The End of Tomorrow (3 page)

My eyes dragged down to his hand on my knee. “Yeah, they are.”

“Yoga pants and a ponytail. Did you sleep in and nearly miss the flight?”

“No.” An annoyed looked crossed my face. “I like to be comfortable when I fly.”

“Let me guess, your entire carry-on in filled with more treasures like these?”

“Stop.” I growled a little. “I’m not here to impress or please you. It’s work.”

“Tell yourself that if you must.” He flashed a wicked grin. “How have you been?”

“Great,” I snarled.

“Excellent,” he muttered as he trailed his fiery touch up the inside of my thigh, burning me through my yoga pants. His hand tickled as it climbed up my leg. My lips parted, my heart pounded, and my insides twitched with the temptation he represented. He wasn't the serpent in the tree; he was the apple.

When he reached the top of my leg, the highest point he could on the inside of my thigh, he brushed his pinkie finger between my legs. I sucked my breath like a fool, letting him know how desperate I had been for his forbidden touch. He lowered the finger again, delicately, and yet with enough force that I could feel every small touch he placed over my pants and what was beneath.

He didn't speak or tell me how much he had missed me in the days we were apart. He didn't try to convince me to run away with him. He didn't offer me the world. He was painfully realistic in what he offered—momentary bliss and then forced abandonment. And for whatever disgusting reason, I wanted both. The ecstasy of the fucking was just as sweet as the longing for the next time. I actually enjoyed the torture of waiting for the moment we would be alone and he would be inappropriately forward and convincing.

His finger ran up and down me, hearing nothing more than the initial gasp from me. I nearly held my breath trying not to let him see how obviously affected I was by even the slightest touch.

“I missed you,” he finally whispered, but I didn't take the bait, regardless of his fingers rubbing me. He didn't mean it, and if he did, it was not the kind of missing I needed from him.

We drove a short distance to a sight I still hadn’t grown accustomed to: a private runway. Servario didn't like anyone to know where or when he was traveling. He liked to keep his movements unpredictable. His private jet was something I had grown familiar with, as we had become intertwined in each other’s lives, professionally and privately.

When the driver stopped the SUV, I glanced at him, finally taking his beauty in and letting my eyes wander his handsome face. “New plane?” I didn't want him to know I was thinking about him.

“Of course.” He nodded, smirking and popping the dimples. I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were practically giving me the details aloud. He licked his lips, taking his bottom lip in his mouth. “I’m going to have to give you a proper tour of this one.”

My insides jumped. I nearly abandoned my bag and ran from the runway, screaming and begging for mercy. The first time I had ever been truly fucked by a man, was on his last plane. It was the first time I knew what it meant to be consumed and overwhelmed.

Clearly, my expression had answered his request. He laughed, nodding. “Relax, Evie. We both know how much you like to fly.” He climbed from the SUV on his own accord as the driver got the door for me. Servario carried my lime-green luggage on board, not looking back to see if I had fled into the forest.

I sighed, hating how predictable I was, and followed him onto the new jet plane.

It was smaller than the previous one, seating only a dozen. The back of the plane was too large for it to end where the door was. I had to assume there was another room back there.

Choosing wisely, I sat in a seat, not near the one he had put my luggage on, and buckled myself in. When the door was closed the engines started, I turned my head, assuming it was now safe to talk. “Where the hell is everyone else? I thought we were meeting here.”

“They’re coming. Plans have changed. Now we will meet them in Dubai. I have a meeting and you will be my assistant.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat from the bar at the back where he was mixing a few drinks.

“What?” My eyes narrowed. “Does Coop know?”

“Of course.” His smile turned into a grin, a grim one. “I mean, it’s likely he does now. I imagine the orders have come down the line to him.” His words brought a sigh from my lips.

“You have to be kidding me. You mean he, Luce, and Jack will be coming to Norwich and then waiting for me?”

“No.” He shook his head. “They were found in Heathrow and redirected from there. They are on to Dubai right now. They have something to do there.”

“Shit,” I whispered as I turned in my seat, staring at the movie screen at the front of the plane. It was a wide-screen TV. Servario had never seemed like much of a movie buff, but the large screen made me think otherwise. There was a hallway at the front of the plane, obviously the pilot’s area and maybe a restroom. This was a much more civilized plane, compared to his last one. More family friendly maybe.

I folded my arms as Servario came and sat next to me, placing the cocktail on my tray. He sipped his scotch, rattling the ice in the glass. We didn't speak or touch. We sat and stared at the front of the plane.

