Big Ben Page 5

  5

  Livy

  Present Day

  I limped through the door with my shoes in my hand. Exhaustion permeated every cell as I forced one foot in front of the other. I’d taken off my shoes Britney Spears style. The good news was my feet were nice and cool. The bad news was they were now grimy. But at least I didn’t have that dull, persistent ache going on.

  At the curb, the police officer who had driven me home waited until I punched the code in for the front door before turning on his headlights and pulling away.

  When I shoved open the door, I found Dexter pacing. I didn’t even make it past the foyer before he was on me. “Where the fuck have you been?” The scent of gin on his breath was strong.

  “Hello to you too, Dexter.”

  “It’s bloody nearly two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Believe me, I know. Perhaps you could hold your yelling for the morning.”

  His gaze skimmed over me. “Were you with someone?”

  “Really, Dex?” Whenever he wanted to spin out, that was his favorite line of questioning. “We talked about this.”

  He sidestepped me, calling out, “Do you have my meds?”

  I placed my shawl on the sideboard before turning to face him. “The chemist said the prescription doesn’t renew until next week.”

  “You know I need them. My bloody hand hurts.”

  “You know how to resolve that. It’s not my job to take care of you.”

  He frowned, lips parting like he wanted to argue. But he knew better. His therapist had been clear about drawing boundaries. It was a line not to cross.

  “It’s the least you can do. After all, you did this to me.”

  The guilt clawed at me, and I beat it back. I tilted my chin up. “No. You were too wasted to drive. So I drove and we had an accident. We agreed with Doctor Kaufman that you wouldn’t throw that in my face if you wanted a second chance.”

  He stepped into my space, laying the stench of gin and sweat over me like a shroud. The guilt that accompanied it was the heaviest to maneuver under. He was right. He was in pain because of me. I had been driving that night. The night that had changed everything. But he couldn’t talk to me any way he liked and get away with it.

  He’d never put his hands on me. He must have known that would be my limit. But he did like to wield the guilt like a weapon.

  My mother had really liked Dex. He liked to invoke her name when I was on the verge of giving up on him. But she’d often told me how happy she was that I had him so I wouldn’t be alone when she died.

  In the last six months, there had been moments daily that I’d considered walking out. But her last words to me haunted me. We all need love. Don’t throw it away.

  She was right. We all did need love. And I tended to self-isolate. Without Dex and Telly, I’d go ages without socializing. So I tried. Relationship work was a lot of effort, but this was Dex. We loved each other. And thankfully, therapy was working… mostly.

  “I do want that. I’m sorry. But I need you to do this. I have work.”

  “So do I, Dex. Not to mention I’m working on the book.”

  He rolled his eyes. “But my job is important. Actual high stakes. No one is going to lose their life savings if you don’t get Kennedy’s coffee. And you need to be realistic. You’re not going to win a Pulitzer with that book.”

  The double whammy made my hands twitch to throw something. If I’d had the energy, I’d have screamed. I’d have let the rage nestled behind my sternum explode and consume everything in my path.

  But I had nothing left to give. “Nice, Dex.”

  Before my mother died, she’d been working on a true crime book about the disappearance of one of her friends. When she’d died, I’d taken on the book. It helped me feel closer to her and acted as excellent grief therapy. And I’d come to find I loved the storytelling. I felt alive when I was writing. I could see the pieces fit together in my mind, like a movie. Dex didn’t understand why I needed to finish the book so badly. He saw it as another thing that dragged focus away from him and us.

  He frowned as if suddenly seeing me for the first time. “Where were you? And why are you so disheveled?”

  “Gee, thanks, Dexter. I’m all right, thanks for asking. Nothing that a hot bath and a soak won’t fix. After all it was only a light mugging.”

  His face fell. “You were mugged?”

  “Yep. A stellar end to a stellar evening.”

  He recoiled. “Oh, so this is my fault?”

  “You vanished on me.”

  “Well, I needed to unwind, so I went up to the balcony for a smoke. And for the record, I didn’t abandon you. I was talking to Mills and lost track of time.”

  I frowned at his lie. Doubt crept up my spine like a huntsman spider stalking its prey. He could well have been embroiled in a conversation with Mrs. Mills when I’d been looking for him, but he’d clearly tried to imply he’d been caught up with his boss.

  In the morning. You can deal with this in the morning.

  I was halfway up the stairs when I paused, remembering we were meant to go out on Thursday.  “Don’t forget, Thursday night is the thing for my mother—to spread her ashes.”

  He sighed as if I was asking the world of him. “You sure you don’t want to take Telly? It’s not really my thing. I think I have physical therapy that night anyway.”

  For fuck’s sake, was he really doing this? “Can’t you move it?”

  “Not really. I want to get better as quickly as possible. You want that too, right?”

  I did want him to get better as quickly as possible, but this was for my mother. She’d been his biggest champion. “You’re serious?”

  “Look, let’s chat about it later. Head on up for a bath. You look a wreck.”

  As I trudged up the stairs, I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother was wrong about relationships. Surely, I was better off on my own.

