence and money to repay their kindness. Much of the Aborigine land was taken. I’m part of a movement to restore it back to them. It’s a delicate balance. We try not to disrupt their clans.”

  “What does the turtle mean?”

  “The tribe told me it was my sign. When you’re nine that tends to stick with you. It represents mother earth, strength and love.”

  “I love it.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  My blush burned my cheeks.

  “I’m not fucked up, Zara, but I am complicated in a way.” He shrugged. “I adore art and that’s where my desire to open a gallery came from.”

  “You’re following in your parents’ footsteps.”

  He held my gaze for the longest time. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Oh yes.” I leaped up. “I should have offered.”

  We made our way to the kitchen.

  He peered into the fridge. “You don’t have much.”