Page 68 of Pervade London
He shoved a hand into his trouser pocket and stood there with the pose of a man who was used to dishing out advice and getting his way.
James broke the tense moment with a confident smile. “The walk back to the car will give you time to think about what’s best for you.”
I rose from the chair and followed him out, turning briefly to take a mental snapshot of one of the most famous offices in the world.
We retraced our steps to the front door.
A sprinkle of rain met us on the other side.
In silence, we walked along the pathway with him glancing at me now and again. Probably to see how such a visit had affected me. Maybe hoping he’d scared me into compliance. James opened the car’s passenger door and gestured for me to get in.
With droplets of rain on my eyelashes, I peered into his Jag. “This is where we part ways, Mr. Ballad.”
“Am I going to be able to trust you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
“If Xander wanted me, he would have fought for me.”
The expression in his eyes turned kind, as though his empathy could touch my pain.
I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around James’ body, resting my head against his chest, his woolen coat scratchy against my cheek. I didn’t want James punishing Xander for my recklessness. This was me betraying myself to save him. Showing I was ready to let this go.
Let it all go.
James held me in a masterful hug.
Everything about this man screamed a desire to control and an obsession with power. Even his expensive cologne enveloped my senses, possessing the air around us.
My memory drew me back to that dimly lit room in the Barbican center yesterday. That private space where I’d mourned my dream having slipped away, minutes before James had stepped into the room and made me forget my failure.
Forget even myself.
Then, he’d given me the chance I thought I’d lost. My career was holding on by a thread. He could cut through it if I didn’t comply.
This was it then—a choice between my dream and my boyfriend.
“Xander will be proud of you,” he said soothingly.
“If he really exists,” I whispered.
James’ firm lips pressed against the top of my head in a gesture of affection. My body shuddered at the thought of his mouth lavishing me down there, swirling and teasing and luring me into an endless orgasm that he owned with precarious potency.
Peering up into his dark eyes, I whispered, “Look after him.”
“He can look after himself.”
With a shake of my head I said, “Promise me.”
James relented with a nod.
“You pervade everything, don’t you, Mr. Ballad?”
“Now you understand.”
He released me from his embrace.
