CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the time they finally emerged from bed, they had been sent an address, and a large amount had been paid into their account. It was the beginning of their new life, and neither regretted the afternoon they’d spent indulging themselves, nor the fact that it was probably going to be their last such indulgence for a while. They were both ready to work.
Ben’s job was to follow and study the girl, find out her routines down to the smallest detail so the transfer from her one life to the other would be smooth and painless. Ben used the word transfer in his head, although every time he did, he heard the word kidnap.
He started that evening by getting to know the area around her house for good vantage points for surveillance. She lived with her mother and her stepfather in a leafy, exclusive area of London with wildly expensive houses that in other areas of the country would merely be nice, four-bedroom detached homes. Here they were the houses of the wealthy; although, every so often, Ben detected ones that had been turned into less salubrious housing, and streams of people came and went from the tiny, divided flats, and older cars lined the streets in front. It was relatively easy, therefore, for Ben to blend in and watch the house in question. It was dark by the time he arrived, still early in the year, and no one came or went during the evening. He returned early the next morning and watched as a top-of-the-range convertible pulled out from behind the large, solid gates and joined the busy London streets. He tailed the car into the city and watched as it parked in a private, underground car park. He texted the address to Nikolas and within a few minutes had a reply back from him. Corporate lawyer. That figured.
Ben left the city and returned to the house. It was still early. Eventually, a sleek Mercedes pulled out of the driveway, and Ben shadowed the school run until the girl was dropped off at a small prep school a few miles from the house. She went in with a gaggle of other small girls dressed in tartan skirts, blazers and hats. He reckoned she was there for the day, accounted for. He followed the Mercedes back to the house and then watched as a small van with the logo We Clean So You Can Preen pulled up to the gates and went through. Within five minutes of its arrival, the Mercedes pulled back out of the driveway and headed toward the city. Ben followed, and when it parked, again in an underground car park, he did as well and tailed the occupant into a large shopping complex. She appeared to be in her midtwenties from the rear, but Ben knew from texting her licence plate details to Nikolas that she was actually thirty-one.
She had long, sleek, glossy hair in a colour which made Ben think of chocolate. It swung and bounced behind her as she walked. She was dressed in what looked like very casual jeans and a sweater, but from living for three weeks with Nikolas, Ben suspected it was probably the kind of artful casual only the very rich could achieve. Her first stop was a hairdresser. Ben settled down in a coffee shop opposite and gave her twenty minutes. Two hours later, he was still there, but his caffeine buzz was superb. Finally, she emerged. As far as he could tell, she still had exactly the same hair. It was almost funny. He then had the pleasure of watching her shop for an hour, mostly beauty products and lingerie, and then she went into a chic restaurant and joined a table where three other women, also loaded down with shopping bags, sat sipping white wine. She stayed in the restaurant having lunch with her friends for another two hours, and then she made her way back to the car, passed by the school to pick the girl up, and they returned home together. For an ex-Special Forces soldier, this couldn’t be described as a startlingly interesting or exciting day. And, deep joy, it wasn’t over yet.
Precisely five minutes after they returned home, they set off again, this time on foot and with a dog straining on a lead. Ben followed on foot as well and watched as they entered a park. The girl let the dog off the lead and ran about happily playing. The mother sat on a park bench, pulled out her phone, and began texting. Ben wondered if she was telling her friends about her challenging day. They stayed in the park for an hour then walked home. Ten minutes later the car pulled out again, and this time he tailed it back to the school, where the girl now emerged in ballet clothes and ran with a few other girls into the building. The mother waited outside for an hour in the car. The girl came out; they drove home. Another hour passed, and the stepfather returned in the BMW. Ben stayed outside until ten then went home.
He contemplated suicide on the way but tried to stay focused.
If he’d found Nikolas doing something fun or interesting he’d probably have killed him, but when Ben arrived he was on the phone, and there was a full ashtray of cigarette butts alongside him, indicating he’d been there some time. Ben gave him a pissy look and removed them. Nikolas gave him an equally pissy look back and continued giving monosyllabic replies into the phone. Eventually, he snapped it closed and sank his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “So, how was your day, darling?”
Nikolas lifted his head. “Sorry. How was your day?” Ben gave him the edited version, which took about thirty seconds, then asked, “Who was that on the phone?”
Nikolas stared out of the window into the darkness beyond. “Philipa.”
“Uh huh. And…?”
“I have to go down and see her this weekend.”
Ben felt a totally unexpected stab of jealousy. He’d never been jealous of Nikolas’s wife before. “Why?”
“It is complicated, Benjamin.” He gave him a swift look to see if he’d get away with this patronising comment, and when Ben didn’t rise to it, he capitalised on the moment quickly, “So, what is your way in with the girl and the mother? Taking up ballet, maybe?”
“Funny. Very funny. I was thinking along the lines of the ladies who lunch.”
“In what way?”
“I meet the mother through one of them—as a new boyfriend. They were all incredibly fuckable.”
Nikolas went to the counter and turned on the kettle. “Do you want something to eat?” Before Ben could reply, he hissed angrily, “I do not want to go down there, Ben. I am obligated. You could come—if you really want.”
“Well, that would be awkward.”
“Better that than you stay here and—” He waved, as if he didn’t want to finish the thought but then did, bitterly, “Fuck your way into the case.” Suddenly, he picked up the mug he’d been about to make Ben’s tea in and threw it against the wall. Ben watched him leave, utterly incredulous. He’d never once seen Nikolas lose his temper. He hadn’t actually thought Nik had a temper. He wasn’t sure what to do. Not only was he not experienced in relationships, he was aware he really didn’t know Nikolas Mikkelsen very well at all—he knew what he was allowed to and no more. So this sudden display of anger left him feeling bewildered. Nikolas was the rock he’d anchored his wayward life to, and he didn’t like the sense of his mooring slipping.
