• 

Present Day

Darkness wrapped her arms around me like a lover I’d grown tired of. Too heavy, too cloying. If I’d had my pick of hiding places, I wouldn’t have chosen a freaking closet.

But beggars and choosers and all that.

Only a sliver of light underneath the door made my coffin seem like less of a permanent void. My heart kicked inside my chest, each beat like a punch against my ribs.

But it wasn’t fear.

Oh no. It was something deeper. Darker. More worrisome.

And it felt a hell of a lot like excitement.

The heat of the man who held his hand pressed over my mouth completely enveloped me, wrapping itself around me, not like the stifling shroud of a wet blanket but more like the safe cocoon of a weighted one.

I should have been terrified. Screw getting caught. I needed to kick, and scream, and raise hell because I could very well die in this closet.

No, you won’t.

Okay, maybe not, but it sure as hell felt that way. That was what I got for literally running away from a party. But in my defense, I was escaping Fenton Mills, my boyfriend’s boss. That man had far too many hands and had consumed far too many gin and tonics to care who saw him try to grab my ass.

If I was in the mood to be honest, I’d have to admit the crowd had started to get to me too. Dexter had promised to stay by my side, knowing how crowds made me crazy, but true to form, he’d gotten caught up talking to someone, had some scotch, and left me alone like a sitting duck.

So I’d gone looking for a little reprieve. A moment to breathe. Somewhere to hide. The office door was open, and then I’d leaned against the stupid statue, a ceramic of what looked like bodies intertwined. How was I supposed to know how fragile the damn thing was? I’d been startled by a noise and bumped the stupid thing and had to scramble to catch it.

I’d grabbed onto what looked like a handle just in time. Problem was, when I righted the statue…the handle came off in my hand. Only it wasn’t a handle at all. It was a dick. I had statue dick in my hands. Statue Dick.

As if that hadn’t been enough cause for panic, the noise I’d heard only drew closer with footsteps outside the door. Cold, clammy sweat popped on my skin, and I had to make a literal fight-or-flight, game-time decision. There was no fighting in my party shoes, so I’d chosen to flee. But I couldn’t very well go out the door I’d come through because then I’d have been caught, so I hid in the closet, in the dark. And I’d been prepared to stay there for however long I needed to. 

I didn’t have to wait long. After minutes, the door opened and light spilled in, practically blinding me and giving me only a one-second glimpse at what I was certain would mean a trip to jail when a man so broad that he blocked out the direct light put me in darkness again. 

He was well over six feet. His blond hair was a little too long. And his ice blue eyes pierced directly into my soul, freezing me where I stood and sending heat licking over my skin. I caught just enough of a jaw so square that it would make Henry Cavill jealous before he stepped into the shoebox-size closet that was definitely too small for one of us, let alone two. 

His broad shoulders took up far too much room and made it difficult to breathe. Our bodies pressed up against each other, and the heat of him chased away the chill of my fear. But my thundering, tripping, skipping heartbeat stayed. My breath became shallow and thin. Probably because he was hogging all the damn oxygen.

I should have been afraid, but it was excitement that made my belly do flips and injected that hint of euphoria that lied to me and told me I could fly.

“What do you think—” I didn’t get to finish my statement because the Viking god in Armani placed his damn hand over my mouth and leaned ever so close. A wash of heat spread over my body as I molded against him because, quite frankly, I had nowhere else to go. I was hot and flushed and worried, but somehow, not scared.

“Be still.” The gruff, grumbly growl sent a spike of heat through me. But I did as I was told. I could hear movement in the office beyond. I didn’t want to be caught. The more I moved, the more noise I made. And the last thing I needed was evidence of the broken sculpture to be found. Evidence I still held in my hand. 

So, I was stuck like that, pressed up against a total stranger with a chest broad enough to obscure me from view and tall enough to tower over me. Christ, he was big.

The voices and footsteps drew closer outside.

I held my breath. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I couldn’t be caught in here. No way in hell could I explain any of this. There was no easy way to say, “Hey, sorry I broke your priceless statue’s dick as I was running away from your party.” So I was stuck. In a closet, in the dark. With a guy who could only be described as a Viking in a tux.

And was that his very large erection pressing against my belly? I swallowed hard. Oh yes, that was also most certainly his hand on my ass. I opened my mouth to bite his hand, and he admonished me with a whispered, “Shut up. Neither one of us wants to get caught, love.”

