Tiger Shark

by LP Lovell

  “I want you to say that you understand, that you’re okay with it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

  He huffs a laugh and drags both hands through his hair, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. “Because you’re human.” I frown, and he looks at me. “And if your little outburst earlier is anything to go by, you’re not okay with it.”

  I shake my head. “I just hate being played, and I won’t be used.”

  He sits up, leaning on his elbow. “Is that what you think?”

  I sigh and drop my head back against the heavy wood of the headboard. “We use each other Landon.”

  His eyes study mine before he finally nods. “Okay, but I’d still be annoyed if I found out you had a husband.”

  “So, what? Now you want me to be pissed off about it?” Jesus, what is with him?

  He curls his hand into a fist and drops his gaze to the bed. “I…I don’t know.”

  Well fuck, I’d say we left black and white half the world away in London because right now we’re swimming in an ocean of grey.

  Neither of us says anymore about it, but we don’t need to. Once said, words can’t be taken back. We’ve already said too much.

  We watch a film, and I fall asleep right there with him in the bed. When I wake up, his arm is wrapped around my waist, pinning my body against his. He stayed true to his word. He didn’t try to fuck me or even get me naked. I’m still wearing the shorts and tank top I changed into before he put the film on. He nuzzles into the back of my neck, and I clutch the arm that’s around my waist, holding him to me. I want just one more minute, one more minute to pretend that we’re just two people with no lines. The worst thing is that him holding me like this feels so right. It’s the hardest thing in the world, to experience a taste of what you know you can never have, what you can’t allow yourself to have.

  “Tell me, Miss Roberts, why should I trust you with my money?”

  I slow smile creeps over my lips as I stare Lavare down. “Because I’m the best.” He leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers together as he watches me. Landon remains silent at my side. “And I happen to know that you’re down five percent on your rather sizeable investment in The Renworth Corporation.” His brows pull into a frown. “Not to mention the eight percent you lost when you bailed on Atlantic Energy.”

  “How do you…”

  “I know the market, Mr Lavare. I know where money will make more money, and both of those companies were a sinking ship long before you put your hard-earned dollars into them. A good broker should have seen that.” I love this, the thrill of the chase, it’s what people like me live for.

  I slide the folder across the desk to him. “There’s my proposal, Mr Lavare. Read it over and contact us.” I stand up, and he watches me like he just found something fascinating. I walk out of the room and wait outside as Landon wraps up.

  I’m leaning against the wall in the corridor when he closes the door and approaches me. “You never fail to surprise me.” He says.

  I feel awkward around him. I’ll openly admit that I am totally out of my depth, and I don’t like it. For the first time in my life, I feel vulnerable. He’s punched a hole in my carefully constructed wall, and we’re looking at each other through it, him waiting on the other side for me to come out, and me hoping that he’ll go away. But he’s not going away; he’s standing his ground in true Landon style. So, for now, we’re at this strange impasse, a sort of limbo if you like.

  “Damn, Georgia, crack a smile would you? You just landed Lavare.”

  “I did?”

  He cocks a brow. “He’s sending over the paperwork this afternoon.

  “Good. That’s…that’s good.”

  He grins and shakes his head as he makes his way down the corridor. I follow him, staring at his arse like a raging pervert the entire time.

  He presses the button, and we wait. He seems completely at ease, while I feel anything but. “What now?” I ask.

  He checks his watch. “Well, the flight isn’t until this evening. We should do something.”

  I frown. “Like what?”

  He chuckles as the lifts doors slide open, and he steps inside. He turns around and looks at me. “It’s New York, kitten. The options are endless.”

  I scowl at Landon as we pull up on Fifth Avenue. “Really?”

  He laughs. “Told you you’re uptight.”

  “A sex museum?”

  He continues to laugh as he throws the car door open and gets out. I’m not getting out. He opens my door and folds his forearms over the door, standing on the other side of it and peering in at me.

  “Oh, come on, kitten. It’s just a few pre-historic dildos.”

  “Oh my god, Landon.”

  He laughs, throwing his head back. “Come on.” He grins. He seems so at ease that I actually feel bad saying no. For fuck’s sake.

  “Fine.” I huff, climbing out of the car. He offers me his hand, but I ignore it.

  He follows me to the curb where I stand looking up at the building. “I want to make a deal.” He says behind me.

  I turn to face him. “Oh? What kind of deal?”

  He drags a hand through that sex idol hair of his. “I want you to stop.” I frown. “Just stop thinking.”

  “Uh, can you be more specific?”

  He smirks. “Everything with you is like a fucking quadratic equation. But life isn’t an equation, kitten. Sometimes you have to just go with it.”

  I don’t really know what he’s asking me. “It’s not an equation Landon, it’s simple, you’re my—”

  “Not today.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be your boss, Georgia. You have no idea how much I wish I weren't. But right here, right now, let’s just be us. Fuck the labels.”

  “Fuck the contract.” I whisper.

  A slow smile pulls at his lips. “Fuck the rules.”

  He’s so bad for me. So dangerously bad.

  He wraps an arm around my waist and leads me to the door of the museum. The first thing we see when we step inside is a statue of two pandas fucking.

