Crazy, Undercover, Love (18 page)

‘There’s no way I’m having one of my managers, any member of staff, intimidate or make another feel uncomfortable,’ he speaks into my silence. ‘It’s completely unacceptable.’

‘Yes,’ I murmur, summoning the bravery I need to tell him the truth.

Then he moves and puts his arm around my shoulders, catching me off guard and skittering my breath. I can feel the warmth of him down my entire body. I tremble harder, back shuddering, teeth chattering. Then let myself go for a moment, closing my eyes and resting against him, drawing on his strength. It feels so sinfully good. And so heartbreakingly right.

His arms tighten. ‘God, you’re really shaken, aren’t you?’ He puts his mouth to my ear, voice croaky. ‘You’re all right now. Tell me what happened.’

I feel so safe, so secure for the first time in ages. I want him to keep holding me.

‘Charley?’ he prompts.

‘H–he just, got a little close and—’ My shoulders slouch. I want to tell him the truth but when I do, I really think I’ll lose him. All he’ll see is the betrayal. I bite my lip. It’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes, isn’t it? To want to hold onto a good thing for as long as possible.

His phone beeps. ‘For God’s sake! This is getting ridiculous.’ He drags it from his pocket with a telling sigh. ‘I’m so sorry. Can we meet in the suite at half eight? Will you tell me then? We need to go over a few things for tomorrow anyway. And you’ll be safe up there. I’ll make sure he stays away, I promise. Have a few hours off. I have to sort this out.’

‘Okay.’ I smile, my cheeks feeling tense and unnatural. ‘Do what you have to do.’

He brushes a finger down my cheekbone. ‘You’re sweet.’ Walking across the room, he pauses, giving me one of his heart–stopping crooked smiles. ‘What I said earlier. Last night wasn’t just because you were there. Or that you’re gorgeous. It was you. You talk to me like I’m a normal person. You make me feel … normal.’

Without waiting for my reply, he leaves. I slouch back against the window, mouth gaping.

What am I supposed to do with that?

Muttering as my watch ticks past eighty forty–five, I pace the golden carpet, coral painted toes sinking into the thick pile. Where’s Alex? He said he’d be here. Ten more minutes and I’ll go look for him.

Over the past couple of hours I’ve tried to relax after the jolt of encountering Tony and the ton of confusion brought down by Alex’s admission. A quick dinner and long hot bath helped, but I can’t stop wondering where Tony is and what he’s doing. Has he tracked Alex down, or has Alex gone to find him? Are they talking about me right now? Is that why Alex is late? Maybe I should start packing my case again. Every muscle in my body clenches at the idea.

Sitting at the piano, half afraid to touch it because of how expensive it looks, I plunk a few keys tentatively to de–stress, and launch into ‘Chopsticks’, playing faster and faster, fingers pressing the keys harder and harder as my frustrations flow onto the ivories, the force making my wrists ache.

When Tony said those things about my closeness to Alex and me changing, he was right
and
wrong. He touched a nerve. I’ve changed. But maybe not for the better. My hands stumble and I crash out some discordant notes, pulling a disgusted face. I switch to a Coldplay number from my teens, from a time when I sat at the piano for hours learning songs from the charts.

Tony is wrong about me. Isn’t he? Fuelled by sheer desperation, my principles have flexed enough to take this assignment under false pretences but they
haven’t
bent so much I’ll use my body to get ahead. But the fact Tony believed me straight away leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve compromised my own moral code to get alongside a stranger, to try and gain his trust. The last few months have been so awful I’m now lying to a guy who doesn’t deserve it. It’s easy to think you can do something to someone when you see their face in a corporate brochure, but once you meet them in real life it’s different. Especially when you discover they have pretty major trust issues and don’t leave themselves vulnerable to people very often.

And they start to trust you.

And you like them.

And they tell you that you make them feel normal.

And you know with every fibre in your body that’s a good thing.

My hands still, the last notes echoing in the sumptuous room, my head slumping down onto my hands with a plink–thud sound.

What am I
doing
?

Jess was right. I should never have come here, should never have pursued this crazy plan. I might have lost some of my trust in the world but I don’t want to be someone who is comfortable betraying people. And I definitely don’t want to be someone Tony Ferrier approves of.

I can’t do this.

Lifting my head, I realise something else. I don’t want Alex to think of me that way, as someone who lies and deceives and uses. Fingers flitting over the keys again, I look out the window at the Barcelona skyline, at the buildings and lights, before turning my attention to the sprinkling of stars I can make out in the distance far above the sea. The darkness they occupy is simple and absolute. The sight gives me perspective and everything in me goes quiet.

It’s clear now. I have to abandon my plan and come clean with Alex. I’ll tell him the truth about what I came here to do, but am no longer going to pursue it. I’ll live with the consequences. It might not help my career or financial situation, but I’ll know that in the end I did the right thing.

I lift aching fingers from the piano, curl my hands into loose fists, study the clock. Time’s running out. Where on earth is he?

