London Calling: BWWM New Adult Romance (Chase Brothers Book 2)

by Malone, Nana

  The music blared, the latest hip-hop track mashed up with house music underlying it. All of Alexi’s friends had come out to congratulate the happy couple. The idea that his brother was getting married still seemed insane to him. When had he grown up?

  "You look like you are in need of another drink."

  It was hard not to smile at the infectious blonde with the bubbly personality and the Geordie accent. Tamsin was one of Abbie’s best friends and spent a good deal of time at the studio, in particular when there were male models being shot. "Thanks, Tams, but I've probably had enough."

  "At my count, two is hardly enough to celebrate with. You at least need another. Come on, try a screaming orgasm with me," she said with a wink.

  His brows shot up. Was she flirting with him? It was always hard for him to tell these days.

  "Oh, Tams, leave the poor man alone." Sophie, another friend of Abbie’s, slid between them. "He needs to work up a thirst first; let's go dance."

  Sophie slid her hand into his and tugged him to the center of the VIP section. He wasn’t in the mood, but for Lex and Abbie, he could put on a brave face. He snuck a glance in their direction and the smile on his brother’s face as he watched his fiancée said it all. He was a completely blissed-out twat. Couldn’t have happened to a better man. Certainly not you.

  Sophie was fun and enthusiastic. She also had a way of attracting attention. Before he knew it, several blokes were dancing on the periphery, trying to get her to dance with them. Suckers. She might dance like a free woman, but her boyfriend, Max, was never far away.

  The DJ changed the music again to something groovier and Xander leaned into her. "I'm going to head out for some fresh air. I'll see you back at the table." She nodded and waved at him.

  What he wanted to do was make his escape. But that wasn’t fair to Lex or Abbie. He could suck it up for an hour or two. He sidled up to the bar, signaling for the bartender. If he was going to stay, there was no reason he had to do it sober. To his right, a curvy brunette looked him up and down.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to come over and talk to me,” she said with a sly smile.

  She wasn't his usual type. Who was he kidding? Most of the time, he didn't have a type beyond beautiful. And he could find something beautiful about nearly every woman he came across. At the same time, she was brasher than he liked. “Well, a beautiful woman like you doesn’t strike me as the type to sit around and wait to be hit on. You seem like a go-getter.”

  She grinned. “So you were waiting for me to come and get you then?”

  Under normal circumstances, he’d be all about this woman. She was beautiful, available, and didn’t require much work. Best of all, she wouldn’t require a repeat performance. But somehow, he couldn’t stir up much interest. This is what you need. Maybe last night wasn’t a fluke. But even as the thought ran through his skull, he knew that was a lie. He could do the easy thing, go home with this girl, revel in her curves, try to forget. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Because unlike last night, he felt absolutely zero connection to this girl. She wasn’t Imani.

  “Tonight I’m just here to drink.”

  Full of confidence, she pressed up against him. She reached out and palmed his semi-erect cock, forcing a choke out of him. “You’re sure that’s all you’re looking for?”

  Without knowing what he was looking for, Xander searched the crowd. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. It was then that he saw her. Imani. She grinned, waving at Abbie, who stood and hugged her. He could only stare in shock as Abbie introduced her around. As his brother kissed her on the cheek. Traitor. What the hell was she doing here?

  He removed the curvy brunette’s hand from his groin. “Sorry, love, but like I said, not tonight.” His instincts didn’t bother to engage his brain in the conversation. He couldn’t have walked in the opposite direction if he tried. When he reached her, she looked up and gave a startled jump.

  "Karma really is a bitch. Seriously, why can’t I escape you?"

  He grinned. “You must have done something really naughty in a past life. Or maybe just last night. You’re crashing my brother’s party.”

  She cocked her head. “You should probably look up the definition of crashing. I was invited by Abbie.”

  “You and I never got a chance to talk. You know, because you ran out on me.”

  She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and licked her bottom lip. “What’s there to talk about?”

  “You mean, besides how we met last night? Or what you look like when you come with my name on your lips? Or how I’ve come to know about that cute little mole on your left breast. Or maybe how your puss—”

  Her eyes went wide. “Would you shut up before somebody hears you?” She was way too easy to rile up.

  She slid her gaze around as she lowered her voice. “Look, I would rather no one find out about…” She waved her left hand. “You know.”

  He feigned ignorance. “Oh, you mean the whole escort thing.”

  “Shut. Up,” she muttered through clenched teeth as she put her hand on his chest and shoved. He didn't budge, but the heat of her palm seared his chest.

  “Relax. Jesus, thank God you weren’t nearly as uptight last night. All I need is ten minutes. Hear me out, then you never have to talk to me again.”

  “I seriously want to forget that last night ever happened. I was an idiot. I know it. I don't understand why you won’t just be like every normal guy I know and avoid me like the plague.”

  Because right now, you’re the only one who can make me come. "Follow me."

  She followed willingly enough as he tugged her through the crowd and up the stairs to the rooftop. Even though it was only April, the weather was balmy and warm. Even though they were on the rooftop in the middle of London, it was as though they’d been transported to a lush greenhouse. This was the best feature of the club in his opinion. He loved it up here so much he often chose it for shoots.