  Ben

  The three of us convened in East’s suite at the hotel. He’d taken one of the penthouse units as his own. At one time, we’d all lived in the hotels.

  Eventually, Bridge had left bachelorhood for Belgravia Square. And when I’d become engaged to Lila, I’d bought two townhouses down the road from his and spent a million quid to renovate them into Covington House. But then my life with Lila had blown up, and I’d come back to the anonymity of bachelor life. I still had a staff to keep up that place, and every now and again I got it in my mind that I needed to make it a home… but then I didn’t. What was the point when there was no one to share it with?

  I didn’t occupy a penthouse, though. I had one of the corner loft units. Besides, it was more convenient to stay at the hotel. East’s penthouse was fully lived in, unlike my loft. There were flashes of color everywhere. Art on the walls. Photographs by Xander Chase and Z Con. We’d gone to a Z Con exhibit in New York two years ago.

  East was the sort of bloke who had colored pillows and candles and things. I’d never understood how he even knew or cared about that shit. On the shelves, he had photographs. So many of us, Drew, and Toby that I couldn’t count them all.  There were several of his mother and sister but none of this father.  His place looked lived in.

  My place was where I slept. His place was where I came to watch a football match or to hang out. It never even occurred to me to host football viewing parties at my place. I knew it was sterile, but I liked it that way.  Minimal. Less to get attached to.

  When we walked in, East tossed his keys onto the mantle and we all took up our usual positions. East grabbed his laptop and plopped himself dead center on the couch. I always picked the massive oversized leather chair, and Bridge always seemed to like the chair by the fireplace. But this time, he stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out over London.

  East tapped away at the keys.  “Okay. Let’s see about the security cameras.”

  From the window, Bridge said,  “I remember a woman in a red dress. 
There were a few people wearing red, but she was noticeable. Bloody thing was backless. Sexy as hell. Great arse.”

  I glowered at him. I didn’t want him thinking about her arse.

  Why not? You did.

  And it was true. She had a phenomenal ass. Like a peach. I wanted to take a bite— No. No. No. No. No. Get the drive and move on.

  Likely easier said than done. The chances that she wouldn’t get nosy were slim, and it was going to get dangerous.  The guilt ate at me, knowing she’d ask a good deal of questions and I wouldn’t be able to give her answers.

  East tapped away.  “She didn’t give you anything to go on?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

  “Okay, there, I see her. She is talking to Fenton Mills and someone else. One sec… let facial rec do its thing. She’s linked arms with Dexter Ford. He works for Mills at Mills and Crawford Investments.”

  I snorted at that.  “What kind of name is Dexter Ford? Sounds like a git we might have gone to school with.”

  And then Bridge reminded me why we’d been mates all these years. He turned to me and nodded his head.  “That’s a knob’s name if I ever heard one.”

  I gave him a nod of solidarity.

  East chuckled. “Ah, okay, there we go. We have her. Her name is Olivia Ashong. Her mother was the Ghanaian ambassador to the United States for most of her youth, then she was eventually assigned to the UK. She was a diplomat for twenty years. Her father was English and died when she was nine. Her mother passed away six months ago.”

  I forced my face into neutrality. “Rough go.” I kept staring at the photo with her and Ford and his hand dangerously close to her ass. Where my hand had been earlier that night.

  My hands fisted and I forced them to unfurl. Didn’t matter that I didn’t know her. She felt like mine.

  East scanned her information.  “Oh, she’s been with Ford for two years. As far as I can tell, they’re not engaged.”

  My chest loosened. As if all of a sudden I could breathe. Game on. If he wasn’t going to put a ring on it, she was mine for the taking.

  East whistled low. “Well, what do you know?”

  I sat up straighter.

  He grinned. “It seems that we will have no problem finding Olivia Ashong.”

  Bridge frowned before heading over to the bar and pouring himself a whiskey. “Why is that?”

  “Because she works for us. She’s an admin to Kennedy Bright.”

  She had been under my nose all this time? “How long has she worked there?”

  East held up a finger.  “Looks like she started as a temp right around the time her mother died. And then Kennedy hired her on as a full-time executive assistant three months ago.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll make the approach and get back the data.” I was going to approach her about a whole lot more too, like why I was in a perpetual state of semi-arousal just thinking about her.

  East pursed his lips as he slid a glance over his laptop.  “I think I should make the approach. You already fucked it up, mate.”

  My brows rose as I took the drink Bridge handed me.   “Say what?” The hell I was going to allow him anywhere near her. Not with him looking like he could be the next Becks. No way, no how was that going to happen.

  He didn’t seem to get the memo from my death-glare eyes. “Mate, you fucked it up by letting her see you in Van Linsted’s office. You flubbed the pass. I think you’re done.”

  He was the one who was going to be done if he didn’t back off. “Now, just wait a minute. I made the best decision I could in the moment. And as for letting her see me, she was in the fucking closet. There wasn’t much to be done.”

  We both glanced at Bridge, and he shook his head.  “I’m not in this one. You two sort it out.”

