Page 43 of Until You're Breathless

“It’s not just thanks to me, Jagger. Shit, I’ve only been with you for like six weeks. It’s you.”

I look at her glassy eyes. “Tell me something. Do you think that Wesley would even consider doing business with me if it weren’t for you? You heard the man say it himself, that he thinks Boston is an asshole, and it was you that was keeping Kruger afloat. Well, right or not, Wesley feels like you’re doing the same for me, and I’m okay with that. It’s not about power or ego for me, Bowie. It’s about doing what’s best for the company, and what’s right. Now, you can do this, okay? We’re going to go back to that table and I’m going to get you a coffee. I know damn well that if I allow you to skulk your way out of this tonight, that you’ll never be able to forgive yourself.”

“Do you really love me, Jagger?” She asks, eyes so glassy but so honest.

I slide a loose strand of hair over her ear. “I do love you. I only ever mean what I say.”

“Do you believe that I love you, too?”

“That’s the thing, see. We’re both honest people. We only say what we mean and that’s why we mix so well together.” I lick my lips, feeling her slip downward a little. “Come on. We’ve got to get you some coffee and some water, or else you’ll feel like a bag of shit tomorrow, and we’ve got a long flight.”

“Kiss me, Jagger.” She breathes, drunkenly.

“I’m not kissing you in a bathroom stall.” I tell her directly, like she’s a child. “Now, come on. Pull yourself together. We can do this.”

She swallows and scrapes a hand down her face. “You’re right. I can do this.” Her voice is like she’s suddenly turned into a life coach.

“Let the jury note that I’m holding you up with both hands.”

“Details.” She trails off as I open the stall door, listening to the automatic flush do its thing. “Besides, you said that we were supposed to pretend that we’re lovers, so that’s why you’re doing that.”

“If that were the case, then I would have fucked you in that stall, but I’m not.”

She giggles.

“Come on, drunky drunkerson. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I chuckle.

I help her wash her hands, and I grab some paper towel to wash her face. Bowie barely wears makeup, so this isn’t an issue. The girl could literally crawl out of bed and look fucking fantastic. A natural beauty. The cold water on her face seems to help. I hear a tap at the door. “Hey, mate. Are you two okay in there?” I hear Stephen Vittles, Wesley’s main engineer, call.

“Yeah.” I call back.

“Anyone else in there?”

“No.”

He sticks his head in. “Here, take this.” He hands me a bottle of water.

“Thanks, man. You’re the best.”

“No sweat. Hey, I told Wesley that you’re taking a call from home, so take your time. There’s an exit behind this wall. Go outside and get some air and I’ll get some coffee.”

“You’re a saint, Stephen. Thanks a bunch.”

He winks at Bowie. “You okay, love?”

“As long as I stay away from the wine.”

“Wesley’s in the john, too. He’s pretty drunk as well.”

I open the water bottle for her, and she starts drinking it. “I’ll get her some fresh air for five minutes and we’ll be back.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Holding her steady, I take her outside, not bothering to put her shoes back on her feet. Thankfully, the terrace’s floor is clean enough to eat off, so it isn’t a problem. She’s drinking the water like she just ran a marathon. “Take it easy or you’ll puke.”

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Yeah. Wine will do that to you.”

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