He had a point there. But his hand flexed on my ass, and I was not okay with it.

Except… Somewhere deep down inside, my inner libido was absolutely fine with it. It had been six long months since I’d had sex, boyfriend notwithstanding, and I was craving a man’s touch. But it was still wrong. The Viking wasn’t Dexter. I needed to get the hell out of there.

But there was one slight problem; whoever was in the office wasn’t going away, so I was stuck there with one of the Viking’s hands on my ass and the other on my mouth, and I was too afraid to breathe.

“You need to moan. You had better be a damn good actress.”

He couldn’t see me, but I still furrowed my brow before I opened my mouth to protest. Then suddenly, he lifted his hand off my mouth, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he slid that hand into my hair, angling his head so his face was in the crook of my neck. “You’re going to have to moan now.”

“What the—”

His mouth on my neck sent a spike of pure need that tugged low in my belly, and the moan that followed was completely involuntary. It felt good. Too good. His lips trailed along my collar bone. His teeth nipped my skin. I wanted to argue. To fight. To tell him to get his hands the hell off me because I had a boyfriend. But I was distracted by his mouth and the hand in my hair tugging it to the side, making a mess of what had taken me hours to artfully straighten and arrange.

But still the footsteps and voices grew closer, and the Viking whispered again. “Fake it till you make it, princess. Make me believe you.”

His hand tightened on my ass, squeezing and pulling me flush against him. The hard length of his erection was like steel against my belly. 

He throbbed against me, and before I could wiggle away, the door cracked open and light streamed in like a ray of sunshine. I finally understood what he was doing. 

This was for show. This was our way out. Our way to keep from being caught. We had to fake this and fake it well.

I moaned loud enough to be heard. The door opened a little wider, and I ducked my head into his neck too. My breathing was ragged as he ravaged my neck. Later, when I came to my senses, I would tell myself I hadn’t rocked against his erection.

All I heard then was a chuckle from someone, and muffled words as the door closed again and any hint of light was gone.

The Viking Adonis should have released me then, but he trailed his nose up the column of my throat again until he hit the shell of my ear, and then his lips whispered, “Very well done, princess.”

He released me suddenly. But his jacket caught on my pin as he shoved open the door, and I squeaked. “No, no, no.” But I heard the soft ping as my pin hit the floor, and the sound made tears well in my eyes. “Shit.”

“Are you okay?” His voice was brusque, distracted.

I fell to the ground, trying to find it. “No, I am not okay. You broke my p—”

He tapped his ear as he gave me a hard look. “I’m really sorry. But I’ve got to go.” And then he was gone, leaving me completely alone with my mother’s broken pin in the palm of my hand. I wobbled in place, unable to get a sense of my bearings as tears welled in my eyes

What the hell had just happened? 

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Four Years Ago…

Pussy came easy. But then, for me, most things came easy. 

As I slid a glance over the lithe, naked back of the blonde in front of me and locked my teeth, I wished some things came easier than others. It didn't matter how much my balls ached or how much sweat dripped off my brow, there’d be no relief for me, no matter how many times I had her. 

As she moaned, writhed, and shouted things that were dirty enough to make any porn star blush, I fought to stay focused. She was a means to an end. Unfortunately for me, that end wasn’t pleasure. It was more like revenge. She had information I needed. And she, like half the women in London, was susceptible to the Chase charm.

She screamed through her orgasm, and I just wanted it to be over. A means to an end. She was Alistair’s wife. Screwing her was one more domino on my way to taking down the man I hated.

My brain did me the favor of replaying the night over and over and over again. Every decision I’d made. Every step that had led me there. How well she’d sucked my cock on the way to Notting Hill. The slide of her tongue over the length of me as I spun my Huayra over the rain-slicked streets of London. The feel of her pussy milking my cock. Her brazen offer for me to have her any way I wanted.

But I had zero desire to come. And no amount of fucking this nearly nameless, faceless blonde would solve that. After it was over, I’d barely remember her. Hell, I could barely remember her name as it was. Georgina? Jemima? Julia? Something J-sounding. Bugger, I really did have to get better with names. But I would remember whose wife she was.

I pulled away from her, and she made a half-hearted, feeble attempt to reach for me. Who was she kidding? That was orgasm number four for her. She’d be out cold in seconds.