  “Wow. You brought me to see some kind of panda porn.”

  He laughs. “It’s art.”

  “No, this is fucked up.” He ignores me and goes to the ticket desk. He can pay for this because I sure as hell am not parting with any money over this shit.

  It gets worse, though. There are contraptions and as he predicted, pre-historic dildos. I stop at a monstrous wooden one.

  “I’m envisioning splinters.” I say.

  He snorts. “That thing has to be fifteen inches long, and it’s the splinters you're worried about?”

  “Good point.”

  We move on until we’re standing next to some kind of sex chair set up in the middle of the room.

  “Don’t even say or suggest anything.” I warn. He chuckles and wraps his arm firmly around my waist again. Every time he does that I tense and I’m sure he notices, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  He leads me through the ‘museum’, and we see more freaky shit, bondage equipment, paintings of penises, a sort of motorised dildo which looks like it would hurt a lot, and finally antelopes having a threesome. Yep.

  He moves behind me, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me back into him as if we’re a normal couple at a normal museum, looking at an exhibit. Except we’re not. We’re us, and we’re looking at a statue of an antelope threesome. This pretty much sums us up.

  “I just want you to know that if this is your idea of a date then no wonder you’re single.”

  His lips brush over my neck and my skin prickles as goose bumps rise on my neck. “I didn’t think you were the dating kind.”

  My breath hitches and my heart rate picks up. I shouldn’t let him this close, but I can’t pull away. He gently kisses my neck, and my eyes shutter closed as a low hum of electricity buzzes over every nerve ending. “I’m not.” I breathe. I’m not, but for him, I could be…if I let myself.

  “Nei
ther am I but never say never. Certain people have a way of changing your mind.” It’s right there all hanging in the air between us, spoken in half-riddles and assumptions. I turn to face him, and his eyes meet mine, burning into me. “You could change my mind.” And there it is, his cards, laying on the table in front of us. I want to throw mine right down next to his, but doing so would ruin everything, so I hold onto my denial. I keep my cards close to my chest, and I say nothing.

  “Landon, I…”

  “Stop thinking.” He whispers. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my jaw as his eyes drop to my lips. I don’t want to think. Right here, right now we’re in our own little bubble, away from London, away from everything, and I want to pretend that this is something real and tangible. So I lean in and press my lips against his. A low groan makes its way up his throat as his hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I stop thinking, and I just feel. I feel everything that lies between us, the longing, the lust, and more. As I kiss Landon in front of the antelope three-way, I realise that I think I’ve fallen in love with him. Shit.

  Neither of us has spoken since we left New York. In the moment, while we were there it was like living in a dream, one where the possibilities are endless, and anything goes. But now we’re back in London, and reality is crashing in like an unwelcome yet familiar friend. I find myself wishing we could erase the last two days from both our memories, but words are like the pulling of a trigger, once said they can never be taken back, never be unheard, and the damage they inflict may be beyond repair.

  We’re picked up at the airport by his town car. Again we say nothing as the car moves through the London streets. It’s four o’ clock. The city at this time of morning is eerily quiet. The car eventually rolls to a stop outside my Greenwich apartment, the engine idling as the driver waits patiently.

  The long moment of silence has me fidgeting nervously. I don’t know what to say to him anymore. This can’t keep going the way it is. I hate to admit it, but there are feelings involved here, anger, jealousy, longing, lust…love. They’re all right there staring us in the face, and yet neither of us wants to acknowledge it openly because we both know that the second we do this is done. It has to be. I’m about to tell him I’ll see him at the office on Monday when he speaks.

  “Come to the club tomorrow night.” He says it more as an order than a question.

  “I…” Tell him no. Tell him no! I glance at him, and my heart beats just a little harder. I don’t want to say no, even though I know I should. Fuck, of all of the people in this city of eight and a half million people, it just had to be him, the one guy who should be unequivocally off limits.

  “I’ll text you.” I breathe, and then I’m getting out of the car. The driver gets my suitcase, and the car remains at the curb until I close the front door to the building.

  I turn my phone off for the rest of the weekend.

  It’s Monday morning, so I’m meeting Giles for breakfast. He’s already here when I walk into our usual coffee shop. I make my way over to the table in the window. Giles likes to people watch; he calls it a hobby. Yeah, he’s strange. He’s already ordered me a coffee and he pushes it in front of me when I take a seat at the table.

  “You look tired, Georgia.” He comments without even looking up from his paper.

  “I’m fine. Jet lagged.”

  He closes the paper and folds it, smoothing his hand over the face of the publication. “You should take a vacation. You know I have a house in Bali. You could even take my private jet.”

  I smile. “Well, thank you, but appealing as that sounds I can’t go.”

  He shrugs, lifting his coffee to his lips. “The offer is always there. You could even take that young man.” He lifts his eyebrows and sips his coffee conspiratorially.

  “There is no man.” I roll my eyes.

  “Really?” He pops the paper in front of me and opens it to the gossip section, stabbing his finger into the page. Fuck, really? There’s a picture of Landon and me walking out of the restaurant where we met Lavare for dinner. Of course, the tabloids are all over this at the moment because his ex-wife is not only a model as Landon said, but she’s Isla Marie, otherwise known as Isla Banks, world famous catwalk model. As if it wasn’t bad enough.

