by Geneva Lee
Edward squirmed in his seat, his eyes darting out over the crowd. Either I was dealing with a case of cold feet or he had bad news. My heart sunk as I remembered he’d set up today’s lunch. Still, he wasn’t crying.
“Change your mind?” I asked, giving him an out. If David had refused him, he could claim a change of heart. I’d let him.
“Not exactly.” He inhaled deeply, finally releasing his breath when a familiar figure appeared at the table.
“David!”
“Hi, hon,” Edward said as his better half took the chair next to his and leaned in for a quick kiss. With his laid-back style, David complemented my fashion-conscious future brother-in-law. I watched them, feeling the lump in my throat growing. I’d never seen either of them so relaxed before. David lounged casually back, his eyes bright against his coffee skin. A few months ago, they wouldn’t have sat next to each other.
“Oh, we’ve made her cry again,” Edward said. David shifted forward with a worried look passing over his handsome face.
I picked up his handkerchief, embarrassed, and waved off David’s concern. “Stress.”
“I am not looking forward to that,” David said. “Are you going to be like this?”
I swallowed against my tears and stared at them. “Wait a minute! Show me your hand.”
David held up his left hand smugly, displaying the sleek engagement band Edward and I had picked out a few weeks ago.
“I can’t believe you’ve been sitting here all this time, and you didn’t say a thing,” I accused Edward. Jumping up, I gave them both a hug.
“It’s my fault,” David said. “I wanted to be here.”
“You’re the first person we’ve told,” Edward added.
“Me?” I squeaked.
“Don’t cry again!” Edward laughed as I began to do just that.
“I can’t help it,” I said. I’d been there for the transformation of their relationship. Now I was here for its evolution.
“You’re the reason we’re here,” David said softly. Our eyes met and in that moment I knew Edward wasn’t just getting married, he was growing our family.
“Yeah, if your sister hadn’t kissed me at that party,” Edward joked.
David smacked him on the shoulder before I could.
“Seriously, Clara, you and Alexander—you showed me I didn’t have to choose blood over love.” He clasped David’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you.”
I clutched the handkerchief, joy flooding through me, and waved it at them. “Stop making me cry! And tell me how he proposed.”
David flashed a dazzling display of white teeth. “Well…”

An hour later, I tore myself away from the happy couple so I could make yet another appointment with the wedding coordinator. I’d surreptitiously tucked a roll into my purse at lunch, having been too busy talking to finish my food. Grabbing it, I smiled at Norris as he opened the door to the car.
“I thought you just had lunch,” he said.
“Most brides diet, I eat carbs.” I grinned deviously at him. It was yet another measure of how much Alexander had changed me. There had been a time when I would have stopped eating just to feel in control of something. I didn’t have that urge anymore. If anything, it was the opposite. I was always hungry. Of course, my body probably had a hard time keeping up with all the sex.
Ducking into the car, I glanced back at the restaurant, my mind drifting to David and Edward. But as soon as I did, my light mood evaporated. My hand flew out to stop the door from closing.
“Miss Bishop?” Norris stood aside as I climbed back out of the Rolls-Royce. “Did you forget something?”
I shook my head. Norris turned to look at what had caught my eyes, and I felt his body go rigid next to mine.
“I think you should get in the car,” he suggested gently.
“I bet you do, Norris.” I shot him a look that dared him to stop me.
He moved to the side with a sigh, allowing me a direct line of sight to the woman who’d caught my attention.
Georgia Kincaid.
She was impossible to miss as she casually sipped a glass of red wine, a pair of large black sunglasses perched on her nose. Somehow I’d missed her, even though I’d been dining steps away from her.
Meeting your fiancé’s ex once: bad luck.
Running into her a second time: coincidence.
A third time?
Georgia Kincaid was following me, and I was going to find out why.
Chapter Ten
Striding across the sidewalk, I set my shoulders and prepared myself for the inevitable confrontation. This was the third time I’d run into Georgia Kincaid, and not a single bone in my body thought it was a coincidence. Georgia pushed down her sunglasses and smiled as I approached.
“Clara, how lovely to see you,” she gushed. “An unexpected surprise.”
“Is it?” I asked pointedly.
Georgia blinked. A moment later the smile vanished from her face and she gestured to the seat across from her. I hesitated, but something told me that she was even less into playing games than I was. I sat down, crossing my arms over my chest and waited.
“Don’t stop now,” she urged. “There was an accusation in there somewhere, and I’m dying for you just to say it.”
“You’re following me.”
She shrugged. “Lots of people follow you, Clara. Photographers, reporters, stalkers.”
“Are you stalking me?” If she wanted me to be direct, I could be.
Georgia laughed and lifted her wine glass. “No, you’re just the bait.”
“Then tell me what I’ve done to earn the pleasure of your attention,” I snapped.
“I believe that’s a question for Alexander.”
My stomach flipped over, and I fought against the urge to slap her. “What are you implying?”
