Trouble: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Lane, Ellen (2)

Chapter Seven

 

The WHO headquarters in Beijing was always full of people - some coming, some going, and all with their own separate agendas. Franklin was a good ten minutes early for his meeting, and the boon made him appreciate Pamela, who had only taken about five minutes to get ready herself.

She hurried behind Franklin in a pair of brand new Chinese slippers, jeans, and a silk shirt, her damp hair in a braid she’d tossed casually over her shoulder. Franklin knew that he should be getting himself in the proper mindset for this meeting, but all he could think about was what she must have looked like in the shower, water sluicing indulgently over her naked form.

To distract himself, he started to talk. “So this is the WHO headquarters for China. We’re headed up to the fifteenth floor for a meeting with the director.”

Pamela’s eyes shot wide. “The director?”

“My brother and I do a good deal of organization, and help the British center communicate with Beijing. The meeting shouldn’t take long,” he provided, turning to her once they were in the elevator. “You can just wait outside the office if you like. I’ll have them make you some tea.”

“Actually,” she piped up, before he could continue. “I’d like to sit in, if I may. I’m curious.”

“Of course.” Franklin couldn’t say he was very surprised. He had thought she might want to know what exactly her holiday was being interrupted for. Well, honestly, he was pretty certain Pam might be interested in the organization in general. She, like he, seemed to have a large affinity for any and all things foreign - the more different the better. World issues kept him up for hours every night, and he’d written a number of papers on his interests.

He’d met very few women who appreciated this particular hobby of his, but Pamela’s interest didn’t seem to be in danger of waning anytime soon, and that nudged his pride more than a little.

They preferred to conduct the meetings in Chinese, so when they started, Franklin leaned over to explain to her briefly what they were discussing every ten minutes or so. The WHO was currently working with other non-government organizations in China to increase their workforce for humanitarian efforts, particularly for rural areas. In the past five years, Franklin’s family had donated more than five million dollars to their cause, and they intended to double that in the next five years.

Franklin promised to speak to several of their smaller satellites as he took Pamela to visit other cities in China. He thought two weeks should just be sufficient to do all that he had planned - and his itinerary fit in perfectly with what Beijing was asking of him. His only regret was that they couldn’t spend more time in the capital - Pamela seemed to like it more than he would have even imagined.

“I’m not sure I was supposed to hear half of that.” She seemed slightly dazed as they made their way back out of the building. “I’m just a secretary.”

“Nonsense,” Franklin brushed her off with a single word. “You’re here with me, aren’t you? I highly doubt you’ll go blabbing to any terrorist organizations.” His eyes narrowed on her playfully. “Unless that was your goal all along: to get on my good side, seduce me and steal my secrets.”

Pamela blushed. “Well, if I was supposed to seduce you, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

Taking her forearm gently, Franklin steered her out of the building. “Better than you might think.”

He murmured the words close to her ear, gratified at the shiver he received in return. He was pretty sure Pam had begun to seduce him the first time she had turned those knowing green eyes on him. The first time she refused him. She made him work for what he wanted, and that was something Franklin relished. “So, we have to leave for Shanghai tomorrow?”

He nodded - he had told her as much towards the end of the meeting. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t show you a few more things here...if you’re not tired, that is.”

“I’ll soldier through.” She didn’t even hesitate before answering him. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Franklin grinned widely. “We can certainly agree on that.

**

After promising herself that she’d do her best not to let Franklin Darwell continue to impress her too overtly, Pam found that she couldn’t keep her promise to herself for more than a few hours.

Their last evening in Beijing consisted of a visit to a hutong on the edge of the city - one lined with canals on which fishing boats slid in and out of the major waterways and children smiled and waved from the banks. Pam couldn’t stop herself from wanting to look everywhere at once; from houses Franklin told her were hundreds of years old to the fish markets strung up in the doorways of supermarkets and taking up large portions of the walkways.

Whenever she managed to come back to herself for a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder...would she find what she was looking for in Beijing? Would she find it in Shanghai or Hong Kong? Perhaps she wouldn’t ever find it at all...but at least she could say that she had finally came here. She finally got to see the place where it all started.

“So... why China?”

She looked up, startled at Franklin’s question. They had rented a small boat and were being rowed through the small canals, offered a glorious view of the setting sun over the horizon.

Immediately, her stomach twisted in nervousness. A lie rose to her lips perhaps a little too easily, but then, she was used to telling it. “I’m not sure, really. I’ve always had an interest, I suppose. Always wanted to know what the other side of the world was like.”

“And how are you finding it?”

Pamela gazed at the man sitting across the narrow boat from her. He looked utterly and completely relaxed in his sweater and jeans, his long blonde hair flowing loose over his shoulders. His legs were spread casually wide, and the sprawl of his long form was, quite frankly, mouth-watering. It would have been much easier not to be attracted to him if he wasn’t so goddamned...beautiful. Pamela had always thought the British nobility stuffy and full of themselves - but Franklin was something worlds apart.

And though she was loathed to admit it, she certainly liked that something. “It’s wonderful.” She replied in complete honesty. “More than I ever could have imagined.”

“So, I take it that means you’re enjoying our date?” His slow smile made butterflies wing to life in her stomach and Pamela’s mouth dried slightly.

“Very much.”

“Lovely.” He had dimples. Deep dimples that came out only when he genuinely smiled and a strong cleft in his chin that she ached to run her tongue along. She felt heat suffusing her face at the thought and she turned away, desperate to look anywhere but at him.

“You know I’m really not anywhere near as terrifying as you think me.” His comment had her gaze flying back to him as she immediately leapt behind her defensive wall.

“I’m not frightened of you!”

“Of course not.” He returned blithely, his gaze piercing. “That’s why you never look at me.”

He was right. It was hard for her to look at him now - but that wasn’t because she was afraid of him. Her misgivings came from somewhere entirely different. As she stared hard at the bottom of the boat, the craft shifted and then, all at once, Franklin’s warm weight was pressed up against her side. “I’m not going to bite you, Pamela.” The words were whispered low against her ear, and even though he wasn’t touching her, per say, he might as well have been. “Not unless you want me to.”

Her head jerked around, and she fixed him with her incredulous gaze as her heart stuttered in her chest. Their mouths were just a hairsbreadth apart and she wanted to kiss him so badly she ached with it. “Why on earth would I want you to bite me?”

Her question made Franklin chuckle lowly. He lowered his head ever slightly to scrape his teeth over the ridges of her lower lip in a motion so quick she might have imagined it- if every nerve ending in her body hadn’t been sizzling from the contact. “You might like it.”

Before she could even properly react to his low purr, the boat bumped against the bank.

Their ride was over...even though she wasn’t sure she could stand. In a trice, Franklin stood, holding a hand out to her as if they had been doing nothing more entertaining than talking about the migratory patterns of seagulls. “Shall we?”

She took his hand with surprising steadiness and let him help her out of the boat and back onto dry land. If she suspected him to make another move on her, she was sorely disappointed. Instead, he pointed out a nearby restaurant he’d been to before and suggested they stop for dinner.

She could do nothing to disagree.

As awed and thankful as she was to be in Beijing, it was a little hard for Pamela to concentrate on being there for the rest of the evening. She was far to consumed in the memory of Franklin’s mouth brushing against hers, however, brief. She wasn’t even supposed to like the man, now she was all but ready to climb him after one kiss.

Well, that wasn’t even a kiss. She didn’t even know what to call what he had done to her, but one thing was for sure: she didn’t know if she’d ever encountered a sexier gesture. Once they returned to their hotel room, she headed out onto the balcony to take in her last views of the city, only to jump when he slid back the door and came to join her.

“I could see if we could come back, if you like. Before we go back to England.”

She glanced over him and almost had a heart attack to find that he had shed his sweater and was standing there completely shirtless. Pamela had been too drowsy that morning to really enjoy his mostly naked form - and by the time she was awake, she had been preoccupied with avoiding personal embarrassment.

Now, she felt tendrils of heat zipping down to pool between her legs at the sight of his leanly muscled, bare torso. She could see how the man would have been an effective boxer. His physique spoke of speed, agility and endurance - it was the kind of body she was most drawn to in a man, despite having never been with anyone even close to Franklin’s level.

