All In: The Blackstone Affair (Book 2)

“That’s going to be Aunt Marie! Ethan, can you let her in? I’m up to my elbows here.” From the kitchen, Brynne gestured to her frantic last-minute prep for dinner.

“I’ve got it.” I gave her an air kiss and said, “Showtime, yeah?”

She nodded back, looking beautiful, as always, in her long black skirt and purple top. The color was lovely on her, and since I now knew it was her favorite, I had to believe in my luck that first time when I sent her the purple flowers.

All in, baby.

I opened the door to a lovely woman of whom I had no expectations other than knowing she was Brynne’s great-aunt. Sister to her grandmother on her mum’s side. But the person smiling at my doorstep was about as far from a grandmotherly female as you could get. With her unlined skin and dark red hair, she looked young and stylish and rather . . . hot for a woman who could not be above fifty-five.

“You must be Ethan that I’m hearing so much about,” she said in a native tongue.

“And you must be Brynne’s aunt Marie?” I hesitated in case I was wrong, but really, the women in her family were stunning. I wondered again what kind of beauty Brynne’s mum must be.

She laughed charmingly. “You sound a little unsure there.”

I ushered her in and closed the door. “Not at all. I was expecting her great-aunt, you see, not her older sister. She’s got her hands full in the kitchen and sent me to greet you.” I held out my hand. “Ethan Blackstone. It is my very great pleasure, Aunt Marie. I hear Brynne sing your praises all the time and have looked forward to meeting you.”

“Oh please call me Marie,” she said, taking my hand. “Quite the charmer you are, Ethan. Her sister, hmmmm?”

I laughed and shrugged. “Too flattering? I don’t think so, and welcome, Marie. I appreciate you taking the time to join us tonight.”

“Thank you for the invitation to your lovely home. I don’t get to see my niece often enough, so this is bonus. And your comment was lovely even if it was far too flattering. You’ve got my vote, Ethan.” She winked at me and I think I fell in love with her right then and there.

Brynne came out of the kitchen and embraced her aunt. I got a very happy grin from Brynne over Marie’s shoulder. It was clear that whatever problems she had with her mum, she didn’t have them with Marie, and that made me very glad. Everybody needs someone to give them unconditional love. They went off to the kitchen and I went to get drinks sorted before the bell rang again. I smirked to myself at what Dad would think of Marie when he got a look at her. I knew she was a widow with no children, but with her beauty, there must be a long queue of men clamoring for her time. I couldn’t wait to get the story from Brynne.

Clarkson and Gabrielle arrived next, and since they were already in good with Marie, all I had to do was make drinks and pass them around. Clarkson and I had an easy truce of sorts, along the same lines as my relationship with Gabrielle. We all cared about Brynne and wanted her to be happy. I didn’t thrill about him taking her pictures, but then we were only able to be friendly because he was gay. Seriously, I know it’s my issue, but if he was straight and taking nude pictures of Brynne? He wouldn’t be in my home right now.

Once Neil and Elaina showed up, I felt a little more at ease in my own house. Clarkson went in to help Brynne and Marie in the kitchen while Gabrielle and Elaina seemed to hit it off by talking books—something trending about a very young billionaire and his obsession with an even younger woman . . . and sex. Lots of erotic sex scenes in the book, like apparently on every page.

Neil and I looked sympathetically at each other and had absolutely nothing to add to the conversation. I mean, who reads this crap? Who has time? Why even read about sex in a book when you can have it instead? I don’t get that. And billionaires in their twenties? I mentally shook my head and pretended to care. I’m such a bastard.

I looked at my watch, and just like a summons, the bell rang. My dad, finally. I leapt out of my seat to get the door. Poor Neil looked like he wished he could come with me.

“Dad. I was getting worried. Come in and meet my girl, why don’t you.”

“Son.” He clapped me on the back in our standard greeting and grinned. “You look happier than the last time I laid eyes on you. Hannah tells me you’re going up to Somerset to visit. Taking Brynne along.”

