Page 38 of The English Billionaire's Obsession

“Let’s do that then,” I say. “Trust each other. No more coldness.”

“Does that mean…”

She trails off. The car has come to a stop at a red light. Behind her, the morning sunlight causes a tall building to glisten, the windows shining. In British terms, today is downright tropical.

“Go on,” I urge.

“Will you tell me what happened with you and Oliver?”

“As in… recently or before?”

“Both.”

I almost tell her no, but she deserves this. I start with the easiest.

“I didn’t pay him anything,” I explain, “and I won’t.”

“Instead,” I go on, “I found out where he and his mates are staying. It’s a crack den in a bad neighborhood. They’ve been trying to follow both of us, leaving the house in a beat-up old car and hanging outside yours and my flat. With the security, there’s nothing they can do, but it’s pissing me off, honestly, them eventhinkingabout hurting you, and Oliver’s threat has stuck with me.”

My voice shakes, my fist clenched as I think about Oliver and his druggie mates doing anything to my woman.

“So what are you doing to do?” she asks.

“I’ve contacted the police to see if there’s anything they can get them on. If not, I’ll have to find a way to make them back off, but bloody hell, it’s hard.”

“What is?”

“Resisting the urge to hurt these motherfuckers. To make them realize there are consequences when you threaten a man’s woman.”

She looks up at me, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide in that just-Ami shocked way. “Is that what I am, Tommy? Your woman?”

“Yes,” I say fiercely, though I can’t share all of it, the future, the family, the growing love. “Have you got a problem with that? And be careful. Remember, or you might get punished.”

She flushes, glancing at the driver’s partition.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, smoothing my hand down her leg, stopping near her sex. Even through the denim of the dungarees, I can feel the heat of her excitable body. “It’s soundproof back here, and the driver can’t hear us. It’s a necessary precaution for business meetings.”

“I don’t consider that a punishment,” she says, placing her hand on mine.

For a second, I think she’s going to guide me higher up her leg, to the perfection between her thighs, her soaked slit that has been in my dreams every night we’ve been apart, but then she holds my hand in place.

“What happened between you and Oliver before? Why is he doing this?”

I almost turn away and tell her no, but she deserves the truth. I’ve played with her head enough as it is.

“He’s doing this because he’s a junkie and an arsehole,” I tell her, “but if you’re asking what hepretendshis reason is, I’ll tell you. It’s a depressing story. Not exactly the stuff made for a fun Saturday of sightseeing.”

“Nah-uh, Tommy,” she says, her voice firm, fierce, and assertive like a mother bear.

“You said you’d tell me. He threatenedme, remember? I think I deserve to know.”

I take my hand from her leg, holding her hand instead. If I grab onto her thick, juicy thigh, I won’t be able to resist doing more, claiming more.

“You do,” I say.

She deserves so much, my Ami. She deserves a loyal, protective man, a happy home, and a whole life. She deserves financial freedom to pursue her career and whatever path she chooses, as long as she’s not in thisjustfor that freedom. She deserves to know the truth.

“It started with a robbery.”

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