Page 19 of It Will Always Be You
Looking around the room at the men I call brothers, I can’t help but acknowledge how lucky I am to have them ready to go to bat for me in a heartbeat. Not everyone has this, and I’m all too aware of how fucked I’d be without them, especially now.
Chapter 15
Whatever fragile progress we made over lunch that afternoon has since been overshadowed by a strange mixture of the daily photo clippings I’ve been receiving, and Jonathan going missing. Fine, he’s nottechnicallymissing. According to Donna, he’s been working from home. Which, fine, maybe he is. But it’s not like him. Not in the slightest.
If it weren’t for Donna, I would probably have thrown in the towel by now. Being an EA to a CEO who has decided to work from home is hard enough. Throw in the fact he’s gone no contact, and you have me trying to step into his size tens, which is absolutely not what I signed up for andwayabove my pay grade. Hip checking my office door open, arms laden with my coffee and today’s reports, I nearly drop everything when I spy the dark, brooding figure behind my desk.
In all my time working for Jonathan, I’ve never seen him look anything less than perfectly put together: hair always slicked back, stubble carefully trimmed, suits pressed, shoes polished. And yet...here he is—hair a mess of dark strands falling across hisforehead, well on his way to having a beard, and, most shockingly, he’s in a tight black tee shirt...and are thosejeans?
Who the hell is this impersonator, and where’s my mafia boss who doesn’t know I know he’s in the mafia? It’s complicated, I know.
“Jonathan?” His head snaps up, and those beautiful blue eyes are red rimmed in a way that breaks my heart and shatters my self-control. Closing the door behind me, shutting the rest of the world out, I make my way over to him. Dumping everything on my desk, I round it until I’m standing at this side.
He turns in the chair to face me, and I take the opening to inch closer, standing between his spread thighs as he looks through me. It’s like he’s not even on this planet. The urge to do anything I can to help him courses through me. Conscious of the glass walls and the eyes watching us, I keep my expression as composed as possible. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“What a question.” He snorts, looking lost as he gazes up at me. His eyes fixate on my hair, and before I can react, he’s reaching up to tug at a loose curl, watching as it springs back into place. Reaching up, I grab his wrist, anchoring him to me as I scramble for a way to help him.
“Jonathan, I want to help you, but you need to give me something to work with here.Please,” I beg. My usually effortlessly powerful boss has been replaced by this shell of a man; he looks haunted, like he’s one wrong move away from spiralling out of control. It doesn’t add up. What the hell happened after our lunch? Who do I need to deal with?
“You should never beg. You’re too good for that.” He frowns, and it’s then I catch the hint of whiskey on his breath.
My eyebrows fly up into my hairline as I gape at him. “Are you seriously drunk right now?”
My words are a hiss that seems to wash over him without landing until, suddenly, he stands, making me take a step back. Something flickers in his eyes before he shrugs, brushing off my concern. The utter desperation clinging to every inch of him has me fighting theurge to reach up and brush my thumbs over the lines that don’t belong on his face.
“Fuck it. Life’s too short,” he whispers, almost as if he’s talking to himself rather than me. Before I can ask him what the hell is going on, he’s palming the back of my neck, drawing me closer. I open my mouth to object, only to lose my breath in an instant as he claims my mouth as his with a fierceness that should terrify me. And it does, but not for the reasons it should—no, it terrifies me because I want more. I want everything he has to give me, fuck the consequences.
Even with all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this ringing in the back of my mind, I can’t bring myself to tear myself away from his touch. The brush of his tongue against mine sends heat coursing through me. With a whimper, I cling to him, digging my nails into his neck as I lose myself in the moment. This moment should be all we will ever have. It’s all we can afford, and yet, I’m desperate for more.
Pulling back, he scans my eyes. “Let me take you to dinner.” It’s not a question or a plea but a demand, and as sexy as it is, I can’t say yes.I can’t.
“We can’t.” As much as there’s no point in hiding the truth from myself any longer, my guard has been sky high for as long as I can remember, and while he makes me want to let it crumble around us, I can’t. There are far too many risks, far more than just my future and safety at risk.
“Give me one good reason.” Warm palms cup my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. Seeing my own desire reflected at me causes a perfect storm to explode inside my mind. Air catches in my lungs—lungs that refuse to do their job—as he holds me captive, helpless to do anything other than lean into his touch.
“You’re my boss,” I whimper, gesturing blindly to the glass wall behind him.
“There's no anti-fraternisation policy in place. Next.” His determination has my resolve weakening despite my best efforts.
“You don’t even like me. You’ve been drinking. When you soberup, you’ll regret this.” I’m grasping at straws at this point, but I don’t care. I need him to give up before I cave in. Reaching up, I take hold of his wrists and try to pry them off my face.
“False. Just give me a chance, Helen. One date, that’s all I’m asking.” God, hearing my name on his lips never fails to send shivers down my spine. There’s something in the way he rasps it that has me half feral every time. It has me crumbling at his feet before I’ve even weighed up the consequences. So much for my self-preservation skills. Seventeen-year-old me would be rolling over in her grave if she knew we escaped one mafioso’s clutches only to fall into the arms of a different one.
And when I arrive home to another letter, this time with a note on the back, I know my time is fast running out. One date before I disappear again. That’s what I promise myself as I read the hastily scrawled text on the back of the photo.
Freya says hello.
Chapter 16
“Ameeting? Here? Has he lost his fucking mind?” This is the last thing I need to deal with right now. I’m already spinning enough plates without throwing Angus fucking Graham into the mix as well. Between covering for Da, running the Four Points, and keeping all our businesses afloat, it’s a wonder I haven’t dropped the ball yet. Or maybe I already have, considering the date I have planned for tonight.
Heading into the office wasn’t a conscious decision—and probably not one of my smartest moves, considering the dent I’d put in that bottle of whiskey. One moment, I was in my flat; the next, I was in Helen’s office, more intoxicated by her presence than alcohol had ever gotten me. Kissing her was easier than breathing. And damn—the taste of her on my tongue had me throwing all caution to the wind.
Even now, days later, sitting in the office at Alibi with Declan, I can hear her moans and whimpers as clear as day. Not even the news that Angus has been sniffing around our borders is enough to wipe her from my mind.
“Apparently, he said the only reason he’s here is to ask a favour. Something about a misunderstanding,” he explains, though the frown on his face tells me exactly what he thinks of that.
“Fine. Set it up,” I concede with a sigh.