“Yeah. I want them all to know one another. Speaking of meeting, come on, Dad, she’s this way.” I led him into the kitchen and was greeted by the most glowing radiance on Brynne’s face as she got a gander at my dad. It made my heart jump. This was important stuff. Meeting the family and making impressions. Wanting them to get on was suddenly very important to me.

“Now this must be the lovely Brynne and her . . . older sister?” Dad said to Brynne and Marie.

“Hey! You stole my line, Dad!”

“He’s right,” Marie said. “Your son used the same one on me when I arrived.”

“Like father, like son,” Dad said, grinning happily between Brynne, Marie and Clarkson.

“My father, Jonathan Blackstone.” I jolted out of my stupor to make the introductions and rubbed slowly up and down Brynne’s back. I wondered how she was taking in all this. We had come so far, so fast, it was more than a little mad, but like I’d said before, there was no changing our path now. We were speeding down a mountain and weren’t stopping for anything. She leaned in to my side and I gave her a little squeeze.

My dad took Brynne’s hand and kissed it, just like he’d been greeting females my whole life. He told her how lovely it was to finally meet the woman who had captured me, and how beautiful she was. She blushed and introduced Marie and Clarkson. Damn if the old flirt didn’t kiss Marie’s hand as well. I shook my head, knowing he’d make the rounds to every woman here tonight. If they had a hand, he’d have his lips on it. Oh and yeah, he thought Marie was hot. Easy thing to spot, and I was sure.

“I won’t kiss your hand, though,” Dad said to Clarkson as they shook.

“If you really want to you may,” Clarkson offered, in the ultimate icebreaker.

“Thanks for that, mate. I think you’ve stunned him speechless,” I said to Clarkson.

Brynne looked at me and then at Dad. “I know where Ethan learned to do that hand kissing thing I love so much, Mr. Blackstone. I can see he’s been trained by a master,” she told him with a beautiful smile. A smile with the power to light up a room.

“Please call me Jonathan, and bear with me a little more, my dear, as I take a further liberty.” Dad leaned in and kissed her on the cheek! She blushed some more and got a little shy, but still she looked happy. I kept caressing up her back and really hoped it wasn’t all too much . . . of everything.

“Easy there, old man,” I said, shaking my head. “My girl. Mine.” I drew her very close to me until she squeaked.

“I think they get it, Ethan,” she said, pressing her hand up on my chest.

“Okay, as long as nobody forgets.”

“Kinda impossible for that to happen, baby.”

She called me baby. It’s all good now, I thought, glad I could laugh at myself as we all got down to the purpose of coming together for the evening.

“Chicken Marsala . . . mmmm. Brynne darling, what is that in here?” Dad asked between bites. “It’s really wonderful.”

“I used a chocolate wine to sauté the chicken.”

“Interesting. I love what it does to the taste.” Dad winked at Brynne. “So you’re a gourmet?”

“Thank you, but not really a gourmet. I enjoy it and learned to cook for my dad when my parents split. I have these marvelous cookbooks by Rhonda Plumhoff on my e-reader. She links her recipes to popular books. She’s famous from where I’m from. I just adore her recipes.”

He tilted his head at me. “Smart son I raised.”

“I’m not an idiot, Dad, and she can cook, but I had no idea about that part in the beginning. Her first meal with me was a Power Bar, so imagine my surprise when she started slinging pots and waving sharp knives in my kitchen. I just kept back and got the hell out of the way!”

“Again, you were always a quick lad,” Dad said with a wink.

Everybody laughed and seemed very at ease with each other, which helped me, but I was still nervous about what I needed to tell them. Not for the security part—that I knew how to do, and very well too; it was sharing the information with Brynne present that rattled me. I didn’t want to objectify her as a security job when she was so much more to me. I also didn’t want to get her all tangled up in the emotionality of the situation and have her upset, and in turn have that disturb our relationship again. I was protective of us. I was protective of her. Yes I was, with no apologies to the fact, nor would my feelings change on that front. I couldn’t bear to hurt her any more with that sordid mess and wouldn’t let anyone else do it either.