I slid the satin sheet over her naked form and sat on the edge of the bed. My dick twitched as if to remind me of how I got into this mess in the first place. I scrubbed a hand down my face. I sat there for several minutes until her deep, even breathing alerted me to her slumber. Right. Time to go to work. I tugged on my boxer briefs and slipped into the living room where she’d dropped her bag. 

I made sure I kept an eye on the bedroom door as I booted up her laptop. Thanks to one tequila too many and my very skilled hands working their magic under her panties, she’d told me everything I needed to know to take a decent stab at her password. I got it on the third try. Cat’s name. I didn't bother to roll my eyes.

When I was done copying all the files to my external hard drive, I shut down her computer and slid it back into her bag before silently stalking back into the bedroom. She was still knocked out, but the sheet had shifted slightly, exposing her bare arse. Fuck. Maybe I should have taken her up on her offer to fuck her however I wanted. 

I scowled at my straining erection. My cock begged me to go back to bed. To give it another go in the hopes that this time would be different. That she would be different. But I knew better. What was the definition of insanity again? No point in going back to it, mate, it won’t do any good.

There was only one way to relieve the gnawing, clawing hunger. But knowing the solution didn’t mean I wanted to go through with it. Get in the shower. Release the tension. Then call the cleaning crew to deal with the unwanted guest. Most importantly, I had to ignore that niggling thought at the back of my skull. That tiny voice telling me the kind of man I was. Telling me that inside, I was beyond buggered. Truly fucked up and there’d be no respite for me. This was my personal hell. 

I didn't bother to tiptoe into the spacious bathroom because I knew she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. I avoided the mirror and stepped into the shower, blasting on the hot water and letting the piercing pellets from multiple sprays scorch my skin. In a long-practiced move, I reached for the shower gel, using just enough to coat my hands, then I stroked myself. 

A harsh groan tore from my throat on contact. So, bleeding good. I focused on the memories of the woman in my bed. The gentle, yet suggestive smile as she’d brushed up against me. That was always my favorite part. The possibility of something great.

Of course, it was never great. At that point, I doubted I’d know an epic shag if it came up and bit me on the arse. But I kept repeating the same patterns over and over again. What was the definition of insanity again?

It didn’t help that, thanks to the Chase name, the royal connections, and my face, woman after woman happily climbed into my bed.

But the end result was always the same. I was dead inside. My balls ached as I stroked myself, my palm smoothing over the flared tip. I hissed in a pleasurable pain at the friction. So… on edge… almost… Just needed…

My release hit me with the force of a tank, and I shook violently as stream after stream of come shot out of me. I clamped my jaw tight, unwilling to cry out with my release.

As soon as it was over, I did what I always did and turned the water as cold as I could stand it. Then I let my body slide down to the tiled bench seat as the self-loathing seeped into my pores.

There had to be a better way. I would only survive so much more before I became irrevocably broken. Maybe it was already too late for that.

* * * 

Xander…

My heart thundered with each step, and I fought to control my labored breathing. The more I pushed, the more everything burned. My lungs, my chest, the muscles in my thighs, my overly taut calf muscles. In contrast next to me, my brother seemed completely unbothered as we pushed the pace of our run.

With the spirit of competition riding me, but more the need to outrun my demons, I pushed harder, forcing my legs to move faster. Next to me, Lex matched my pace but his breathing hitched, and I smirked. The way I saw it, we both had some demons to outrun. 

Despite my hoodie, the chill of the morning settled into my bones. Or maybe that was still the slithering stench of self-loathing. I’d left the J-blonde in my bed. If she was still there, the cleaning crew would arrive soon enough to help her along her way. And even if she tried to wait for me, she’d soon realize I wasn’t coming back. Not anytime soon anyway. I didn’t live there.

That flat was strictly for sex and for women I had no intention of ever seeing again. There was no way I was bringing anybody to where I actually lived. I didn’t need this feeling permeating into my real life. It’s already here. Separation of fucking and life was important to me, and never the twain shall meet. 

I had far too much riding on my goals. It was time I got serious. I couldn't afford to get distracted. At least that’s what I told myself as I forced my legs to keep going.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman bundled against the chill of the morning pushing a baby pram while she jogged. Her chocolaty complexion reminded me of the one woman I shouldn’t want and couldn’t have. Instinctively I turned to get a better look.

That brief break in concentration tripped me up. Literally. I went arse over teakettle on the grassy trail, forcing Lex to jump out of the way.

