CHAPTER TWO
One Month Later
Ben followed the doorman into his suite and slipped him the requisite gratuity before dismissing him. He didn’t want or need his bag unpacked. He wasn’t planning on staying long. When the door was closed, he went to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared unseeing at the impressive view of London. He didn’t check his watch, even though Mikkelsen was late. He was the boss, it was his prerogative to be so.
When Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen finally arrived, he was over two hours late. If his tardiness bothered him, he hid it well. Ben suspected this perpetual air of disinterested nonchalance was largely an act, but then as the head of a Black Ops department within Britain’s Intelligence Agency, Sir Nikolas was probably required to play many roles. Ben often reflected that anyone making the acquaintance of this tall, handsome, impeccably dressed Dane would probably take him for a banker—perhaps an art critic. After their first meeting, untangling Sir Nikolas’s often incomprehensible accent, hearing his formal use of learnt English, Ben had been surprised to discover that his new boss was a member of the British Royal Family—married, in fact, to a cousin of the queen. Lady Philipa had once been a very popular “IT” girl and ex-nanny of the current heir. Ben had heard malicious rumours within the department that Sir Nikolas’s meteoric rise in the British Intelligence Agency—an institution not fond of giving its plumb jobs to foreigners—was entirely due to these impressive connections. Ben was sure Sir Nikolas was well aware what his detractors said about him. He was just as positive that Sir Nikolas didn’t care. Sometimes, disinterested nonchalance was an act played too well.
But Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen wasn’t the only one who could take on roles. Ben was just as capable of feigning disinterest as his boss. Ben knew very well he hadn’t been recruited from Special Forces into the world of Black Ops because he was the perfect grey man, the operative who could work unnoticed in any situation—anything but. He was always noticed. At six foot four with wide-set green eyes and high cheekbones, the department used Ben’s beauty as a sort of double bluff. Who would ever suspect such a pretty boy? Distracted by the charming, beautiful exterior, the skill and quiet self-possession beneath were often overlooked.
Ben now watched Sir Nikolas enter the hotel room and casually brush his longish blond hair off his forehead. He knew this gesture was supposed to disarm his anger at having endured such a long wait. But he wasn’t in the mood to be manipulated, and kept his masks firmly in place. Therefore, when Sir Nikolas offered a neutral, “I was sorry to hear about the fire, Benjamin,” Ben merely replied equally dispassionately, “Thank you, sir.”
“How are you?”
At that, Ben went to the bar to pour them both a drink, despite it being ten a.m. As he handed his boss the whisky, Ben said evenly, “I’m fine,” then added with the barest detectable edge, “Have our forensics people had a chance to study the fire reports?”
Sir Nikolas took a swallow of the perfect malt. “There is no evidence it was anything other than accidental.” Ben held him in a cold, green-eyed gaze. Sir Nikolas sighed. “I agree the timing is suspicious. But Allouni is still in his embassy in Baghdad. We have had people on him twenty-four-seven. However, his brother Usama came through Heathrow on a diplomatic ticket three days before the fire. We cannot verify his movements after he reported into the embassy on the thirtieth of October. But, Benjamin, it was a two-hundred-year-old cottage. The balance of probability is that it was faulty wiring, just as the reports said.”
“With all due respect, sir, fuck the balance of probability. I shot Allouni’s son—that’s the actual probability.”
“There is no way he could know that, Benjamin. The op was good.”
“Bollocks, sir. We were compromised from the start. It was him. He sent his fucking brother or some other minion, but it was him, and I’m going to make him pay.”
Sir Nikolas took both glasses to the bar and topped them up. “I am going to pretend I did not hear that.” He caught Ben’s eye and held it. “I have another job for you. If you are up for it.”
Ben gave him a bitter smile. “Have you been reading Psychology 101? Hint I’m below par and I’m supposed to rise to the challenge?”
“Did it work? Benjamin, I wrote Psychology 101. But I do not need psychology with you. Or maybe I do now? Are you still in the game?” He handed Ben the newly refilled glass. Ben turned away then gave an abrupt nod.
Sir Nikolas came up behind him. “What are you doing this weekend?” Before Ben had time to form a lie, he continued, “Philipa is having a few friends down at the stately pile. I need an ally. Besides, you know she would love to see you; it has been too long.”
“Does your wife still think I’m something junior in the Ministry of Minerals and Industries?”
Sir Nikolas laughed. “No, I have promoted us both. I am now head of acquisition for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and you are my first assistant.” He put his hand lightly on Ben’s shoulder. Ben glanced down.
“What are my new duties?”
Sir Nikolas ran his fingers into the short hair on Ben’s neck. “As my first assistant? Oh, I don’t know…how about you outline your suitability for the job before I decide.”
Ben smiled to himself, turned and took hold of Nikolas’s jacket. Very slowly, he eased it off the broad shoulders and tossed it toward the armchair. He began to undo the elegant silk tie, never letting the other man drop his gaze. When that was off, he let it fall to the floor, daring Nikolas to complain. One by one, he worked the buttons on the tailor-made shirt until it hung open over a smooth, muscled chest. Very deliberately, he took one dark pink nipple and twisted it until it flushed red upon release. At Nikolas’s hissed intake of breath, Ben said coldly, “I believe I have all the qualifications for this job, sir.”
§§§
By the time they were finished, the whisky buzz had worn off, so Ben climbed naked from the bed and went to top them up one more time. His stomach growled, and he grabbed an apple from the complimentary fruit bowl, tossing another at the man sprawled and replete upon the bed. They lay side by side contentedly munching, washing the fruit down with the alcohol, Ben not needing or wanting to be anywhere else particularly.
“How are you really, Benjamin?”
“How did I just seem?”
“Just because you can still fuck me into a mattress for two hours doesn’t mean your psychological health is good. In fact, many would argue it proves the opposite.”
“What does it say about you then, sir, that you want me to fuck you senseless for two hours?”
“I was not senseless. I felt every moment, trust me, and my stability is not being tested by a psychotic Iraqi with a grudge.”
“So, you do think it was Allouni?”
“I think you think it was, Benjamin, and that concerns me.”
“Do we still have someone on him?”
“Yes.”
When Ben fell silent, Nikolas turned his head to regard him. “Come down for the weekend. We will talk more about this then.” Ben still didn’t reply but only continued to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. Nikolas put his apple core on the bedside table and said distinctly, “My turn.”