Probably not. “What's the sigh for?” She seems whimsical, like she’s somewhere else in her head. I duck down, getting right in her eye-line and tilting her chin back up.
“Nothing,” she says eventually. “You’ve just worried me, that’s all. You'll be all right, won't you?”
Cute.
I smile and pull her into me, pleased that she’s worried about me for some fucking reason, as I stare out at the sea again. That was never part of the bargain we struck, but it means something to me regardless. It sits down in my stomach somewhere, telling me things I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of before now. Maybe this is what love feels like, closeness that only comes between two people who know each other this well.
Her hands start fiddling with the buttons on my vest, opening them one by one. My brow arches interested in what the fuck she’s thinking.
“What are you up to?”
“Saying thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes looking up at me. I stare at them, a smile on my face as she keeps undoing buttons and tries to push my jacket from my shoulders.
“You feeling dirty?”
“I’m feeling thankful. Help me.”
No. She can feel thankful a little longer, struggle with that shit and undress me herself. I smirk at the tension that flashes across her face at my refusal to help, amused at her thankfulness as she picks at my shirt buttons as well.
My fingers pick her chin up again, my thumb slowly climbing up to that lip and gently running the length of it. The ridge of the cut bumps against my skin, regardless of the makeup. Imperfect.
Because of my hands.
“I want you naked. For once,” she says, eyes hardening at me.
Does she? Slut. I chuckle and slide my hand up to her hair, twining the length of it in my fingers. “Skin, Benjamin. Show me some of it.” Slutty and forward. “I want you all over me. Please,” she says, pulling at my tie a little more forcefully than she’s done before.
She gazes after that, gentle nails trailing over my ink after she's opened everything up. I shrug the jacket off completely and watch her move over me, enjoying something quiet for once. My life is in her hands now, all the memories etched in, all the deaths and murder.
“You've never told me what it all means,” she muses as her head ducks to my chest, lips roaming.
No. I won't either. That's not for her mind. It's in my memory. My scars. My villainy. My hatred. It's enough to have me picking her up, a squeal coming the moment I squeeze my fingers into her ass.
I smile at the sound of it, backing us into the house again and heading towards the stairs. Fuck talking now.
“You want naked, we’ll need a bed,” I mutter, hoisting her up and shoving her across my shoulder. “Forward little bitch.”
She snickers, her hands reaching for my backside. It’s a glorious sound, one that pisses me off and interests me at the same time. Perhaps we'll get into it again sometime. Talk. Not now, though. I smirk and carry on up the stairs, unsure what the fuck it is that I’m doing. It feels kinda nice. Like something’s different about us both here for some reason. Maybe it's the salty air doing something to my head, or the threat of death coming for me.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t stop my teeth from sinking into her ass, or me laughing at her yelp. She wants naked and raw, she can have it, and all that comes with that shit. She can see everything on show for a while. Enjoy it. She won’t be snickering at a goddamn thing by the end of it, because we're both gonna remember this fuck session.
Just in case it's the last.
Fourteen
My body is exhausted, but that doesn’t mean my mind can switch off. Benjamin didn’t seem to have the same trouble, as if just by being back here, a part of him can finally relax. He's slept better than he has in all the years I’ve seen him try without his pills.
A milky light creeps into the kitchen area as it rushes over the ocean. I’ve been curled up on the small sofa with a throw wrapped around me, staring at the paperwork Benjamin handed to me yesterday and twiddling my ring on my finger. It's still on the kitchen table, ten feet from where I am now. Haunting me.
It’s everything a girl like me could dream of. My version of a knight, picking me up and allowing me to live the life I’ve grown accustomed to. But he’s assumed that I don’t need anything else. He’s assumed that, other than money, my life is perfect. It’s not. He doesn’t know that hate and revenge fuel my motives, and that a war is raging in my chest—a war I don’t know how to win without losing a part of me.
