I closed the safe right after uncovering the pinhole camera, leaving everything as I found it, sans the ledger. Lucas was right. Getting in here again would be trickier, but it could be done. And thanks to Nyla, we had neutralized Bram.
Just as I tucked the ledger in to the damn jumpsuit, my phone buzzed with a text.
Theroux: Change of plan. Meet new partner at Primrose Hill, tomorrow, 8 p.m.
I glanced at the message and scowled. Why was he stalling? And the last thing we wanted was to bring someone else in. But I’d deal with Theroux later. One problem at a time.
So maybe you should hear Nyla out.
No. I couldn't. It didn't matter that I wanted to.
Or rather it mattered very much. The idea that I wanted her so much that I was willing to overlook everything was dangerous. She had already put us at risk.
I couldn't let her close again.
Chapter 8
Nyla
I hoped to Christ that East had listened.
I hoped to God Livy had gotten through to them, because there was no avoiding it. Amelia was meeting me in an hour, and I hoped to have something to tell her. I was on my way to talk to Rhys Mathison myself and find out if he'd give me any information about the Elite or the London Lords. I fully expected to get nothing, but it was only a stall tactic while Amelia was working on the warrant.
He wasn't going to give me anything. But since I called myself an ‘associate’ of Amelia's and my MI5 five cover IDs still thankfully worked, one of those being a young intrepid reporter for The London Gazette, that would at least get me in the door and give me a chance to talk to him, a chance to poke around. But I knew it wouldn't get me very far, not without a badge.
You need that badge. You will have to go back.
No. I was not going to cave. I was not going to bend to the will of my father and Denning.
You might not have a choice.
The lifts were packed, and I saw several people circumventing them, going around to what I thought were backstairs. But it was another bank of lifts, smaller ones that were far to the left behind the guard station. Almost no one got in those, and the moment I saw the interior, I could see why. They amounted to not much more than a service lift. But they would do if I wanted to get upstairs quickly. Maybe I could poke around the office and say I'd arrived for my appointment early. At the very least, I could see if he had a safe.
Oh yeah, what are you going to do, break in? Steal the ledger yourself? You're basically stalling before Amelia can get a warrant.
And if I failed, East and his crew were out of luck. So I hoped to God Livy had gotten through to the guys. But no one had texted me. Not one word.
I stepped in the lift, and just as it was about to close, a hand slipped in and the doors slid back. At first all I could see was a shadow of someone tall, but when more was revealed, I gasped.
In front of me stood East, looking every bit as delicious as I remembered, his dark hair in messy disarray as if he'd been running his fingers through it. Or as if someone else had run their fingers through it. He looked fresh out of bed, except his clothes were impeccable.
Three-piece suit, that mint tie that brought out the green in his eyes, crisp white shirt. The suit was that houndstooth with a check that was so small the whole thing looked gray. And it was cut to fit his long lean frame, almost a little too slim. But that was the style. I recognized it as bespoke, and I wondered who the designer was.
"It's you," I breathed.
He froze for a long second. "Yeah, it's me."
And then he did the one thing I didn't expect him to do. He stepped inside.
I expected him to wait until the next one. I didn't even know what he was doing there. Was he there to stop me, or rather Interpol, from talking to Rhys? He was too late if he was only doing something about it today.
"What floor?" I asked. As if we were strangers. As if his cock hadn't been inside me, hitting that spot that made my eyes roll into the back of my head over and over and over again until I had naught else to do but arch my back, grip the pillows behind me, and hold on for the ride as he punishingly drew orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of me.
Was I supposed to pretend that I didn’t know about his habit of dipping his head, licking my nipples, and chuckling to himself as if the art of making me scream was a joke? It might have been a joke to him, but it had been all seriousness to me, because I’d believed him. Believed that he wanted me.
So no, I did not want to be trapped in a lift with him. I reached for the doors, but they closed too quickly, and the lift started moving. My question all but forgotten, he reached around me and pressed the button for the top floor.
He would be on this sixty-seven-floor journey with me. Bloody fantastic.
I just had to do this, didn't I? I’d wanted to avoid the crowds in the other lifts. If I'd just taken one of those, I'd be free, safe. Wouldn't be trapped with my enemy.
He's not your enemy. You care about him.
Because I was dumb enough to care about him, he felt like my enemy in that moment.
"I hope to God you're not too fucking late."
For a long moment, he didn't answer. And then he pulled something out