Knocking on Alex’s bedroom door to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep or lost track of time, I tut when there’s no answer. I run into my room and slip some flats on. Checking the restaurant with no joy, I rocket into the bar as the next logical choice. I’m completely underdressed in my blue skinny jeans and clingy grey long–sleeved top but don't care, scanning the room.

Spying Alex at the bar, drink in hand, talking to Greg his CFO, I can see from the way he’s slouching it’s not his first drink. Strolling over to them, I tuck my hands in my pockets and dredge up an easy smile. I need to play it strategically, not take issue with Alex for being late. ‘Hair of the dog?’ I check. ‘Or a re–run of last night?’

Glancing over his shoulder, Greg gives me an easy nod. ‘Hello again.’

‘Hi.’

Alex swivels around, suit jacket on the back of the stool, tie ends dangling loose around his collar. Damn, how does he always look so good?

‘Charley.’ He grimaces, ‘Am I late? What time is it?’

‘Almost nine.’

‘You didn’t stand her up did you Alex?’ Greg nudges him with a light elbow.

I open my mouth to reply but Alex gets in first, straightening in his seat. ‘Of course not. It’s not a date. We arranged to go over some work–related matters.’

‘That’s right,’ I agree smoothly. Does he think I’ll blurt out what we did last night? Or that earlier he as good as told me he likes me? ‘We agreed to have a post–meetings brief,’ I explain. ‘Are you ready Alex?’

In answer, he slides off his chair, ‘Can I have a word?’ He walks to a spot by the window.

Trailing a few feet behind, trying not to stare at his gorgeous bum, I bash into him. He turns, catches and steadies me, stepping away like he’s not allowed to breach the space between us. What was that scene in
Dirty Dancing
? Something about frames and Jennifer Grey muttering about spaghetti arms as Patrick Swayze tried to cop a feel. ‘Thanks.’

‘I was wondering,’ he broaches, ‘if we could meet in the morning instead of tonight. Say half seven?’

‘I really need to talk to you.’ I need to tell him the truth, and, as part of that, need to know whether he’s spoken to Tony.

‘I need time to myself tonight. I need to  …  think some things through. Do you mind? It can wait until morning, surely.’

There’s no point in starting an argument, it won’t achieve anything. If he agrees to listen I’ll know he’s knackered and impatient and not in the best frame of mind. ‘I guess so,’ I say reluctantly.

‘Thank you,’ his long–lashed blue eyes warm up, reminding me of a young, dreamy Jared Leto. Sigh. ‘I appreciate it,’ he adds, looking so grateful I wonder how often he gets an evening off. He needs to agree some serious parameters with his staff. Lack of work–life balance can lead to burn–out. I’ve seen it happen and am seriously worried he’s on his way to it.

‘I’ll see you in the morning then,’ I mutter, feeling like there are masses of things unsaid between us, making me tense and restless.

‘Yes. Good night, Charley. ’ He reaches a hand towards me but thinks better of it, dropping it to his side.

‘Night, Alex.’

Our feet must be stuck to the floor because neither of us moves.

‘Are you two going to stare at each other all night or are you going to go and have your meeting?’ Greg calls across the room.

Alex rolls his eyes, ‘Neither,’ he responds. ‘Come on.’ His fingers glance off my arm as he motions me to follow, their heat burning through my top.

‘We’ve put our meeting off until morning,’ he tells Greg as he reclaims his seat.

‘In that case, would you like to join us for a drink?’ Greg asks me, pulling out the stool next to him.

Alex freezes while reaching for his beer. Obviously he wants to talk to Greg alone.

‘Better not,’ I reply, ‘I’ve got some reading to do. But thanks for the offer.’ Alex picks his drink up at that, shoulders relaxing. ‘Have a good evening.’

‘Charley,’ Alex says.

I spin round, hoping he’ll ask me to stay. ‘Yeah?’

He raises his beer, ‘hair of the dog,’ and smiles.

‘Right.’ I smile back and leave them to it.

Their heads are together deep in conversation before I’m at the door. I sense a bit of bromance in the air.

Good for him, I think. He needs to talk to someone.

So why, as I mulch across reception to the lift, do I feel decidedly deflated that this time it isn’t me?

An hour later I’m working on a large glass of white wine whilst sprawled on one of the leather sofas in the suite. Chocolate wrappers decorate an end table and I’m surfing the net for shoe porn on the TV. I’m relaxed but for the small quiver of nerves in the pit of my stomach in anticipation of the morning’s conversation with Alex. Another crappy night ahead then.

There’s a shuffling sound, the door bursts open and Alex rolls in. ‘Get a good night’s sleep and remember what I said,’ Greg calls from the corridor.

‘Yes, all right. Night,’ Alex replies and clicks the door shut. Chuckling, he wanders in and throws his jacket and tie down across a sofa.

‘Sorry,’ I bolt up, scrambling to clear away my mess. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming back so soon.’

‘It’s fine,’ he waves a hand, ‘stay. In fact, as long as we promise not to talk about work, let’s have a drink.’