The discussions with Cane, his plans, even this, it all ties Benjamin closer to Quinn and Nathan. Hurting one without betraying the other, or possibly risking Benjamin’s life, isn’t just a fine line to balance; it’s the murkiest water I've ever dared to tread, impossible to navigate.
My stomach grumbles as the sickening feelings of guilt and nerves coil around my insides and squeeze. It’s getting tighter and tighter with each passing hour, worrying me into wondering whether I’m doing the right thing. I always learned, from a young age, that you have to make the best out of life for yourself. The world won’t give you handouts—that was plain from the way my mother taught me. Everything was a struggle back then, a hardship. It made me who I am now, hardened me along with the hatred she bestowed. Is the choice I have in front of me just more evidence of how there’s never a clear path in life, that no matter what you choose, someone will end up hurt?
“What are you doing sitting on your own?”
I jump up from my spot and attempt a bright smile, startled by Benjamin, and terrified he can read my guilty thoughts. “I couldn’t sleep. This place is so peaceful. I wanted to soak some more up before we have to head home.”
“You want to leave now?” he asks as he stands naked for me to gaze at. I trace the ink with my eyes, drinking in the flow of the patterns and wondering why he's so relaxed here. It's as if he woke and needed to find me immediately, not caring for clothes or guns. At least, that’s what my romantic heart would say. A small piece of that heart crumbles in my chest, desperate to find a balance in all of this.
I nod at him. Leaving is best. Here is something I can't deal with. He's more here—different, honest, something I'm certainly not.
“Okay. Get dressed,” he mutters, turning away. “We’ll beat the rush of traffic into the city.”
It’s a long two hours back into the city, and there’s tension in the air. Like we’re both preparing for something that the other can’t see. It’s disconcerting and only adds to the knot in the pit of my stomach. The name Annalise Johnson rings in my head. It’s a get out, one that Benjamin has given me entirely for my benefit. Up until now, everything I’ve had from him has been in the guise of business—an expense account, because I need to play the part. None of it has been out of kindness or compassion. But now…
My heart expands in my chest at the thought that everything I feel for Benjamin is reciprocated. The possibility that love might have snuck in and formed a connection between us, bound us together with something other than mutual attraction, is overwhelming.
The towering skyscrapers signal our homecoming, and I pine for the rustic beach house that, according to Benjamin, is now mine. Thoughts of morning runs along the beach fill my imagination, and I feel a shift within me, a softening of something that always gave me strength.
“I’m going to call Emily, see if she’d like to go to the Guggenheim or perhaps a photography gallery.” My words sound whimsical to my ears, as if they haven’t been spoken by me at all.
“I’ll tell Quinn to bring her. We’re meeting today. You two can occupy yourselves.” His words are said as a dismissal. Gone is the man who took me to his mother’s house, hidden away from the world. The closer we get to the city, the fiercer he becomes, wrapping himself in the armor he’s hardened in the furnace of New York for years.
He drives into an underground garage and parks next to a line of cars, all of which I recognise, although I’ve never been down here. The engine cuts
and he turns to me. “Keep the keys on you. The access barrier code is the same for the elevator.” He doesn’t say anything further and exits the car to head across the space to the elevator, leaving me to follow.
It’s nearly lunchtime before Quinn and Emily arrive. “Come on in,” I greet warmly.
Emily once again seems a little timid, and Quinn’s grip on her hand seems possessive and tight. He gives me a fleeting sneer as he passes, whispering something to Emily as they enter the lounge, and then takes himself off towards Benjamin’s study. Asshole mood seems to be in place. Not surprising given he is one. I stare at his back, a slight scowl dropping before I mask it, and watch his fingers play with the dice that he seems so attached to as he goes.
“It’s so nice you could make it, Emily,” I finally say, stepping into the room with her. “I thought there might be an opportunity to go out. Perhaps the Guggenheim or a photography gallery that isn’t far from it? It’s a bright day. We can walk across Central Park, get something to eat?” I lay out the idea I had this morning and hope it’s something she’ll be happy to do.
