All I Want is You_A Second Chance Romance

by Carter Blake

“Me, too, but I didn’t want to admit it. You’re a difficult man to forget, Janus O’Connell.”

  “I could say much the same about you, Dani—minus the man part, of course.”

  Dani laughs then rolls away slightly to lie on her back. I miss her warmth immediately.

  She turns her head to stare at me. I frown in response.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re a difficult man to get off my mind—that’s for sure—except…I don’t actually know all that much about the man, Janus. I’ve had to do a lot of speculating—a lot.”

  “Care to share?” I ask, turning onto my side to take in all of Dani’s beautiful form.

  Dani laughs again.

  “Oh, god, don’t make me go into it. My brain has gone to some very bizarre and convoluted places. It’s the journalist in me.”

  “Would you rather hear about what actually makes me me then, to satisfy your burning curiosity?”

  Dani’s eyes light up, and she’s immediately far more alert. “As if you even have to ask me such a question. Start at the beginning.”

  “The beginning?”

  “Yes. Your parents, where you grew up—everything.”

  I pause for a second, considering the best part of my childhood to start with.

  “I was born and raised in London at first. Not a great area. Not a terrible one either, though. My parents weren’t around much. They were archaeologists, but they took me along on their trips often enough, which was how I learned to speak so many languages. Then they died.”

  “They’re both dead?”

  “Car crash. Drunk truck driver fell asleep behind the wheel and completely totaled their car. It was…pretty nasty, actually. The driver died, too.”

  Dani’s perfect mouth is frozen in a little oh of shock. Her eyes shine brightly with sympathy and sadness for a young Janus that she will never know.

  “How old were you?” she asks quietly.

  “Ten. I didn’t really know how to handle the information. I got placed with an aunt who didn’t want anything to do with me. She just wanted the government maintenance money for taking me in, but I was such a little shit that she ended up kicking me out.”

  Dani sits up in outrage. “But you were ten!”

  I chuckle darkly.

  “She wasn’t a very good person. Don’t worry. I got her back for it after I grew up.”

  Dani raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

  “I didn’t do anything too illegal. She didn’t deserve the money for looking after me anyway.”

  “I don’t think I want to know about that part of your life—I think,” Dani laughs. “What happened after she kicked you out?”

  “I lived on the streets. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to be put in the system. Social Services would march me back to my aunt’s, and she’d simply lie and say I ran away anyway. And then she’d kick me out again. That’s the kind of person she was.”

  “How did you survive for so long on the streets of London? It must have gotten so cold in winter.”

  I smile wanly. Dani is well aware of how I loathe the cold.

  “There’s a frighteningly large homeless community in London. It’s horrific how little support there is for them, really, but they are a community, nonetheless. I met some other kids.”

  I pause for a while, recalling my experience and the people I met, then continue, “Some were even younger than me, but most were older. All were abused and scared and neglected, but they all looked out for each other. The adults who weren’t out of their mind on drugs or alcohol helped out, too. I learned how to steal and lie and charm my way out of trouble.”

  “Janus, that’s awful.”

  I smile grimly. “That’s just the way it was. So I stayed in London until I was thirteen, then a group of us traveled to Paris by bus and train. The weather was much more to my liking there, and I started learning how to forge documents properly. I also developed a healthy appreciation for art, as you would in Paris.”

  “Of course, as you would. A homeless teen in Paris learns how to appreciate art and scam people. Totally normal upbringing.”

  I sit up against the pillows; Dani follows suit.

  “How long were you in Paris then?”

  “Only two years. Once I had a sufficiently believable false passport, I traveled over to Egypt and spent a few years in Cairo. The weather was even more to my liking there.”

  Dani looks eager to hear more about my time in Egypt, so I go on, “That was where I met my mentor, and he essentially taught me everything I know. I also coincidentally met back up with Griff, and we worked some smaller jobs together for a week or so. It’s what truly solidified our friendship before we went on to create the Brotherhood years later.”

  Dani frowns. “Griff? I think I’ve heard you mention him before.”

  I look at Dani, surprised. How could I have spent all this time with her and never mentioned my closest friend?

  I suppose that’s what happens when you’re desperately trying not to get close to someone.

  I smile fondly, thinking of how I met Griff. “I picked his pocket back in London when I was twelve, but the bastard caught me. Instead of tattling on me, though, he wanted in on it. He was bored of his decidedly upper-class upbringing, it seemed. So he’d hang out with me whenever he could.

  “He’s actually the one who fronted the cash for me to travel to Paris. When he turned eighteen, he celebrated in Cairo, which was where I ran into him again, and the rest is history. I was involved in lots of other endeavors I can’t really discuss for a few years. Then Gryphon, Leviathan, Manticore, and I formed the Brotherhood. And the world’s rich and famous got a little bit poorer.”

  Dani is quiet for a few minutes. “Your life is pretty tragic, Janus.”