  I pushed out of my chair to see what East was staring at. And then I saw it. There was a photo from the event when she was turning and looking over her shoulder at someone. Her dark skin glowed under the golden light. Even in the photo, her eyes spoke to me. She was in a word, stunning.

  Her hair had been pulled back up her neck, with a few tendrils escaping. Skin the color of a fawn, high cheekbones, enormous almond-shaped eyes with lashes that fanned her cheeks. Fuck, she was beautiful.

  East sat back and crossed his arms.  “It makes more sense for me to approach her.”

  I laughed.  “Over my dead body. She doesn’t know you. She’ll recognize me.”

  East pointed a finger at me.  “You see the look on your face right there? You’re already distracted by her. We made a pact, for Emma, for Toby… No more distractions by this side shit. We owe it to them.”

  “I’m not distracted by anybody, ever. I will make the approach. We had a connection.” Total bollocks. I was ready and willing to kill East if he thought he was getting anywhere near Olivia Ashong.

  I could see Bridge’s smug smirk behind his whiskey glass as he chuckled. East didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.  “Oh yeah, sure. If you think you can make it work, Casanova, make it work. We need that drive. And we need to figure out if we can trust her or not. Right now, she’s an unknown factor that could be dangerous to us. To this whole plan.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear you. We’ll get it back.”

  We didn’t have any other choice.

  6

  Ben

  Finding Olivia Ashong had been easy enough. After all, she worked in my bloody building.

  And somehow you missed her all this time?

  How many times had I passed her in the hallways or ridden with her in the elevator and just never noticed her before? Missed those eyes on me. Missed the catch in her breath.

  No. You would have noticed her.

  Those eyes would’ve locked me in place even if she hadn’t been wearing that devil of an eye-catching dress. East was right. I had other reasons for wanting to be the one to make the approach. I certainly didn’t want him to be the one. I didn’t usually get attached to women. There was a very good reason for that and a hell of a reason to be wary of this one.

  Alas, all the rationality in the world couldn’t calm the buzzing in my brain at the thought of possibly seeing her again. It hadn’t stopped the dreams of her scent as I tossed and turned all night. And my rational functioning brain had apparently zero control over my body that morning when I’d managed to drag my arse out of bed.

  Do this and get it over with.

  I needed that drive back, and I was prepared to give her whatever she wanted to make that happen. Thanks to East, I knew enough about her background to know she was overqualified for her job, so I’d start there and stop somewhere short of the bloody moon.

  The scent hit me first, crawling under my skin. Making me remember her little moan. Her office was meticulous. Overly so. Everything had its place, and nothing was out of it. She has this row of pens lined up so perfectly that I couldn’t resist the urge to nudge one askew.

  She had an interior office, so no massive wall of windows, but she did have one window letting in the light. And on her desk, the only personal item was a photo of her and a woman who looked like the older version of her with a complexion several shades darker. They both wore bathing suits and life vests and held paddles over their heads while laughing like loons.

  It was an image of pure unadulterated joy.

  When was the last time you felt like that?

  Clearly, whatever they’d been doing, probably paddle boarding, had been a hell of an adventure because they’d ended up soaking wet but triumphant.

  I had to grin at that.  She looked so happy. And I could tell from the photo that she laughed with her whole body. Was it throaty like her raspy voice suggested?

  There was nothing else personal in the office. It was almost too sterile. As though if she chose to leave her office tomorrow, all she would take was that picture and be done with it. Always ready to run.

  And that
was how she found me, examining the one personal item in her office as I tried to glean as many important details as I could from that one image. That woman, whoever she was, meant the world to her. That much I knew.

  “Excuse me, what are you doing in my office?”

  Ah, that voice, grabbing me by the balls, forcing me to pay attention.

  I’d woken up that morning with a raging hard-on just thinking about approaching her, what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. I could walk in and demand that she give me what I needed, or I could ask her nicely. Or I could try to coax it out of her, make it good for the both of us. Would she make that same keening moan she’d made in the closet?

  Except for the small problem of her boyfriend.

  Instead, she’d caught me unaware, so all I could do was turn slowly at the sound of her voice. When our gazes locked, I found her standing, one hand on her hip, one wrapped around a laptop. Her hair that had been straightened and sleek for the fundraiser was now pinned neatly back into a bun. She wore simple studs in her ears, minimal makeup, a charcoal gray pencil skirt paired with a prim silk top, and the look was totally buttoned-down. The vamp of the other night was tucked neatly away.

  I almost liked this version of her better. I could make this version dirty.

  There was something about her direct stare that hit me straight in the sternum, and it took longer than I liked to force my brain to work.

  Nope. Focus. Get the drive.

  I took several steps toward her and watched with respect and a little pride as she held her ground and even lifted her chin a little. “Just the woman I was hoping to find. You know, your scent has been lingering in my mind.”

  That’s it, pour on the charm.

  Her dark eyes went wide at that. But she quickly schooled her response into one of indifferent composure. The only thing that hinted to any fun in her personality were the buttons on her blouse.  Looking closely, I noticed each one was a different emoji. But you would have to be super close to notice. I probably should’ve taken a step back, but I didn’t budge.