Eventually, he decided he had no choice but to go up to bed as well. He slipped in silently, not putting the light on, only registering the other man on one side of the bed. He undressed and slid naked between the sheets, hoping Nikolas was asleep. It was wishful thinking. Nikolas turned over and propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Ben in the dark. Ben had no idea whose fault the argument was or whether he should apologise himself or demand one from Nikolas. He wasn’t even entirely sure they had argued.
Deciding just to go with his heart, something a very wise and cute professor had once told him to do, he said simply, “I only suggested that to annoy you. I would never sleep with anyone else.”
He could sense silent intensity from the figure in the bed next to him but wasn’t sure exactly what the emotion was. He had no experience of Nikolas being anything other than calm, collected, and in control of his emotions. It suddenly seemed the right thing to do to just decide for Nikolas what this emotion would be. Ben stretched out his arm, cupped Nikolas around the back of the head, and drew him down so he was lying on his broad, and very welcoming chest.
He stroked his fingers in Nikolas’s hair, babying him—if that was what this was. Ben didn’t really care. He reckoned Nikolas had experienced less love in his life than he had, and that was saying something. Being so much younger and so much less sophisticated than Nikolas, he’d always allowed the older man to run their relationship. Nikolas wanted it that way; Ben selfishly enjoyed it as well. Now, for the first time, however, Ben began to realise if they were to make this work, something had to change between them. He suddenly felt an incredible surge of protectiveness toward this man who had never before appeared vulnerable to him. He wrapped his arms around the silent figure and pressed his lips to the silky blond hair, now greying ever so slightly at the temples. Incredibly, Nikolas allowed all this. He didn’t even attempt to turn it into a joke or sex, his usual two defence mechanisms whenever things got too emotionally out of his control.
After what seemed like hours to Ben, Nikolas said evenly, “I have been made privy to things I wish I had not. Philipa will want a divorce very soon, but until that time, it is essential for her marriage to appear very stable and very happy.”
Ben really didn’t want to discuss Nikolas’s wife just then, but in line with his new protective and mature stance he asked, “Why would she want a divorce if—?”
“Ben. She plans to remarry. They plan to marry. He will be the first heir to the throne to divorce. It will be a constitutional crisis—if your archaic country had a constitution, of course. If a hint of his relationship with Philipa were suspected now, he would lose everything. As it is, he can present himself to his subjects as the long-suffering husband of a philandering younger wife, who turns to an old family retainer for comfort.”
“Jesus Christ. She told you all this? I can’t believe she’d—”
“No, of course not. But I told you once I speak many languages—between the lines is one of them. I have lived with this situation for many years now and have observed it first-hand.”
Ben pulled Nikolas’s face up and stared at him in the dark. “Just knowing this puts you in danger, doesn’t it?”
Nik pursed his lips. “Not this, no, but being divorced will—” He stopped abruptly for some reason and continued in a different tone, “No, no danger.”
Ben wasn’t so convinced. “Why don’t we say fuck off to this bloody country and go live somewhere else?”
“Somewhere beyond their reach?” There was a teasing note to Nik’s voice, and he added, “Ben, they employ people like us to extend their reach wherever they wish it to go. No, I think it is better to be in their faces here, keeping the balance of power between us.” He lay back down on Ben’s chest. “I did not want to tell you all this. I do not know why I did.”
“Maybe, so that when I find your murdered body, I’ll be justified in being really, really cross with you and saying I told you so?”
Nik chuckled. “I doubt anyone would find the body, but the sentiment is appreciated.”
“If anything ever happened to you, I would bring the whole lot of them down like a pack of cards. I’d go through them one by one and destroy them all.”
“Let us hope I do not die a simple, natural death anytime soon then.”
Ben glanced at the clock and saw he had to be up again in a few hours. His head was spinning. He desperately wanted to go for a run, his usual outlet for feelings like these, but he didn’t want to disturb Nikolas, who was breathing evenly on his chest and seemed more restful. He began to brush his fingers over the short hair at the back of Nikolas’s neck once more. “Go this weekend, but come back safe, yeah?”
“I doubt they would do me in and bury me in the grounds, Ben.”
“So…?”
“Just ask. I barely have any secrets left from you, irritating child.”
“If you go down this weekend, will you sleep with her?”
Nikolas snorted. “No. Of course not. You know this.”
“But…”
Nik lifted his head. “What?”
“Well, I was just thinking, if you did, then I could say I’d fucked the guy who’d fucked the future queen of England.”
It got the reaction he’d hoped for: Nikolas came up to punish him. Punishment turned into fun, and fun, as ever between them, turned into mind-blowing physical release that left them both exhausted and replete. It wasn’t so amusing, however, when the alarm sounded just as they were both dozing off. Ben swore, because he was the one who had to get up; he needed to be in place outside the house he was watching to monitor the routine for the second day. Nikolas had no real need to get up and clearly didn’t see the requirement to provide any moral support whatsoever, except for a grunt and pulling the covers higher.
Ben ate whatever food he could find in the fridge and wearily climbed onto his bike. He winced as he sat down, then grinned at the provenance of the pain and fired the bike into life. His life was weird and challenging, but it was good. He cast a mental eye up to the bedroom above him and the whole world that it contained, feeling very privileged as he joined the early morning traffic full of people with lives less lived than his.