  The article simply refers to me as a mystery woman. Great.

  “That was a business meeting.” I say defensively. “He’s my boss.”

  He chuckles and folds the paper again. “A man can be your boss and still bang you.” His accent makes the words sound comical.

  “No. No banging.” I say with a smirk. He’s a nosy old git but luckily for him I love him. “How’s your wife?”

  “Well, talking of banging…”

  Oh, gross.

  I don’t have to wait long for the shit to hit the fan. I leave Giles, spend a few hours at work and go to La Carte with Eva for a working lunch. I’m scrolling through emails and Eva is jotting down a list of things that need immediate attention when a woman moves into my peripheral vision and stops at our table. I stop what I’m doing and glance at her. She’s tall and thin, wearing skin tight jeans and strappy heels. Her long dark hair falls around her face in perfectly orchestrated waves as her dark eyes fix on me. She’s beautiful, and I’ve seen enough in the media to know that she’s Landon’s wife.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, trying not to sound like a raging bitch, but my hackles are up. There is no possible good reason for her being here.

  She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “So you’re the whore that he’s fucking at the office.”

  “Whoa.” Eva says.

  I stand up so that I’m more of a level with her, but damn, the bitch is like a fucking giraffe. “Isla Banks, I presume?”

  “Yes. I am.” She holds up her left hand showcasing a monster rock and a wedding band.

  “Well, word of advice, don’t make an arse of yourself until you know the story. He’s my boss. We’re friends.” I don’t know if she can see the lie written all over my face or not, but her jaw clenches and her cheeks flush pink.

  She gets in my face, eyeing me up and down. “I’m going to take him to the cleaners for this. He’ll lose everything, all for some little whore.” She hisses the word with so much venom, but beneath the mega bitch front, I can see that she’s hurt, more than that, she destroyed. Men like Landon will do that to you. I glance nervously around the restaurant, worried that she’s drawing attention. A few people glance in our direction but luckily it’s not busy in here.

  “Look, you need to talk to Landon. This is none of my business.”

  “No, it’s not. So kindly close your legs. He might fuck you, but he’ll get bored. Sluts like you are ten a penny. Disposable.” I lose my shit. This is one of those moments where you should be the bigger person, where you should stop and think, but I don’t. I lash out. One minute she’s standing there and the next my hand has connected with her face, and her nose is pouring blood as she’s screaming bloody murder.

  “Oh, shit!” Eva says behind me. I stand there in shock for a moment before she drags me away, out of the restaurant with Isla screaming at someone to call the police because she’s been assaulted. When we’re on the street, Eva starts laughing. “Holy shit, G.”

  “Oh, my god.” What did I do?! I’m finished. She’ll press charges and then I’m fucked.

  I pace backwards and forwards in my office while Eva sits on my desk, watching me.

  “You’re fucking him aren’t you?” She asks.

  “That’s really not the fucking issue right now!” I say, spotting a smudge of red on my dove grey dress. I want to cry. How has this all fallen to such shit in such a short space of time?

  “Look, he’ll help you. You have to go to him.”

  “And say what?” I throw my hands up. “That I punched his wife? Fuck!”

  She shakes her head. “She deserved it, but I’d bet she’s pressing charges as we speak.”

  “Look, just give me a moment, please.
” I drag a hand through my hair and sit at my desk. Eva hops off it and makes her way to the door, flashing me a concerned look before she pulls the door shut behind her.

  I pick up the phone and dial Quinn’s number. I never thought I would need a solicitor, but now that I do, having a friend who is one is helpful. She picks up on the third ring.

  “Quinn.” I say her name, my voice breaking.

  “George, what’s wrong?” I don’t know whether it’s hearing her voice or just everything, but a single tear slips free, tracking down my face.

  “I fucked up.” I choke, before explaining the situation to her.

  She listens without interrupting, and of course, up until the point where I hit her, she pretty much knows the story. “I need to leave.” I say because I desperately do.

  “No, look, if she presses charges then at least wait and see what she wants. She probably doesn’t want you away from her husband. The marriage is already over. She wants to point the finger so the court will rule in her favour, and you just helped with that. She’ll play the victimised wife and milk it for all it’s worth.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t see the look on her face; that is not a woman just trying to get money. She still loves him.”

  She sighs. “Look, you need to speak to him. This could play out so many different ways, but either way, you’re a means to an end, George.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll call you later.”

  I fire off a text to Landon: I need to speak to you. Now.

  He texts back straight away: Angus is out for the afternoon. Come up to the office.

  By the time I push open the door to Landon’s office, I know exactly what I’m going to do, and I’m shaking because I’m about to lose everything. Even now, though, he makes everything seem…inconsequential and irrelevant.

  He pushes up from his desk and strides across the room, moving with that savage grace of his. His jacket is slung across the back of his chair, and his shirt is clinging to his narrow hips, the sleeves rolled up exposing the muscles that rope his forearms. His eyebrows are pulled together in a deep frown as he approaches. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.