Through labored breathing, my brother leaned down and offered a hand. “All right, Xan?”

I glared up at the hand offered and scowled. I wanted to take it, I really did, but I'd punished my body and the prone position was feeling far too comfortable at the moment. I didn’t stand. “Fine.”

Lex dropped smoothly to his side in the dewy grass. “Glad to hear it. Now maybe you can tell me why we're running like we’re in Olympic training.”

What's the matter, my pace too fast for you?” I deflected immediately. Lex was too adept at seeing through me. We'd been through too much together.

“I kept up, didn't I?” With a sigh, Lex tried a different tactic. “What’s really going on with you?”

“Sorry. My mind's just on the purchase of Trident Media stock. I need everything to go right. It’s got me edgy.”

Lex nodded and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I understand. Though, if it’s causing this level of stress, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

I watched my brother from the corner of my eye. There was no mistaking we were brothers from our tall, lean frames to our facial features, our coloring, and our silvery-gray eyes. Only Lex’s hair was inky and dark, while I still sported the dirty-blond hair I'd had as a child. But some days our personalities were so far on opposite ends of the scale I wondered how we could be brothers. “Didn't we already cover this territory?” For months, since I had told him the plan, Lex had tried to talk me out of it. “You don't think that fucking twat deserves to pay for what he did?”

“Of course I do. You know what happened on those stairs that night. But this plan of yours, it’s eating at you, Xan. Corroding you from the inside. You’ve been edgy and snappish, even to Abbie, who you normally think walks on water.”

I winced at the mention of her name. Abbie Nartey shouldn’t have meant anything to me, considering she was my brother’s girlfriend. But from the moment she’d become my student, I’d had a soft spot for her. Make that a very hard—never mind. She was the reason my brother smiled again. And she was my student. I’d put aside the feelings I had for her a long time ago. Mostly.

“I’m not exactly the warm, soothing, agony aunt. She knew that about me when she took the job.” And normally, she gave as good as she got. But Lex was right. Even I knew my mood swings were a special kind of toxic.

“This is what I want, Lex. I need to do this. Then I can walk away. Start fresh. I can't let him walk around like he owes us nothing. He could have stopped the abuse at any time, but he didn’t. He could have told someone, but he didn’t. And he could have admitted the truth, but he didn't.” What I didn't say out loud to my brother was the secret shame I carried. He didn't have to hold me down for his father, but he did.

No. We’d continue with the plan. Alistair McMahon’s company, Trident Media Group had been financially backsliding for some time, and they’d been selling off chunks of stock to recoup their losses. Stock Lex and I had been purchasing through various companies. For now, we were holding on to it, but when all our ducks were lined up in a row, the two of us would have enough shares to dismantle Trident brick by bloody brick. And thanks to the information from J-girl’s laptop, I might have something big enough to destroy him for good. “I have the information we talked about.”

Lex shook his head. “Do I even want to know how you got it?”

“Nope.”

“Xan, this is a dangerous game.”

“Go on with the stock purchase. I’ve got Garett working on the data. If there’s anything on her computer we can use, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ll work on phase two.”

Phase two was more difficult. Alistair McMahon sat on the board of London’s Artistic Trust. I had to get myself on that board in order to topple all of my dominos for a more effective blow. But getting on the board was easier said than done.

My brother studied me as if he could divine the truth out of me, then eventually sighed. “Okay. Do you want to continue this grueling pace, or have you had enough?”

I pushed myself to a standing position. “We can take it easy heading back.”

Lex smirked and bounced up next to me. I wanted to curse my brother's energy. My legs felt like lead weights. That’s what happens when you try to outrun demons. “Who said I needed to take it easy?”

“Of course, you don’t.”

I tried to stand, but I groaned instead. “On second thought, I still have some kinks to work out.”

“I’m proposing to Abbie.” It was blurted out in a rush, and Lex flushed red as he said it.

For several long moments, I couldn't compute the pain that radiated through my chest or the words that caused the piercing headache in my skull. But slowly, the words started to piece together. Propose. Abbie.

hat was it. In that moment, I knew what I had to do. I'd shut the door ages ago on anything ever happening with Abbie, but a piece of me hadn’t let her go. Though it was less about her and more about what she represented. But she was all Lex's now.