The tension became thick enough to get lost in.

The heat of his body next to mine in the seat was enough to drive me to naked madness.

The little hairs on my arm lifted where we nearly touched,
nearly.

Taking several slow breaths I tried desperately to ignore the smell of him in the air around me and the memory of the feel of him between my thighs. A breath left my lips a bit rushed and to cover it I turned sharply. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Inhaling again a bit too quickly I scowled. “Making it so we are alone.”

He shrugged, sipping his drink. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Except you don't talk.”

He reached into the back pocket of the seat in front of me, pulling out a folder and placing it before me. I stared at it for a long second, worried as to what I would find inside.

He was pleased with himself. It dawned on me then, he had pulled the folder from this seat, like he knew I would sit here. I hated being predictable.

I lifted my glass, chugging back the cocktail and passing it to him as I opened the folder. The last time anyone gave me a folder, it was to show me images of my husband and my best friend having an affair. Needless to say, the idea of opening folders made me sick to my stomach.

When I lifted the beige cover of the file I paused. The image was one I didn't expect, and yet I did. I turned to him, almost scared to ask, “Why do you have a picture of Coop’s sister Rachel?” She was the sister I had assumed was one of us, an agent, but Coop had sworn up and down that she wasn't.

He didn't answer right away. He looked into my eyes, searching for something, and then spoke softly, “She works for a man I know. Just thought that perhaps you might want to know about this, before something unfortunate occurs as a result.”

My mouth went dry. “She’s an agent?”
I knew it!

“No.” He shook his head. “She’s not. She’s sort of the opposite of that.”

“What do you mean?” My mouth got drier. I reached for his scotch glass, taking it in my hands and lifting it to my lips without taking my eyes from his. “She’s a double agent?”

“No.” He shook his head again.

“FUCK!”

“Don't swear, Evie,” he warned as he nodded, realizing I understood what he was trying to say. She was a bad guy, selling information to the wrong people. She and Coop came from a long line of agents. And Rachel was the one sister I had assumed was one of us. She just made me think it. Coop believed her cover story of being a clumsy, whimsical, artsy photographer. I think they all believed it. I think I was the first person to see past it—see it for the act it was.

“So she sells secrets, like James had been doing?” James, my dead husband, who had betrayed the world and me with it.

Servario’s stare answered for him. He neither nodded nor spoke.

“How long has this been going on?”

“I can’t say for certain.” He shrugged. “I know the man she works for. I would assume a while.”

“Oh my God.” I almost gagged. My insides burned for him—for Coop. I knew this pain. I knew what it felt like to know the person you trusted and loved had not only betrayed you but had also endangered your life and the lives of millions—billions.

“Why are you showing this to me?” If I knew anything about Servario it was that his desire to fuck with me was stronger than any other desire.

He pressed his deliciously sexy lips together and sighed. “Do you recall when I hung you out to dry, as you so eloquently put it, and left you to fight for yourself so I could save your children?”

“Yes.” The answer was a growl as I recalled hating him for leaving me to die but was stunned that he had been worried about my kids. He had left me to survive on my own. He was never really trying to save me but more like test me at all times.

“Well, I moved quickly, ensuring the kids and your mother were safe because I had discovered Rachel was responsible for your locations being leaked. She is the reason your cover was nearly blown. She was also the reason you were on that boat to fight for your life. She sold you and Coop out to James.”

I paused.
The information on the phone—the phone he had traded me for once.
“This was the secret on the phone that you traded me to James for? You wanted his informant?”

“I did.” He nodded slowly. “She double-crossed us all in Split. You were meant to be taken to a brothel and sold into sex slavery. I had guys there who would have broken you free and helped you kill everyone in the brothel. When you never showed up, it was because I had the new information that Rachel, Coop’s sister, had sold us out. She was working with James at the time. He sold her out, hoping it would work as a bargaining chip. He wanted you dead more than anything else and he wanted his money.”

My insides twisted into a knot. “How could you let us go to Coop’s parents’ house and not tell me?”

“I was watching. I was hoping she would slip up and reveal herself to you both, but she never did. I needed all the evidence I could gather on her; young Cooper isn’t going to trust me just because he has to. He will think I’m up to no good.”

“That's true.” I tilted his glass up and finished off his scotch with a shiver. As I brought it down he grabbed my face. The kiss he forced on me was unexpected, and yet the most welcome feeling in the world.

The glass fell to the floor as the jet plane took off. Servario cupped my face desperately, sucking my tongue and caressing it with his. Our mouths fought the force of the takeoff, frantically clinging to each other.

