For King and Country (23 page)

“I put together the graphics we discussed yesterday,” Bennett announced, stepping into my workspace.

I looked up to meet his eyes, grateful that at least he could still look me in the face after yesterday’s tabloid fodder. Shuffling a few files on my desk, I found the list we’d concocted the day before and checked off the completed task. “I’ll work on pulling together the statistics on availability of clean water and child mortality.”

“Can I just say how grateful I am to have someone helping with this? I have to be honest, I’m still in shock that Isaac Blue chose to work with us.” Bennett dropped into a chair across from me. His oxford was wrinkled and there were bags under his eyes.

“Things a little rough right now?”

“Two little girls are a lot for two parents to handle, and I’m all they have,” he admitted. “I can’t help thinking that I’m screwing them both up.”

I leaned forward and touched his sleeve, feeling a wave of sympathy at his confession. No one who cared as much as Bennett could be screwing up. “You aren’t. You just have your work cut out for you. If you ever need someone to come over and watch them, let me know.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do if I had a night off. I’d probably work.”

I laughed at this and shook my head. “No work. That’s the deal.”

“So what do you think so far?” He spread his arms. “How’s your first post-university gig?”

“Good.” I blew a thin stream of air between my lips.

He raised an eyebrow, leveling his gaze to mine. “That was very convincing.”

I hesitated, uncertain whether I should bring up all the drama in my personal life. Bennett seemed content to leave all that shit at the door, but I had to accept that my relationship with Alexander might complicate things. “Well, I haven’t met anyone else in the office yet, and no one seems eager to introduce themselves.”

“I think they’re intimidated by you,” he said honestly.

“Me?” It was the most preposterous thing I’d ever heard.

“You’re kind of a resident celebrity.”

I covered my face with my hands and dropped my head to my desk.

“Hey,” he soothed, “it’ll pass and then nobody will even remember you dated what’s-his-face.”

“Nice try,” I croaked. “They’ll still have seen his texts to me. They’ll still remember I’m the girl with the eating disorder.”

I’d been through this before at my high school. It was impossible to ignore the dissecting gaze of your peers as they assessed your figure and how much you ate for lunch. I’d run away from it then, but that wasn’t an option anymore. I didn’t want it to be.

“Then show them that you’re more than all that.” Bennett stood and waved me out of my chair.

We spent the next hour going from desk to desk, shaking hands, and sharing small talk with the staff of Peters & Clarkwell. There was no way I’d remember half the names that had been thrown at me, but I was grateful to meet my co-workers. I could only hope that it laid to rest some of the office rumors about me.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur of reading environmental resources and taking notes in the hopes of impressing our celebrity client. I knew little about Isaac Blue outside of film posters and movies, and a quick internet search turned up a lot of speculation on his private life. I couldn’t help but feel for the guy even though no story mentioned a commitment to the environment. Popping down to Bennett’s office, I stopped in the doorway.

“So did Blue’s publicist say why he’s so interested in starting this campaign?” I asked, adding, “I’m just curious.”

Bennett leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, and gave me a grim smile. “She sold me on his deep commitment to the cause, but if I’m honest, I think we’re being hired to reform his image.”

That’s what I figured. I might know what it was like to be tabloid fodder, but I wasn’t exactly psyched to invite more drama into my day-to-day life. And Isaac Blue was clearly trouble.

“I guess we should just be happy that he wants to help,” I said, edging out the door.

“I’ll take what I can get!” Bennett called after me.

As I returned to my desk to wrap up my final notes, already thinking about how I’d be spending my evening—or rather who I’d be spending my evening with—a glowing redhead bounced up to me. She held out a card, and my heart skipped as I took it from her.

“Victoria?” I asked with a sheepish smile, hoping I had the right name.

“Victoria Theroux,” she confirmed. “But call me Tori.”

“Thanks, Tori.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I shuffled my feet.

“Was the guy who delivered it available?”

“Um, I don’t know. What did he look like?” I asked, a bit taken aback by the question.