The guilt was quickly overshadowed by joy. I might be in excruciating, radiating pain, but Lex looked happy. The kind of happy that people could only experience when they had nothing holding them back.

I let that joy from my brother fill me and drown out the guilt and the remnants of pain. Pulling my brother to me, I hugged Lex hard. While I embraced him, I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. I could be happy for him. If anyone deserved that kind of happiness, it was my brother. And Abbie of course. Especially since Jean Claude had threatened to kill them both. I could have lost them. This, this was far better.

There was no point in feeling any loss for myself. It wasn’t my moment. “Mate, I'm so happy for you.” Lex hugged me back, and we stood there in the middle of the park embracing each other. When we pulled back, we both ignored each other's misty gazes.

Fuck, why couldn’t I rid myself of the impending tears? “Good for you. Now you tell Nick that he may be your best mate and all, but I’m the one standing next to you on the big day.” 

Lex used his t-shirt to wipe his face. “Well, let's get her to say yes first, shall we?” 

“Let's face it, she's nutters about you. She’ll say yes.” And somehow, I'd have to figure out how to deal with that.

My brother licked his lips. “You’re okay, though?”

“I’m bloody brilliant. I’m about to get a sister.”

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First rule of fighting assholes is kick first ask questions later. 

Maybe Easton thought I was kidding. 

Maybe he thought I really wouldn't fight back. Maybe he thought that, like all those years before, I would just give him what he wanted. But Easton didn't know me very well anymore. 

Because I was going to fight for my life. Fight for my freedom. I knew what it meant now to have someone who actually cared about me. And I wasn't letting that go without a fight. 

I kicked. I punched. I fought like hell. He reached for the black bag that was over my head, and I whipped my hand out. I didn't have enough leverage to really get proper punches in, but I was doing what I could. I wasn't going down without a fight. Not today. 

I wasn’t going to live in fear anymore.

I heard a voice say, “Jesus Christ! She's one hell of a fighter.”

And then, another more familiar voice said, “Jesus! Just take it off so she knows she's not in danger.”

I frowned. The voice was female. Ilani?

The black bag was removed from my head, and I raised my hands, ready to defend myself. I blinked rapidly to adjust to the light, and I saw Ilani peering at me. “Ilani? What the fuck?” Why wasn’t she black bagged? Ilani whacked at the arm of someone and my gaze darted that way. Dane, from class? “What the fuck, you guys? Are you trying to sell me? I swear you’ll get more for Ilani than you will for me.”

There were two other guys and a mousy-haired brunette in the van with us. They were vaguely familiar. I knew their faces but couldn’t place them. I stepped back, and Ilani held up her hands. 

“Abbie, are you okay?”

I noted the open van door and a curious onlooker who jogged by. They’d parked on the far end of the park with less foot traffic, so if I was going to fight, I’d need to make a hell of a lot of noise. “Someone had better start fucking talking right now.”

One of the other guys held up his hand. “Hey, I'm Jackson. I'm one of Xander's TAs.” 

The second guy waved at me. “Garreth. I finished the masters course last year.”

The girl waved. “Madison. I’m his TA and sometimes his assistant for shoots.” 

Jackson darted his gaze to Garreth. “We're the Daylighters. You, Ilani, and Dane have been selected.”

My gaze flickered to Ilani then to a ruddy-faced Dane. “Selected to what, win a free kidnapping? Can I decline this prize?”

Ilani snorted.

Jackson shook his head. “Right. I forgot. You don't know what the Daylighters are. It's kind of a secret society for photography and media students. They select three students a year. Surprise and welcome?” He grinned.

I scooted back as far as I could go until my back was up against the door of the van. “So, what, you just kidnap people off the street?”

Madison winced. “I told you lot watching too much of The Skulls was a bad idea. You’ve terrified her.”

Garreth held up his hands. “Mate, don’t blame me. Jackson wanted to go for maximum effect. I told you it wasn't a good idea. She looks jumpy.”

Madison sighed. “Sorry about these idiots. When Jackson said they were going to grab you, I sincerely thought they meant pick you up. Not, you know, literally grab you. Normally, we wouldn't approach you cold, but you didn't reply to your invitation letter. We thought you knew about the Daylighters, present kidnapping situation not-withstanding.”

I frowned. “Invitation letter?”

Ilani held up her invitation that was lettered in a gray embossed font. And then I thought back. I'd gotten a letter like that last week. I'd ignored it because it looked fancy, and so I assumed it was from Easton. “I need someone to do a better job of explaining.”