Her face lights up at the mention of the photography gallery. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hope. Honestly, shopping isn’t my idea of a good time.” Her cheeks flush.
“No problem. Let me get my jacket, and we can head out. You don’t mind a walk?” I glance at her shoes and see a sensible pair of flat boots under her colourful skirt and coat. Odd dress sense. She’s wrapped up as if it’s the middle of winter, but I guess New York can be a little cold at this time of year. Still, Chicago is, too, from what I’ve heard.
I walk past the office, and the door is ajar, so I slide inside. “Boys, we’ll be heading out. Quinn, I promise to take good care of Emily.” I lick my lips as he looks at me, a sexy gesture aimed to provoke, but he merely smirks back at me. This game I’ve been instigating since Benjamin first asked me to is growing both tiring and ineffective. Not to mention the obvious skin crawling side-effect. Maybe I need to tell Benjamin that it won’t work; whatever underhand plan he’s thinking of needs to change.
“What are you doing later, Hope?” Benjamin asks, not bothering to look up from his phone.
“I’m not sure. It depends how Emily and I get along today. Let me know what you need.” He looks up at that, eyes fixed on me.
“I need you both to be here. Have a girl’s fucking day or whatever the shit you do, but you get back here for five. And don’t think Torino won’t be about either.” His order is so stern, I feel like I should salute him. Of course, I don’t.
I know why he wants us somewhere safe. My breath catches as I think about what tonight might bring. What will the Yakuza do with the information I’ve provided? Will they go after Benjamin as well as Cane? Too many questions.
“Hope?” Benjamin looks up, questioning why I’m still in the room. Truth is, I don’t want him to go. Quinn and Nathan don’t need him. Not tonight. But there’s no way I could possibly explain that.
“Yes, very well.” I leave and grab my coat, frustrated with his easy dismissal and lack of courtesy. It’s all I’ve been used to, but not what I want in the future. Now I’ve seen the Benjamin from the beach house, I want that, but I have no right to expect anything. Tonight is a night I want to be well away from anything Benjamin has planned given what I’ve done.
My walk-in wardrobe is pristinely organised, and I choose a rich wool wrap around coat and a modest heel. I can’t be expected to walk across New York in my Louboutin Pigalles.
“Ready to go?” I take Emily’s arm and lead her towards the door. She tries to look back for Quinn, but I don’t give her the time to say goodbye. Men! Ordering us around and acting like primates. And then I remember what I’ve done, what I might cause tonight by my actions. I let her arm go, a brief flash of care for her thoughts rather than my own.
“I’ll just be a moment,” she flusters, dashing back in towards the study. I watch the stolen moment between the two of them, his hand on her hair, the way he gazes at her and smiles. He seems to dote on her, and she seems intrinsically attached to him. Was that how his father treated my mother? No. If that was how he loved her, he would have never sent her away.
Emily’s beaming face pulls me back to the present as she approaches me again.
“Ready now?” I ask, the romantic part of me wishing that Benjamin would allow that from me one day.
She nods, more sweet smiles coming with the move, so I head out of the door and try not to over think. What's done is done. What will be will be.
“Is he going to be with us all day?” Emily turns to indicate Torino behind us as we cross through the lobby.
“Oh, him? Yes. Afraid so. He’s never far away. Relax. He won’t interfere, will you, Torino?”
“No, ma’am.” His dutiful response lifts my lips into a slight grin.
“Doesn’t it bother you? Like you’re being guarded all the time? Not trusted?” Emily’s whispers are conspiratorial, as if Torino may hear and report back. I laugh, waiting for the doorman to do his job and give us access to the outside world.
“Not any more. We have a routine. He knows the boundaries, and I have fun pushing them. It’s part of my life. If I’m to be with Benjamin, there’s a price I pay. I’m sure you understand, and I’m surprised Quinn hasn’t got a guard for you.”