It was madness. In fact, it was disgusting that I was so desperate for this man.

I was dating Coop and despised cheating, but in my heart it didn't feel like cheating. Servario had told me he loved me long before any claim on my heart was made by Coop.

And I had told Servario I loved him too.

He had tried to force me to take it back but I couldn't. I loved him, even though he was seedy and wrong for me. He unbuckled my seat belt and his, lifting me into the air and walking, stumbling, to the back of the plane.

He pushed us through the door I had pondered about when we boarded, violently slamming it with a rough kick. I broke from the intense kiss to see a small bed and a closet full of women’s clothing. I sighed. “You put a bed back here?” My mood started to drop off.

“Yes.” He nodded, his eyes filled with passion and his lips moving as if he were going to say something more but he didn't.

“You are such a pervert. Seriously? Who puts a bed on a plane and a closet full of women’s clothing? You make me sick.” I shoved and wiggled until my feet touched the carpeted floor of the shaking plane.

He grabbed at me roughly. “They’re for you. The bed and the clothes and the plane—it’s all for you.” His expression looked broken for a second, like I had wounded him.

“Really?” I paused, worried he was telling the truth. “Who puts a bed and clothes on a plane for a girl he isn’t seeing?”

“I do.” He stepped toward me again, lifting my face. “I see you. I always see you.”

I tried to step back, I honestly did. It was the right thing to do. But my heart was his. It had always been his. I lifted my fingers up into his longish hair and pulled his six-foot-three body down onto five-foot-four me.

We spun and fell onto the bed with him crushing me into the soft mattress. But we didn't kiss and we didn't fuck. We paused, staring at each other. It was delicate and frightening.

“I always see you, Evie,” he whispered as he rolled to his side and trailed his fingers up and down my torso, tugging at my blouse and brushing against my stomach like it was an accident. He traced heat trails up and down me, touching nothing that couldn't be explained away or considered innocent.

It was the strangest moment we had ever had, and while I longed to be fucked, I savored this much more.

Greedy hearts

I woke from my nap to find Servario staring at me from the chair in the corner. It was unnerving that Coop had done it the day before and now today it was Servario. Waking that way twice in a row was spooky.

But he spoke, something opposite to what Coop had, “I want to fuck you, but I want you to ask me to do it.”

“No. Weirdo.” He was such a freak. He was a finger-in-the-ass freak and I had already played this game with him too many times to count.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I am going to offer you a deal and you have to choose.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. Actually, they might have rolled themselves.

“Don't roll your eyes at me, Evie. You know how I feel about disrespect.”

“Right.” I lifted my middle finger from my side. “And this is how I feel about your deals.” Had he just made love to me when we got on the plane I would have done it. But he had lost the control then and this was his way of getting it back.

“You let me pick your clothing, fuck you how I see fit, and treat you the way I want so badly to, and I will hand over Coop’s sister to the right people with all the proof.”

“I am growing tired of the head games.” I sat up, completely stunned that he would bargain this way to ensure his heart wasn't in the sex. He was always pushing me away. “What is the other option? Let her keep doing all those bad things and compromise our mission?” I scoffed. “Oh, okay, Servario. Sure. I’ll let you humiliate me so you don't feel like we made love and love each other, and you can treat me like a whore for that. Dipshit.”

“No.” He shook his head, a smug look crossing his face. “She will vanish with all the evidence and Coop will always wonder. His family will never have closure.”

“Dude!” I sighed. “I really thought you were smarter than this. I know what Rachel has done and I have the evidence in the folder.”

“You always underestimate me, Evie.” He lifted a syringe from the table next to him. “This is a drug that will take all your memories of the last twenty-four hours. They will be gone, completely. And I will fuck you anyway.”

“Do it then.” A sarcastic smile crossed my lips. “You can’t make me hate you. Nothing you do anymore makes me think you’re as scummy and horrid as you try to be. This whole walking contradiction thing with the buying me clothes and putting in a bed and then bribing me for dirty sex so you can get away without feeling something for me—it doesn't work. I see you too, just so you know.”

He narrowed his gaze.

Ignoring it, I stood on wobbly legs and walked to the clothing rack, lifting the tiny red dress, which looked like it might be a tube top, from its hanger. I walked back to the bed, undoing my shirt one slow button at a time and dropping it to the carpet. I dragged my bra off, letting my breasts linger in the air, exposed. I knew his face had an indifferent look upon it, but I also knew there was no way he was indifferent. I knew he loved me and he wanted me. And not just in the disgusting slutty way where he forced me to deep throat and I spent the morning on my hands and knees.