So we made a deal. I would brief Clarkson and Gabrielle together in my office while Brynne played hostess with the others, and then switch with Marie and my dad. That way Brynne didn’t have to be in there feeling uncomfortable watching the PowerPoint I’d made with time lines and photos so everyone knew faces and names. It was important for the people closest to Brynne to know all the details of who, what, where, and the possible motivations of what may come. You couldn’t get any higher political motives than a presidential election in the US. And the side wanting to exploit Brynne would work just as hard as the side who wanted her existence unknown. I didn’t know how else to protect her and get the information out to the people that mattered. Elaina and Neil were already up to speed, and Brynne said she was comfortable with them and my dad knowing. The others already knew her history of course.

We had a session scheduled with Dr. Roswell to go over some things as a couple. I agreed to it when she asked me. Brynne still had this idea in her head that I couldn’t really love her enough to overlook where she’d been with those guys on that video. Like her time stamp branded her forever a whore at seventeen. It made me really sad she blamed herself. It was definitely an issue for her, not for me, but getting her to believe that I didn’t love her any less because of that foul assault she’d endured was the real hurdle. We had our stuff to work on and hadn’t even scratched the surface of my demons at all. And for more than the first time I wondered if I needed to talk to someone about my bits and pieces. The thought of another nightmare scared the everliving shit out of me. More so that Brynne would see me like that again.

I watched her carefully the whole night. Outwardly she looked beautiful and charming, but inside I guessed she was struggling as the evening progressed. The minute I was done with Dad and Marie I went right over to find her in the kitchen, where she was getting coffee and dessert ready for our guests. She kept her head down even though she knew I was there. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my chin on top of her head. She was soft against me and her hair smelled like flowers.

“What have we here, my darling?”

“Brownies with vanilla ice cream. The best dessert on the planet.” Her voice was flat.

“It looks decadent. Almost as delicious as you look tonight.”

She made a sound and then she got quiet. I saw her wipe at her eye and then I knew. I turned her and took her face in my hands. I hated when she cried. Not really the tears, but the sadness behind them. “Your dad—” She couldn’t finish but she’d said enough. I pulled her against my chest and drew her further into the kitchen so people couldn’t see us, and I just held her for a minute.

“You’re worried what he thinks?”

She nodded against me.

“He adores you, just like everyone else does. My dad is not a judgmental fellow. It’s not his way. He’s just happy to see me happy. And he knows what makes me happy is you.” I put my hands on each side of her face again. “You make me happy, baby.”

She looked up at me through sad, beautiful eyes that sparkled and brightened as she comprehended my words. “I love you,” she whispered.

“See?” I poked at my chest with a finger. “Very happy guy.”

She kissed me on the lips and made my heart thud hard inside.

“Dessert . . .” she said, motioning toward the counter. “The ice cream is going to melt.”

It’s a good thing she remembered, because I sure wouldn’t have. “Let me help you with that,” I said. “The sooner we serve them, the sooner they can go home, yeah?” I started picking up dessert plates and moving them out to people. If nothing else, I am a man of action.

• • •

I woke up to a whole lot of noise and fitful movement next to me. Brynne was having a dream. As in, not a nightmare, but a dream. At least it sure looked like it to me. She was writhing all over the place and scissoring her legs. Grabbing at her T-shirt and arching her body. She must be having a really nice fucking dream. And it better be me she’s fucking in her dream!

“Baby.” I put a hand on her shoulder and shook a little. “You’re dreaming . . . don’t be scared. It’s just me.”

Her eyes flew open and she sat up immediately, looking around the room until her gaze fixated on me. God, she was wildly beautiful with her hair all down her shoulders and her chest heaving. “Ethan?” She reached out a hand.

“I’m right here, baby.” I took her hand in one of mine. “Were you dreaming?”

“Yeah . . . it was weird.” She left the bed and went into the loo. I heard water running and a glass being set down on the counter. I waited in bed for her to come back, and after a couple minutes she did.

Boy. Did. She.

She slinked out stark naked with a look in her eyes that I’d seen before. A look that says, I want sex and I want it NOW.

“Brynne? What’s going on?”

“I think you know,” she said in a sultry voice as she climbed on top of me and looked down, her hair falling forward like a pleasure goddess intent upon ravaging me.