Jackson did his best. “We take the best of Xander's students, and they become Daylighters. The ones who help in his galleries. Occasionally, you get to exhibit, and we go out and shoot together. I know it sounds nerdy, but it's actually pretty wicked.”

“So you guys couldn't just, you know, ask in class or something? ‘Who wants to be in our secret club?’ I could have tased you to death.”

Garreth shrugged. “Well, it wouldn't exactly be a secret then, would it?”

My gaze flickered between Ilani and the men at the back of the van. “Can you let me go now?” 

Garreth released my wrist. “Sorry. I only held on to you because you were hitting pretty hard.” He dusted his knuckles over his cheek. “I'm pretty sure I'm going to be bruised tomorrow.”

I scowled at him. “You'll still look pretty enough.”

He lifted his brows as if assessing me with interest now, but I kept my scowl on my face. “You're not my type. I prefer men who don't kidnap me.”

He winced. “I'm sorry about that, okay? Are you hurt?”

I did a mental calculation. Now that the adrenaline sliding in my veins had slowed, nothing actually hurt. There was a little throbbing in my head, but that was probably from the overflow of adrenaline. I hadn't technically been hurt.

I tested the handle of the door I was backed up against. It gave easily, and the door slid back. Jackson held up his hands as if he were under arrest. “Jesus, you can go anytime. I guess you really didn't get the invitation.”

I shook my head. “I may have gotten it. I just didn't open it. I have a lot going on.” No way was I going to explain to him that it looked like some piece of bullshit my ex-boyfriend would have sent me. 

Garreth took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe we should start again. Hi, we're the Daylighters. We would very much like you to be part of the group. The photos you've taken so far have been amazing. And we can see why Xander is so taken with your work.”

I frowned. “You’ve seen my work?”

“Well, when Xander considers new students, he picks the best of the best. And then he discusses his favorites with us, their strengths, their weaknesses. Then throughout the course of the year, when he gives critiques, we follow their progress. The photos of the kids in the market. That was really terrific.”

I frowned. “You really do know my work.”

Garreth nodded. “Yeah, they were great.” 

The warm flush of pride in my chest did something to stave off my irritation. “What does this group entail anyway?”

“We're headed to the studio near the Victoria and Albert Museum. From there, we confiscate your phone for the day, and we shoot in the city. Kind of gorilla stuff. A little more urban. A little grittier. It's just for the day and the night, and then you get to go home.”

I slid my glance to Ilani, and she nodded her head. “Hey, I got my invitation, so I knew something like this was going to happen. I'm ready for it.”

“I don't want to give up my phone though.”

Garreth shook his head. “It's tradition. And if something is actually urgent, and someone calls you on it, we'll let you know.”

“I need to text someone first.”

Jackson shrugged. “Fine. Make it quick, then.“

I glanced at my friends and the three idiots who thought it might be a good idea to kidnap me. The word no was on the tip of my tongue because their methodology was terrifying. But Ilani and Dane were there. And now that I could see their faces, I knew I wasn't just being kidnapped out of the park.

I nodded warily. “Listen, I'll come along. But if there's anything I don't like, I'm done.”

Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. We already have our kits, so let's get going.”

With another withering glare for Jackson, I texted Lex.

Abbie: Will be shooting late. Rain check?

I handed my phone to Jackson with a frown before settling back in the seat next to Ilani. I turned to her. “If we're being human trafficked, this is your fault.”

She laughed. “If we are, I'm glad I’m with you. You’ll put up a hell of a fight if we get in trouble.”

Little did she know I’d spent much of my adult life being afraid. 

Well, I was done being scared.

* * *

Alexi…

I checked my phone… for the twentieth time that afternoon.

No more texts from Abbie. Since the one saying she was shooting late, I hadn’t heard from her.

You are officially pussy whipped. 

That’s, right. I had it bad. The worst thing was that I wasn't even trying to keep it a secret. I wanted to be with her, to spend as much time as possible with her. I was nuts.

Yeah, you're nuts. She doesn't know the truth.

There was a lot to talk about. And I was going to tell her. I didn’t want to keep it from her. If this was the real thing, she had to know. All of it.

And she would understand. She had to. Because once I understood what I was feeling, I wasn't planning on letting her go. And I wasn't going to allow the whole situation with Gemma ruin everything either. 