'I thought you didn’t want to talk tonight?’ I say, surprised. Wow, Greg must be the world’s best listener.

‘I didn’t. I don’t,’ he reiterates. ‘I’m trying something different. Let’s just … relax.’

‘Right.’ Except I have never felt less relaxed in my life, not when I’m in the vicinity of Mr Hot CEO and there’s a secret burning on the back of my tongue.

Flicking switches to turn the main lights off, Alex switches a couple of table lamps on, casting pools of light around the room. ‘Much better,’ he exclaims. Strolling over to the bar, he undoes a button on his shirt.
Pop
. ‘Top up?’

‘Please.’

He comes over with the wine bottle, pouring generously. ‘Here. You deserve a break as much as I do with all your hard work over the last two days.’ He hits his forehead with his palm as he walks back to the bar, ‘Idiot, that was work–related. Sorry, I can’t seem to help it.’

I pick up my glass. ‘Thanks. Well, I’m sure it’s a hard habit to break.’

‘You’re very generous given what a workaholic I am.’ He opens the fridge and pulls out a beer, unscrewing the top.

‘I wouldn’t say you’re a worka—’ At his raised eyebrows, I change my intended sentence, ‘Okay, you are in actual fact, a workaholic.’ I curl my legs around to make room as he comes over and sits down on the end of the sofa.

He throws his head back and laughs, long and loud.

You make me feel…normal.
His admission echoes in my head. He can be intense and driven and a little arrogant, but this is the real man; a witty, caring, passionate guy who finds the constraints of duty stifling and who forces himself to act in a way he thinks the world expects. He can be quick–tempered, but wouldn’t anyone be if they were working so hard to keep it up? It must be exhausting. Like Peter Parker and Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility. But not always that much fun.

‘What were you doing?’ He gestures at the TV.

‘Surfing for shoe porn,’ I say promptly, then cover my mouth. ‘Oops, I mean—’

‘Drooling over shoes or people doing questionable things to them?’ he asks, straight–faced.

‘What? You can’t be serious–oh, very funny,’ I drawl when I catch him chuckling, laughing with him.

Then we go quiet.

Chugging down some beer, he rests his head on the back of the couch, undoing another shirt button.
Pop
. My eyes stray to the length of his sprawled muscular legs. I go warm and prickly as I remember the sounds and scents of last night’s crazy encounter against the wall. My body immediately aches and I squeeze my thighs together in response.

Looking up, I find him watching me watching him. Oh boy. He undoes another button.
Pop
. How many more?

He takes another long gulp of beer, eyes fixed on me challengingly as he does it. It’s strangely sexy, the knowledge in his eyes. The hint of cockiness. He’s so smoking hot.

He sets his bottle down. ‘Charley.’

‘Yes?’ I inhale sharply.

'I shouldn't say this.’ His gaze flips from my cleavage to my mouth. ‘But I really like you.’

‘You do? ’

‘Yes.’

He swivels to face me, crossing his legs so our knees touch. I fight the urge to slip my hand inside his unbuttoned shirt, rediscover the firmness of his broad chest.

‘Right.’ His statement doesn’t change anything. We don’t belong together, him and I. And in some ways, him saying this now makes it worse because I’ll be throwing it back in his face in the morning when I admit the truth.

But  …  God. I feel like a teenager with an intense crush. Like in school when you worship the cool, good–looking, popular boy from afar and one day he comes over to talk to you.
He knows I exist
, you think, feeling like you’re going to float away into the clouds you’re so giddy. That’s childhood though. Castles and daydreams. I have no room for those. There are no happy ever afters.

Alex slides closer at my silence. ‘I was talking to Greg and it dawned on me. Until now, he and my brother were the only people who make me check reality, ask myself the hard questions. But now there’s you too.’

Oh, help. Please stop. I’m already in like with you
. I go breathless when his hand lifts, when his confident fingers start stroking my jaw. My heart is racing in an outright gallop. It might beat right out of my chest. ‘Are you and Greg close?’ I quiz.
Ground yourself. Feet flat on the floor, no floating away
.

‘Yes, we met at uni.’

‘That’s nice,’ I gulp, lost in deep blue eyes getting darker by the second.

‘Hmm.’ His thumb moves to trace my bottom lip, stops in the middle, presses it in as if fascinated. ‘Charley, I’ve got a problem.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I stopped being able to think the moment I sat down next to you.’

Huge turn–on. ‘You did?’ I won’t touch him. I can’t, not after the way he ditched me last night. My fingers curl in defiance.

‘Yes. It happens a lot.’

‘Oh.’

A big hot hand curves round the back of my neck to pull me in and bring us face to face, mouth to mouth, so that we share the same air. He buries his face in my collarbone, brushing it with a gentle kiss before tracking his nose up my throat, like a wolf searching for the scent of blood. He inhales, licks my skin delicately, and I shudder. It’s basic and possessive and I love it. ‘The way you smell, the way you feel … I love it,’ he mumbles, teeth grazing the skin beneath my ear. ‘I know I messed up last night, and we’ll probably regret this.’