For King and Country (12 page)

“I do hope your sister meets someone nice soon,” Mom said to her when they’d finished their gossip.

“I had a lovely afternoon,” I said, shifting the topic away from my personal life. Flattery always distracted her.

Her hand clutched at her necklace in mock humility. “It was nice, wasn’t it? We need to see more of each other now that you’re out of school. Your father is working all the time. I’ve been lonely.”

“I start work on Friday,” I reminded her for the tenth time today.

She hesitated then took a deep breath. “You know you really don’t need to work. At least not doing something like social work.”

I flinched at the audacity of her suggestion. I knew she disapproved of my choice of vocation, but this was the first time she’d really suggested that I not work.

“You’re worth twenty million pounds,” she said in a low voice, so that the other diners couldn’t hear her. “You don’t need to work.”

How could I explain to her that she was the reason that I needed to work? I’d watched my mother flit from charity event to charity event for years. She’d been deeply involved with the start-up when I was a baby, but as soon as it sold, she’d abandoned the notion of needing a job altogether. I had been too little to really know much about my mother before her and my father had sold their online dating site,
partner.com
, for two hundred million dollars in the mid-90s, but I’d heard stories. She’d been ambitious once, and she’d given it all up for a life of shopping and lunch dates. I might not have known my mother back then, but I knew her now and it didn’t take much to see she wasn’t happy. “I’d rather use my degree.”

My degree was my one trump card, the one thing my mother always agreed with. The thing she felt I had to have to succeed in life. Maybe because it was the only thing that Madeline Bishop didn’t have and couldn’t buy.

“Of course, you would,” she said, her eyes growing glassy. She looked away, pulling back her hand and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. How would things be different if she’d graduated herself? “And when you finally meet the right man, you won’t have to worry about money.”

That struck me as an odd thing to say. I know her and dad had struggled the first few years of their marriage, but at least they’d been happy. It was strange that she couldn’t see how unhappy she was now that she had money. Of course, she was right. I would never have to worry about money. It was a bit of a relief, even if the money sometimes felt unwelcome. I’d toyed with giving it all away before, but there were provisions that prevented that in the trust fund arrangement. I wouldn’t have full custody over the money until I turned twenty-five.

After the bill was paid, we rose to say goodbye. My mother flung her arms around me in an awkward show of emotion, which I wasn’t fully comfortable with, but I accepted the gesture all the same.

“Call me and tell me how your first day goes,” she said as she collected her bags from La Mer and Louis Vuitton.

“I promise.”

“Lola.” Mom shifted her attention to my younger sister. “I picked up your eye cream.”

We walked out of the restaurant together, and I braced myself as soon as we hit the front door, but there were no reporters outside. Mom squeezed my arm and gave me a knowing smile, before she kissed my cheek and got into a waiting taxi.

As soon as it pulled away from the curb, Lola slipped her sunglasses on. “Have a fun afternoon.”

“I’m heading home to an empty flat.” I paused, at war with myself, before forcing myself to add, “You could come over.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something more interesting to do,” she said suggestively, pushing her sunglasses down to shoot me a wink.

I clutched my phone and shook my head as she walked away. She wasn’t sprinting into adulthood, she was crashing into it.

The weather in London had started to grow warmer, so despite my collection of shopping bags, I decided to walk to the Tube. I could only imagine what my mother would think of that, but it seemed silly to take a cab all the way to East London, and the weather was gorgeous. In a few more weeks, summer would arrive bringing heat and stickiness along with it. I might as well glory in the few remaining days of spring we had left.

My purse vibrated and a thrill ran from my head to my toes when I saw it was another message from Alexander.

I need to see you now. The Royal.

At least my job wasn’t starting until Friday, which meant I could play as much as I wanted to now, and I’d been waiting all day for Alexander to ask for something more concrete. His texts had kept my body humming with barely repressed sexuality this afternoon. Now he was going to make good on that, and I couldn’t wait. I could use the stress relief after a day with my mom too. I texted him back and changed my direction, heading to the hotel where I’d last seen him. I couldn’t keep a somewhat silly grin off my face as I walked. Thankfully, I’d gotten made up for a day shopping with my mom, although I suspected Alexander would like me in anything. My phone alerted me to an incoming message and I checked it, excitement turning my stomach over. I would be with him soon. I would feel his hands on me soon. But when I saw the text, my heart dropped.

Belle: I think you should see this.

I
read the post twice while standing in the lobby of the Westminster Royal, but it was the attached image that I couldn’t get out of my head. Alexander’s arms were around a beautiful blonde woman, the kind of woman that would make any other woman irrationally jealous. There had been no effort to hide it. Whoever had snapped this photo had been close enough to capture the full spectrum of what had been going on. I’d seen her before, in other photos that Belle had shown me, but the worst part was that from this angle I knew without a doubt that she was the woman Alexander had dismissed as a past mistake on that fateful day at the Oxford and Cambridge Club. She was obviously someone important because the caption read, “Alexander spotted once again with the stunning Pepper Lockwood.” She was all legs and blonde hair and bee-stung lips. She looked like a model, and her golden blond beauty complimented Alexander’s dark hair and muscular build.