Oh, fuck yes!

My hands went up to her breasts without a thought. God! I cupped all that soft flesh in my hands and drew it toward my mouth. She arched and began grinding over my cock, which was now as wide awake as my brain. I forgot about her being out of commission because she sure wasn’t acting like she was out of commission.

I got my mouth over her nipple and sucked it in deep. I loved the taste of her skin and could play for ages before I was ready to give her beautiful tits up. I took the other nipple and bit down a little, wanting to take her to that edge where a little pain made the pleasure so much better. She cried out and pushed harder against my mouth.

I felt her hand slip under the boxers I’d worn to bed and wrap around my cock.

“I want this, Ethan.”

She hopped off my hips and her nipple left my mouth with a pop. I didn’t have time to protest the loss before she went to work on removing those annoying shorts and getting her lips down around the bell end of my cock. “Ahhh, God!” I threw my head back and let her go to work on me. It was so fucking fine, my balls ached. She was really good at this. I got a handful of her hair and held her head while she sucked me to the brink of orgasm. I so wished I could go off inside her instead of her mouth. I preferred to be up in her deep when I came, with my eyes locked onto hers.

Well, my girl had more surprises in store for me, because she said, “I want you inside me when you come.”

How in the hell did she just do that?

“Is it okay?” I managed to gasp out as she moved up to leverage herself.

“Umm-hmm,” she moaned, pushing up on her knees to straddle me and back down to swallow my cock all the way to my balls.

I don’t know how it didn’t hurt her. Maybe it did, but it wasn’t me doing it, it was her taking what she most obviously wanted. If you insist!

“Ohhhh, fuuuuck!” I yelled, latching onto her hips and helping her out.

Brynne went wild, riding me hard, rubbing her sex where it did her the most good. The pounding rhythm exploded between us, and what was coming, I knew would be huge. I felt the tightening start but desperately needed to bring her with me. There was no way I was coming without her at least joining me in the fun. I didn’t operate like that.

I felt her inner core squeezing me tight and hot as she worked herself up and down. I snaked a hand down between her legs to meet where our bodies joined and found her clit through all that wet and slippery. I wished it was my tongue, but I made do with my fingers and started stroking.

“I’m coming . . .,” she panted.

She’d said it like that before, so soft and delicate. Those two words. It made me crazed to hear it from her again. It did because it was me making her fly apart, and she gave up everything to me in the instant when it happened.

Her soft words also sent me tumbling over the edge.

“Yes you are, baby. Come. Now. Come all over me!”

I watched her go and follow my command like an expert. She squeezed and cried and gripped and shuddered.

“Ohhhhhh, Ethaaaaan! Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Coming on command. That’s my girl, who does it when I tell her to. I’m such a lucky, lucky bastard.

I loved every part of watching her. Of feeling her pleasure. And when I felt myself start to go off, I slammed her down one final time while I thrust up in her as far as I could get and let it fly.

The hot flood of sperm jetted out and into her depths. I felt every spurt in sharp bursts and rode the wave of pleasure in a fucking daze, barely conscious of where my hands were gripping anymore or of what my body was doing. I got to look into her beautiful eyes, though.

Some time later—I have no idea how long—she stirred on my chest and lifted her head. Her eyes glowed in the dark and she smiled at me.

“What was that?”

“A really awesome middle-of-the-night shag?” she quipped.

I chuckled. “A really fucking amazing middle-of-the-night shag.”

I kissed her lips and held her head until I was ready to let her go. I’m possessive like that after we have sex. I don’t like to leave right away, and since she was on top of me, I didn’t have to worry about crushing her and could stay a bit longer.

I thrust up deep again and made her moan a luxurious sound against my lips.

“You want more?” she asked in a voice mixed with content and surprise.

“Only if you do,” I said. “I’ll never turn you down, and I like it when you jump me, but I thought you were having your period—”

“No. Not like that for me because of the pills I take. It’s barely anything, a day maybe, if that . . . sometimes I don’t even have one . . .” She started kissing over my chest and grazed a nipple with her teeth.