  “My life is what I make of it,” I correct. “I had parents who loved me, even if they weren’t around much, and after they died, I learned how the world truly works. I’ve met some of the most wonderful, vulnerable people on this earth, and I’ve learned how to get by on my own. I might be a thief, and a damn great one, but you’ll never see me harm a hair on the head of someone who doesn’t deserve it. I could so easily have turned into a man I’d loathe, but I didn’t.”

  Dani cups my face in her hands.

  “I am truly, sincerely, glad that you turned out the way you did.”

  I kiss her, a little roughly. Talking about my past has gotten me a tad emotional, though I wouldn’t want to admit it.

  I snake a hand through Dani’s hair and pull her closer, just to feel her warmth and goodness.

  When we pull apart, we’re both breathing heavily.

  “What about you, Miss Robinson? Why are you you? What got you into investigative journalism?”

  Dani waves a hand somewhat dismissively.

  “It’s hardly interesting next to your own upbringing,” she laughs. “I was surrounded by boys, and later men, who were convinced they could do things better than me simply by virtue of their sex. Who was I to think I could handle the big, scary world on my own? What right did I have to want to know what was going on?”

  I look at her expectantly to continue.

  “I grew up in a small town—a small American town—hence, the inherent, old-fashioned rampant sexism. I escaped to New York for college as soon as I was able to. I wanted to prove to everyone—to my conservative parents, to my town, and, most importantly, to me—that I could do whatever I wanted. That I could take a gritty, challenging job like investigative journalism and do it well. Hell, that I could do it better than the men so intent on being better than me because they figured it was their privilege to be superior.”

  “I hope they’ve all become suitably humbled.”

  Dani gives me a look. “Even you don’t believe that, Janus. Of course, I still have to prove myself. I’ll probably always have to.”

  “You don’t have to with me, Danielle. I’m well aware of how wonderful you are at your job.”

  Dani flushes slight
ly at the unexpected compliment. She runs a hand through her hair, somewhat abashed.

  “Thank you. It’s…I didn’t actually think I needed to hear that...but clearly, I did.”

  “It’s not a bad thing to want validation sometimes.”

  Dani kisses me. “Only from those I respect.”

  “So, I haven’t lost your respect after fucking you? Good to know I didn’t do anything weird.”

  She swats my arm but laughs raucously as I grab ahold of her and pin her unceremoniously beneath me. I kiss her collarbone…her neck…her lips.

  Dani’s eyes are heavy with desire as she gazes up at me. “One more time before sleep?”

  I grin wolfishly in response. “As if you have to ask.”

  Chapter 21

  Danielle

  “You’re a man of contradictions, Janus,” I tease him.

  He tilts his head sideways and raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

  “There,” and I gently touch the tip of his nose with my finger. “That accent of yours, for example. It’s so posh, yet rough, from the streets of London. I like it.”

  “Is this going to be a lengthy lecture on the cultural differences between the British and Americans?”

  I mimic his head tilt. “On the job, in the street, you look and seem to feel right at home, especially when things get rough.”

  “When the going gets tough…the tough get going?” he offers questioningly. “Dani, where are you going with this?”

  I smile mischievously. “I just don’t get the one thing about you.”

  “What?”

  “How can you be this rogue master at seemingly everything and yet not be able to handle a bit of rough play...when it comes to sports?”

  He huffs and throws up his arms. “So, this is what this is about? Bloody football?”

  “Soccer!” I blurt out. “Football is the sport where there is actual contact. Soccer is where they have to fix their hair after every pass and throw themselves through the air like ballet dancers trying to get a free kick out of the referee.”

  Janus smirks, then puts on a face that looks seriously annoyed. He clasps his hands over his chest.

  “You hurt me, Danielle,” he proclaims with mock exasperation. “After making sweet love to me, you bring up this abomination of Americanized rugby I don’t even dare call a sport? You’re breaking my heart!”

  I slide out of bed, dragging a sheet with me. I stand in front of Janus while I wrap myself tightly in it.

  “Oh, come on! Everyone knows your heart belongs to Arsenal.”

  “Arsenal, we’re on your side,” he starts to sing and keeps on humming the club’s anthem to himself.

  “You British appear so refined, but it doesn’t take much to make you content—a bit of sex, a bit of soccer talk.”

  He stops his humming. “You call that a bit of sex?”

  Still holding the sheet close in front of me, I sit back down on the edge of the bed next to him.

  “Actually, I call it amazing.”

  “So, it was just a lead-up to trashing my beloved sport?”

  “Damn, you saw right through my ploy,” I tease. “But honestly, the memory of three years ago in South Sudan lasted me a long time. Last night—”

  “Last night topped even that, right? I agree. You were on fire, Dani. Nothing short of glorious.”

  I lean in to kiss him on the lips. “Let’s not wait another three years for a repeat performance, then.”

  “Let’s not,” he replies, kissing me back hard.

  “For now, I’m off to take a shower,” I announce, standing up.

  With the sheet around me, I walk over to the bathroom with swaying hips. In the door, I turn around. Sure enough, he’s been watching me from the bed, arms folded behind his head.

  I stick my tongue out at him playfully and flash my tits at the same time, then close the door behind me.

