Page 27 of It Will Always Be You
“Why, Una, you know you can never rush a good thing. And honey, Iamthe best damn thing,” Donna retorts, making her way over to the table and giving Una an air kiss on each cheek before turning to the other woman and placing a kiss on her flour-dusted cheeks. Interesting. The dynamics between these three have my guard up even higher than usual, and that’s saying something.
“Is your little friend planning on joining us, or is she just going to lurk in the doorway?” Una turns her eyes to me. The ice cold look in them reminds me too much of my mother for me to do anything more than fire a snarky response back.
“I’m used to a much grander welcome, but I suppose I’ll humour Donna.” Feeling three sets of eyes on me as I prowl forward has me repeating my teenage mantra in my head.
Shoulders back, chin up, tits out.
Smile pretty but don’t show them your teeth before you attack.
As I reach the table, Donna reaches out to link arms with me again before taking over mediator duties.
“Una, Fiona, meet Helen. Helen, meet Una and Fiona. Una’s all bark no bite. Don’t mind her.” Una’s scoff and eye roll would indicate otherwise but, wisely, I let that subject drop.
Shifting my gaze to Fiona, I ask her, “You don’t happen to bake, do you?”
That seems to break the tension a fraction as stilted laughter breaks out, and soon enough, we’re all taking a seat and placing our drink orders when the young waitress comes to take them. Given the knots of anxiety that have been making me sick more often than not lately, I was planning to stick to water, but my plans are soon thwarted as Una switches my water glass for a wine glass, and Donna fills it with a healthy pour. The movement is so slick, it makes my head spin. Choosing my battles, I let the movement slide with little more than a raised brow.
“So, Helen, tell us. How awful is it being Jonathan’s assistant?” Una drawls, that haughty tone in her voice like nails on a chalkboard.
“She runs that place like a well-oiled machine these days, like she’s been there for years,” Donna chimes in, pride shining in her green eyes.
“He’s pretty much all bark, no bite. Or should I say, all grumble under his breath. Once I nailed down his routine, it was simple enough, and now I can step out for a lunch with Donna with no fear about what I’m going back to. It truly is a gift of a job.” I shrug, letting my quiet confidence shine through. I conveniently leave out the decidedly unprofessional nature of our relationship these days and how that no doubt influences things. What we have is ours and ours alone.
“Jonathan? Our Jonathan is all bark, no bite?” The disbelief in Fiona’s tone, coupled with her calling him theirs, has my hackles rising with the urge to claim him as mine then and there. Before I can out us, Donna swiftly inserts herself.
“Office Jonathan is a whole different beast. It’s true.” Donna’s slight slip of the tongue would have her facing all kinds of consequences if we were back on the compound, but as the food and wine flows, it’s clear these three have never once felt the fear that clings to everyone back home.
Thoughts of the differences between there and here follow me throughout the rest of my day. It’s only as I’m slipping off my shoesand locking the door do I spy the letter waiting for me. I’ve almost become numb to the newspaper cut outs, with their varying degrees of threats. But when the photo in front of me is instead a zoomed in snap of me entering Jonathan’s dad’s house, the nauseous feeling I’ve been fighting only gets worse as dread curls in my gut.
Flicking it over, I see a message waiting for me:Tik, tok. You can’t run forever.
At once, the bile I’ve been pushing down comes rushing forward, and it’s by pure luck I manage to make my way to the bathroom. I’m still clutching the cool porcelain when my phone chimes. With a groan, I drag myself back out to the hall and fish it from my bag. Less than five people have this number, and anyone who would be calling me on it immediately gets bumped up the priority list. I flip it open with a muttered greeting.
“Hello?”
“Helen? Is now a bad time? I can call you back…” Jonathan trails off, and immediately, all thoughts of self-pity and worry get placed on the back burner as I focus on him.
“No, of course not. I just got home.” I drag myself over so I can lean against the wall as I search my bag for my water bottle. Taking a drink, I listen as Jonathan lets out a ragged breath.
“I was just ringing to see if you could come over tonight. Or I can come to you, if that’s easier?” The uncertainty clinging to his words is so foreign to the man I was getting to know that every time I hear it, it breaks me a little bit more. Weighing my options, I tell him I’ll pack a bag. With the promise that he’s on his way, he hangs up, and I bang my head against the wall with a curse before heading to the bathroom and erasing all evidence of my vomiting. Spying the little pink and blue box that’s been taunting me for days, I pick it up with shaking hands.
Between his dad’s death and the sudden power shift, Jonathan more than has his hands full right now without my shit adding to that. But it’s becoming clear the time to control the narrative is running out, and if my suspicions are true…I’m either going to have to confess everything or vanish. The problem is, I can’t work out which is going to hurt less, and my growing feelings don’t help matters. I can admit I’m falling for him, but that doesn’t change things. Love doesn’t equal safety or reassurances of understanding or happy endings. Sometimes, love means walking away, but the thought of leaving him when he needs me the most threatens to send me to my knees.
Chapter 23
Having Helen by my side has been the only salvation to the otherwise never-ending nightmare that has taken over my life the last few months. It’s been an endless cycle of meetings and proving myself worthy of the crown placed on my head. Most of these men have watched me go from awkward teenager to a cocky little shithead, but now they need to view me as their leader—which is proving to be a harder task than anticipated. Every move I make, every deal I negotiate, is met with more questions than they would ever dare have thrown at Da. The only bright spots have been when I’ve had Helen in my arms. Not having her by my side at the funeral gutted me, but keeping her sheltered from the limelight was the best call. Knowing she was waiting in my flat was the only thing that got me through the day.
And now, after a long day full of meetings, I just want to hold her and forget about my never-ending responsibilities; to soak up every inch of her goodness so maybe it’ll mellow out the evil crawling inside me. But from the moment I picked her up, it’s been clear she’s a thousand miles away, any gentle probing on my end met with half-assedsmiles and lacklustre reassurances. Even now, as she takes the penthouse in, her usual awe is diluted. With a frown, I cup her elbow. Turning her to face me, I link eyes with her as I try once again. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did the girls say something at lunch?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s just… Everything’s soheavyat the moment. I want to be here for you more than anything, but I don’t know how to help you other than being here when you need me.” It’s a half-truth at best, but with a kiss to her forehead, I let it lie. She’ll confide in me when she’s ready. Until then, I just want to hold my girl. Threading my fingers through hers, I continue down the path to my room. As the door closes behind her, she tugs me to a stop. Turning to face her, I raise a questioning brow.
“Please. Give me some guidance here. What do you need?” she blurts, looking up at me with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Reaching up, I tug it free with my thumb, only for her tongue to dart out and lick me. With a groan, I adjust myself as I watch her suck on my flesh. “You. All I need is you in whatever capacity I can have you.”
“I’m yours, mind, body, and soul,” she vows, leaning up to hook an arm around my neck, drawing my mouth down to hers.
Burying my fist in her hair, I haul her closer to me as I devour the taste of her. She slots against me perfectly, like this is what we were made for. With a breathy moan, she digs her nails into my neck before tipping her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat to me. Letting go of her hair, I palm the curve of her perfect ass with both hands. She circles her legs around my waist as I use my grip to lift her up. Fusing our mouths back together with a curse at how good she feels, I walk us over to the bed before laying her down on the silk sheets.
“Please, Jonathan.” I’ve barley taken a step back when her whimper reaches my ears. The sight of her laying there, blonde hair contrasting with my black sheets, chest heaving with each breath, pupils blown wide, has my cock rock hard. With a smirk, I take my time rolling upmy sleeves and basking in her whimpers.
