Page 9 of A Man of Prestige

“Of course, Gertie is taking good care of me,” he replies, commenting on his housekeeper.

“Good. I’m glad. She came highly recommended.”

“Be good and do great,” he says before hanging up.

I smile and try to remind myself that even if the brotherhood has a faction of people that are doing bad, there has been good to come of it. Chuck, Sebastian, and Conner are all proof of that.

* * *

My day isa cloud of work that I don’t remember. All day, every moment is filled with thoughts of Ella. Memories. Daydreams. What the fuck is wrong with me? By the time I go to pick her up at the metro, my blood is pounding in my brain and my hands tremble as I clutch the steering wheel. She’s standing at the kiss and ride waiting for me in the pouring rain. Her hair is wet, and she’s shivering as she opens the door and slides inside.

“Jesus, Ells,” I whisper as I turn on the heat and her seat warmer.

“I-I’ll be f-fine,” she says as her teeth chatter.

“Why didn’t you wait inside?”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I was and didn’t pay attention,” she stammers as she takes off her wet jacket. I pull out into traffic as I reach over and take her jacket, tossing it on my back seat while reaching behind me. I always keep a suit jacket in the car on the off chance I have a meeting. I remove it from the hanger and toss it at her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles as she puts it on. I glance over at her, seeing her nipples pebbled beneath her blouse before she wraps my jacket around her. Goddamn, do I miss those breasts. I look away, ignoring how much I like how she looks in my oversized clothes. I want to hate her for how badly my heart aches as I remember all the times she stole my sweatshirts and t-shirts. And how I loved removing them from her, as I worshipped her body.

I watch the road as I drive us to my house. I catch her stealing glances at me periodically, but she doesn’t speak.

“Warming up?” I ask as I pull up to my street.

She nods. “Yes, thank you.”

When I reach my driveway, I glance over to see her reaction. Her eyes widen slightly, but otherwise, she keeps her facial features neutral, which for Ella is impressive.

“Home sweet home, I state as I park in my garage and walk around the car to help her out. I hold out my hand, and she accepts it. If she noticed the security at the front of the house, she hasn’t said anything about it. She follows me into my kitchen.

“Let’s get you dry clothes,” I offer.

“I’m alright,” she assures me.

I give her a pointed look. “I call bullshit.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Fine.”

I reach out a hand to her, and she looks at it.

“I promise I won’t bite,” I add with a wink. Hard, I think to myself as she tentatively takes my hand. I lead us to my master suite. It’s on the ground floor, but with the topography of my yard, it’s two stories up from the ground.

I pull down an old college sweatshirt and some sweatpants and hand them to her. “Bathroom is through there. There’s a heated drying rack next to the shower. I’ll get us a drink.”

I turn and leave, giving her privacy as I pour us a glass of wine.

She emerges from my room. Her cheeks pinken slightly as I gaze at her. She looks just as sweet as she did eight years ago, the very first time she wore my clothing after a long night of passionate sex. She didn’t wear them for very long.

I clear my throat and hand her a glass.

“Thanks,” she says as I motion for her to take a seat on the sofa.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” I ask.

She drinks some wine and looks at me. “What do you know about Adam Blake?”

“The head of Halfagher?”

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