I managed to keep the shock off my face as she described Norris. “I don’t know,” I admitted with barely-concealed amusement, “but I can ask.”

“Sorry,” she said, fanning herself. “I have a total daddy complex. It’s terrible, but you’ll get used to it.”

A laugh escaped my lips, but this only seemed to please her as she broke out in a wide grin. Maybe I was going to make more than one friend here.

“We should get lunch sometime,” I said. I was eager to have more friends in London, and from my brief interactions with Alexander’s friends, I didn’t think I was going to find any there. Plus, the idea of having a girlfriend who wasn’t obsessing over her wedding sounded fantastic.

“Awesome! I know a fantastic fish and chips place,” Tori agreed with a genuinely warm smile. “Sometime this week.”

“It’s on.”

“I know where you work, so don’t think you can back out.” She shot me a wink and floated back to her desk. I made a mental note where she sat, trying to attach the face and name to the spot.

As soon as I was back at my computer, and after a quick check to make sure no one was watching, I tore open the envelope and read Alexander’s note:

I exhaled shakily, realizing I’d held my breath as I read, but I knew that didn’t account for the dizziness swimming in my head. That was just his effect on me. The X effect, I thought wryly.

Inhaling, I did as he commanded.

“Alexander.”

C
oCo was the last place my mother would have picked for dinner. She told me so herself, and that was exactly why I chose the comfortable seasonal bistro in Notting Hill. Despite boasting some of the best upscale comfort food in London, it also had private dining rooms. Private and unpretentious? Just what I needed to relax.

Notting Hill on a balmy June evening felt like another world. The hectic chaos of London didn’t extend to the sleepy neighborhood that could somehow be packed with people and still feel laid-back. I pointed out shops that I wanted to stop in with him sometime as we strolled down Portobello Road, and we lingered at the few stalls open late on a Wednesday night, thumbing through old books and antiques of questionable worth. But as Alexander and I finally made our way to the restaurant, my nerves kicked in.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to introduce him to my family. I loved my family, even if that wasn’t always easy. And I knew that I couldn’t keep him away from them for long, especially if I was going to be on the cover of a goddamn tabloid every other day. The fact was that things were complicated. My mother was over-protective and over-opinionated. My dad was a little better, but he always gave in to her. And I wouldn’t put it past Lola to spend all night flirting with Alexander—or trying to, at least.

Not to mention that Alexander and I didn’t have a typical relationship, and I could never be certain if he would suddenly shut me out.

“You’re quiet,” he said, and I realized we’d reached CoCo without saying a word.

I glanced over at him and a possessive ache burst across my chest. He’d gone out of his way to give me a night of normalcy, dressing in worn jeans and a white button-down that skimmed his lean form. His eyes were hidden behind aviators with a Yankees ball cap for extra cover. None of which camouflaged his strong jawline peppered with second-day stubble or the roguish curve of his smile. While the ensemble offered plausible deniability if he were approached, he couldn’t disguise his luscious sex appeal. I knew it wasn’t the kind of thing a boyfriend typically wore to meet the parents, but then again, Alexander wasn’t a typical boyfriend.

“Actually, I’m tired.” I wasn’t exactly lying. My body hadn’t adjusted to waking up early for work yet or to my newly implemented nocturnal activities.

“I feel like I should apologize for keeping you up half the night,” he said, drawing me close and kissing the top of my head, “but I’m not sorry.”

His arrogant smirk tugged at me until I was smiling too. “And I won’t be getting any sleep tonight either.”

“Hot date?” he asked.

“The hottest.”

“Anyone I know?” Alexander’s hand wandered to my tailbone, his fingers drumming lightly.

“I would say you’re on intimate terms.” I ran my tongue over my lips and blew him a kiss.

“You need to rest.” He was sincere, but I suspected his valiant selflessness wouldn’t last long, until he added, “I’m sending you home alone tonight.”

A vise-grip squeezed my heart, and I fought to keep my tone playful. “But I owe you sexual favors.”

