Page 65 of Pervade London
I shoved my door open before he could. “Where are we going?”
“You’re so intrigued with what it is I do for a living that I thought I’d give you a glimpse behind the veil.” He stepped back onto the pavement.
Xander’s words came back to haunt me…
“There’s a veil. Once you see beyond the curtain there’s no going back.”
I hesitated by the side of the car.
“Consider this an olive branch, Em.”
“In what way?”
He stared down the street as though mulling over how best to answer. “It’s what I promised Xander.”
“What exactly did you promise him?”
He gave me a kind smile. “That I’d help you forget him.”
I squeezed back tears, feeling that old familiar ache of loneliness.
I wasn’t ready to let Xander go. How could I after all we’d shared, all we’d planned? The man heading off down the pathway was a wedge between our happiest years. I had never hated anyone more.
If I wanted to scream, now was a good time.
James walked along the side of a grey brick building with a tall brass fence around it. It looked like we’d be walking directly past Number 10.
I caught up with him. “Aren’t you nervous about all these people seeing me with you?”
“No.”
“You like danger, don’t you, James?”
“I’m not the only one.” He flashed a grin. “I know all about you.”
“Are you referring to my need for an adrenaline rush during a good fuck?”
“You might want to keep your voice down. Don’t want the Prime Minister hearing. He might get overexcited.”
The fact that Xander had shared such an intimate detail about me burned like hell.
I stopped abruptly.
James had led me directly to the highly polished black door of Number 10.
The door swung open and he stepped into an entrance hall. With a pivot, he gave me another heart-stopping smile. In a daze, I followed him in and gave a nervous nod to the policeman who doubled as a doorman.
What the hell are we doing here?
Beneath the long red rug we stood on was a checkered floor and to my right was a large fireplace. Elegant antiquities hinted of another time. This was like a British museum and every painting, ticking clock, and dark piece of wooden furniture had been lovingly cared for. The lemony scent of furniture polish permeated the air and gave the place an old English atmosphere, a bit like a church where the voices are hushed, carrying a reverence as thick as the green velvet curtains.
The way James strolled down the hallway made it obvious he’d been here before. The respectful nods he received from those we passed showed they recognized him, too. I followed quickly, realizing his influence went all the way to one of the highest offices.
What have I gotten myself into? No, what has Xander gotten us embroiled in?
James pointed toward a leather chair. “Churchill’s.”
“He sat there?” I moved closer to study it.