Christ, it felt so good. Her attentions jolted me right back into the moment and a healthy desire for round two.

“I think you’re going to kill me, woman . . . in a really nice fucking way,” I managed to say, but it was the last thing either of us spoke for a while. My Medusa had just turned into Aphrodite worshipping at the altar of Eros. My luck apparently knew no bounds.

• • •

“The US papers,” Frances said, setting the stack on my desk. “There’s an interesting article in the Los Angeles Times on members of Congress with children in active military service. Guess who they interviewed?”

“He must be one of the very few. Oakley will milk it for everything he can. Thanks for these.” I tapped the stack of papers. “What about the other thing?”

Frances looked very pleased with herself. “Picking it up when I go out to get lunch. Mr. Morris said it restored beautifully after so many years in the vault.”

“Thank you for seeing to that for me.” Frances was a gem of an assistant. She ran my company office like a tight ship. I might organize the security, but that woman kept my business sorted, and I didn’t underestimate her worth for an instant.

“She’s going to love it.” Frances hesitated at the door. “And did you still want me to clear your schedule for Monday?”

“Yes, please. The Mallerton thing tonight and then we leave in the morning for Somerset. We’ll drive back Monday evening.”

“I’ll see to it. Should be no problem.”

As Frances left I picked up the Los Angeles Times and looked up the article about the senator. I wanted to be sick. The slippery serpent failed to mention how his precious son was stop-lossed just recently, but that was no surprise. I wondered what the son really thought of the father. I could only imagine the dysfunction in that family, and it wasn’t a bit nice.

I set the paper back on the stack, and as I did, the movement caused something to peek out below it. An envelope. The thing had been set between the stack of papers. That in itself was odd, but the words on the envelope—FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION—and the fact that it had my name underneath got my heart pounding.

“Frances, who handed you the US papers this morning?” I bellowed on intercom.

“Muriel has them ready every morning. She sets them aside just like she’s been doing for the last month. They were just there waiting for me.” She hesitated. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

My heart was still pounding as I stared at the envelope on my desk. Did I want to look? I reached for the flap and unwound the red string tie. I stuck my hand in and pulled out photos. Eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs of Ivan and Brynne chatting at Gladstone’s. Him kissing her on the cheeks as I waited for her to get in the car. Ivan leaning in to speak to me and waving us off. Ivan on the street after we’d pulled away. Ivan waiting on the street for his own car to come round.

That photographer I’d seen outside the restaurant was there specifically for Ivan? He’d gotten death threats before . . . and now we had pictures of him and Brynne and me together? Not a good connection for her. Ivan had his own shit storm of troubles, and I sure as hell didn’t need the added complication of whoever was harassing Ivan dragging my Brynne into his whole mess. Fuck!

I flipped over the pictures one by one. Nothing. Until the last one. Never attempt to murder a man who is committing suicide.

I’d seen this kind of thing throughout my career. It had to be taken seriously, of course, but more often than not, it was some lunatic fringe who had an axe to grind on the back of someone notable they perceived to have caused offense to them personally and with cruel intent. Sports figures especially suffered this kind of crap. Ivan had offended a ton of people in his time and had the gold medals to prove it. A former Olympic archer now retired from the sport, he was still Britain’s lauded golden boy hounded by the media. The fact he was my blood family would have earned him the protection regardless, but he certainly kept me busy.

These photos had been taken two weeks ago. Was that photographer there for Ivan specifically, or did he just sell the pictures he’d taken of Ivan Everley, Olympic archer, because he’d been lucky to snap them and could get a few pounds for selling? Paparazzi hung around places that got a lot of celebrity traffic by habit, so it was hard to tell if the pictures had been prearranged or mere chance.

And if you were a lunatic intent upon killing somebody famous, why in the hell would you bother to inform his private security detail that you were planning to do it? Made no sense at all. Why send them to me? Whoever had got the pictures obviously wanted me to see them. They’d gone to the trouble of planting them in a stack of newspapers I regularly ordered from the street cart.

Muriel.

I made a mental note to speak to Muriel on my way out. I’d be leaving early anyway because of the Mallerton thing tonight, so I should be able to catch her before she closed up shop for the night.