“No, we agreed I couldn’t stand for someone to follow me around. I’m not out and about too much. I have someone else work with me at the studio, so I’m never alone there.”
I smile and halt her at the road crossing before she walks into traffic, rolling my eyes at her lacking street smarts. Perhaps London's not as busy as here, though. Who knows? She just doesn't fit with any of this—the city, the men, the life. Certainly not Quinn.
We make our way into Central Park, and I head for the fastest route to get across to the Guggenheim.
“It must be nice to have a sister-in-law who understands as well,” I muse, wanting to glean as much information about the Alves family as possible.
“I’ve not spent that much time with Gabby. I met her for the first time before our wedding,” she replies, spinning around to look up into the sky. “We went out and had the wedding in Costa Rica. It was such a surprise to find out Nate had already married Gabby. Quinn didn’t take too well to me wanting a long engagement.”
“I bet.”
“Nate is very different to Quinn. He’s much more methodical, whereas Quinn can be… volatile. He is like a child in some respects.” Her eyes swing to mine. “God, don't tell him I said that. He doesn’t appreciate when he doesn’t get his own way.” I laugh genuinely, fully appreciating the words.
“I don’t think men like Quinn and Benjamin find that very often in their daily lives. In fact, I'm certain of it.”
We let the chitchat quieten, and I get drawn into the beauty of the park. I see it almost every day, but I still love it, and watching Emily completely enamored only increases my appreciation of its serenity. The leaves have turned and now litter the paths in a carpet of autumnal joy. It’s a beautiful distraction to the darkness invading my life and the consequences I will have to face over the coming days.
The exhibition isn’t something I’d pay to come back and see, but Emily is enthralled. Black and white photographs line the hall of the spiral building, but everything feels off kilter and makes me uneasy. I’d much rather be in the library, head down, learning something valuable rather than this whimsical behaviour.
“Are you ready for some food?” I ask, hopeful that Emily doesn’t want to re-visit all of the same scenes she’s been ogling for the last hour.
“Absolutely. What do you recommend?”
“This is New York. You can have anything.”
“Okay. How about somewhere we can have a cocktail and something simple to eat. Nothing over the top or fancy. Just good quality food.”
“I know a place.” I turn to search for Torino and find him hovering by a bench. “We’re going to grab a cab to SoHo.”
&n
bsp; “As long as we’re back by five, Hope. You’re not pulling any shit today,” Torino spouts. My brow lifts at his warning, amused. As I watch him, I see two other men dressed in trim black suits, as if they’re hovering, too. One of them spots me watching and immediately deflects. I’d put all the money in my new bank account on them being here for Emily, she just doesn’t know it. Sneaky fucker.
Inside Gordon’s bar, it’s all lush fabrics and sofas, making for an inviting ambience. The cocktail menu is vast, but I remember what Quinn said the first night—she can’t hold her liquor.
We order some fruity, fizzy thing that gets whipped about and poured into a tall flute and adorned with all manner of additions.
“Cheers. To new friends.”
“To new friends.”
We clink, and I’m careful to sip my drink.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s Benjamin really like? He seemed a little intimidating when I first met him, and he’s certainly not giving anything away since.”
I smile as I think of him. It’s an automatic response and one I can’t recall doing before. I’m usually so careful. Every move, every expression has a time and place.
“Oh, he’s…” My words stick as I try to sum up the man that I’m betraying. The sting of tears catches me off guard, and I reach for my glass in desperation.
“Hope?” Emily prompts.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, he’s not a man that can easily be summed up.”
“You love him.” It isn’t a question. I frown, unsure how much to say.
“I don’t know how you’d sum up Quinn if I asked you the same thing?” I need to change the subject. My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing laboured.
All of the scheming, lies, and deceit within my life brim to the surface. Everything I’ve buried inside of me needs somewhere to go—an escape. I fan my face, suddenly hot and flustered. It's as if my heart can only take on so much, and admitting to loving Benjamin, after what he did for me yesterday, is pushing all of the darkness from my heart.
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