The Professional Read online

  “Ms. Solomon just paid us a visit. I guess we were supposed to move you out immediately.”

  Silence. I could practically hear her looking for options on how to avoid doing this with me. Trust me, babe. I’m in the same boat.

  The door opened and I stepped back quickly. She looked up at me and I felt an animalistic urge to pull her to me and kiss her with all the intensity of my feelings for her. I craved that rush again. I’d been looking for it for so long.

  She brushed past me before I could do anything. I forced my heart to slow. I felt like a predatory animal circling a rabbit. Except Cora was no feeble prey. She knew what she was doing. She was a she-wolf, just as capable as opening my throat as Katrina had before.

  “Is it really that urgent?” she asked.

  I snapped out of it and glanced around the room. It looked perfectly fine, neat. “Some of the servants are moving in up here,” I said. “The workers need to get it ready for them.”

  I watched Cora look around and follow my same thought process. She looked pissed for a moment and then just shook her head. “Whatever. Fuck it. In a month they’ll all be gone and hopefully stay away for another ten years.” She walked into the kitchen and began angrily pulling things out of the cabinets.

  “You really hate them, huh?” I asked. A stack of broken down cardboard boxes leaned against the wall, probably brought by Jackie before she’d woken me up. I started putting them together.

  I thought she wasn’t going to answer me, but after an extended silence, she said, “Only my mother, honestly. My brother’s gone a lot, but he’s all right.”

  “And Her Majesty?” I asked. I’d seen pictures of the Queen, of course, and she looked tough as nails, not really the comforting archetypal grandmotherly figure.

  “Gran? She’s probably my favorite in the family, even though I don’t see a lot of her. Eighty-seven and she’s still just as active in politics as she was when she was forty.”

  “So what is the deal with your mother?” I asked without thinking.

  A shadow crossed her face.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Don’t mean to pry.”

  She shook her head and started putting books into a box one at a time, just to do something while she thought. “No,” she said, “it’s OK.” A pause. “I told you my dad died, right?”

  I nodded. “On our run the other day.”

  She pursed her lips. “It was a car accident. Nobody really to blame. Just one of those things. But the day before? I was in the wall, you know, the passage, and I heard my parents fighting in the chapel. He wanted a divorce. She never took off that mantle of being a public figure, not with us kids and apparently neither with him. I guess it comes from being raised in the public eye, I don’t know. But being a princess is just as much a part of my mother’s personality as her thoughts. It’s her life, her identity, and I guess Dad just couldn’t do it anymore. She was upset, of course. After he died, she wasn’t really the same, especially with me. I mean, she was never a storybook mother, but she made an effort. Afterward, it was like she couldn’t stand being in the same room as me for some reason. I don’t know why.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I walked to stand by her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  She didn’t flinch away from me or even stiffen at my touch. It was like she melted into me and we stood there, connected for a long moment in time.

  Different yet the same, that was us. One raised in luxury and the other in poverty. One born for wealth, the other destined to achieve it. She was beautiful, but I’d known many beautiful women. Why was it that this girl, this completely terrible, horrible choice that was going to fuck up my job and possibly my freedom, drew me in as powerfully as the Crown had once done? The glory of the Crown was a distant memory, the silver tarnished, the gems a dulled flicker of their former majesty, and I was more interested in what Cora Harmont felt like pressed against me than the weight of the prize in my bag.

  I used my other hand to pull her gently around until we stood toe-to-toe, me gazing down into blue eyes, her up into my greens. There was a questioning look on her face, free of the irritation or anger she normally held in my presence. It had been replaced by curiosity with an underlying want. I wanted her too, and the only difference was I that had zero questions about it.

  Her lips parted. “Was that kiss really nothing to you?” she asked softly.

  I stared down at her and even though every last neuron in my brain was firing warnings at me, I ignored them all. I couldn’t stop myself from digging the hole deeper. The kiss last night had been just a taste, a nibble, and if this was a sin, put me down for gluttony. I wanted, I needed, more.

  In answer, I put one hand under her chin and lifted it, then leaned down and made it mine. The drunken peck of the night before was instantly banished from my mind. All of my senses, already heightened through years of training, focused in on Cora, making every second slow to an agonizing crawl. The smell of her skin, the soft touch of her hands at my neck, the way her body melted into mine as I consumed her. But Cora wasn’t passive in life or in love. Her tongue fought mine in a sensual dance, neither of us giving over to the other completely. I may have dominated her physically, but this kiss was all a mental game. Who was going to come out on top, who could take and give the most pleasure. If my cock was any indicator, it had to be me, but Cora was sure giving me a run for my money.

  I broke away first, but only for a moment to sweep away the boxes Cora had been packing, clearing the table. Cora begged, no demanded, my attention even for the brief second I was away, pulling me back towards her even as I laid her against the table.

