“That was different.”
“How so?”
“Because that was…I worked for the government.”
Nik laughed. “You worked for me. You still work for me. Do you trust me?”
Ben sat back and studied the beautiful man before him. He didn’t really need to think about it. “Yes. Absolutely.” He saw some quick expression flick across Nikolas’s face and realised Nikolas had been the one with the doubt—doubt about Ben’s answer. Nikolas was more vulnerable than he’d realised. He pushed his foot against the other man’s, out of sight under the table. “You know what the biggest perk of being self-employed is?”
“The tax status?”
Ben shook his head despairingly. “No. The best perk is that you can take your boss to bed and fuck him for the whole afternoon. You ready to leave?”
Nikolas pouted. “There is another benefit, too.”
“What? Better than going home now and…”
Nikolas slid the menu closer. “Tax-deducible lunches in wildly expensive restaurants?”
Ben grinned and took the menu. “Excellent. Free food.”
Ben was surprised that Nikolas didn’t spend the rest of the meal enlightening him about the differences between tax deductible and free, but as Nikolas always paid for everything, he reckoned his view of their arrangement was more accurate—for him anyway. Nikolas didn’t seem to allow himself many pleasures—despite the freedom his release from the department had given him—but watching him eat, amazingly, appeared to be one of the few. That and the other activity they indulged in for the rest of the day.
Despite Nikolas’s admonition not to eat too much, Ben had, and he was consequently sleepy and in a good humour, for once willing to be played with and petted. What did it say about their relationship that Nikolas paid for him in restaurants and treated him like a plaything in bed? But as Nikolas appeared to have so few pleasures, Ben decided he was owed these indulgences. So, although Nikolas never spoke whilst he stroked and held, kissed and played, Ben knew he was delighting in the enjoyment of his body. Nikolas mapped Ben’s scars with his tongue, trailing it slowly from one to the other, joining the dots of Ben’s hard life.
Sometimes, Ben would deliberately turn his wide-set green eyes to Nikolas, knowing the effect his beauty had on this silent man. Ben wasn’t vain about anything except his physical prowess, but he couldn’t help but notice the impact his face had on people. Had he not witnessed it only that afternoon in the longing glances of a beautiful young woman in a restaurant? Besides his startling, almost exotic green eyes, he was blessed with a perfect physique, tousled black hair, high cheekbones, and smooth, tanned skin. So, although Ben was hard pressed to recall a single compliment Nikolas had ever given him, Ben knew; his beauty transfixed Nikolas, was his talisman and the sanctuary to which he would always return.
Reserved as he was, Nikolas had never told Ben how or why he’d made all the recent changes to his life. It was obvious, just watching him as he pretended to find the morning newspapers enthralling, that he missed his old one—his position, his authority, perhaps even his house and his wife. Hell, Ben suspected Nikolas even missed the endless access to top-of-the-range vehicles he’d enjoyed using as the head of a government department. Having to buy his own Range Rover recently had clearly been something of an ordeal for Nikolas. But Nikolas had made all these changes, and it appeared that he’d made them for him. So if Ben indulged Nikolas and occasionally let him treat him almost as a dependent child, then who was going to call them on it? And here, in their bed, Nikolas chuckling and indulging himself with Ben’s pliant and accommodating body, Ben felt he possessed the real Nikolas at last.
There were no masks between them, no lies.
§§§
Exhausted from Nikolas’s pleasures, Ben was almost asleep, lying debauched and wrecked on his stomach across the bed. Nikolas was trailing his finger repetitively up and down Ben’s strong back from his hairline to where touch made Ben flinch. Rain had begun to wash across the window, a depressing London downpour that took away the glamour of the city. If Nikolas also missed watching Devon rain trailing down mullioned windows in a large study with a fire and house staff bringing him whisky, he never mentioned this either. But a heartfelt sigh brought Ben back from the edge of sleep and he asked softly, “What are you thinking about?”
Nikolas looked down into Ben’s green eyes and replied without any hesitation, “You.”
Ben was sceptical. “That’s not like you.”
“No, it is not like you to ever ask what I am thinking. I actually think about you a great deal.”
“Awesome.”
Nikolas huffed. “Most people would take that as a cue to say…”
Ben caught Nikolas’s arm and pulled him down, tugging the covers over them both. “Yeah. Yeah. I don’t need to say it.”
Nikolas resisted Ben’s attempt to get him properly into bed. “We have work to do.”
“Jesus, you are a hard taskmaster.”
Nikolas gave him an incredulous look. “You have done nothing but sleep, eat, and amuse yourself for three weeks, Benjamin.”
“But it’s raining. I can’t work in the rain.”
“Did you actually know we have an office that is inside?”
“I know! I do my fair share of office work.”
“Ben. There is only one chair in the office, mine.”
“Oh. Well, I have other skills. You’ve never complained about them.”
