“You love her.” He didn’t ask, but simply made a statement.

“Completely.”

“Ahh.” After another moment of reflection he asked, “How did you know you loved Elaina?”

“It’s not something you have to figure out, E. The decision is made for you. When the right girl comes along…you’ll already know.”

He shook his head in dismissal as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing ever happening to him. Lots of women had tried their best to catch him. I’d witnessed it for years, but I’d never seen him even look at any of them beyond a shag or two. Everyone knew Blackstone did not do repeat business with pu**y.

I remembered to ask him why he’d come to find me. “Hey, what were you on about yesterday when you busted in here, anyway? You never said what was so important.”

His expression changed again. This time to one of pride. “Guess which firm got tapped to secure the RF at the Games?”

“Her Majesty?” I couldn’t help bolting up out of my chair in excitement for what this meant for BSI. This was bloody huge.

“Yeah. They asked us to do it.” Ethan was grinning from ear to ear.

****

TO: emorrison @bsiltd.co.uk

How did you like your breakfast? xo N

Since Elaina ran the switchboard, texts on her mobile were hard for her to manage. So were calls, so our best mode of communication was going to be email when at the office. Oh, I could still see her at her station via the bank of security cameras that played out doings all over the floors housing Blackstone Security International, but the most important one for me would always be reception area on the executive level, forty-four. I had Elaina programmed to display on the biggest monitor in my office.

She didn’t care for me spying, so I didn’t advertise the fact to her, but I sure loved to be able to look up and see her while I was at my desk working. It just made me happy to be able to see what she was doing, who came into the offices, watching her move around and talk to people. I’d been starved for so long; it was painful to have to look away sometimes.

TO: nmcmanus @bsiltd.co.uk

I loved the cherry scone, but I loved my clothes most of all. Thank you for the note too. You made me have tears. P.S. Good ones xxE

Her sassy comebacks made me smile, and made me hard. I would have gone out to reception and picked her up, carried her back to bed and made love to her again, if I could have gotten away with it.

TO: emorrison @bsiltd.co.uk

I have an important question to ask you. xo N

I knew she would hit me with something snarky and hilarious right back. That was the fun part. Anticipating what she would say, and knowing it would be a surprise anyway.

TO: nmcmanus @bsiltd.co.uk

Well mister, you should know that I always say ‘no’ first, to anything and everything, as a general rule. xxE

P.S. You should also know that it is not pleasant to have to imagine the texts that went back and forth between my mother and my man last night. Bleh.

That’s the Cherry Girl I knew and loved. Christ, if she only knew how many times I’d stopped by her house to help her mum when she was still away in Europe. If Ian had been off on a business trip somewhere, her mum would ring me and ask for help. And I was always happy to stop by and help the woman who’d welcomed me as a son from the very first time we’d met. But, what nobody ever knew about was how I would go into Elaina’s bedroom and look around. Sometimes, I’d touched her things, even smelled them, to see if I could find any trace of her still left behind. I didn’t like remembering that part, but felt that it was too important of an experience to ever forget. If I remembered how much we’d lost, then it would help me to make sure it never happened again.

I still had more of my plan to put into action, and wouldn’t stop until it was fully executed.

TO: emorrison @bsiltd.co.uk

You’re going to want to say ‘yes’ to this one. Trust me. As for the texts between your mum and me? Don’t think about them. See? Easy. xo N

She got busy with some clients who came through, and it was a while before she could respond. I loved to listen to the sound of her voice speaking in Italian or French on the international calls, too. It was sexy as hell, and made me so proud of her for what she’d made of herself with no help from anyone, just her own initiative.

TO: nmcmanus @bsiltd.co.uk

I think you forgot to ask me the question, Captain. Focus, please. :P

I couldn’t wait to get her to my place that night. First time. My real bed. Total privacy and the luxury of knowing where in the hell she was and what she was doing for the whole night long. And, how she was getting to work the next morning (with me), and how she was getting from work back to my place again (with me). Huge f**kin’ window, with a city lights view of London. Just thinking about it got my c**k throbbing. My Cherry Girl and I had a date in front of that window coming to us.

TO: emorrison @bsiltd.co.uk

May I drive you home tonight, Cherry?

Her reply came back to me instantly.

TO: nmcmanus @bsiltd.co.uk

Yes you may. (I love it when you drive me) *blushing*

I checked the time and blew out a sigh. Five more hours. Five more hours before I could make good on my promise, and have my blushing Cherry Girl right where I wanted her.

“When may I look?” I asked impatiently. “I want to see everything.”

“In another moment. Almost there.” Neil had a hold of my hand, leading me through his flat.

I kept my eyes closed, well…only because he told me to do it. One of the unspoken, but clearly understood quirks about us—an element of that made us work so well—was the way in which he was never indecisive with me. He always knew what he wanted, how to ask for it, demand it, get it, or if he must, how to take it. This combination of his large, commanding presence made the whole package of Neil a devastating elixir.

He liked to surprise me with little things and to spoil me. He’d helped me pack enough clothes to last through the next few days of work, without the panic of one of those weird nightmares where everyone has clothes on but you. Hate those.

After leaving my house and kissing Mum on the cheek and thanking her for allowing him to take me away, he’d wined and dined me at Gladstone’s, being the romantic, thoughtful man he’d always been, and still was. The wine, and the mouthwatering vision of him across the table, had left me a little intoxicated, and I knew I couldn’t be in safer hands than his. But, at that moment, he had my scarf over my tightly closed eyes and was leading me along blind, to something inside his flat he wished to show me.