I pulled the tight red dress on, dragging my pants and underwear down with it. I kicked everything off to the side so I was just in the slutty dress, and fluffed my hair like a porn star might. I turned to face him, letting him see the finished product.

He didn't budge but I could see the fire.

Slowly, I backed away, heading for the door, aware that if I ran he would chase. We had played that game all too often as well. “I love you, Servario. I have loved you for a while. I hate that I love you as much as you hate that you love me. But here we are, over international waters and land. We are in La La Land and no one has to know we love each other here. We can safely be open to everything and nothing all at once.”

“Don't say that.” He clenched his jaw tightly, offering me a slightly softer version of his pent-up sex face. “You have to take it back. I won’t ever choose you, ever.”

“I know that.” I nodded but deep down my heart broke a little bit. “I know, and yet I love you anyway.” It was true. I knew he wouldn't choose me over the rest of the world. He had a duty as a double agent and he took it seriously. Too seriously.

No matter what, he would always be him, the ungettable get. The unattainable man behind the mask. It was like an aphrodisiac for me.

My hands reached behind me, clutching the doorknob. I turned it, opening the door slowly—not running as if fleeing a tiger—and slipped out into the open jet plane, closing the door behind me.

I turned and walked back to my seat, curious as to how close we were to landing. The jet was dark as the skies had yet to see the morning sun. We were flying through the night—a red eye with a black heart.

I sat down, hating the fact that my bare ass was on his seat. God only knew what he did on them. He liked to pretend he didn't have sex on his planes with anyone but me, but I was smarter than I looked, most days.

The door to the back didn't open, and I had to admit it bothered me. I wanted him to rush through the door, scooping me up and pinning me against the wall.

Instead, I fell asleep again, this time looking like a prostitute with my ass on his seat, no doubt getting an infection or at least crabs.

We landed with a jolt that woke me instantly. I blinked away the confusion of where I was and what was going on. It always took a second when we were on mission. I was used to warm mornings in my house with a cup of coffee as I planned my day around dropping my kids off at various activities or school.

His body was in my peripheral but not next to me. I shivered, realizing I was still in my disturbing red dress and not just bare-assed but also barefoot. I grimaced, standing and walking to the back after the plane had settled.

“Don't bother changing, just add some shoes and makeup. You know what the girls I associate with look like,” he muttered from behind his laptop.

“Yup.” I sighed, not even considering changing. I knew what would happen. He would do his impatient act where he stood at the door, barring the way until I wanted to act like a big girl and put my proper spy clothes on. It always meant I ended up looking like a hooker. It was my most believable act, which I felt said very bad things about my personality. Luce, my female partner, was never asked to dress like a whore.

I slipped into the back room, staring at the bed for a moment. Bits of feathers, foam, and mattress springs covered the room. He’d raged, tearing it all to hell like a child. Had Servario lost a battle of controlling me and himself?

Interesting.

I made a mental note to add this to the reasons why we would never work. I had children enough to raise; I didn't need another who was wanted by every agency in the world for one heinous act or another.

Fortunately, the closet was still pristine, apart from a few feathers from the pillows. I ran my fingers along the pieces, separated by color. The various fabrics tickled my fingertips, each one holding promise of a fun time. Pantsuits, dresses, skirts, blouses, tanks, and even a few pieces of lingerie. Every one of them designer and costing more than my monthly mortgage payment. To him it was nothing, akin to dropping a dollar in a bucket for a homeless man. No, for him spending all this money on clothing for a woman he couldn't ever have was just a regular Tuesday. He was bizarre in the most extreme ways.

I glanced at the red dress, knowing I looked slutty, but I could do better. Servario wasn't a regular criminal mastermind. He was a savant of the underworld, and for that reason I could get away with a much nicer outfit. I lifted a black bustier-styled midriff tank top by Diane von Furstenberg. It made my boobs look like they were seventeen instead of thirty-six so that was obviously a better choice than the tube dress which had no support and whispered I had breastfed a lot.

The bustier tied up in the front with laces from the bottom to the top, revealing my pale skin through them. It was a classy attempt at slutty. I peeled the red dress down my legs, pulling on the low-slung white skirt, also by Diane von Furstenberg. I contemplated wearing some cute wedges, but I knew he would need my legs to look their best. And secretly I really wanted to wear the Jimmy Choo red lace pumps. They had a golden heel, and I imagined if I were ever to get married again they would be the secret hiding beneath my wedding gown.