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out cigarettes and my lighter. I saw Brynne’s old mobile in there and pulled it out too. Not much traffic on it for the past two weeks, as all her contacts were onto her new number now. The bloke from the Washington Review had never rung back, most likely figuring her a bum lead, which worked perfectly in Brynne’s favor. I set it up to charge so it would be ready to take with me tonight and into the weekend.

I lit up my first Djarum of the day. The inhale was perfect. I felt like I was doing fairly well with the cutting back. Brynne helped motivate me, but when things were rocky with us, it was chain-smoking central. Maybe I should try the nicotine patch thing.

I resolved to enjoy my one smoke and thought about the upcoming weekend. Our first trip together. I’d managed to scrape out three days of time so I could take my girl up to the Somerset coast to stay at my sister’s country home. The place also operated as a high-end bed-and-breakfast, and I was well aware of the fact I’d never asked my sister if I could bring a guest along with me on any other occasion that I’d ever gone there before.

Brynne was different for so many reasons, and if I wasn’t quite ready to own up to those feelings publically, I did recognize them for what they were. I wanted to talk to her about where we were heading, and ask her what she wanted. The only reason I hadn’t already was because her potential answer made me really fucking nervous. What if she didn’t want what I wanted? What if I was just her first real relationship that she could test the waters with? What if she met somebody else down the line?

My list could go on and on. I just had to keep reminding myself that Brynne was a very honest person and when she told me how she felt about me, then well, it was the truth. My girl was no liar. She told you she loves you.

The plan was to leave early in the morning after tonight’s gala to avoid traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get Brynne up there. I wanted some romantic time away with my girl, and also just needed to get out of the city and into the fresh air of the country. I loved London, but even so, the desire to have time away from the urban crush in order to keep my sanity played out regularly.

A call came through just then, pulling me out of my woolgathering moment and back into the very demanding and very urgent present situation of my job responsibilities. The day flew, and before I knew, it was time to get moving.

I called Brynne as I was leaving the office to tell her I was on my way. I expected to get a breathless rundown of everything that needed to be done before the thing tonight and our impending trip. I got voice mail instead. So I sent her a short text: On my way home. Need anything? And got no response.

I didn’t like it and realized right then and there that I would always worry about her. The worry would never go away. I’d heard people say such things about their children. That they didn’t know what real worry was until they had someone in their lives important enough to measure the true essence of what it meant to love another person. With that love came the burden of potential loss—a prospect too uncomfortable for me to think much about.

Remembering the envelope from the stack of newspapers, I headed over to Muriel’s newsstand on my way out to my car. She saw me approaching and tracked me with her soulful eyes. She might have had a hard life and rough existence, but those truths didn’t alter the fact she was very intelligent. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.

“Hello, Muriel.”

“’Ello, guv. What canna do for ye? I’ve every American rag just like you want, eh?”

“Yes. Very good.” I smiled at her. “Question, though, Muriel.” I observed her body language as I spoke, searching for clues to see if she knew what I was asking or not. I pulled out the envelope with the photos of Ivan and held it up. “What do you know about this being placed inside the stack of papers from today?”

“Nothin.” She didn’t look to the left. She didn’t lose eye contact either. Those two things were supportive of her giving me the truth. I could only guess and use my intuition, and remember who I was dealing with.

I set a tenner on the counter. “I need your help, Muriel. If you see anyone or anything suspicious, I want you to tell me about it. It’s important. A person’s life could be at stake.” I gave her a nod. “Will you keep an eye out?”

She looked down at the ten-pound note and then back up to me. She flashed those horrific teeth in a genuine smile and said, “For ye, handsome, I will.” Muriel snatched up the ten pounds and put it in her pocket.

“Ethan Blackstone, forty-fourth floor,” I said, pointing to my building.

“I know yer name and I’ll not forget.”

I guessed we had as good a deal as was possible considering who I was making it with. I headed to my car, eager to get home and see my girl.

I dialed Brynne a second time and once again got voice mail, so I left a message saying I was on my way. I wondered what she was doing not to answer and tried to imagine something like taking a bath, working out with headphones in, or having her phone set to silent.