  She stared in awe at all the flowers and touched several delicate petals. “What am I doing up here, Xander?”

  "Better question, why were you there that night?"

  She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. "I'm not a whore."

  The air whooshed out of his lungs and his head snapped back as if she'd physically slapped him. "I fucking know that. What did you think? I was chasing you down to make sure you took your money? What is it you Yanks would call me? Captain save a ho? Not fucking likely. I’m no one’s savior. I've dealt with a lot of escorts in my life and I knew from the moment I touched you, you weren't one."

  Her bottom lip trembled. "Then what do you want from me?"

  Xander took three steps until he stood directly in front of her. With every exhale, he could feel her warm breath on his cheeks. “For starters I want you to tell me what you were doing there. We’ve established you’re not a whore. That makes what you were doing even more risky then. I think we can both agree that agreeing to meet some strange bloke at his flat for ‘talking’ Is a huge lapse in judgment.”

  “Really, you want to do this?”

  He crossed his arms. There was nothing he liked more than when her eyes sparked with annoyance.

  She sighed. “I was fucking desperate. Miriam made it sound too good to be true. And so easy. All I had to do was show up and talk to you and I could get the money I needed.” She puffed out a breath. "Well, you know what happened next."

  “Why didn’t you take the money? You said you needed it.”

  “In the morning…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. “I didn’t like how I felt. I wasn’t that desperate.” She shook her head. “And what happened. I didn’t plan it—it wasn’t like that.” Then she added a question of her own. “Why do you see hookers? You, ah, obviously don’t need to.”

  If she only knew. “I don’t pay escorts for sex."

  She frowned as she peered back up at him. "Then why?"

  "Because they're less judgmental than shrinks."
/>   Her laugh was humorless. "And I thought I was fucked up."

  "Here's the secret, sweetheart. Everyone is fucked up." He lifted fingers to her cheek and traced softly. "What is it about you that makes me feel like this?"

  She blinked in confusion. "I'm not doing anything. I don’t know how I'm making you feel."

  He traced a thumb over her cheekbone. "You know. You feel it too."

  She ducked her head. “Are we done?”

  Xander licked his lips and let her go. “Not yet. I have a proposition for you.”

  “You know they’ve already done an Indecent Proposal movie, right?

  Despite himself, he smirked. “Just hear me out. I need someone to go to Paris with me for three days.”

  Her brows rose. “See earlier comment about me not being a whore.” She took a deliberate step away from him. "You know you're very good. You almost had me believing that bit about how I made you feel. But let me say it again and this time do try to listen. I. Am. Not. A. Whore. You are not Richard Gere and clearly I am no Julia Roberts. You don’t get a girlfriend experience."

  “I need someone to pose as my girlfriend for four days. I’m not expecting anything in return. No sex. Just hang on my arm, socialize. Make me look good. I’ll pay you five thousand pounds.” He held up his hands and pressed on when she frowned. “Think of it as an acting job. Plain and simple.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Who would I be pretending for?”

  “London’s Artistic Trust president. I need to appear settled and reformed from my bad boy ways. It’s very important that I make it onto this board.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated, but trust me, it’s important. Life and death important.”

  She shook her head. “Look, I don’t think—”

  “I’m desperate. I’m willing to beg.”

  Imani’s gaze slid around the room as she started to pace. “But you have Miriam. You could take her. She’s used to playing the girlfriend.”

  She has a point, you git. “I know, but for better or worse, the chemistry with us is real. Any idiot can see it. It’ll help sell it to LeClerc. Secondly, you seem to need the money. It’s a win-win. And I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  She scoffed. “As if. Why can’t you take Abbie?”

  He laughed. “Well, since she’s about to become my sister-in-law, that will hardly make it look like I’m a reformed bad boy.” Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. “I can call Miriam, but I’d rather see that money coming to you.”

  A slight frown creased her forehead. “Sister-in-law? Seriously?” She shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”

  She had a point there. “Truth?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re the first person I’ve connected to in so long I can’t even remember.”

  “I thought you said this wasn’t about sex.”

  “It’s not.” He started to sweat. “It’s more about someone who understands me. Paris will be a test of improv skills. There are a few people who don't want me on the board and will do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. You’re quick on your feet. You have a smart mouth. And I promise you, if we sleep together, it'll have nothing to do with the money."

  Her eyes went wide. Imani sat back and crossed her arms. "Are you planning on trying anything?"

  He wisely bit back a laugh. "Well, I'm a bloke. So of course I think about touching you again. Those are errant thoughts; my focus is this job. I need you to pull it off. So that will be my focus, not getting you wet and writhing underneath me again."

  Imani rolled her lips in. As if she were holding back her words. "I see you're not taking it off the table."

  He let his gaze slide over her magnificent cheekbones and the smooth skin of her neck to her delicate collarbone. Then dropping it lower to her breasts. No, he was certainly not taking it off the table. He licked his lips. "How about we call me a pragmatist. You and I clearly have some chemistry, so there’s really no point in denying it. Besides, what happens in Paris stays in Paris."

  "There won't be anything happening in Paris."