“Not what you think, apparently.” She took a sip and set her glass back on the table. Leaning across it, she pulled off her sunglasses and studied me. “I’ve been engaged by a mutual friend to ensure a certain problem is dealt with.”
Somehow she managed to say everything while admitting to nothing. I was obviously out of my league with her, but that wasn’t going to stop my pushing for answers. “Who is your employer?”
“That’s the wrong question,” she chastised me. “What you want to know is who engaged my services. But I think we both know the answer to that question.”
“Alexander,” I breathed before clamping my mouth shut. Information was currency here. I was sure of that.
“Your fiancé is concerned for your safety, and frankly, he should be.”
I shook my head, trying to process the jumble of thoughts. “But what does that have to do with you?”
“I have a particular set of skills.” She shrugged as if this was an answer.
“Skills?” I repeated.
“It’s best to say I lack a certain moral decency that infects most people.”
In that moment, part of me screamed run. I had no business sitting here with a woman who considered morality a blight. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. If Alexander couldn’t be bothered to tell me everything, I’d have to find the answers on my own.
A few of the pieces were already falling into place. “You’re here because of Daniel.” The statement was simple enough, but the implications staggered me. Maybe Alexander couldn’t keep me safe. Of course I knew how far he would go to protect me. I never considered it might not be enough, that he might have to resort to using someone like her.
“Don’t bother being offended on his behalf. Someone has to clean up the scum, Clara.”
“And that’s your job?” I asked, not caring to hear her answer.
“Ah yes. Sit in your ivory loft of privilege and judge me,” she said flatly. “Be as horrified as you like. In the end you’ll be glad I’m so good at what I do.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
“I suppose it’s easy to
judge when you don’t have to know the details,” she purred.
“What are you going to do to him?” I whispered.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” she said dismissively. “I’ll do my job. You’ll walk down the aisle, and everyone lives happily ever after.”
“Everyone lives, huh?” I laughed dully.
“As far as you are concerned.” Her finger traced the rim of her wine glass. “Now ask me what you really want to know.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” The dread creeping across my skin suggested otherwise. But after the shock of what I’d just learned, I wasn’t positive I could handle any more.
“You’re a smart girl, Clara. Don’t play dumb,” she said, an edge of distaste coloring her words.
“What is your relationship with Alexander?” Finally, I had asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.
“I have no relationship with Alexander,” she assured me, tacking on, “anymore.”
“We’re strong women. Lies don’t become us.”
“I’m not lying. And once again you’re asking the wrong question.”
I didn’t have to search for the right one. “What were you to him?”
“Now we’re getting to it.” A delighted smirk played over her stunning features. “Alexander assured me that you knew. Was he lying?”
My eyes shut and I inhaled deeply before answering. “He told me that you had a relationship. You’re his ex-girlfriend.”
“I know Alexander isn’t sentimental enough to call me his girlfriend, even in the past tense.” She raised an eyebrow.
“I believe I called you an ex-girlfriend,” I clarified.
“And he didn’t correct you?” she asked. “Interesting.”
“I don’t have time for this.” I stood shakily and nodded to her. My body was already preparing for the confrontation I knew was coming. My issue wasn’t with Georgia Kincaid. It was with the man I was about to marry.
She held up her hand. “Please sit.”
I considered it for a moment before returning to my chair. Whatever was brewing inside of me would keep. Of that much, I was certain.
“I had hoped to run into you,” she admitted. “I thought a little girl talk was in order.”
“Is that what we’re calling this?” I asked. “You didn’t strike me as a woman who played games.”
“Then you’ve misread me. I love games. Almost as much as I love to play.” She left the final word hanging in the air.
My hand flew to my mouth as I swallowed back a rush of stomach acid. I didn’t need her to explain what that meant.
“You?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the idea.
“I know.” She licked her lower lip, making her red lipstick glisten. “I don’t seem like a submissive. But then again, neither do you, my dear.”
“That’s because I’m not,” I bit out.
“I do remember Alexander saying he wasn’t in the lifestyle,” she recalled. “Or at least claiming he wasn’t. But I’m not stupid. Everything about a man like Alexander craves dominance. He was born to it. The most natural Dominant I’ve ever met, actually.”
“Enough,” I cried, drawing the attention of a few surrounding tables.
Georgia shot me a look and mouthed one word. Discretion.
“You’re advising me to be discreet?” I could have laughed if I didn’t feel so sick.
“I prize discretion over all things. You are one of only a few people who know about my former relationship to your fiancé.” Her hands folded together. “That is why I was assigned to handle your problem.”
“I don’t want you to handle it.”
“Don’t let your emotions get in the way,” she advised me. “As I said, I am discreet. I’m surprised you even noticed me here today, but then again maybe I’m not.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You’ve wanted answers from me since the moment we met. You were looking for me, Clara. You just didn’t know it.” Her head tilted to someone over my shoulder, and a moment later, the waiter appeared. “The check, please.”
“I didn’t…”
“You didn’t want these answers,” she finished for me. “Regardless, I operated under the assumption that Alexander had been truthful with me. He’ll be displeased that you know. His urge to protect you is very strong.”