I struggled with my worries. Foremost, the emotion was still unfamiliar, but at the same time not something I could set aside either. I worried about Brynne constantly. And just because this was all new to me sure as hell didn’t make it any easier to understand. I was a total novice learning my way.

The flat was silent as the grave when I stepped in. I felt my anxiety spike to very unpleasant levels and started searching. “Brynne?”

Only more silence. She wasn’t working out and she definitely wasn’t in my office. Not outside on the balcony. The bathroom was my last hope. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened the door. And crashed when she wasn’t in there either.

Fuck! Brynne, where are you?

Her beautiful dress was hanging on a hook, though. The periwinkle one she’d bought in the vintage shop with Gabrielle on the day we met for lunch at Gladstone’s. There was evidence of packing too—cosmetics out and a small bag halfway done. So she had been here getting ready for tonight and our weekend away.

I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’d gone off alone before, and what if she had again? After those lunatic photos from today, my stomach was in knots, and I just needed to know where in the fuck she was!

I went through to the bedroom, connecting a call to Neil in my half-panicked state when I saw. The most wonderful vision in the world. Amid all the scattering of clothes and half-packed bags was Brynne, curled up in the bed . . . asleep.

“Yeah?” Neil answered. I was so frozen that I still had the mobile up at my ear.

“Umm . . . false alarm. Sorry. We’ll see you at the National in a few hours.” I hung up before he could respond. Poor mate must think I’ve lost it.

You have utterly lost it!

Moving very quietly, I shrugged out of my jacket, ditched my shoes, crawled carefully onto the bed and curled around her sleeping form. I breathed in her lovely fragrance and let my heart rate slow down. The urge to light up a cig was intense but I focused on her warmth against me instead and figured my addiction to the smokes would have to lessen eventually.

Brynne was out cold, sleeping very deeply. I wondered why she was so tired but didn’t want to disturb her either. I could do the watch and wait just fine with her next to me and thought about the lesson I’d just learned. Brynne wasn’t the only one with trust issues apparently. I needed to work on mine a bit more. When she said she wouldn’t take off alone on me, then I had to trust she’d keep her word.

I opened my eyes to find hers studying me. She smiled, looking happy and gorgeous and a tad smug. “I like watching you sleep.”

“What time is it?” I looked up at the skylight to see that daylight was still clinging. “I slept? I came home and found you in bed and couldn’t resist joining you. I guess I drifted off as well, sleepyhead.”

“It’s about five-thirty and time to get moving.” She stretched like a cat, gloriously sensual and erotic as she uncurled. “I don’t know why I was so tired. I just laid down for a minute and when I opened my eyes . . . you were here.” She started to roll off the bed.

I latched onto her shoulder and rolled her back, pinning her underneath me and settling between her legs. “Not so fast, my beauty. I need a little alone time first. It’s going to be a long night, and I’ll have to share you with myriads of idiots.”

She reached up, held my face and grinned. “What kind of alone time were you envisioning?”

I kissed her slowly and thoroughly, roaming my tongue over every inch of her mouth before I answered. “The kind where you are naked and shouting my name.” I thrust my hips slowly into her soft body. “This kind.”

“Mmmmm, you are convincing, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, still holding my face, “but we do need to start getting ready for this thing tonight. How good are you at multitasking?”

“I am good at many things,” I responded before I kissed her again. “Give me a hint.”

“Well I do love your grotto shower almost as much as your bathtub,” she said coyly.

“Ahhh, so you’re just using me for my excellent bathroom amenities then?”

She giggled and moved her hand down between us to grip over my hardening cock. “Excellent amenities all the way around as I see it.”

I laughed and groaned at the same time, sweeping off her and into the bathroom. “I’ll get the hot water started . . . and I’ll be waiting for you in there.”

I didn’t have long to wait before she joined me naked and mind-bendingly sexy as usual, rendering me utterly captive and raging to claim her body with the dominating sex I couldn’t seem to control when we were together. My ultimate reward and my greatest fear all rolled into one. I’d joked about the gala tonight and sharing her with others, but the statement held far more truth than I wanted to admit. I loathed sharing her with other men who admired her—far too much in my opinion.

