Chapter Four: Elena
Lunch with Charlie didn’t turn out to be as bad as she had thought it would be. The meal was actually pretty tasty, the four-course meal having been prepared by Charlie’s personal chef, Jacque. Elena had to admit that she might have eaten a little more than she’d originally intended to, but the food had been so good that she hadn’t been able to help herself. Charlie had also been enjoyable company, telling her a series of stories about his time as a spy. Apparently, Charlie had been in service to the Queen ever since he had been a young man in his twenties, and had gone on more than his fair share of missions throughout his life. She listened to his stories with more than a little fascination, wondering how he had managed to get away from some of the seemingly hopeless situations that he had been in.
Once they had finished their meal together, Charlie arranged for her to be taken home in a limousine driven by his personal chauffeur. Elena lived in a high-rise apartment roughly three blocks away from Canary Wharf that she had bought straight out with the money from one of her missions. It had felt so good to see her name on the lease, and since she didn’t really need the extra money she had decided to rent out the other apartments to foreign exchange students and other temporary residents like that. It worked as the perfect cover up, though she made sure not to lie about her sources of income on her taxes. That was a special kind of headache that she honestly didn’t need in her life. She felt giddy with excitement as she rode in the back seat, her hand stroking over the top of the black briefcase that held the payment for her recently completed job. There were so many things that she could choose to do with it, especially with her now having a whole week that she could use to do whatever she wished.
Maybe I’ll take a trip to Barcelona for a few days. I hear that their beaches are quite lovely this time of year, and maybe I might even be able to find a guy to help me forget about Jeremy. She sighed at the thought of her previous boyfriend, biting her bottom lip in sadness. Their relationship had only ended because Jeremy said that he didn’t like how often she would have to leave without offering him any explanations about where she was going. If only the stubborn bastard had picked up on the fact that I wasn’t allowed to tell him what I was doing for his own safety, maybe they could have made things work out. However, a quick glance at his Facebook a few nights later had shown that he already apparently had another woman that he was interested in pursuing. Judging by how close they had gotten in the picture, it wasn’t the first time that the two of them had been that close.
Maybe I dodged a bullet and just don’t know it yet. There are plenty of guys in the world. Sure, we were together for three years, but what are the chances that I won’t be able to find a guy who is even more amazing than he was? Especially in the downstairs department.
Once the limo pulled up in front of her apartment and she stepped out, Elena made her way to the front door and let herself inside, taking the four flights of stairs two steps at a time to make her way up to her room. Fishing her front door key out of her bra where she usually kept it, she slid it into the lock and twisted it until she heard the telltale click that told her it was now unlocked. Pushing the door open, she let herself in, closing the door softly behind her and making her way to the living room. Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to take the time to glance around at her apartment.
It was exactly the way she had left it three days ago, from the expensive paintings hanging on the wall to the high-priced furniture that she had bought specifically for the place. A fifty-five-inch television hung from the wall, and on a small metal desk to the side of it sat her laptop, an HDMI cord leading from it to the back of the television. She usually used her laptop to stream Netflix and Hulu to her television, so it was just easier to keep it connected to the TV as opposed to constantly detaching and reconnecting it each time she wanted to use the laptop by itself. She had bought a high-powered Windows tablet for those kinds of things, and it worked quite well for the things that she needed it to do, so she was content.
Kicking off her high-heeled shoes, Elena dropped down onto her couch with a tired sigh. She rubbed at the heel of her foot tenderly, lamenting the fact that such stylish shoes had to be so uncomfortable. Maybe I should use some of my money to put in a word with one of the shoe companies about making high heels that don’t kill your feet after a few hours of wearing them. She tapped her finger against her chin, tilting her head slightly to the side at the thought. It wasn’t a terrible idea, in her opinion.
Glancing over at the clock on her wall, Elena sighed at the fact that it was only a little past three in the afternoon. That meant there were at least two hours before she could even begin to think about going to her favorite nightclub, Eighteen Sky Bar. It was located inside the Intercontinental London O2, a hotel that was loved by both native Londoners and tourists alike. She had booked a room herself there once or twice, and she could definitely see what people were talking about. Shrugging her shoulders gracefully, she grabbed the television remote from where it sat on the small glass coffee table in front of the couch and reclined on her side, pressing the power button to bring the TV to life.
Between her full stomach and the rather uninteresting choices of cable viewing, Elena ended up nodding off for a little while. She found herself dreaming about Gerard, the two of them acting far friendlier in the dream than they had ever acted in real life. In the dream, they were sitting together on a beach somewhere sipping brightly colored cocktails. He looked so handsome in only a pair of black swim trunks, his muscular torso on full view for anyone to see. She had seen him half-naked plenty of times while they were on assignment, so it wasn’t like she had to imagine too hard about what he looked like. She could see countless people occupying blankets around them, but she only really had eyes for him.
“I’m so glad you let me come with you, Elena,” he said, lifting his glass to take a small sip from his drink. “I didn’t realize how badly I could use a vacation.”
“Glad I could be of help. I figured that you couldn’t be grumpy all the time,” she replied, her dream version gently brushing a lock of her golden hair away from her face gently.
“Not all the time, no. Just most of the time,” he said playfully, offering a gentle chuckle as he clinked his glass softly against mine. “It is only around a few special people that I am comfortable enough to let my guard down.”
“Does that mean I am one of those special people?” she asked cheekily, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth while her heart fluttered in her chest.
“You might be,” he said playfully, flashing a wink at her. “Hard to say.”
She giggled at that, glancing down at her body at the black two-piece swimsuit that she was currently wearing. They were technically on a nude beach, but she had chosen to wear clothing to try and retain some of her modesty. Despite how she looked, Elena was quite a conservative girl, and she wasn’t the kind of person who liked to show off her goodies to just anybody. Only special people were allowed that privilege.
“What would I have to do to make you say it, Gerard?” she asked, reaching her hand over to stroke over his thigh teasingly, feeling happy when I saw the telltale sign of a bulge beginning to appear in the front of his swim trunks.
Just as he was about to answer her, a lustful look on his face as he looked at her, she was brought awake by the sudden sound of someone knocking on her door. She pouted at having her dream interrupted right at the good part, yawning gently as she pushed herself up off her couch and made her way to the front door. Peeking through the peephole at the top of the door, she was surprised to see what looked like a delivery man. Pulling open the front door, she found that her suspicions were immediately confirmed, a chubby delivery man standing before her with one of the most breathtakingly beautiful bouquets of flowers that she had ever seen.
“Are you Elena Montague? I was told to deliver these to you by Mr. Gerard Donahue from Donahue & Co. over on Canary Wharf. He said that I could find you here,” he said, holding out a clipboard to her. “If I could just get your signature, I’ll leave them with you and get out of your hair.”
Once she had signed for the bouquet and tipped the delivery man, she closed the door. There was a card that had come with the flowers, which she eagerly opened. I’m sorry about being so rude to you lately. Why don’t we have dinner to make up for it? Meet me at 7 pm at the Eighteen Sky Bar. Her heart skipped a beat as she set the flowers in a vase, a smile on her face. She was definitely going to take him up on that.