“Must you walk around half-naked all the time?” She managed, swallowing thickly before she trained her gaze on the sparkling skyline once more.

“The sweater was itchy. Would you rather have me suffer?”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “You’re such a child.”

“Well, I am the youngest in my family.” Franklin rested his forearms on the railings, leaning over so the muscles of his shoulders and abdomen contracted delightfully. “You’d probably do with a little more childish humor in your life, Pamela.”

The jibe had her glaring at him. “I’m fine just the way I am, thank you.”

“Are you?” Franklin’s words were casual and careful all at once. “You seem to me to be a bit tense. Perpetually tense. I have everything taken care of here. It won’t hurt you to relax.”

She gazed at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Relax around a man who obviously wants in my pants. That’s the most awful advice I’ve ever heard.” She had always been blunt. Everyone in her life told her so - but even so, Pamela regretted the words the instant they left her. She couldn’t help it that she had a defensive mechanism against men and their attentions. They rarely did more than waste her time.

Franklin, however, didn’t seem angry at the accusation. Instead, he straightened to meet her gaze steadily, his blue eyes darkening in obvious hunger. “You’re right. I do want in your pants. Quite badly, as it were.” His words sent a jolt of molten lust straight to the core of her and Pamela swallowed a very unbecoming whimper. “But you’ll find I’m a very patient man, Pamela. And I’m not in the habit of asking women to do things they don’t want to. So, I won’t touch you - not unless you ask me to.”

“Ask you to?” She intended for the words to come out scathing, but instead, all Pam could manage was a frightfully hoarse whisper.

“Yes.” When he reached out to run a thumb delicately over the curve of her jaw, she found herself rooted to the spot, completely transfixed. “Maybe, then, if you beg, I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

The way he said it made her want to beg him right then and there. The sexual tension crackling between them was almost palpable, and there was a gigantic bed in the suite that was more than big enough for two.

But that confident little smirk playing about the man’s lips served to bring her back to earth and Pamela jerked away, glaring at him. “I’m going to bed.” It was all she could think to say. Turning on her heel, she marched back into the suite and all the way to the bedroom to slam the door behind her.

Once she was safely isolated, however, she pressed her back against the door and forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. Whatever she wanted. That was a tall order. It had honestly been so long for Pamela that she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted - but she knew that she wanted Franklin. And that much was dangerous.

She couldn’t give into him. She still had her pride to contend with - and her pride would never let her beg this man, or any other, for anything. Not as long as she still lived and breathed.

When the young woman made her way into the bathroom to change for bed, she was embarrassed to find her panties uncomfortably damp. Between the little bite he’d given her, the hutong, and his heady promise outside, Pamela was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t bitten off a little more than she could chew, agreeing to come on this trip.

She supposed that only time would tell.

 

They woke early the next morning to take the two-hour high-speed railway trip to Shanghai. Franklin behaved no differently than he usually did, which was almost enough to have Pamela believing that his actions the previous night had been a dream. The man was almost completely platonic, if very gentlemanly, carrying her newly acquired bags to the car and holding the door open for her once they arrived at the train station.

When they boarded the train - impressive with its sleek seats and spacious interior in the VIP section, he took a seat in the row across the aisle from her and she bit her tongue to keep from inviting him to sit next to her. She refused to be baited.

She didn’t speak to him, reading a book on her tablet until her bladder screamed at her. When she rose, however, the train suddenly jerked forward, and she lost her balance -to come tumbling down in Franklin’s lap.

“Why hello there.” Goddamn him and his charming smile. “Come to say hello?”

“You are incorrigible, you know that?” She squirmed out of his lap and back into a standing position before hurrying off to the bathroom. When she came back, however, she hesitated before dropping into the seat next to him instead of her original place.

He glanced over at her and made to speak but Pam beat him to the punch. “You paid for this trip. It would be rude for me to ignore you.”

“Indeed, it would. You could make up for it by sitting right here.” Franklin gestured to his left thigh. “It’s quite comfortable, I assure you. And I could make sure you don’t fall again. Also, in the event of a train crash, we would die together, which would be quite the epic story to tell to our families.”

Pam burst out laughing. She wanted to be angry, she really did, but he was just so bloody ridiculous, she couldn’t help herself. It was impossible to be upset with him for very long. “How on earth can you say that with a straight face?”

Franklin chuckled as she did her best to stymie her mirth. “Because you find it so terribly funny, and I like to see you laugh.”

There it went again. The butterflies in her stomach.

“Stop that.”

Her demand had him arching a brow. “Stop what?”

“Saying things like that.” She twisted her fingers together, her nervousness relegating her to teenage levels of anxiety.

“That I like to see you laugh? Why? It’s true. You’re a lovely woman, Pamela, but you’re radiant when you smile.”

She just stared at him for a long beat, unsure of what to say, before she finally opted for settling back in her seat, pulling out her tablet once more as her cheeks burned. “Fine, you win.”

 

The train ride to Shanghai was a short one, and once they arrived, Franklin pronounced himself properly starving and whisked her away to their hotel, so they could freshen up for lunch.

Pam was pretty sure her jaw was on the floor of the cab as they neared the center of the metropolitan city. The weather was gorgeous, and many skyscrapers stood out against the background of a clear blue sky.

“That’s the Shanghai TV tower,” Franklin indicated a building with a bulbous purple sphere close to its peak, “And this entire area on the banks of the river is called the Bund.”

The Bund was a bustling hub of business and shopping on one side, radiant views of the river on the other. Pam soon realized that their hotel was on the Bund as well, and she threw open the curtains as soon as they reached their suite to marvel at how glorious the view was - even better than it had been in Beijing. “Where are we going for lunch?” She managed, unable to keep the breathless excitement from her voice.

“Top floor. There’s a lovely restaurant in the hotel.” When Franklin answered her, she turned around to beam at him, only to shriek in surprise when she found him in the process of unbuttoning his trousers. “Franklin! What are you doing?”

Her hands flew immediately over her eyes, but she could hear him chuckling. “Changing. I would have thought you’d be used to this by now.”

“Do you have no modesty at all?”

“Well, I have to be honest. There’s a part of me that hopes, naively, that you’ll take a bit of interest, become smitten and throw yourself at me.”

She could see the sweeping, hard lines of his abdomen through her fingers, and, guiltily, Pamela continued to look, listening to the rustling sounds of his clothing.

“You’re entirely too full of yourself.” She managed, her tone slightly unsteady.

“Perhaps. You can open your eyes now.” Pamela removed her hands and inhaled sharply - the man was dressed, but only just. A button-up shirt hung open over his chest and his pants were still undone. She couldn’t stop her eyes from being drawn along the sparse line of blonde hairs down his flat belly to the hem of his underwear beneath his pants and beyond.

“Pam.”

She jumped, straightening immediately to find the man grinning at her, catlike. “What?”

He jerked a thumb towards her suitcase on the floor behind him. “You should probably change as well. They like a bit of formal attire.”

“Right!” She was glad of the reason to flee and did so immediately, changing hurriedly in the bathroom.

She definitely wasn’t going to survive this trip. She was pretty certain that if she saw Franklin Darwell strip down to his skivvies one more time she was going to keel over. Either that, or she was going to do exactly what he wanted and throw herself at him. She quickly changed into a white cotton dress and slipped on a pair of heels before splashing cold water on her burning face.

Lunch. She needed to concentrate on Lunch.

And Shanghai, for God’s sake. She was in one of the biggest and most lauded Chinese cities. One would think that would be more than enough to get her mind off her host.

But it was quickly apparent to her that this was fighting a losing battle.

Lunch was a fabulous affair, in a restaurant at the top of the hotel that actually rotated, giving its patrons three hundred and sixty-degree views of the city. Franklin ordered several Shanghainese specialties for them, and it took until their food came for Pamela to realize that they were two of only a few customers.

If she didn’t know any better, she might think Franklin was trying to be romantic.

“What’s wrong? Is the food alright?” When she didn’t immediately begin to eat, Franklin’s voice snapped her from her reverie.

“It’s fine. Perfectly fine.” She immediately dug in with great gusto, much to Franklin’s amusement. “Where to after this?”

“Well, I thought we would go to the top of the TV tower and then head to the traditional shopping district. I’m sure you’ll find some antiques there to your liking, and you can ship them home.”