You have no claim over him
, I reasoned.
But didn’t I?
Hadn’t he insisted—no,
demanded
—exclusivity? Apparently he didn’t hold himself to the same expectations. I shouldn’t be surprised, but still, I was, and more than that, I was hurt. I’d spent all day dreaming about being with him, but now I felt hollow, gutted by my foolishness.

“Miss.” A porter came up to me and hesitated. “May I help you?”

I’d almost forgotten that I was standing in the lobby of a five-star hotel. I started to shake my head, but then I made a decision, sliding my phone off. “The Presidential Suite.”

“You must be here to see Mr. X,” he said. “This way, please.”

The
ex
part certainly seemed fitting at the moment. I wanted to kick myself. He spent so much time here that he went by an alias. How had I gotten myself into this mess?

The lift ride to the top floor was excruciatingly slow despite the private car reserved for guests of the suite. The photo had been taken last night at a private function. I wasn’t angry at him for not taking me, not when we were trying to keep our relationship quiet, but I was pissed that he held me to different standards than himself. If he thought I was going to sit around and wait for his calls while he screwed around with half of London’s female population, he had another thing coming.

But what really scared me was that he clearly knew this girl. It was obvious from the embrace and from the story attached, not to mention his reaction to her presence on the day we met. The gossip site pointed out that the two were old friends but then speculated that something more was going on. Maybe he’d changed his mind about seeing me. He’d only been back in London a short while after all. He’d kissed me once to avoid her. Was he screwing me now to get back at her?

It clawed at me not to know. It wasn’t healthy to be this attached already. I knew that, but I also couldn’t help it. My attraction to Alexander was inexplicable. While most women would have seen his godlike money and title and sexiness, what was underneath was even sexier. Underneath all the control and power, there was a soul so human and fragile that I’d been lucky to glimpse it only once or twice. But he’d shown himself to me. I was sure of that much. I had thought that meant something. Now I was no longer sure.

Maybe it was all a game with him. He’d warned me he was dangerous. He told me that he would hurt me.

Mission accomplished.

My stomach twisted and I felt a too familiar rawness creeping up my throat, the tears swelling there as I tried to hold them back. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me. Maybe he got off on that, too.

I was barely holding it together when the elevator stopped at our floor.
His floor
, I corrected myself.

Get it together, Clara. I focused on channeling my hurt into anger and stepped through the sliding doors with my fists clenched.

Alexander was on me before I could react. He lifted me up, hands cupping my ass as his lips crushed into me. I couldn’t think. I was intoxicated by him, my body betraying me, anger melting into desire as he slid a hand up to grip my neck. He pressed me against the wall and my legs wrapped more tightly around his waist. I didn’t want this moment to end, although I knew it had to.

One last kiss.

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and they spilled down. I tasted my sadness on his lips and he gasped, pulling back to stare at me in confusion.

“Clara.” He caught my chin in his hands and tilted my tear-stained eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

I turned my head from his and pushed against his chest until he set me on my feet.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice.

“This,
Mr. X
!” I held up my phone, so he could see the TMI article.

“I’m not sure I understand what’s happening here.”

“What’s happening is that you’re an asshole!” The words exploded from my mouth.

Alexander ran a hand through his dark hair and walked over to the bar. “Drink?”

I shook my head. It was intoxicating enough to be around him, I didn’t need to further jeopardize my good sense.

“So TMI is reporting that I was seen with Pepper last night?”

Hearing him say her name was like a punch in the gut. It confirmed all my greatest fears. He did know her, and he wasn’t even going to lie about it. I supposed that should have made me feel better, but it made me feel worse. As though I should have known this was going to happen.

“Weren’t you the one that said tabloids report rumors as facts?” he asked. “Because I rather appreciated the truth of that statement. Sit down, Clara.”

I folded my arms over my chest and stared him down. So he was going to use my own words against me. Fine. He could play it that way, but I didn’t have to obey him. “I’d prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself.” Alexander dropped into a leather armchair and sipped his drink thoughtfully.

“So you know her?”

“Of course, I know her. I’ve known Pepper for years.”

“You aren’t making me feel any better.”

“Are you jealous?” A slow smile carved onto his lips.

I refused to meet his eyes. Yes, I was jealous, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Who is she?”

“A friend of my sister’s.” Alexander’s voice caught on the final word of this statement, and he took a long swig of his drink.

“And that’s it? Wasn’t she the girl at the club?” Suddenly all my feelings felt confused. In a very real way this girl had brought us together, but I needed to understand why, especially if she was actually a part of his life.

“She was,” he confirmed. “You’re wondering if I’m using you to get to her.”