  "You sound confident in that."

  "That's because I am. The other night won’t be happening again."

  "Understood." He should probably have warned her there was nothing he loved more than a challenge.

  #

  “Alexander, you have to stop this campaign against Alistair."

  Xander pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into a parking spot at Heathrow. Damn his brother for telling her what they were up to. "Hello to you too, Mother." He loved his mother. But their relationship was complicated. Whenever she called, the overwhelming emotion was guilt. From the both of them. She because she still felt responsible for what had happened. And he, because he could never seem to let it go and give her the absolution she craved.

  She sighed. "Alexander—"

  "Mum," he interrupted. "You realize you’re not going to talk me out of anything. It’s already in motion."

  "You know how much I love you. My request has less to do with Alistair than it has to do with you. We need to put all of that behind us and move on."

  Move on. "Maybe that was easy for you to do, Mother. But not for me. I can’t move on. I wake up every day and my first thoughts are about Silas and Alistair and what they’ve done. You might have been able to walk away from their sins unscathed, but I haven’t been able to shed it as quickly."

  "Why do you think that I walked away from it? There isn’t a day I don’t think about you or your brother. I need to live with the fact that I failed you and Alexi every day. I wish I had known, wish I had seen. Wish I hadn’t been blind. I wish I'd been the one to take that man's life. But what you’re doing—you're only picking at the scab. Making it bleed unnecessarily. What do you need from me to stop this?”

  Through clenched teeth he muttered, “I don’t need you to say anything. I’ve never needed you to say anything.” He just wanted this to be over. And this was the way he saw.

  “I would tell you until I’m blue in the face how worried I am. I failed you. I know that. But you have to stop. If you want to punish someone, punish me."

  He'd gotten over the anger at his mother years ago. He wasn’t angry with her anymore. Alistair, on the other hand, would not be so lucky. "Mum, I'm not trying to punish you, I swear." He followed the signs to the private airstrip. "This is something I have to do. I wish it didn't hurt you, but it's important to me. It has to be done. Alistair made it a point to destroy my life. And he's benefiting from his father's work. I can’t let that stand."

  Deep down he knew he was wasting his breath. She would never understand. And he would never deliberately hurt her by telling her exactly why he hated Alistair so much. As far as she was concerned, Xander hated Alistair simply because he was a McMahon. He didn't have the heart to tell her it was so much more than that. It would destroy her if she knew. She'd been devastated when she eventually found out about the abuse and he would rather not do that to her again. No. This vendetta was his. "Mum, I promise, I'm not trying to make your life more difficult. And I'll leave your name out of it. But I have to do this. I wish I could explain, but I can’t."

  "Look, I think you’re long overdue for a visit home. Or even better, you, Alexi and I can take a holiday, just us. Reconnect."

  He found it funny how she'd left his father out of the mix. The old man and Lex could barely stand to be in the same room together so a happy family vacation was out of the question. "Mum, I’m leaving for a trip. But I’ll call you when I get back. We'll have dinner."

  She sighed. "There's no changing your mind, is there?"

  "You know me better than that by now." At the end of this weekend he'd have Alistair exactly where he wanted him.

  Ten

  Paris. It was official: she was crazy for real. Fe thought so. She might not have been exactly forthcoming about how she met Xander. Or what she was doing on this getaway for the long weekend. But she’d go and come b
ack with more than half of what she needed for Ebony. It was only four days. In Paris of all places. Didn’t mean this whole plan wasn’t shit-balls crazy. It was one thing to pretend to be an escort for a night. It was another to have to pull off a lie under scrutiny for four days.

  "All right?"

  She brought her head up to glance at Xander. His slate-gray eyes regarded her closely. And she was mesmerized. Framed by think, dark sooty lashes, they focused on her with such intensity. He had this way of looking at everything as if he wanted to see into its soul. Granted, he was a photographer, so that made sense. He had to capture emotion from all sorts of things. "You're staring."

  He shrugged, then sat back against his seat as their car whizzed toward Paris. "You're beautiful. I'm sure you’re accustomed to it."

  Imani rubbed the end of her nose. "No, actually. People don’t usually stare at me."

  "Then they're blind."

  "If you say so."

  The corner of his lips tipped up. "You'd think you’d believe me since I photograph beautiful things for a living."

  Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she changed the subject. “We should probably go over the cover story again.”

  The corner of his lips twisted into that smirk she found so sexy. "Do you study all your roles like this?"

  "I want this to be my profession, so yes. I live, breathe, eat my roles. It’s how I met Miriam. I’d asked Charles if he could put me in touch with an actual escort for research purposes. I made it a point not to ask him how he’d found her."

  Xander’s laugh filled the car. When he smiled or laughed it completely transformed his face, making him look younger, less intense and mischievous. “I imagine he found her the old-fashioned way.”

  “Doubt it since he’s gay.” She shrugged. “So to be clear, the main two people we have to convince are Jean LeClerc and Alistair McMahon.”

  Xander nodded. “The one to worry about is Alistair. He’s actively trying to keep me off the board."

  “And you’re not going to tell me why?” He shook his head, but she pressed a little harder. “Knowing could help me do my job better.”