Pamela frowned automatically, setting her chopsticks down. “Franklin, we’ve already discussed this. I don’t have very much money. Clothes are one thing, but I certainly am not shopping on your dime. I refuse.”

“Perfectly fine.” The blue-eyed man raised his hands innocently. “We can just go to look, then.”

But there was something mischievous in his gaze that she wasn’t sure she liked - and Pamela soon found out exactly what he had to be so smug about.

When he said she’d be able to find “some antiques to her liking”, the man meant the entire bloody shopping district. It was like her library antiques show multiplied by one hundred, with more variety than she had ever seen - and all genuinely handmade.

Pam didn’t know where to look first. She flitted from store to store, picking through little trinket boxes, lamps, chairs and cushions, lamenting each time she realized that she could currently afford none of it. Every time she thought of the balance in her bank account, she reminded herself that she was going to have to compensate for a few weeks of not working and she cringed.

And, so, she looked. She looked with a heavy heart and wondered if she would ever be able to come back and buy some of the things she absolutely adored. It was the first time in her life that she thought that perhaps she was upset that she hadn’t chosen a higher paying career.

“Pamela.” After she left the fourth store looking absolutely crestfallen, she found Franklin looking at her with an irate expression on his face. “You’re being completely unreasonable here. It’s not as if you’re going to buy the whole street. I can-”

“I don’t need it.” The words came out unbidden because she had been uttering them her entire life. “I’ll be fine. It’s not as if I need them.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she jumped when he swore foully, raking a hand through his hair. She hadn’t seen him so obviously perturbed yet and it put her a little on edge. “This isn’t charity, Pamela. I don’t pity you and I’m not trying to belittle you like your dithering idiot friend, Laura Beth. If you really expect me to follow after you for the rest of the afternoon with that forlorn expression on your face, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Well, then,” her chin went straight in the air, “We can do something else.”

Franklin merely glared at her in a way that had her backing carefully away from him. She was both intimidated and horribly aroused by that dangerous stare of his. “I take back what I said.” He finally deadpanned, crossing powerful arms over a broad chest. “If you don’t buy anything, I will kiss you right here and now - and I won’t stop until you relent.”

Pamela’s mouth dropped open. He had to be joking. This was horribly petty! Over things that she didn’t even need… “You wouldn’t.”

Franklin’s eyes somehow narrowed even further. “Try me.”

Pamela found herself torn. Part of her wanted to fly back into the shops and buy as much as her arms could carry, and then another part of her wanted to defy him just to see what he would do. Ultimately, however, when he began towards her with a predatory glint in his eye, she fled back into the nearest store and grudgingly bought a magnificent dragon wall-hanging that she could already see in her bedroom.

When she came back outside, Franklin was waiting for her with a triumphant grin. “That’s a gorgeous piece. Now, let’s go.”

When he turned away from her, Pamela stuck her tongue out at him. Childish as she knew it was, she couldn’t help herself. The man was far too controlling for his own good.

But, unfortunately, she soon became far too absorbed in her antique hunting to devote much energy to her affront. She found a set of gorgeous little bamboo carvings that depicted a Chinese legend and pounced upon them once more. There was a silk screen painting of a hutong that had her breathless with its beauty, and a lantern made of wood and rice paper that could be electrically wired and hung like a chandelier.

By the time they headed to dinner with all of their packages, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling like a loon. She didn’t even care that Franklin was smiling as well, commending her on each and every purchase. Over dinner, she detailed to him where she was going to put each piece in her apartment, more excited than she’d been since she realized that she was really, truly going to China.

She was sure that Franklin found all this information rather useless and boring but he paid rapt attention, even filling in a few blanks for her, giving her the history of several of the items she’d bought and telling her how Chinese people used them.

Pamela was already partially familiar with one piece that he lingered on - a round jade pendant strung with old Chinese coins. She remembered vividly seeing a similar charm hanging from a splintering wooden mantelpiece from her childhood.

She had loved to watch it glint in the light - had asked time and time if she could take it down and play with it just one more time.

“Tired, are you?” When she spaced out, she allowed Franklin to interpret it as he would and nodded heartily, glad that he couldn’t judge her mood as acutely as he thought he could. “We should head back then.”

By now, Pamela realized the pattern and she was ready for it. The moment they returned to the hotel, she bolted to the bedroom and closed the door behind her lest she catch some peek of Franklin in anything less than a decent state.

She was, however, thwarted when he knocked on her door mere minutes after she had sequestered herself. “Pamela? Are you decent? I just want to use the shower.”

She was in a silk robe she’d bought that day and was still wearing her underwear beneath, so she was about as decent as she was going to get without being fully dressed. “Um...yes…” She took a deep breath before opening the door.

She was, however, surprised to see that Franklin was still fully dressed. At the expression on her face, he smirked. “Disappointed?”

Pam merely rolled her eyes, moving aside so that he could move through the bedroom to the bathroom. In a trice, he was gone, and she waited until she heard the shower running to lie down and slip beneath the covers. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to will sleep to come, that way she wouldn’t see when he left the bathroom and it wouldn’t matter what he was wearing. 

After lying in the semi-dark room for a good fifteen minutes, Pam stopped trying to force herself to fall asleep and actually began drifting off as jetlag caught up with her. She had a full belly, the bed was wonderfully soft, and she found herself utterly content.

When Franklin finally came out of the bathroom half an hour later, a towel wrapped around his waist, she was on the cusp of complete sleep and, in her drowsy state, was half certain that the gorgeous, half-naked male standing over her was a dream. The young woman smiled drowsily. “Hello.”

He smiled back at her, amused, and it made him even more lovely. “Hello.”

“You look wonderful…” She mused drowsily, turning fully onto her side to see him better. He was tall and sinewy, and his freshly showered scent was absolute bliss. “You smell wonderful.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment.”

“Hmmm…” Almost lazily, Pamela patted the spot next to her on the bed. “Come sit here.”

The figure above her hesitated slightly. “Pamela...you’re tired. You should go to sleep.”

“I’m not worried.” She replied softly, her eyes drifting shut. “You won’t touch me unless I ask, right?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Right.” Then, the bed was sinking next to her and he was wonderfully close. With a contented sigh, Pamela shifted until she could wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek indulgently against the bare skin of his back. He felt so good. So warm….

“I like you.” This was the best dream she’d had in a good long while.

The man beside her made a low sound in his throat. “I like you too, Pamela, though I suspect that might be the understatement of the century.”

She was poor. Her flat was the size of a matchbox and, at thirty, she had few proper career prospects. She had to be dreaming that this man - this monied, witty, intelligent man was interested in her over her far more eligible friends.

“Franklin…” She murmured lowly, her eyes still closed, “Would you kiss me if I asked?”

All the breath whooshed from his lungs. “Hell yes.”

If all she had to do was ask… “Kiss me then.”

It would make her dream perfect - beyond perfect.

After a brief moment, Pamela felt the bed dip and he slipped from her grasp. She pouted, thinking that he planned on leaving her.

And then, it happened - the slow brush of his mouth against hers - leisurely and heated. Pamela reached for him immediately, her arms winding around his neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss, but before she could do so, he was straightening, gently sliding her hands from his shoulders.

The kiss had been far too brief - far too subtle for her liking - and, yet, it was all he gave her. “Goodnight, Pamela.”

He whispered the words against her forehead, placing another kiss there before he receded completely, and Pam felt herself drifting into a deeper sleep. Her last coherent thought was that he tasted exactly as she hoped he would...and she wanted nothing more than to sample him again.

 

Chapter Eight

 

The next few days were busy ones. Franklin took Pamela with him to an outer district of Shanghai to help an organization there give vaccines to children who had yet to receive them and then he showed her around the city. They had lunch in the French quarter, took a tour of the Bund with a private tour guide and had drinks at a bar right on the harbor.

Then, there was more of the same - the same wonder and curiosity on her face when he took her to the Serenity Park and then to the Shanghai Zoo. The same amusement when strangers asked to touch her hair, almost as enthralled with her as he himself was. By the third day after they had arrived in Shanghai, Franklin was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that she didn’t remember asking him for a kiss.

But he remembered. How the hell could he forget? The way she had clung to him - the way she lay back against the pillows with her lips parted, waiting for him to devour them.

