Page 56 of The Bad Wedding Date

Dean turned to me, and I saw what looked like sympathy in his eyes. “Sorry,” he mouthed before he walked away, closing the door to the suite behind him.

The air around Fraser and me felt incredibly cold, not to mention tense, and I stared at the back of the door for what felt like a full minute before I allowed myself to look at the man I’d spent all day pouring my secrets out to.

Fraser strode closer, gesturing for me to take a seat.

With a huff of annoyance, I walked around the sofa and tucked my dress under me before I sat down, carefully resting my hands on my knees like I was sitting in the waiting room before a very important interview that could potentially change my life.

I had a feeling whatever Fraser had to say could do the same.

He sat on the arm of the other end of the sofa, his big, strong hands resting between his parted legs. It was impossible not to look at him and see perfection—I wasn’t blind or a liar—but he’d changed to me now. The new adventure had become a car crash, and the wave of anxiety that rolled over my stomach made me want to run away and forget I’d ever met him. I couldn’t brace myself enough for this impact.

“When I start talking, I’m going to need you to agree to let me get everything out before you try to leave,” he said, looking unusually on edge.

“I got the impression from the fireman’s lift that I was stuck here whether I liked it or not.”

Fraser blew out a breath, looked out over the River Thames, leaving me to stare at his profile. “Do you agree to let me speak, Charlotte?”

“Fine.”

He turned back to me, held my gaze, and my heart betrayed me by galloping at the sight of him.

“My name is Fraser Scott,” he said calmly. “I’m a part of a group of men—a firm if you like—that’s difficult to explain to others, and explaining it isn’t something we’ve had to do much of before. Not many know about us.”

Thugs, I thought. They were a band of thugs, and there I was, sitting in the middle of the lion’s den, a feast for their large hands, sharp teeth, and undeniable strength. They were planning to hold me hostage, ask my parents for a sizeable ransom, only they’d seen for themselves how little value those parents placed on my life. Their mission had failed. I was nothing more than an inconvenience now. Someone they’d have to snuff out and hope no one looked for.

But even as those thoughts tried to gain traction, I knew they were nothing more than fiction. A man didn’t stare at you like Fraser stared at me if they wanted to hurt you. At least that’s what I hoped.

“I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life,” he said. “Mainly, I’ve seen how underappreciated, overworked, undervalued, and abused women can be. I’ve seen small men with enough power and wealth behind them to steal the light out of a woman’s eyes. I’ve seen large men with fragile egos take their insecurities out on innocent girls. I’ve seen a lot of things I haven’t liked, and it made me who I am today.

“The guys and I—Dean included—grew up together on an estate in the East End. None of us had anything. No money, no fathers, sometimes we barely had enough food to see us through the week. But we had our mothers, and we had each other. We’re brothers of sorts, connected by circumstance rather than blood, but those circumstances built a bond stronger than most have with their own families. We’d all seen things growing up where we did. All of us have our own stories to tell. But unlike those around us who ran with what they’d been given and considered that their lot in life, we decided to be something bigger and better. Something decent born from dirt and mud and penniless single mothers who didn’t have anything of value to their names except their sons.”

“What did you become?”

“Anonymous guys who take the law into their own hands, I suppose.” He said it with such a straight face, the half-smile that immediately rose to life on my face wilted away as quickly as it had been born.

“Like… vigilantes?” I raised a brow.

“God, I hate that word. It’s not like in the movies. We’re not out here trying to be heroes, but we do whatever it takes, trying to stop women from getting hurt by men who think it’s their right to take what doesn’t belong to them.” Fraser shuffled on the arm of the sofa, and if I’d known him any better, I would have sworn that looked a lot like embarrassment on his face. “We’re protection for people who need us when they don’t realise it. Protection for the good but powerful people who want to keep their families safe. We’ve made it our lives’ work to do and go where the law enforcement won’t go or do anything about.”

“And that… pays you?”

“You, more than anyone, know that living a fulfilled life has nothing to do with the money it brings into your bank account. But, yeah, it pays. It pays all of us more than we deserve or need, and it pays us in ways money can’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not all transactions are about money, Charlotte.”

“What are they about?”

“Time. Moments. Experiences: things that can’t be traced through secure and monitored monetary transactions and bank accounts. A lot of people we work with are influential. They can get us the nicest cars, the best experiences, escapes away when we need them… the best hotel rooms in London, even.” He raised his brows, and I took a moment to look around the obviously expensive suite we were sitting in. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. It all sounded heroic and unbelievable so far, and a huge part of me was convinced this was all a vivid dream I was having after passing out from too much alcohol at my sister’s wedding.

I’d wake up soon.

We wouldn’t be here.

He’d be gone, and I’d be alone.

Yet, when I looked back at Fraser, so obviously not a dream, the tightening of my heart told me there was so much more to this than he was going to admit unless I dragged it out of him.

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