“I know.” I’d seen that at every turn. But how was I supposed to overlook this? I sat silently as the waiter reappeared with the bill.
Georgia drew out her wallet and tossed down a few pound notes. “Perhaps you should reconsider submission. It’s based on trust.”
“I trust him.” But I couldn’t quite make myself believe my own words.
“I trusted him,” she said softly. “He didn’t break that trust. Maybe he needs you to trust him more.”
The insinuation in her words chilled me, and for some reason I found myself asking her the question that occupied my darker thoughts. “Do you think he can be satisfied without that?”
“If you have to ask, I feel like you already know the answer.” Georgia pushed to her feet and grabbed her purse. “Please believe me when I tell you that I hope you work this out. My experience with Alexander was limited, but he’s a good man. When you’re ready, don’t be scared.”
She left me then and I stared out over the bustling London street. Dozens of people strolled by on their way to jobs and meetings and appointments. Off to meet lovers and friends. I was surrounded by a sea of people, and I’d never felt more alone.
Chapter Eleven
My knee made hard contact with a moving box as I stumbled into the house.
“Fuck!” I screamed.
I’d gone to my appointment with the publicist and listened half-heartedly to her explain the protocols I’d be expected to know when I married Alexander in a week. The whole time questioning if I needed to be there. One week. In a week I was supposed to make vows I was no longer sure of. Not because I wouldn’t mean them, but because for the first time in months I questioned if I could be the wife Alexander needed.
Georgia’s words echoed in my mind as I rubbed my smarting knee. He’s a good man.
A good man who had hired his ex-sub to murder someone. I’d read between the lines. I understood exactly what Georgia had been brought in to do. But the thought that scared me—that made my blood turn to ice—was that I cared more about his other secret.
I’d met his submissive, and he hadn’t been up front with me. If he’d kept their relationship a secret, was he capable of…
I shook the thought from my head.
Alexander was faithful to me. I was positive about that. But Georgia had seen a side to him that he’d only shown me in carefully timed glimpses. Even in his most dominant moments, even in my most submissive, we had been equal. I’d never known true fear at his hands, but she had. He’d admitted to me that his submissive had craved pain and that he had inflicted it.
When the time came, as she suggested it would, could I endure it?
The door behind me opened and he stepped inside, a bright smile flashing over his face when he saw me standing there.
“Last night in Notting Hill,” he said. “I thought we could walk down to Portobello and grab a bite.”
“It’s going to rain. We’ve packed the umbrellas,” I responded flatly.
“I’m certain there’s one in the car.” He reached for me and I flinched. “Clara?”
Closing my eyes, I searched for the right words, but in the end there was only accusation. “I ran into Georgia Kincaid today.”
“Oh?” His expression stayed carefully detached.
“And when I say ran into Georgia, I mean, I confronted her about following me.” I planted my hands on my hips, daring him to feign innocence.
“Norris didn’t mention this.”
“Norris,” I spat back, “knows when to keep out of our business. Something your little friend doesn’t seem to understand.”
“She’s not my friend,” Alexander correc
ted me. He tugged the knot of his tie loose and unbuttoned his top collar button.
I refrained from grabbing the loose tie and strangling him, but only just barely. “Yes, she made that clear. She also informed me about your arrangement.”
“Clara.” He placed hand on my arm. “Whatever you think—“
“I don’t think! I know! You hired a hit man. Woman. Whatever!” I jerked away from his grasp.
His shoulders relaxed, and I knew then that he was relieved. He thought she hadn’t told me any more than that. Comprehension crashed into me—he had no intention of ever revealing the true nature of his past relationship with Georgia.
“Oh,” I continued, my lower lip beginning to tremble, “she also told me that you used to tie her up and whip her.”
Alexander drew a sharp breath. “Clara—”
“I knew I was forgetting something,” I said, ignoring him. “We had a lovely conversation about it. She was under the impression that we had all shared our stories.”
“Before a few weeks ago, I hadn’t spoken to Georgia Kincaid in years.”
“And now you’ve hired her to commit murder,” I seethed. “What kind of sick bond do you two have exactly?”
“I asked for assistance. I did not ask for her assistance.”
“Yeah, who knew the family jeweler was also the Royal cleaner?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Is this who you are? How far are you willing to go, X?”
“When it comes to protecting you, I will go as far as I have to. No one will touch you and I don’t care if I have to get in bed with the devil himself,” he roared, anger flaring like the tip of a flame in his blue eyes.
“Call it off,” I demanded in a low voice. “Call Hammond and tell him you will find another way.”
“I can’t do that.” He pressed forward, backing me into the wall. “Not until I’m sure this threat has been dealt with.”
“Call it off,” I pleaded. “I won’t have blood on my hands—or yours.”
He straightened, an angry tick pulsing in his jaw as he withdrew his mobile from his breast pocket and dialed.
“Hammond, close the show.” There was a pause. “I’m certain.”