“I have been thinking about that, actually. I believe that if we are going to make this work, we should take on someone with more computer knowledge than I have.”
“Or me.”
“Yes, I rather took that for granted.”
Ben gave this considerable thought. “But they’d be here all day—with us.”
Nikolas frowned. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. I assumed they would, as they are real and would work here.”
“You know what I mean. I like it when it’s just us here. So we can…”
“Ah. You like it when we do not actually work but stay in bed having sex all day.”
Ben cupped his face and began to kiss softly around Nikolas’s smiling lips, across the stubble and into the hairline. “Shall I stop? Because I am the only one who wants to do this…apparently.”
Parts of Nikolas had already given a reply. Ben knew Nikolas rarely contradicted his cock. He shook his head ruefully at the slight trickle of anticipation oozing from the tip and switched to kissing that instead. When it was over and he’d proved his point, he thought he’d hear no more about getting back to work from his boss. He was slightly annoyed, therefore, when Nikolas continued as if he’d never been interrupted, “I think maybe we should separate where we live and where we work.”
Ben turned on his side. “You think a lot about what we’re going to do.”
“One of us has to.” Ben debated rising to this, but it was too true to complain about. He was happy wherever Nikolas was so had let him dictate their lives completely. Besides, Nikolas was stroking his backside, and it was hard to be argumentative at times like this. “I want somewhere I can have my horses. And I miss the sea.”
“I’ve never liked living in London.”
“Then it is decided. This stays as the offices. We find somewhere else to live.”
“I still have the insurance from the fire.”
Nikolas appeared to be suppressing the impulse to laugh. “That is good.”
“You…” Ben hesitated. “You hold all the cards, don’t you?”
Nikolas shrugged then nodded. He flicked his eyes up to Ben as if to see how his words would be received, and replied honestly, “I relish owning you, Ben. I need it.”
Ben gave him a small, conspiratorial smirk. “And that’s exactly why I allow you to do it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the time they finally emerged from bed, they had been sent an address, and a large amount had been paid into their account. It was the beginning
of their new life, and neither regretted the afternoon they’d spent indulging themselves, nor the fact that it was probably going to be their last such indulgence for a while. They were both ready to work.
Ben’s job was to follow and study the girl, find out her routines down to the smallest detail so the transfer from her one life to the other would be smooth and painless. Ben used the word transfer in his head, although every time he did, he heard the word kidnap.
He started that evening by getting to know the area around her house for good vantage points for surveillance. She lived with her mother and her stepfather in a leafy, exclusive area of London with wildly expensive houses that in other areas of the country would merely be nice, four-bedroom detached homes. Here they were the houses of the wealthy; although, every so often, Ben detected ones that had been turned into less salubrious housing, and streams of people came and went from the tiny, divided flats, and older cars lined the streets in front. It was relatively easy, therefore, for Ben to blend in and watch the house in question. It was dark by the time he arrived, still early in the year, and no one came or went during the evening. He returned early the next morning and watched as a top-of-the-range convertible pulled out from behind the large, solid gates and joined the busy London streets. He tailed the car into the city and watched as it parked in a private, underground car park. He texted the address to Nikolas and within a few minutes had a reply back from him. Corporate lawyer. That figured.
Ben left the city and returned to the house. It was still early. Eventually, a sleek Mercedes pulled out of the driveway, and Ben shadowed the school run until the girl was dropped off at a small prep school a few miles from the house. She went in with a gaggle of other small girls dressed in tartan skirts, blazers and hats. He reckoned she was there for the day, accounted for. He followed the Mercedes back to the house and then watched as a small van with the logo We Clean So You Can Preen pulled up to the gates and went through. Within five minutes of its arrival, the Mercedes pulled back out of the driveway and headed toward the city. Ben followed, and when it parked, again in an underground car park, he did as well and tailed the occupant into a large shopping complex. She appeared to be in her midtwenties from the rear, but Ben knew from texting her licence plate details to Nikolas that she was actually thirty-one.
She had long, sleek, glossy hair in a colour which made Ben think of chocolate. It swung and bounced behind her as she walked. She was dressed in what looked like very casual jeans and a sweater, but from living for three weeks with Nikolas, Ben suspected it was probably the kind of artful casual only the very rich could achieve. Her first stop was a hairdresser. Ben settled down in a coffee shop opposite and gave her twenty minutes. Two hours later, he was still there, but his caffeine buzz was superb. Finally, she emerged. As far as he could tell, she still had exactly the same hair. It was almost funny. He then had the pleasure of watching her shop for an hour, mostly beauty products and lingerie, and then she went into a chic restaurant and joined a table where three other women, also loaded down with shopping bags, sat sipping white wine. She stayed in the restaurant having lunch with her friends for another two hours, and then she made her way back to the car, passed by the school to pick the girl up, and they returned home together. For an ex-Special Forces soldier, this couldn’t be described as a startlingly interesting or exciting day. And, deep joy, it wasn’t over yet.