  I pressed her against the wood and she dug those soft, royal hands into my back muscles with want and need. I lowered my mouth to kiss her neck, her shoulders, ripping her t-shirt off with one hard yank of the flimsy fabric and freeing her breasts, neither of which escaped my intimate attention. I sucked on her nipple, rolling my tongue over it and teasing it to stiffness as my right hand found her hair, tangling itself in her brown locks, and the other moved further south to the bucking heat in her jeans. She ground against my hands as I found her clit through her pants and pressed my fingers firmly against it. She panted, groaned, jerked in my arms. Her hands searched my toned frame for something to hang onto as she started the ride. I had no intention of giving her a moments rest until she was going over the top.

  Sad to leave, but prompted by the thought of what was to come, my mouth turned over her breasts to a teasing hand and moved further south, nipping and kissing all the way down until I was blocked by the edge of her jeans. Her hands left my back and helped me pull them down off her slender hips and to the floor, revealing a black thong that was just as quickly done away with. Finally she was mine, naked, stretched across the table, jolting and moaning at my touch. But, as much as I hated to admit, I was just as much hers because no prize, no heist, not all the crown jewels in the world would have pulled me away from her at that moment.

  I dived into her center with the ravenous hunger of a man kept hungry for far too long. With one hand still on her breast, my other cupped her full ass that flexed and pulsed under my touch and then tightened like she’d been shot with electricity when my mouth found her clit. I tongued the bump, grinding it across her pleasure before surrounding it with my mouth and sucking, applying pressure that pulled against it with every little twitch and shudder she made. My hand left her ass and I stroked her opening with two fingers, feeling her relax and open for me, her incredible tightness giving way to pleasure and soaking her, preparing her for entry. I slipped two of my long, professionally thieving fingers into her, hoping to steal every ounce of pleasure away from her body. Still alternating between sucking and grinding on her clit, my fingers slowly stroked against her wall, probing for her G-spot, searching it out and, when her entire body convulsed, pressing it harder. She squirmed against the table, hands pressed to my head, pushing me, us, further as the orgasm overtook her. I sucked as hard as I could, pre
ssing every button I could find to draw out her pleasure as long as possible.

  When the convulsions finally subsided, I felt her hands on my arms, pulling me closer to her and kissing me again with that selfless intensity, filling me with lust and excitement. As she kissed me, she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer, and loosened my belt. I finished it for her, pulling the jeans off completely. I didn’t have to stroke myself at all. It had been rock hard since her lips first met mine.

  I broke from our kiss and bit at her neck as I positioned myself at her entrance and slowly, agonizingly, pressed into her. She gasped against my ear as I entered. Not fast, not rough, but as slowly as I could, prolonging that feeling of being completely enveloped by overwhelming tightness and, for her, that sense of being satisfyingly full. Inch by inch, I pulled her against me until I was completely sheathed inside her and, once we were there, we paused, completely connected. And then I couldn’t hold back any longer and I pressed her back flat against the table and began to fuck her like I’d wanted to since I first saw her in the waiting room.

  I thrust back and forth, drawing all the way out until just my head was inside her, and then pushing fully back in with long, powerful strokes. Still kissing her, her mouth, her neck, her jaw, hands still roaming her body, grasping and stroking and teasing as she wound her hands in my hair and melted against me. I could feel the pressure building and I reached down to her clit and began to firmly grind it as her hips mashed into mine. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head just as I pushed in and came violently, grinding against her until the end.

  I collapsed on top of her, both of us breathing heavily. After I caught my breath, I rolled off her, both of us still on her table.

  She leaned against my chest and we both were quiet for a time, basking in indulgence, both knowing that it was wrong, that soon we’d probably regret it. But for now, for a brief moment, everything was right.

  She propped herself up on one elbow, taking me in. I grinned up at her and she leaned down and kissed me long and hard before pulling away once again. Her hand stroked my chest until it found my tattoo, the curving abstract pattern I’d gotten in Thailand so long ago. She traced it with a single fingernail, light, teasing.

  “You don’t seem like the type for tattoos,” she said.

  “I’m not,” I replied. “But this one was a special occasion.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A reminder.”

  I didn’t tell her that the occasion had been freedom from captivity, the reminder, never to trust again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Cora

  I slapped a five dollar bill down on the small cafe table and watched Diana’s eyes shift from confusion to realization to elation.

  “Ha! I knew it!” she said much too loudly for the small room, attracting glares from the other patrons.

  “Shhh,” I hissed, thinking less about the people around us and more of Alex who was sitting at a table just outside the door. I glanced outside and thought I caught his eye looking away, the hint of a smirk on his face.

  I took a seat across from her. “You can gloat, just do it quietly. He’s right outside.”

  Diana’s head snapped to the window and then back to me. “Why’d you bring him here?” she asked.

  “Well even though we’re together, he’s still my bodyguard.” That also got a glance from the table to our left. I felt myself redden.

  “Yeah,” Diana said, “you’ve never really sounded like a princess until that sentence.”

  “Shut up, you’re supposed to be on my side. And I don’t care if it does make me sound like a douche, it’s the reality of the situation. I can’t just tell him to stop following me. I tried that when I hated him and just because things have changed between us doesn’t mean he works for me now.”

  “Wait,” Diana said, “back up. Did you say you were together? Like ‘together’ together? You sure that’s a good idea?”

  I frowned. “You’ve been trying to get us together since we met.”