“And what did I do to deserve that, poppet?” he asked as the familiar, wicked glint of lust returned to his sky-blue gaze. “Tell me so I can do it again.”

“You might not be saying that after dinner.” I reached for the door, but Alexander caught my hand, pulling me against him.

His index finger traced down my cheekbone, over the bow of my upper lip and came to rest on my mouth. “Have a little faith. I can be quite charming when the situation requires it. I am a prince after all.”

“Prince Charming, huh?” I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t remember him having a dirty mouth and an insatiable sex drive.”

“He kissed the wrong girl,” Alexander whispered, moving closer until his lips hovered over mine. “Or maybe ‘happily ever after’ is only code for multiple orgasms.”

“The Brothers Grimm have nothing on you.” I teased, but I swallowed at the thought of Alexander and a happily ever after.

Alexander spotted the telltale slide of my throat and winked at me. “Wait until I tell you my theories about
riding
off into the sunset.”

“Behave.” I smacked him on the shoulder, trying—and failing—to look serious.

“I love it when you get riled up. It makes me think of spanking your pretty, little ass.” His eyes hooded as he spoke, and a shiver of anticipation ran down my neck.

“Well, well, well,” an amused voice interrupted our banter. “Can I get in before he mounts you on the spot?”

I looked over Alexander’s shoulder, startled to find Lola watching us with an entertained grin. As usual, she was dressed to the nines in a skin-tight pair of fire red capris paired with a breezy linen tunic that showed off her toned arms. She shouldered her bag and sauntered over to us, thrusting her hand out to him.

He hesitated before he took it, glancing over at me with a questioning look.

“Alexander, this is my sister, Lola.” I tilted my head toward her with a tight-lipped smile. “Lola, allow me to introduce—”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said as she held his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. Clara has told me
absolutely nothing
about you.”

Alexander tipped his head politely but drew his hand back quickly. The crackling intensity that had hung between the two of us shifted to a heavy tension now that my sister had joined us. I couldn’t be sure how much of our exchange she had overhead, but judging from the haughtiness on her face, it had been enough. The last thing I needed was Lola making tonight any more awkward.

I struggled for something to say to break the ice, but it was no use. The nerves that Alexander had managed to vanquish returned with paralyzing intensity. Just as the moment grew painfully uncomfortable, he stepped forward and opened the door, gesturing for us to enter.

“Ladies first.” He flourished his arm across the threshold, and I bounded inside, grateful for his diplomacy.

“Ohh. A gentleman,” Lola cooed, following me through the door. She eyed him as she passed, not bothering to hide her calculating look. As always, she was the cool one—self-possessed and in platform sandals that made her nearly his height. The few people waiting near the entrance watched her as she strode confidently forward to the maître d’ to give our name.

“She seems like a…handful,” Alexander whispered as we were guided to the second floor’s private dining room.

“Mmhmm.” That was the nicest possible way to describe my sister. Lola was a force to be reckoned with most days. I could only hope today wasn’t one of them.

But luck hadn’t really been on my side lately.

By the second round of cocktails, conversation had slowed to a halt among our small group. Mom had insisted on waiting for my father before ordering, and he was over an hour late. The dining room, which had been decorated with a staggering number of clocks, attested to the fact. I sipped my Bloody Mary, hoping that getting tipsy might pass the time, but dozens of second hands ticked at the same rate all around me. Any other evening, I would have found the eclectic, if somewhat quirky, decor charming. Tonight it only accentuated the nausea churning in my stomach.

“I don’t know what could be keeping him,” Mom said, apologizing again and checking her phone.

“I’m in no hurry,” Alexander said serenely, but the hand stroking up my thigh told a different story. He definitely had other things on his mind.

“We should order,” I said as the clocks around us struck eight. My fatigue, coupled with low blood sugar, was wearing through my already fragile patience.

“Let’s give him a few more minutes,” Lola suggested, sipping her cocktail. “Tell us how you two met.”