Precisely five minutes after they returned home, they set off again, this time on foot and with a dog straining on a lead. Ben followed on foot as well and watched as they entered a park. The girl let the dog off the lead and ran about happily playing. The mother sat on a park bench, pulled out her phone, and began texting. Ben wondered if she was telling her friends about her challenging day. They stayed in the park for an hour then walked home. Ten minutes later the car pulled out again, and this time he tailed it back to the school, where the girl now emerged in ballet clothes and ran with a few other girls into the building. The mother waited outside for an hour in the car. The girl came out; they drove home. Another hour passed, and the stepfather returned in the BMW. Ben stayed outside until ten then went home.
He contemplated suicide on the way but tried to stay focused.
If he’d found Nikolas doing something fun or interesting he’d probably have killed him, but when Ben arrived he was on the phone, and there was a full ashtray of cigarette butts alongside him, indicating he’d been there some time. Ben gave him a pissy look and removed them. Nikolas gave him an equally pissy look back and continued giving monosyllabic replies into the phone. Eventually, he snapped it closed and sank his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “So, how was your day, darling?”
Nikolas lifted his head. “Sorry. How was your day?” Ben gave him the edited version, which took about thirty seconds, then asked, “Who was that on the phone?”
Nikolas stared out of the window into the darkness beyond. “Philipa.”
“Uh huh. And…?”
“I have to go down and see her this weekend.”
Ben felt a totally unexpected stab of jealousy. He’d never been jealous of Nikolas’s wife before. “Why?”
“It is complicated, Benjamin.” He gave him a swift look to see if he’d get away with this patronising comment, and when Ben didn’t rise to it, he capitalised on the moment quickly, “So, what is your way in with the girl and the mother? Taking up ballet, maybe?”
“Funny. Very funny. I was thinking along the lines of the ladies who lunch.”
“In what way?”
“I meet the mother through one of them—as a new boyfriend. They were all incredibly fuckable.”
Nikolas went to the counter and turned on the kettle. “Do you want something to eat?” Before Ben could reply, he hissed angrily, “I do not want to go down there, Ben. I am obligated. You could come—if you really want.”
“Well, that would be awkward.”
“Better that than you stay here and—” He waved, as if he didn’t want to finish the thought but then did, bitterly, “Fuck your way into the case.” Suddenly, he picked up the mug he’d been about to make Ben’s tea in and threw it against the wall. Ben watched him leave, utterly incredulous. He’d never once seen Nikolas lose his temper. He hadn’t actually thought Nik had a temper. He wasn’t sure what to do. Not only was he not experienced in relationships, he was aware he really didn’t know Nikolas Mikkelsen very well at all—he knew what he was allowed to and no more. So this sudden display of anger left him feeling bewildered. Nikolas was the rock he’d anchored his wayward life to, and he didn’t like the sense of his mooring slipping.
Eventually, he decided he had no choice but to go up to bed as well. He slipped in silently, not putting the light on, only registering the other man on one side of the bed. He undressed and slid naked between the sheets, hoping Nikolas was asleep. It was wishful thinking. Nikolas turned over and propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Ben in the dark. Ben had no idea whose fault the argument was or whether he should apologise himself or demand one from Nikolas. He wasn’t even entirely sure they had argued.
Deciding just to go with his heart, something a very wise and cute professor had once told him to do, he said simply, “I only suggested that to annoy you. I would never sleep with anyone else.”
He could sense silent intensity from the figure in the bed next to him but wasn’t sure exactly what the emotion was. He had no experience of Nikolas being anything other than calm, collected, and in control of his emotions. It suddenly seemed the right thing to do to just decide for Nikolas what this emotion would be. Ben stretched out his arm, cupped Nikolas around the back of the head, and drew him down so he was lying on his broad, and very welcoming chest.
He stroked his fingers in Nikolas’s hair, babying him—if that was what this was. Ben didn’t really care. He reckoned Nikolas had experienced less love in his life than he had, and that was saying something. Being so much younger and
so much less sophisticated than Nikolas, he’d always allowed the older man to run their relationship. Nikolas wanted it that way; Ben selfishly enjoyed it as well. Now, for the first time, however, Ben began to realise if they were to make this work, something had to change between them. He suddenly felt an incredible surge of protectiveness toward this man who had never before appeared vulnerable to him. He wrapped his arms around the silent figure and pressed his lips to the silky blond hair, now greying ever so slightly at the temples. Incredibly, Nikolas allowed all this. He didn’t even attempt to turn it into a joke or sex, his usual two defence mechanisms whenever things got too emotionally out of his control.
After what seemed like hours to Ben, Nikolas said evenly, “I have been made privy to things I wish I had not. Philipa will want a divorce very soon, but until that time, it is essential for her marriage to appear very stable and very happy.”
Love is a Stranger Page 9
