Page 151 of Pervade London
“You did very well yesterday.”
“In Parliament?”
“Yes, in there, too.”
“The coffee room was the drop off point for your speeches?” Feeling intrigued, I recalled that young man handing the folder to the PM.
“Watching you orgasm in the House of Commons was a delight. Might add that to your job description.”
I ignored that. “Does the PM know you write the speeches?”
“Afterward…in the car with Xavier.” He shook his head as though remembering. “You are an exquisite gift.”
“You can tell me,” I insisted, refusing to abandon the subject.
“Everyone knows I write the speeches, yes.”
“The PM pretended he didn’t know you.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Do you ever talk to the President of the United States?”
“My little spy,” he teased.
“I forgot your folders, remember? I’d make a crappy spy.”
“Artists often do. We need scientists, mathematicians, techies—people who aren’t driven by their imagination but can act on it.”
“You knew those files would be picked up by a member of your team?”
He broke into a grin. “Sure you’re not a spy?”
“You’ve spied on my life. You probably know me better than I know myself.”
“You’re too extraordinary. Spies need to appear boring so they can remain invisible.”
“Xavier’s interesting… and so are you.”
“We’re not spies.”
“Then what are you?”
“Someone who pervades.” He smirked at that.
Oh, God, he was magnetic…so charmingly dashing it was hard to look away.
“To be honest, you’d be an asset,” he continued. “You’re obviously not a spy, so it’d be an ideal disguise.”
“Where did you go last night?”
“Whitehall. Made a decision. Gave an order. Came home.”
“Home?”
He caught himself and snapped his gaze to mine.
My toes curled. “Did you miss us?”