But she’d been asleep - or close to it. He couldn’t really kiss her when she was like that. He wanted her like he had never wanted anything else, but he’d be damned if he took advantage of her. At least, if she didn’t want him to.

On the morning of their third day, they boarded a plane to Xi’an, where they would, for the first time, be staying in the countryside. Franklin was in the process of sending an e-mail to his brother- who was pretty much demanding to know where he was - when Pamela’s head fell onto his shoulder. He shifted slightly to accommodate her, reveling in the scent of her perfume, assuming that she had fallen asleep once again.

So, he was understandably surprised when she spoke with perfect clarity. “Franklin?”

He glanced over at her to see her looking at him with a surprisingly open expression and arched a brow in inquiry. Before she spoke, there was only the slight flush of her cheeks to warn him what was coming. “Did I... the other night...did we?”

“You asked for a kiss.” In his opinion, honesty was always the best policy. “But I assumed that you were half asleep, so I barely obliged you.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t a heathen. Your maidenhood is intact.”

When she frowned, he had a split second to worry that he had offended her before he went on. “I’m not a maiden. I’m a woman grown...and I... I knew what I was doing.”

Franklin swallowed whatever words of apology had risen to his lips and remained silent, waiting for her to go on, every muscle in his body taut. “Franklin, I want you to kiss me again. Properly this time.”

“Properly.” He echoed, hardly daring believe his luck.

Pamela nodded, her expression almost comically sober. “Please.”

Franklin didn’t think he’d ever gotten so hard so quickly in his life. If he’d been thinking straight, he might have looked around the first-class section of the plane to make sure that no one was paying undue attention to them, but the moment the words left Pamela’s lips, he was reaching for her. Tugging her out of her seat and into his lap, regardless of the fasten-seat-belt sign that blinked above their heads.

His mouth came down on hers hungrily, muffling her low moan of desire as her fingers immediately delved through his hair.

This. This was what he’d been waiting for. This was what he wanted. When his tongue slide against the seam of her lips, she parted for him automatically, shuddering when he nibbled at her lower lip before delving inside.

She was sweet….so bloody sweet he was certain he might lose his mind. The last time Franklin had kissed a woman had been messy and hurried - a friend of his who had agreed to assuage a mutual need between him.

This wasn’t like that. His tongue tangled with hers as his hand slid beneath the hem of the sweater she wore, rubbing slowly over the small of her back. It was inappropriate as all hell, but he wanted nothing more than to rip the damn thing off her to get at the downy, pale skin beneath.

But he settled for nibbling and sucking at her mouth until she was squirming in his lap, rubbing against him in a way that dispersed any doubts he might have had that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.  Her teeth scraped hungrily over the corner of his mouth as his tongue flicked at the line of her jaw before she drew away from him, burying her face in his shoulder as she tried, in vain, to regain her breath.

Bloody hell. Bloody hell.

“Excuse me, sir?”  Franklin looked up, his eyes still glazed in want, at the sheepish looking airline stewardess who stood next to them. “I’m sorry, but Miss Livingston will have to return to her seat until the fasten seatbelts sign has been turned off.”

It was a beat before his voice returned. “Right. My apologies.”

Gently, he eased Pamela’s form from his lap and back into her seat - though her face remained hidden against his neck in obvious embarrassment. She didn’t straighten until a full minute after the stewardess had gone, and even then, her face was bright red. Franklin’s erection pulsed as he imagined her entire, stark naked form flushed that same color in the center of his bed, tangled in his sheets.

“I... I’m sorry.” She murmured in a quiet tone. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Franklin immediately scoffed, shifting in his seat to alleviate some of the pressure at the crux of muscular thighs. “You didn’t get me in trouble. I’m a man grown, Pamela. I make my own trouble.”

The admission only made her flush darker as she scrabbled for her tablet to find something to do with her hands.

Her lips were swollen from where he had tasted her, and Franklin swallowed a groan at the prospect of doing it again.

I knew what I was doing.

So, she had been more aware that night than he thought - and far too close to the erection she had caused. Franklin was glad he hadn’t known - if he had, he might have done something that made Pamela’s perception of him as a gentleman disappear entirely.

For now, he had to keep his word. She had asked him to kiss her, so he had, breaking the days of sexual tension that had loomed between them. But, if she wanted more, she was going to have to ask for that as well.

Which would make it all the sweeter when she did.

 

When they deplaned in Xi’an, Franklin was surprised to find no less than three women from the organization outpost they planned to visit waiting to greet him. Three young, very pretty Chinese women who proceeded to make eyes at him the moment he saw them.

Admittedly, he couldn't bring himself to care much. Not when he could still taste Pamela on his lips.

She, however, glared daggers at the women, even if she couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Darwell!”

       “Our supervisor has told us so much about you!”      

“We’d love to show you around the city as soon as we discuss your business!”

He certainly hadn’t expected any type of special greeting, though it certainly wasn’t unprecedented. The last time he had been in Xi’an was years ago, and he happened to be with Russell when he arrived. Though they didn’t come to meet him at the airport, the moment they arrived at the outpost, they had been swamped by eligible young women all looking to make a husband out of them.

Thankfully, that had been pre-Alice, or his sister-in-law might have blown her proverbial top.

To her merit, Pamela acted with as much grace as a woman could in their particular situation. After all, they had only kissed once. They hadn’t even slept in the same bed...at least, not yet. So, she didn’t try to stake her claim on him.

But there was no lack of murder in her eyes as the youngest of his entourage clutched at his arm eagerly. “We can’t wait to show you what we’ve achieved in the past few years!”

Pamela muttered something under her breath that sounded strangely like slattern...which was a word he hadn’t heard in a good, long while. It made him smile. He didn’t want to admit to himself that her expression bolstered his pride, but it certainly did it no harm.

Their three guides were named Mei Lin, Xue Li and Julie, and upon exiting the airport, they insisted on taking him to one of the best restaurants in Xi’an. They were about halfway there in the cab when the women realized that there was another occupant in the vehicle and they hurried to introduce themselves.

“This is Pamela. We’re traveling together and she’s integral to my work,” he introduced her in Chinese. “I hope you’ll treat her with just as much hospitality as you give me.”

At Pamela’s surprised expression, he winked at her, and almost immediately, the Chinese women’s attentions were diverted from him to her. Within two minutes, she was completely overwhelmed, and Franklin was almost sure she would have preferred he deal with them. He’d be willing to wager that not a single one of them was over twenty-five, and this was the first time they’d seen a blonde woman up close.

All through their lunch, the girls chattered endlessly, interrogating Pamela about everything under the sun and using Franklin as a translator. By the time they got back in the car, Pamela was feigning sleep in an attempt to escape, and Franklin was trying not to laugh.

She cracked her eyes open on the way out of the city to gaze at the rice paddies and people working in the fields. Franklin found one of the most fascinating things about Chinese culture to be the juxtaposition of modern and metropolitan with rural and underdeveloped. He liked going out to the countryside not only to help people, but because he found it gloriously, quietly beautiful in a way that the cities couldn’t necessarily capture.

In his opinion, London was the exact opposite of the Chinese countryside. Certainly, he had been born and raised there, groomed to become what his parents believed he ought to be in certain respects, but the first time he walked barefoot among Chinese rice paddies, he’d found a peace that existed not even in his Leeds getaway - a peace he found in few other parts of the world.

Of course, he didn’t get to go on a barefoot trek right away. The moment they reached the compound there was a meeting during which he conveyed to the people in charge what processes Beijing wanted them to carry out. Then, there was a welcome toast. And then another one. Frank was reminded of how potent baijiu, Chinese rice liquor, really was.

After the third toast, he managed to get away and back to the small inn where he and Pamela were staying. He meant to find her alone and perhaps initiate a repeat of what had happened on the plane, but when he arrived at the inn, he found her outside in the garden, surrounded by no less than ten Chinese children.

Inwardly, he groaned. It wasn’t as if he didn’t welcome curiosity, but he was sure that Pamela had to be exhausted after being questioned for the entirety of the afternoon. It had been his hope that, when he left her, she might be able to rest a bit while he saw to his business. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case.

He was prepared to rescue her - to send the children back to their parents as gently as he could - until Franklin took in the expression on her face.