  “Yeah, I meant like bang your anger out, not start dating! I thought I was pretty clear about that.” Diana paused and frowned down at the floor. “Look, I don’t want to be the one to voice this but…”

  “My mother?” I finished for her.

  “Your mother,” she confirmed. “If she gets wind of this…”

  “Yeah,” I said. “About that.” I steeled myself for her reaction. “I think I’m going to tell her today when they get here.”

  Diana didn’t disappoint. “WHAT?” she yelped. At that point I accepted that everyone in this shop was in on the conversation with us. “That can’t possibly be a good idea.”

  I bit my lip. “She’ll be distracted with the arrival. And it’ll be like tearing off a bandage. Just get it out of the way and deal with the consequences.”

  Diana looked like she had some very strong opinions to the contrary, but then her face softened. Maybe she could tell how much this meant to me.

  “Cora,” she said, taking one of my hands, “I only say this because I love you. If you tell your mother that you’re shacking up with a servant, at best she’ll fire him and threaten legal action if he’s ever in the same room as you. At worst she’ll pull you back to Athea for the rest of your life. I get it. He’s charming and funny and looks amazing in, well, everything. And I cannot wait to get all the details of your bangings. But you need to really think about how serious this is.”

  A moment of silence lingered between us. Then I said, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

  Diana’s face changed. She leaned back in her chair and examined me closely. I felt like a statue under appraisal. I tried to talk, but she raised a finger. “Shh. I need to think about this.” After a moment, she asked, “How many guys have you dated?”

  I searched for a number. “It depends. Does one date count as ‘dated’?”

  “Sure.”

  I shrugged. “No clue. Dozens at this point. It seems like you’ve set me up with every guy you’ve ever known.”

  “OK, so let’s be conservative and say you’ve gone on one date a month since we met freshman year. I know there were heavier periods, but you also had a couple real relationships. So two years, twelve a year, we’ll round up to twenty-five guys.”

  “Twenty-four guys,” I corrected, “and one girl.”

  “Forgot about her,” Diana said frowning. “Too bad that didn’t work out. Then you could have been on my back list for who I’m going to marry when it doesn’t work out with Derek.”

  I waved her off and said, “OK so what’s the point here?”

  “Twenty-four guys and one woman, multiple relationships that lasted a month or two, and never, ever did you say ‘I love you’ to any of them. You’ve never even gone so far as to say you were falling in love with them. Then you meet a guy and even though you haven’t known him long, you fall completely head over heels. Maybe he’s your soulmate.”

  I pictured the line of guys that’d come before Alex and tried to remember if any of them had ever given me butterflies like my incredibly handsome, utterly charming bodyguard did. None sprung to mind. I didn’t know if I really believed in soulmates, but if I had to picture what it would be like, my turbulent, sexually charged relationship with Alex Flynn might just fit the bill.

  “However…” Diana continued.

  I groaned. Of course there was a “however”.

  “However,” Diana repeated, “you also don’t really know anything about him at all.”

  “Yes I do,” I insisted.

  “When’s his birthday?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said.

  “Of course it does,” Diana said.

  “No it doesn’t,” I argued. “Who cares when his birthday is? And all it would take is a quick question to find out.”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “Fine. Who are his friends? How clean does he keep his house? What are his hobbies? How does he deal with conflict? He’s a bodyguard. Does he tr
avel often? Will you be spending most of the year alone while he’s off watching pop stars do coke and dance naked with their friends on a private jet?”

  “OK, I don’t think Sarah Summers does coke,” I said.

  Diana gave me a look that said come on.

  “Fine, well I doubt she dances naked in front of her bodyguards,” I said. It was a stupid point to argue on, but the only one I could really refute. Diana was right. The attraction was there. Our personalities meshed well. But there were a thousand aspects of a relationship that I couldn’t figure out in a week. Was I really in love with Alex or just the idea of him - a sexy, mysterious stranger who might take me away from all this. Jeez, I was starting to sound like a straight to VHS sequel to Pretty Woman.

  But our connection was hard to deny. Even after the glow from our incredible sex had faded, we’d stayed in bed for hours, talking about nothing, sharing stories, and, of course, having sex a few more times. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to say that I was happier than I’d been in a long time. For the first time in years, I truly didn’t care what my mother had to say. I wanted to show Alex off to the family, announce that I, Cora Harmont, had finally found someone I wanted to spend every moment with.

  But Diana had a point. I didn’t know Alex that well. I was looking forward to finding out all the intricate details that made him who he was, but what if I didn’t get the time to? What if Mother forced him away or me to go home? What if I laid my life on the line for him and it ended up falling apart?

  My heart told me the risk was worth it, but that damn pragmatic voice in my head urged me to play it safe.

  I drank the rest of my latte and considered my options. It wouldn’t be easy to keep the relationship a secret, but it was doable. Alex had to be by my side at all times. It wouldn’t seem weird if we were ever caught together unless we were literally on top of each other. But did I want to keep it a secret? I was so sick of my mother’s hold over my life - her say in schooling, my career, my housing. Did she really have so much power that it would eclipse who I was allowed to spend my life with? Should I just take a stand and declare my feelings for Alex?