How did he do that? How did he know what I was thinking even though we’d known each other such a short time?

“We’re connected, Clara. Can’t you feel it? At first, I thought it was just sexual.” Alexander set down his glass and stood to come over to me. “The way your body responds to mine. How it feels when I’m inside you. But it’s more than that. I know you feel it.”

I did and that was what scared me. Alexander had made it clear there were no long-term options for us, and this feeling–this connection—was far from casual. “Why even bring it up? You don’t do commitment, remember?”

“I remember.” Alexander’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I don’t understand it either. I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you—”

“Because you want exclusivity, remember? You demanded it from me! But apparently not from yourself!”

“Do you think I fucked her?” he asked, taking a step closer to me. His proximity raised goose bumps all over my body, and I had to consciously keep myself from closing the small gap between us. I hated myself in that moment. I hated him for making me want him so badly.

“If it walks like a fuck and talks like a fuck,” I said.
This
was definitely a time to use the real term.

“I don’t lie, Clara,” Alexander said in a quiet voice. “And if you accuse me of doing so, I will take you over my knee.”

I gasped, backing a step away from him. He’d threatened to before, but I saw now that he meant it—and not playfully.

“You’d like that,” he continued, prowling toward me. “I see it in your eyes—the hunger.”

I held up a hand, shaking my head, forcing my rational side to prevail over my hormones.

Alexander’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it to his lips. “I’ll never lay a finger on you without your permission, but the sooner you accept the truth, Clara, the better.”

“What truth?” I choked out the words, willing myself to ignore the blaze of longing igniting in me.

“You want to submit to me. You want me to tell you what to do with that sweet little mouth. The way your body responds to mine. It wants to be controlled. Dominated.
You
want to be dominated. You’re so incredibly strong, Clara.” Alexander trailed a finger across my belly and my core clenched. “But you need to lose control. You want to.”

I shook my head, but his words had struck a cord. I wasn’t telling him no. I was telling myself no. “No, I don’t.”

“You’ll be safe with me.” Alexander caught my shirt in his hands and pulled me roughly to him until our bodies pressed close together. “I’ll never take you further than you can handle, but I will take you to the edge. I will give you more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”

I swallowed, trying to comprehend these promises and the strange effect they had on me. My rational side began painting a picture. I’d had a bad relationship before and it was clear this one was headed in the same direction. “I’m not like that.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.
Release.
My only thought is of your pleasure. When you give yourself to me, I take that responsibility seriously, Clara.”

I turned away from the intense gaze of his eyes, trying to clear my head. “What are we talking about? Ropes and safe words?”

“Small steps, Clara, but yes. A safe word is a necessity. For now I want you to trust me. I want you to trust that I will give you pleasure.”

“And you’ll punish me too?” I demanded. “Threaten to spank me if I misbehave?”

“Only when you don’t trust me,” he said coolly even though fire sparked in his eyes. “Without trust, you can’t give me control, Clara, and then we can’t have what we both need.”

“You mean what you want!” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.

“Need,” he said in a low voice that was anything but soft. “What
you
need.”

“I…don’t…” I choked on the words, too astonished to rebuke him.

“Yes, you do.” He said the words gently, as though he was explaining to a child why she needed to eat her vegetables. “Let me show you.”

I balked at him, but my body reacted to his words with a shiver of dangerous arousal. Shaking my head, I forced myself to reject the suggestion that I wanted this. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Alexander took a step back and stared at me. “Someone tried to break you before.”

I bit my lip, tears stinging my eyes.
And no one would again.

“I’m not him, Clara. That’s not what I want to do to you.”

“You warned me,” I cried. “You told me you would hurt me!”

He’d shown me all the warning signs and I’d still come running to him. To his bed. Suddenly it became clear that it wasn’t Alexander who was sending mixed signals.

“I did,” he said in a soft voice. He turned away from me.

“I should go.” There was nothing for me here. That much was clear.

“You probably should,” he said, “but I wish you wouldn’t. Go to bed with me one more time. Let me show you. Let me give you pleasure.”

I thought of how I’d felt when I saw that article earlier today, and I heard my mother’s warning echo in my head. I was too confused. Alexander had me all mixed up, and spending more time with him—going to bed with him—was only going to make that confusion worse. I’d given him the wrong idea about me, about what I wanted. I hadn’t walked into a trap. I’d led the predator to my door with breadcrumb promises spilled from my lips. “I can’t.”

Alexander stiffened, but he didn’t turn to look at me, instead he bobbed his head curtly, but as I tuned to leave, he said. “You won’t.”

There was a note of accusation in his voice. He could see right through me. He hadn’t been lying about that connection. Why then couldn’t he see that the intensity of our relationship was terrifying? But he knew that. He also knew that I found it exhilarating. He’d counted on that being enough and it almost had been, but I’d seen the darkness in his eyes and it scared me.

It scared me almost as much as it aroused me. That’s why I left.