She was smiling. One of the most genuine, warmest smiles he’d ever seen grace her lovely features. It softened her face, opened her up and had him momentarily in awe at the mere sight of her.

The young woman sat in the center of a circle of children who were all chattering away at her in a language she didn’t understand, smiling and laughing nonetheless. Every so often, they would present some object or the other for her inspection. A paper crane, a ball, a book of simple English terms - and Pamela treated each and every one of them like they were no less than the ultimate treasure.

She let them touch and braid her hair, let them sit on her lap and play around her - the sight of it made Franklin a bit dizzy.

He had never been one for children. His sister-in-law had a niece, and the few times they’d brought her around, he had no idea what to do with himself. He certainly couldn’t hold the baby, as he was fairly certain that he’d drop her; but that made him look like a complete lummox when the little thing reached for him.

Alice had laughed at his discomfort, cradling the baby as if it were second nature, and, the entire time, his brother had gazed at her as if he wanted nothing more in the world than to give Alice a child of her own.

At the time, the idea had been fairly mind-boggling to him.

But now, he supposed he understood the sentiment a little bit better.

Not that he wanted to impregnate Pamela on the spot. That wasn’t the type of person he was - that, and he’d only really known the woman for a matter of weeks.

But he could appreciate her easy way with children. She seemed to have far more tolerance for them, anyway, than she did for their older counterparts. Franklin slowly advanced on her as he watched her point out a few pictures on her tablet as a gaggle of girls continued to braid her hair into increasingly confusing tangles.

“Having a good time?”

At the sight of him, she looked up in surprise and the children laughed at her goggled expression. They talked amongst themselves about how pretty she was, how handsome he was, and how they must be married. Franklin saw no need to correct them - children were precocious that way and they would believe whatever they wanted to believe.

“I’m a little overwhelmed, but they seem to be pretty interested in me,” Pamela admitted, her expression rather fond.

“Most of them have never left this village. You’re quite the anomaly to them.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Alright, now,” Franklin uttered authoritatively in Chinese, “Big sister needs to rest. Go find your parents, all of you.”

They all groaned and complained as if he’d taken away their favorite toy, but Franklin stood firm. “Go on now. You can see her tomorrow.”

They dispersed with extreme reluctance, until only he and Pamela remained in the courtyard. “Good Lord, there are so many of them.”

Franklin chuckled. “That was only about half of them. Once they tell their friends, I’m sure there will be more tomorrow.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Pam stood, brushing the dust off her jeans before arching a brow at him. “How did everything go at the center?”

“Marvelously,” he relayed, running a hand through his hair casually. “Everyone’s ready to carry out our plans, and hopefully, there will be a new school or two in the area by this time next year.”

“Lovely,” Pam beamed, looking past him at the dust cloud the children were kicking up as they found their way home. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“They will when they’re older, at least. What child enjoys school as a child?”

“I suppose you have a point.” Pam laughed softly, the action turning her hair into gleaming spun silk and lighting up her face with a rosy glow.

Franklin stared unabashedly at the plump lines of her lips. He wanted to kiss her - more at that moment than he had all morning, and that was quite a stretch.

“Don’t do that.” At Pam’s embarrassed words, he merely raised his gaze to hers innocently.

“Don’t do what?” He knew very well what, but could he help it that he liked to bait her?

“Franklin Darwell, you know very well what.” She called his bluff, rolling her eyes before she turned her back on him to enter the inn and make her way upstairs.

Franklin had managed - mostly - to keep from being enticed by the single bed that had been in every room they stayed in - but this inn was the village’s only accommodation, and so there was none of the luxury there was in large cities. Franklin wouldn’t have minded, but the room was barely enough to accommodate a bed, a few chairs, a mini fridge and a TV. The bathroom had a squat toilet, which Pam was remarkably level-headed about, though he suspected that behind closed doors she might panic a bit.

But it was that bed that was bringing his panic to the forefront. There was no sofa for him to sleep on, which meant that there was no way he could avoid sleeping next to her. Such a thing would have been hard enough if he hadn’t known how eagerly she would cling to him when he kissed her- if the taste of her didn’t linger on his lips even hours later.

Franklin found himself tempted to get another room. It was hard enough to watch her now, bustling about the small space and looking for something to wear to dinner that night.

“You look like a bloody deer in headlights. What on earth’s the matter?” At her concerned question, Franklin forced himself to release the breath he’d been holding.

“There’s only one bed.” There he went with being bluntly honest again. Franklin didn’t know any other way to operate.

Pam merely blinked. “And?”

Franklin felt his chest tightening. “Shall I sleep on the floor then?”

She laughed at that. “Please, Franklin. I’d like to think you’re capable of keeping your hands to yourself.”

He’d like to think he was too, but when it came to Pamela, Franklin wasn’t entirely sure. “I’d like to negotiate.”

Pamela stopped rifling through her luggage to look up at him curiously. “What do you mean ‘negotiate’?”

“If I’m going to have to sleep in the same bed as you, I’m going to need some placation beforehand.”

“Placation,” she deadpanned in reply, her gaze carefully neutral. “Explain.”

Franklin’s lips twitched. “Not what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” She shot back immediately.

That was an invitation that Franklin couldn’t ignore. “That I want you to wank me off. Or maybe use your mouth.”

Pamela’s mouth dropped open and Franklin was torn between laughter and the arousal that threatened at the mental image of either of those things. “But that’s not what I was implying, so don’t get excited.”

Despite his warning, he thought she looked a little too excited for her own good - and his pants were suddenly tighter. 

“What were you implying, then?” It took her a moment to regain her composure, and when she did, her next words were slightly unsteady.

“Just a kiss. One kiss before bed should do me quite well.”

“Oh.” Now, she definitely looked disappointed, and Franklin patted himself on the back mentally. “Well...I suppose I can accept that.”

“Most gracious of you.” He dipped a little bow and Pamela merely smacked him on the arm on her way to the bathroom, making him wince.

God, he wanted her.

 

“Dude, where the hell are you?” While Pamela was in the shower, Franklin’s phone buzzed, and when he saw it was Marlin, he picked up. At his friend’s question, he chuckled.

“Finally back from the lap of luxury, are you?”

“Yeah, yesterday.” Marlin returned, “Thanks for that, by the way. The girls enjoyed themselves.”

“No problem. Glad to be a benefactor.”

“Oh, fuck off. You were trying to get to Pam, and now you have. The question is, where have you spirited her away to now?” At that, Franklin chucked.

“We’re still in China. And I haven’t spirited her anywhere - I might remind you that she agreed.”

“Right. You charmed her into it. Charmed your way into a man-eater’s pants. You impress me more and more every day, Darwell.”

Surprisingly, Franklin found himself bristling at Marlin’s careless language, but he managed to hold his tongue. This was Marlin, after all. He was just being Marlin.

“I’m not as charming as you give me credit for,” he finally provided, as neutrally as he could. “Maybe I should take lessons from your sister.”

“Touché, man. Touché.” Franklin groaned inwardly at Marlin’s solemn tone.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” He had no idea why he’d been so suddenly defensive - it was completely and totally unlike him. “I guess I’m still just a little jetlagged. Tired as bloody hell.”

“No worries. It’s cool, man. Look, when are you going to be back? Trying to figure out when the best time to go to London would be.”

At that, Franklin flinched. “Ugh, don’t force me back before I’m ready. I could stay in Leeds forever if I was allowed.”

“I know, but I need a guide. Who’s going to show me all the best places to get absolutely wasted and find cheeky ladies.”

At that, Franklin snorted. “Right. Because I’d be the utmost authority on that.” He glanced at the bathroom to see if Pamela was done. He noticed that she had left the door cracked and swallowed thickly as he wondered what he might be able to see if he were sitting at the head of the bed.

“Well maybe I just need the emotional support.”

Franklin rolled his eyes. “We’ll probably be back in another week or so. I’ll do my best to keep you updated.” That meant a lot, coming from him. Franklin hadn’t even told his mother he was leaving the country - which meant that he would probably get a stern lecture when he came home - but Alice knew. That would have to suffice. 

“Appreciate it. See you then, man. Enjoy the man-eater.”