But it was the reality of Brynne, and if she was my girl, then I’d have to learn to take it like a man.

We made very good use of the time in that hot soapy water, though. Yes . . . multitasking is one of my strong points, and I won’t blow any opportunities I’m offered.

“You look beyond gorgeous, you know.”

She blushed into the mirror, the darkening flush moving down her neck and even over the swell of her breasts in the dip of that decadent dress she’d found. It was lace and very fitted to her shape, the short skirt rather frothy of some other material I didn’t know the name of. Didn’t matter what the hell it was, that dress was going to be the death of me tonight. I was so fucked.

“You look pretty gorgeous yourself, Ethan. We match too. Did you pick that tie just because of my dress?”

“Of course. I have heaps of ties.” I watched her doing her makeup and finishing the last bits and pieces, grateful that she didn’t mind me lurking, and getting nervous for what I was about to do.

“Will you wear that vintage silver tie clip? The one I like so much?”

Perfect lead-in. “Sure.” I went to my case atop the dresser to get it.

“Was it a family piece?” she asked as I pinned it onto my tie.

“Actually it was. My mother’s family. My grandparents were old English money and had only the two daughters—my mum and Ivan’s mum. When they passed, the goods went between the grandkids, Hannah, me, and Ivan.”

“Well, it’s incredible and I love antique pieces like that. Vintage things are so well crafted, and if it has some sentimental meaning, then all the better, right?”

“I don’t have but a few memories of my mum, I was so young when she died. I remember my grandmother, though. She had us stay for holidays, told us lots of stories and showed us photographs; she tried to help us know our mother as best she could because she always said it’s what my mum would have wanted.”

Brynne put down her makeup brush and came over to me. She drew her hand up my sleeve and then adjusted my tie a bit, and finally smoothed down over the silver clip reverently. “Your grandmother sounds like a lovely woman and so does your mother.”

“Both would have loved meeting you.” I kissed her carefully so as not to smudge her lipstick and pulled the box from my pocket. “I have something for you. It’s special . . . meant for you.” I held it out to her.

Her eyes widened at the black velvet box, and then she looked up, a little startled. “What is it?”

“Just a gift for my girl. I want you to have it.”

Her hands shook as she opened the case, then one came up to her mouth in a soft gasp. “Oh, Ethan . . . it’s—it’s so beautiful—”

“It’s a small vintage piece from my mother and it’s perfect for you . . . and how I feel about you.”

“But you shouldn’t give this family piece to me.” She shook her head. “It’s not right for—for you to give that away—”

“I should give it to you and I am giving it,” I spoke over her firmly. “May I put it on you?”

She looked back at the pendant and then back at me, and repeated her actions.

“I want you to wear it tonight and accept the gift.”

“Oh, Ethan . . .” Her bottom lip quivered. “Why this?”

Honestly? The amethyst heart pendant with diamonds and pearls was a very pretty little thing, but more than that, it screamed Brynne’s name. When I’d remembered it was in the collection of my portion of the lot from my mother’s estate, I’d gone down to the vault and opened it up. There were other things in there as well, but maybe some more time was needed first before we delved any deeper with additional jewelry gifts.

“It’s just a necklace, Brynne. Something very fine that reminds me of you. It’s vintage and it’s your favorite color and it’s a heart.” I took the box from her hand and removed the pendant. “I hope you’ll accept it and wear it and know that I love you. That’s all.” I tilted my head and held the two ends in my fingers, waiting for her to agree.

She pursed her lips together, took a deep breath and got that sparkly look in her eyes as she looked up at me. “You’re going to make me cry, Ethan. That’s so—so beautiful and I love it—and—and I love that you want me to have it—and I love you too.” She turned back toward the mirror and lifted her hair off her neck.

Victory felt so fucking wonderful! I am sure I was beaming, knowing more happiness in this moment than I’d felt in ages when clasping that chain around her beautiful neck, watching the bejeweled heart settle onto her skin, finding a home at last, after decades in the dark.

A lot like my heart.