“Pick up the Daily Star,” I snapped, unable to contain my ill mood any longer.

Lola gave me a reproachful look, her red lips pursed over her drink. She looked exactly like my mother as she did it. “I want to hear it from the source.”

I opened my mouth to tell her off again, but Alexander stopped me.

“I was stuck at another boring party, trying to hide out,” he said, “and then this beautiful girl showed up and started telling me off.” His hand caught mine and raised it to his lips, but I caught his cocky grin before he kissed my knuckles.

My mother’s eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. Sometimes I wondered where the ambitious, bohemian feminist I’d seen in pictures had disappeared to. Mom had attended Berkley. She’d fought to get a fledgling company off the ground. Now she thought a woman approaching a man was scandalous. If she thought that was shocking, I could only hope Lola would keep what she’d overhead between Alexander and me secret.

“Clara!” she said, scolding me as she had when I was a little girl.

Alexander chuckled and set his drink on the table. “No, I deserved it.”

“So why did you kiss her?” Clara burst out.

“Now that is a long story,” he said, his grin on glorious display now, “and seeing as it didn’t make the papers, I’m going to keep it to myself. But I will tell you that I spent the rest of the day trying to find out who your sister was. She kept a low profile at Oxford.”

My mother sighed at this. “She’s not very social. I did my best, but sometimes nature has other plans.”

“I find her company intoxicating,” Alexander said in the low voice he usually reserved for whispering indecent thoughts in my ear. “I want her all to myself anyway.”

Mom’s eyes flashed to mine, gauging my reaction, and I tried to look nonchalant, turning my attention back to my drink. She had her concerns about my relationship with Alexander, but that wouldn’t stop her from jumping to conclusions.

“Aren’t you coy?” Lola murmured. She regarded him for a moment, as though he’d issued a challenge.

Alexander dismissed the comment with a shrug, waving to the waiter peeking in at the door. No doubt the poor server was beginning to question if we’d ever place our orders.

“Are you ready?” the man asked. His eyes darted around the group, but I couldn’t help noticing that he skipped over Alexander as though he was intimidated.

I couldn’t imagine having that effect on people. It was hard enough to be scrutinized by the public. Something I’d recently learned myself. How much worse was it to have people fear you? Alexander didn’t seem fazed by that kind of attention though. He didn’t even notice it as far as I could tell. Of course, that was part of what made him so formidable: how he carried his power with such candor. It wasn’t an affectation or a show. It was his birthright.

“Can you bring us this evening’s appetizers?” Alexander asked. “We have another guest coming, but I can’t allow these ladies to wait any longer.”

I thanked him quietly, grateful that he had been the one to defy my mother’s dinner gag order. Alexander leaned over and kissed me. The soft brush of his lips was tender and protective—a reminder that he considered it his job to watch out for me. My eyes closed instinctively, waiting for more, and my mother cleared her throat.

“I read up a little on your company, Mrs. Bishop,” Alexander said, changing the topic quickly.

“
Former
company,” Mom said. “Let’s not talk business.”

“She gets enough of that from Dad,” I explained.

“That’s true,” she said with a rueful smile. “At least, it used to be.”

The offhand comment struck me as odd. My mother had always been supportive of Dad’s start-ups and ideas, even though none had proven as successful as the dating site they’d sold during the internet boom. But now the pride that usually accompanied business inquiries was markedly absent, replaced by an indifferent tone that was laced with bitterness. I checked the clocks again, wondering where my dad was this late. Something was going on with my parents. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly, but things were off.

Lola leaned forward eagerly, more than willing to fill the awkward silence. “Tell us about growing up in a palace!”

“Don’t they have books devoted to that?” Alexander asked.

“They do,” she admitted, “but I hear that the reality is quite different. Although I am a sucker for happily-ever-afters.”

Her eyes flickered to mine, and I sucked in a steadying breath, keeping my face blank. She had heard Alexander’s and my conversation, and I was going to pay for that later. For now, I tittered with forced laughter.