My life made that dream laughable but a girl could dream.

I used the makeup he had set up in the drawers, including of course, the MAC Russian Red lipstick we had both become so fond of. I teased my dark hair and gave myself a once over. The heavy black makeup made my eyes pop. The falsies and Younique 3D Lash Kit made me look like I was related to the Gabor family, only a brunette.

I stepped back, excited by the fact that I looked classy and sexy, and there was no way his eyes would be able to stray from the incredible amount of cleavage shown through the laces of the bustier.

Satisfied and praying I could torment him a little more, I walked out, leaving my green bag on board. Lord knew we were coming back this way. I just hoped and prayed Luce, Jack, and Coop would be with us.

I walked out to the front of the plane, conscious of the effort it took to not twist an ankle or slip in any way. He glanced back, scowling at me. “You look too nice for where we’re going.”

When I walked past him, I lifted one corner of my skirt, flashing a cheek of my bare ass at him. “I kept it just trashy enough for you.”

He made a noise—of course he did—but I didn't pause. I hurried from the plane to the dark Rolls Royce waiting for us on the small runway, as per the usual. Even in a country in the Middle East, he was able to fly in under the cover of his badass umbrella.

When he climbed in the car he sat too close, smothering me with heat and all the leftover things we hadn’t said to each other and all the damage caused by the things we had done.

He reached over, lifting me up into his lap to straddle him. I opened my mouth to protest, but his eyes darted to the driver.

“You know how I like it, Estelle.” He unzipped his zipper, bringing a gasp from my parted lips. I shook my head, pleading with my eyes, but I could see the vacant look in his stare as he sat me on his opened zipper.

His hands crept up my thighs as I hovered over him, his cock lying between my lips. When his fingers gripped onto my hips he dug in, forcing me to circle in his lap as if it were a dance. He used me to jerk himself off as if he was waiting for me to let him slide himself in. But I didn't. I hovered there, unsure of my next move. He’d called my bluff as I had called his. He always had to win.

He lifted his head, staring at the Russian Red lipstick. “Really?”

“You put it there.”

“I was testing you.” His words had become soft so I felt them more than I heard them.

“Then we both failed, I suppose.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I suppose. We never have been the sort to succeed, though have we?”

I shook my head slowly, staring down at his mouth. I wanted a thousand bad things from those lips but not in a vehicle with a driver.

His hazel eyes held almost no green. They had darkened as his mood had. He narrowed his gaze for a moment, plotting or something equally nefarious. As the driver put the car into drive, lurching us forward slightly, Servario brought my hips down, forcing me to grind on his bared cock.

He muttered things, soft and yet disturbing, “I am going to fuck you so hard when I get the chance, you won’t remember ever having been with another man.”

“I know.” I nodded as he and the car rocked us both.

We traveled this way, him forcing me to sit on his dick but not have sex.

When the car stopped Servario lifted me to my knees as he zipped his pants back up as if it were nothing.

He climbed out when the driver got the door, and then turned back, offering me a hand. I tried not taking it, shocked and disturbed and ready to lose my temper over the last several moments, but he snatched it. He dragged me as if I were a child having a temper tantrum. On the drag in I noticed we were outside a hotel surrounded by the ocean. The warm salty air hit me like a ton of bricks. I was immediately grateful that I had chosen the outfit I did. But then I noticed several women in abayas and other garments covering most of their bodies. It was like the scene from
Pretty Woman
where she struts Rodeo Drive in her hooker boots held up by pins. My midriff was like the most offensive thing I could have shown. His disgusted look made sense now. I had been so wrapped up in tormenting him, I had forgotten about blending in.

Servario didn't check into a hotel like most men. He strolled straight past the front desk, nodding at the man who scurried after us. The man met us at the elevator.

“Mr. Servario, I am so pleased, sir, to see you. The suite is ready for you.” The poor man looked stressed beyond words.

It was there I realized we were staying at the sail-shaped hotel Burj Al Arab in Dubai. I remembered seeing several articles on it because of its unique shape. When we got into the elevator I caught a glimpse of Servario’s fierce stare in the reflection. He squeezed my hand, holding tightly like he was trying to tell me something.

The elevator ride was tense. The air was heady, regardless of the air conditioning.

The attendant gave us an awkward stare, confused perhaps by my outfit or just by the fact that Gustavo Servario was in his elevator. I would be uncomfortable too, had he not played with my ass on several occasions. Once someone does something that intimate, it’s hard to fear them properly.