I’d had too many one-night stands and meaningless shag-buddy situations. Abbie was the first person I’d wanted to let in. I was itching to tell her everything, and I knew she wouldn’t run.

You mean you hope she won’t.

I typed in the code for the main entry door of her flat before taking the stairs two at a time. 

Excited much? According to Xander, women liked it when blokes played it a little cool. But we were way past that point. I hoped to surprise her and make her dinner.

On her doorstep, I wiped my boots and shook off the rain, taking off my coat before I knocked on the door. 

No one answered. I frowned and knocked again. Tension sat squarely between my shoulder blades. Had she forgotten we had a date tonight?

When she still didn’t answer, I pulled out my phone and texted her again. 

Alexi: Your boyfriend is here to do naughty, debaucherous things to you. He's at the door. Open up.

I waited, but the message didn't show as delivered. Was it possible she wasn't home? I heard footsteps and then smiled to myself. She’d probably let her phone die. I was going to buy her a million portable chargers.

When the door opened though, it wasn't Abbie. It was Faith. And she gave me a confused smile. “Uh, Lex? What are you doing here? Did plans change? Are we going out from here? I was just in the shower, but I don't think I got a text.”

Shit. It seemed Abbie hadn’t said anything about us to her friends yet, which suited me fine. I swallowed that dig against my conscience. It was handy that Faith and I weren’t really that great of friends. She hadn’t gone to Uni with me, so she didn’t know about Gemma. And Faith was more Sophie’s friend than in the core group with Max.

The lads, they knew about Gemma, so it was likely Sophie did too. But Faith didn’t look like she wanted to cut off my balls so she probably didn't know. “Sorry. I was just looking for Abbie. We were going to… chat.” About what you twat? “Uh, about a potential photography gig.” That was plausible right? 

Her short blond hair was visibly still damp and tousled. She must have been in the shower. “I just got back this morning from Ireland. She’s not here. All she said was she was going to do some work tonight. So, I assume that meant you.”

“Uh, yep. I haven’t heard from her though, and I’m a little worried.” That was too much. Why would I be worried? I searched through my skull for a plausible reason for my concern. 

But turned out I didn’t need it. She was already thinking about where Abbie might be. “If she makes a plan, she sticks to it. She’s anal about that. Like really compulsive. Like someone is gonna scream at her for going off book. So it’s odd you haven’t heard from her.”

I pushed down the flare of anger. If I ever got my hands on that arsehole, I was going to kill him.

“I haven't spoken to her since early this morning.”

Faith frowned then. “Come in. I’ll try to locate her on Find my Friends.”

I followed behind her, my worry dogging every step. “Any other friends you know of that might have an idea where she is?”

Faith shook her head. “I'm sure it's fine. She probably just got caught up with shooting, right? You know how she gets.”

I nodded slowly, even as I pulled out my phone and texted my brother. “Yeah. Xander’s the same way.” Then why doesn’t it feel like she got caught up with shooting? “It could be anything. I mean, if you're going to Sophie's, maybe she misinterpreted and went there?”

Faith shrugged. “Yeah, let me check with Sophie and see if that's where she headed.”

She jogged into the back rooms and then came back with her phone. No, she isn’t with Sophie, and Jasper offered that he hadn’t seen her. Can’t locate her on Find my Friends, either. It says ‘location unknown,’ so her phone is probably dead.” 

I ground my teeth then and groaned. “I’m seriously concerned something may have happened to her, Faith.”

She fidgeted as she bit her nail. “It’s not like her, to be honest. She doesn’t just let her mobile die. And she’s paranoid about safety. I'm a little concerned, too. It's not like her to completely vanish.”

“Why do you say that?”

Faith shuffled on her feet. “Listen, it's not my place, but did she tell you anything about her past?”

The increased unease made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Yeah, about her ex?”

Faith nodded with what looked like a sigh of relief. “Oh good, she told you about Easton. Did she mention that he's been calling her?”

My brows snapped down. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah. You know, just calling and insisting she come home, demanding that she call him… but she hasn't been. She said that there was no way he would come to London or anything, but I mean, what if he did?”

Fuck. I hadn’t received a message back from Xander, but Faith had a point. Based on Mom's and Jean Claude's connections, the family had a couple of detectives and inspectors we were on a first name basis with. “Looks like I’m calling in a favor.”

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