Franklin merely hung up, having no proper answer for that. Pamela Livingston wasn’t anywhere near as much of a man-eater as people suspected - every woman had her standards, and Pamela’s were simply higher than most. But Franklin liked a challenge - he always had.

Particularly blonde-haired, curvaceous, intellectual challenges.

 

**

Pam has been certain that China couldn’t get any more beautiful until she spent the next few days in the countryside. There was a completely different feel here than there was to the city. People weren’t in such a rush, and while there was little luxury, there remained an abundance of heart. Everyone was kind and, despite their rocky beginning, she found that Mei Lin, Xue Li and Julie were more than happy to show her the ropes.

Alongside Franklin, Pamela visited the sites where they planned to build the new schools and watched him negotiate the prices for land and costs for building. She didn’t understand much of what they were saying, but, soon enough, she was whisked off by a group of teachers who were proud to show her their tattered English books and speak to her the best they could.

By the time she got back to Franklin, he was watching a football match between seven-year-olds and doing his best to avoid joining in, even though they asked at least once every minute.

Ultimately, Pamela solved the problem by joining in - though sports were far from her forte - and baiting Franklin until he joined in. Of course, his first order was to make sure she regretted teasing him as he led his team into a sound victory against hers by a ten to one margin.

He gloated all the way back to the inn and gave her enough time to be nervous while he showered and prepared for bed.

Three days after he’d made his demand, it now seemed ludicrous to Pamela that she had ever been disappointed that all Franklin wanted from her was kisses. Kisses, she had soon found, could be quite deadly where he was concerned.

Though why she hadn’t learned that on the bloody plane was beyond her.

When he came out of the bathroom, she hurried into it, so she wouldn’t have to speak much, and showered as slowly as possible as a mix of anticipation and apprehension built low in her stomach. By the time she finished and had donned her robe and her most modest nightgown, it was around nine in the evening.

And Pamela knew she couldn’t delay any longer.

She took a deep breath before heading back into the main room, where Franklin lounged on the bed reading a Chinese paper.

He looked absolutely decadent - wearing a loose pair of flannel bottoms with his shirt nowhere in sight, his hair loose and damp over his shoulder. He barely raised his gaze when she sank onto the opposite side of the bed and slithered beneath the covers before shedding her robe.

How on earth did she feel so vulnerable when she was still entirely clothed? It was completely unfair.

Before he could speak to her, Pamela switched on the television. She couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying, but it was far better than sitting in silence, waiting for Franklin to announce that it was time for his kiss.

Flipping through channels, she found a drama that she didn’t really have to understand Chinese to follow. It was slightly ridiculous - some princess that had fallen head over heels for a prince and fell to pieces every time he came near her.

Yes...terribly silly.

“Tired, Pamela?”

After a few weeks, she still hadn’t gotten used to the way he said her name. “Yes. I think I’ll just-”

“Kiss me goodnight? What an excellent idea.” Pamela stifled her groan as she squirmed slightly beneath the coverlet. Why did he always have to be so bloody chipper about it?

“Fine.” She poked her head from beneath the blanket before removing her glasses to set on the table beside the bed. Almost immediately, she shivered. Though it was still quite warm during the day, it was chilly at night, and the room had no heater. Closing her eyes, she turned toward Franklin as every nerve ending on her body rejoiced, tingling in anticipation.

She dreaded this, she wanted it...she was completely confused when it came to Franklin Darwell, and somehow, that was ok.

“Am I that terribly ugly?” Pamela’s eyes flew open in shock at the mere notion.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” When his blue eyes met hers, she found her entire body suffused with an acute ache. She wanted more than kisses - far more. But she’d be damned if she’d admit it.

Franklin’s smile was slow and indulgent. “Just asking. Your honest opinion means the world to me.”

Pam rolled her eyes - he was so unbelievably silly that sometimes she wanted to chuck him upside the head. Before he could beat her to the punch, however, she leaned over to place a hand on his shoulder and molded her mouth to his to shut him up.

And, as she had the previous three nights, she lost herself completely.

Though she might have been the one to take the initiative, Franklin dominated the kiss from the moment it started. His mouth slanted firmly over hers and his tongue teased hers into action. A soft moan escaped her as he tugged on her lower lip with his teeth right before an arm snaked about her waist, drawing her against him.

His bare chest was almost scalding - hard and unyielding against her even with the layer of the blanket between them. Every time, Pam promised herself that she wouldn’t give into him so easily - not if it wasn’t on her terms - and every time, she failed utterly. She pressed herself against him as tightly as nature would allow, one arm sliding around his neck as his tongue flicked intoxicatingly against her mouth. It made her wonder if his mouth would be just as eager in choicer places on her body...places she dreamed he touched and woke up breathless and moist between the legs.

She was certainly getting to that point now. The way Franklin all but devoured her mouth - as if he were a starving man who hadn’t seen a meal in half a century - it was enough to make her dizzy with want. She was so absorbed in him that she didn’t protest when his hand slid over her waist and down to rest on her hip, his fingers curling in possessively.

She could feel the prominent ridge of his erection against her lower belly, straining at the fabric of his flannel pants, and a very base part of her wanted to beg him for it - to give herself over to him with no restraint.

But then, all at once, he was pulling away - putting distance between them once more as he migrated back to his side of the bed.

Pamela was nowhere near foolish enough to believe that the kiss hadn’t affected him at least as badly as it had affected her. The heat in his gaze was enough to steal what remaining breath she had, and she swallowed thickly, barely able to keep from throwing herself at him.

But, she already knew how this was going to go, and, unfortunately, there were no surprises. Franklin turned onto his back and picked up his paper, settling back against the pillows. “Goodnight, Pamela.”

It was times like this that she found him the most infuriating. It was a foregone conclusion now that they wanted one another, but the man was still bound and determined to have her ask for it.

It had been hard enough for her to ask for a single kiss. How the hell was she supposed to ask for the additional debauchery she wanted so damn badly?

Pamela turned from him, incensed, and burrowed beneath the covers to stew. 

Thirty minutes passed, then an hour, and still, he continued to read that damn paper. Pam switched off the TV before tossing the remote onto the table besides her glasses. She was having a tantrum like a bloody teenager and she found that she cared little.

She had never met a man that both infuriated and aroused her like Franklin Darwell and, for the first time in her life, she found herself at a loss for what to do. Pamela had spent her entire life dealing with herself. After she lost her guardian, she had done the best that she could with the resources that she had, and she had always made do. To add a man to the mix made things unpredictable.

That the man was Franklin Darwell threw an entire other element into an already unpredictable endeavor.

“You seem a bit restless, Pamela. Would you like a night cap?” The woman turned over to glare daggers at him.

“No, I would not like a nightcap, Franklin.”

God, she both hated and loved that smug grin of his. How could he lie there with his obvious erection tenting the blanket and ignore her like he was?

He knew exactly what she wanted, damn him, but there was no way Pamela was going to give in when he was so obviously challenging her.  She was just as stubborn as he was - perhaps more so.

“If there’s something you want, Pamela, all you have to do is ask.” He had no business looking at her like that - with that darkly alluring gaze that promised pleasure she couldn’t even fathom.

“All I want,” She managed softly, her tone hoarse, “Is to get some sleep.” And with that, she turned away from him once more, shutting her eyes tightly.

And wondering how on earth she was going to sleep when her panties were soaked through.

Chapter Nine

 

Once their business was done in Xi’an, they were off to Southern China, where the weather was balmier and more humid than in the north. It was nearing Christmas, but nearly everyone was still in shorts and t-shirts, and Pamela found herself needing a few short-sleeved shirts to ensure that she didn’t overheat as they explored the city during the day.

They were back to immense, luxury suites, and their first night in the Hyatt Guangzhou, Pam cursed herself at least ten times as she lay in the immense, king-sized bed alone. Why was it so hard for her to abandon her pride and go to Franklin? She gave herself a bevy of excuses - that she had only known him for a few weeks, that all he really wanted was to get into her pants...but she knew each and every one of them was completely futile.

She’d slept with men she knew for less time - less charming, less generous men that she had only been pressured into being intimate with, and she always regretted it. If Franklin only wanted to get in her pants, he could have pursued her back in England. There was something more at stake here, though she was loathed to admit to herself what it was.