  Oh, god, the sex with Janus was indeed glorious. But playing and teasing with him provides a nearly equally important and much needed relief to the strain and stress of the job.

  I turn on the hot water, let the sheet fall to the ground, and step into the shower. I let the hot water massage my body.

  Combined with the afterglow I’m still experiencing, it’s pure tingling bliss. I relax and empty my mind, thinking of nothing for a while.

  How have we ended up here?

  When I let myself out of his hotel room three years ago, I thought I knew two things for certain: that I’d never see him again, and that I’d never have that kind of sex again—at least not with him.

  I was wrong on both accounts, and I’m actually glad about that.

  In my memory, I go back to the night at the restaurant. I have to admit, I was impressed when he led me up the staircase opening up on to the rooftop terrace. With the lights twinkling in the night and candles setting the mood, the breathtaking view of the Parthenon was a stunning backdrop for the intimate dinner with Janus.

  If we managed to mix and balance our work and personal lives for one evening, maybe we could achieve that permanently.

  I allow myself to dwell on that thought for a while.

  We’re very different, but in a good way. He’s street-smart and carries himself differently than most men with whom I’m used to working. When he employs his master disguises and skillful document forging, he does so with an understatement that goes beyond British culture.

  He’s not bragging about his cunning, and he doesn’t need constant affirmation of how great he is, unlike some testosterone-driven characters I’ve encountered in journalism over the years.

  In some ways, Janus and I are similar. We both travel a lot and are good with languages. I’d say our people skills complement each other nicely.

  Because Janus is always on the move, as well, he’s the type of man who understands my on-the-go lifestyle. I go where the job takes me, and my work is definitely important to me.

  If I’m honest, I can get very involved in my stories. And yet, everything I’ve covered, everything I’ve done—I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I feel Janus could understand that, too.

  When we talked last night, I’m glad Janus opened up to me like he did and that I could open up to him in turn. It’s reassuring to know about his background, how he grew up, and that he actually cares about orphans. I don’t know how I’d feel about him if he was just a mercenary—someone who cares just about his bottom line, who uses people recklessly, and who justifies all means with the ends—his benefit.

  That’s not Janus. He’s invested in busting these human traffickers because he cares about the men, women, and children directly affected. And he believes in the importance of my work as well, in the necessity for investigative journalism.

  I can be competitive, because I have to. I usually feel I need to work twice as hard as male journalists just to get the same level of appreciation. With Janus, that pressure and stress are simply not there, which is why I can tease and joke with him about his favorite soccer club.

  A thought begins to form in my mind.

  Maybe this could work.

  As I’m gently scrubbing my body with a cleansing foam and lathering and rinsing my hair, I can’t help but also remember last night, after the restaurant.

  I pride myself in being good with words, but it’s nearly impossible to describe how good his hands felt all over my body, how he filled me up completely, and how he was both gentle and full of forceful lust that drove me crazy and to new, unexpected heights of pleasure.

  After South Sudan, I hadn’t allowed for the possibility that I could have both—success in my line of work and this: sharing this kind of passion with Janus.

  So, yes, when I think that maybe this could work, I mean it in a sense that goes beyond the job and the work we’re doing together. I feel like we’re compatible in more than one way.

  Even when we first met, I didn’t have a problem with his side activities. Although he was hired just for my protection, he saved the lives of
others and acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

  Not everything he does is exactly lawful to the letter, but I feel that, just like me, he doesn’t lose sight of the greater good. He’s above making a profit from human misery and the suffering in this world.

  We’re both invested and involved in our work, and we’re hardly willing to let anything else come above it. Janus would never demand that I stand down and put him above my career, knowing I also respect what he does. In that sense, we’re equals.

  I stop the stream of water and step out of the shower, steam rising all around me. I sling a towel around my head and another around my body. Then I slide my hand over the fogged-up mirror.

  I take a deep long look in the mirror and into my own dark eyes. How do I feel about Janus?

  I finally voice the thought that has been forming in my mind all along over the past few days.

  We make a good team.

  Chapter 22

  Janus

  Danielle is such a tease.

  I’ll get back at her eventually for that football bashing.

  For now, the proper comeback line escapes me, because I can’t think straight. She took off to the shower and left me with my morning wood straining against the sheet.

  When she talked about a repeat performance, I thought she meant doing it again right now. As flirtatious as she was, maybe I should just join her in the shower.

  Last night was absolutely incredible, but I feel like we’ve only begun to explore a fraction of our passion. But just when I ponder and picture the possibilities of what we could get up to in there, my phone buzzes.

  It’s a scrambled message from one of the many aliases Leviathan uses for his communication. If it’s scrambled like this, then it means big news. I run it through the process of decryption and decoding to find he’s sent me a short line only.

  At times, all these extra measures strike me as a bit paranoid. But on more than one occasion, Leviathan has saved the brotherhood with his caution and hacking skills. He’s the best and is an invaluable asset.

  I bring up the short message on the screen.

  Found an interesting location in the data you provided. Call me for more info. L.