Pam found herself facing a problem that she had dealt with many times in her life - fear of the unknown. There was so much that she wanted to do -so much she had always wanted to do, but she had never been able to get over her own trepidation. She always had a secret fear of failure, and that was what kept her from reaching her full potential. She remembered her first day at the temp agency and the realization that, while she would never make a career out of it, she would be as comfortable as possible, and that would have to be enough.

Franklin had given her more than she had ever dreamed in one fell swoop -an opportunity to visit the country she had always longed to, an adventure that she couldn’t achieve herself...and he’d given her intrigue in a man that she had never truly known.

And now she was balking at the idea of taking what she wanted.

Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillow and let out a long sigh. What the hell was she supposed to do, barge into the living room and demand that he meet her physical needs? Somehow, that just made her cringe. There had to be a better way.

 

After a meeting with several city officials the next day, she went with Franklin to explore some of the old Guangzhou hutongs, her mind still whirling with how to ask for what she wanted. It wasn’t half as simple as her host purported it was.

After an hour of wandering through numerous alleys and sipping on fresh sugarcane juice, they found themselves at the edge of the city - a drop of about five stories revealed a gorgeous view of the suburbs laid out below them, streets winding through small parks and a few temples rising towards the second level of the city above.

For a long moment, Pamela just stared.

Was he here, somewhere? Somewhere in one of those small houses, or praying in a temple? Was he right under her nose? So maddeningly close and yet far at the same time?

“What are you looking for?” She looked up in surprise as Franklin came to stand next to her.

It was pretty shocking how easily he could read her. It made her wonder if her face was an open book when she had struggled hard for a long time to prevent such a thing.

“I…” She swallowed thickly, “I don’t know.”

It was half true, at least.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Not all questions need answering, you know.” He slid his hands into his pockets, taking in the view beyond the plateau quietly. “I can understand that.”

Pamela allowed herself the small smile. “The great Franklin Darwell doesn’t answer questions? I can’t say that I’m very surprised.”

“Well, there’s a time for it. Now just isn’t the time.”

He implied that there would be another one - that after they returned from China they would spend more time together.

And Pamela couldn't necessarily deny him. Despite the infuriating, argumentative nature of what was between them, she was drawn to him. And after spending time with him - getting to know him - she was loathed to give that up. It didn’t matter how much money he had or who he was...she found herself being uncommonly selfish in wanting to be with him for as long as she could.

Perhaps Laura Beth had rubbed off on her more than she thought.

“You’re beautiful, Pamela Livingston.” Her gaze jerked to his in surprise at the sudden compliment - but, for once, her cheeks didn’t burn. Franklin wasn’t smiling. Instead, he merely stared at her as if she was the only thing in the world that existed, and she felt her knees go weak.

She, Pamela Livingston, admitted man-eater and man-hater, was going soft over a man.

What was the world coming to?

“And you’re ridiculous, Franklin Darwell,” she returned on a whisper, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t understand you.”

His lips quirked. “Most people don’t.”

Sighing, Pamela placed a hand on his shoulder, rising onto her toes to do what she wanted before her pride could get in the way. The moment was far too stereotypically romantic for the likes of her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take advantage of it. “Kiss me.”

And, for once, he didn’t say anything. He merely did as she wished, kissing her until she was breathless, until all the want she always thought she could keep at bay came screaming back and she was certain she would die from it. Her fingers sifted through his hair and she pressed herself against him until all she could feel were the hard lines of his body against hers. “Franklin, please…” She murmured desperately against his mouth. “Please...I need…”

She wanted to say it...more than anything, she wanted to say the words.

“What do you need?” He asked her huskily, pressing her backwards until she was pressed flush against the wall of a shop that had to be at least two hundred years old. The rough stone caught on the fabric of the t-shirt she wore and dug into her spine, but she barely noticed.

They were in a very public place, and it still took all of Pamela’s skill to keep from climbing the man like a goddamn tree.

“I need…” She swallowed thickly. “I need you.”

Once the words were out, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders - and, public place or not, she was justly rewarded.

If she thought the way Franklin kissed her before was torturous, that was nothing compared to the way his mouth came down on hers now. Pamela gasped as he bit at her lower lip before capturing her tongue, sucking on it so she squirmed, heat blossoming through her unfettered. Her fingers slid against his scalp as she kissed him back desperately, every stroke of his tongue making her shiver as it slid against her own. She ached so intensely that she felt as if her legs would soon give out, and a low whimper escaped her when Franklin’s mouth left hers to burn a path down her throat to the point of her pulse.

“Franklin…” She gasped, clinging to him like a port in a storm. “Wait...hold on…”

He growled.

Actually growled.

It was, by far, the sexiest thing she had ever heard. “What?”

Pamela found herself laughing breathlessly. “We’re in public. In the middle of a hutong. Can’t we...can’t we go back to the hotel?”

A low, frustrated sound escaped the man a moment before he straightened, his expression primal. “Right.” With that, he took her hand and all but dragged her out of the Hutong and onto the first available public road.

Even when they got into the cab, he didn’t let go of her hand. Pam found herself staring down at his fingers intertwined with hers as her face - and choicer parts of her - burned in anticipation.

The ride back downtown seemed to take forever, and the ride in the elevator somehow even longer. Finally, however, they reached the room, and once the door shut behind them, Pamela gasped as she was wedged up against it, her mouth taken in another searing kiss.

Pamela’s fingers found the hem of the shirt he wore and pushed up underneath it. How many times had she watched him parade around their shared space and wanted to run her fingers over the ridges of his mouthwatering body?

It was much, much better than she had imagined. He was soft skin over steel and she wondered, for a crazy moment, what he did to get as fit as he was. The thought left her mind, however, the moment he nipped at her earlobe before trailing a series of sharp, sucking bites down her throat.

A shuddering groan escaped her - and God knew she couldn’t help it. It had been so long since a man had touched her - so long since she had even touched herself.

She gasped as Franklin took hold of her thighs and hoisted her high against the door, settling himself between her spread legs. His enthusiasm only served to spike her arousal, and Pam, who was far from used to being tossed around, found herself arching against him greedily.

“You smell like heaven,” Franklin groaned against her collarbone a moment before his hands slipped beneath her blouse to cup her breasts. Pam’s nipples had long been peaked, standing out against the silken material of her bra, and when Franklin’s thumbs found them to linger and tease, her hips bucked against him.

She could very easily say the same of him - as Franklin smelled like everything a man should be without the tang of manufactured colognes. Spicy and clean with the slightest tang of sweat...she wished she could bottle it and take it with her wherever she went.

Franklin worked quickly at the buttons on her shirt before laying it open to bare her breasts. He plumped them upward, burying his face between for a moment before placing a surprisingly tender kiss on each. Pamela kneaded through his mussed blonde hair, almost catlike, as he worked on the clasp between her and the door. It took him precious seconds to free it, and then her bra was loose enough for him to work her breasts free.

Pamela found herself in the midst of a sudden crisis of self-confidence. It had been forever since she’d been naked in front of anyone but herself, and her last partner had made clear that she was far from his usual fare - after which she had sent him packing.

But Franklin seemed to have no such reservations. He stared for so long she started to squirm, and Pam gasped as he merely smacked one of her thighs lightly in reprimand. “Stop that. Let me look. I’ve wanted you like this for a long time.”

His words burned away any lingering doubts that she might have had that he found her inadequate. His hands rose to cup her breasts as he pressed his hips more firmly against hers, pressing her against the door. At the feel of his erection pressing insistently against her center, Pamela let her head fall back with a low groan. She would have given anything for there to be no layers at all between them.

But she knew enough to recognize that things would be over far too quickly if that were the case.

Franklin kissed her neck lingeringly, sucking so hard she was sure he would leave marks, but she found that she, sensible Pamela Livingston, couldn’t give two bloody whits. She would proudly wear any bruises or bites he gave her with no shame at all, because he had given them to her.

His touch was hot - searing her skin as he massaged her breasts slowly - reverently. His ministrations sent pleasure blossoming through her and stiffened her nipples until they ached with the need to be touched.

But Franklin knew that - and he was more than willing to oblige her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to pay homage to the place she needed him a moment before he took a nipple between his lips to suckle heatedly. Pam cried out softly, her toes curling as cords of heat zipped from the peak of her breast to the soft, wet folds between her legs. Her thighs tightened, and her breath came in short, needy gasps.

Franklin’s tongue circled the tight bud before his teeth tugged at the sharp peak and Pamela bit her lip against the moan that threatened. He licked and sucked at her vulnerable areole until she was sure she would melt into a puddle of pure sensation on the floor at his feet and then, only then, did he take her other breast into account.

At the first eager, scalding suck of his hungry mouth, he groaned - as if she were the finest delicacy in the world - and the vibration thrummed through her, making her stomach muscles quiver.

“Franklin please…” It was too good, and he had barely even touched her. “Please...I…. I can’t…”

Her plea was enough to get him to pause and look up at her. “Can’t what, darling? Do tell me.”

Pamela flushed darkly, reaching for his belt loops in an attempt to anchor herself against the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. “Slow down.” She finally managed shakily. “It’s a bit much…”

At that, he chuckled darkly. Pamela was sure the sound alone would be enough to bring her off. “We’ve barely begun, sweet. Don’t stop me now.”

He lowered his head to toy with a single nipple, nibbling it lingeringly until she cried his name.

Laughing lowly, Franklin hoisted her against him to carry into the room. His mouth locked with hers and their tongues tangled feverishly until he laid her on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he stripped her shirt and brassiere from her, so that she was bare from the waist up - and though he had been kissing her bare breasts moments ago, Pam couldn’t help the impulse to raise her hands and cover herself protectively.

Franklin caught her hands before she even got halfway. “Don’t you dare.” He pressed her breasts upwards to suck at each nipple lightly in turn before kissing her again. “There’s not a single bloody thing for you to be ashamed of,” the words were murmured against her mouth with the utmost conviction.

Pamela felt her stomach twisting at the unexpected intimacy of the statement. Reaching up blindly, she fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it upward over his flat, hard abdomen until he finally released her for long enough to peel it up over his head.

Pamela sat up, running her hands reverently over his bared abdomen before pressing her mouth hotly to his belly. She was rewarded with the low hiss of breath between his teeth as she explored the skin he’d bared. Her fingertips slid along his chest as she moved leisurely upwards, inch by decadent inch. When her tongue flicked at the flat coin of a nipple, Franklin cursed lowly and she found herself laughing in triumph. She wasn’t the only one completely overwhelmed by the chemistry between them. Pam could give as good as she got.

Her laugh was cut off, however, when Franklin reached down to cup the heat at the crux of her legs firmly, putting pressure where she needed it most. “Cheeky little thing aren’t you?” He purred alluringly against her neck as his hand slid back and forth at a torturously slow pace.

Even though Pamela was still wearing her jeans, she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. She gasped when he used his hold on her to shuffle her back onto the bed, making her cry out in surprise.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” His statement was all she got before he had undone the button of her jeans and worked her jeans off her long legs to pool on the floor. Now, all she wore was a pair of thin lace underwear that she almost hadn’t bought. It was beyond complicated to try and buy underwear when a man was waiting for you outside of a store - almost certainly watching every move you made.

“Where on earth did you get those?”

Well, apparently not as well as she might have imagined.

She merely grinned indulgently at Franklin’s flummoxed expression. “You should know. You bought them.”

Reaching down, Franklin ran his hands down her sides until they came to rest on her hips and the edges of the scalloped lace. “And I’m going to buy the whole goddamned store...later.” He began to peel her decidedly transparent underwear down her legs slowly - as if savoring every moment of revealing her. “Much later.”

Pamela couldn’t remember ever being more aroused in her life. By the time Franklin actually got her underwear off, she was reaching eagerly for the fastenings of his slacks, needing to free the erection she knew lie beneath. Franklin, however, had other plans.

Pamela found herself jerked to the edge of the bed by his firm hold on her hips as she was thrown flat on her back. She propped herself up on her elbows as Franklin knelt on the carpet, his mouth lingering on the surprisingly sensitive skin below her breast. She found that there was little she could say as his lips burned a path inexorably southward. There was, however, a lot of moaning and squirming involved, especially when he discovered the way her stomach quivered when he kissed over the ridges of her hip bones.

It was only a slight departure for him to raise one of her thighs to drape over his shoulder and kiss her in a place far more intimate. At the first touch of his tongue against her soft, slick lower folds, a very unbecoming sound escaped her and Pam’s hips flew off the bed.

One fluid motion from Franklin had them pinned to the bed anew as he resumed his exploration of the most intimate parts of her. Pam’s hands threaded almost desperately through his hair as he set his mouth flush against her, lapping and sucking until she was trembling violently, unable to stem the moans that spilled from her lips with increasing volume. No man had ever done this for her, and now she could safely say that any assumption she had made about the gesture being overrated was completely untrue.

Or perhaps Franklin was just obscenely good at it.

His tongue lapped over the seam of her over and over before he fastened onto the bud of her pleasure to suck gently and she gasped his name, her toes curling powerfully. “Franklin please!” She couldn’t breathe - she could barely see straight. “Please!”

But the damnable man merely shook his head, making a sound of denial against her as he redoubled his efforts. Pam felt every muscle in her body tightening, felt warmth coiling like a spring low in her belly. She was wondering how much longer she could bear his turgid mouth when he unexpectedly penetrated her with two long, dexterous fingers, curling them upward to stroke a spot inside her that made her see stars - simultaneously sucking hard at the already over-stimulated bud of her pleasure.

Pam came apart with a shriek, her entire body wracked with tremors as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave so intense she could have sworn she forgot how to breathe. It was never like this when she touched herself, and she’d be damned if any other man had undone her so completely.

It seemed to go on and on as she gasped, clinging to the bed sheets, to Franklin, to anything that could give her purchase when she so desperately needed it. When she finally came back down, it was to the sight of the man resting his chin against her belly, staring at her as if utterly transfixed. His mouth and chin gleamed with her leavings, and Pamela felt her face burning even as a residual shudder took her.

When he caught her gaze, Franklin’s smile was lazy and completely self-satisfied. She might have hit him if she weren’t completely boneless, but in her current state, she couldn’t even move. His eyes never leaving hers, he began to lower his mouth to her once more and Pam groaned, twisting in a mad attempt to escape him. “Franklin God, no more…”

She couldn’t stop him from placing a last, lingering kiss against her drenched folds before obliging her. He straightened, climbing onto the bed to settle between her spread legs as he ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined you’d be.”

“And you’re at least as relentless,” she managed before his mouth silenced her once more. This time, when her hands found the waist of his slacks, he let her undo the clasps and push them down with a sudden renewed hunger. Pamela liked to think that after one good orgasm (usually self-inflicted) she was usually down for the count, but there was something about Franklin that drove her to greater heights.

In a trice, his pants had joined the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor and the only layer that stood between them was his underwear. It was hardly substantial, considering the way his erection strained at the fabric. It was very clear to Pam that everything was in proportion where he was concerned - he was easily the most well-endowed man she’d ever seen.

But she didn’t have long to dwell on the fact. She wanted to feel him - to stroke him until she saw him come apart the way she had, but Franklin didn’t allow it. The moment her fingers folded around him, he made a tortured sound low in his throat. “Later,” he groaned, barely sparing a moment to free himself from his underwear before he was plunging into her - filling her completely so she gasped his name.

It was good. Impossibly good. She was still sensitive from his mouth so a small orgasm rippled over her the moment he was inside her and Pamela arched against him frantically.

Franklin released a stream of epithets in her ear as she tightened around him, one hand tangling firm in the hair at the base of her neck as he began to move.

Each firm thrust drew a keen of divine pleasure from her, and Pamela’s legs soon wrapped tightly around his waist in an attempt to cleave him even closer to her. Her fingers curled so tightly into his shoulders that she was sure she would leave marks, but she hardly cared.

She was consumed with the feel of him inside her, every motion he made heightened her pleasure, and soon, Franklin’s tongue was tangling with hers to muffle her unfettered, shuddering moans. His hips pressed hers into the bed with every strong, purposeful motion of his hips.

Even as he worked on undoing her a second time, Franklin was undoing himself. It wasn’t long before his rhythm dissolved into ragged motions of his body against hers, grinding himself deeper and deeper. His breathing came ragged, and he clung to her hard enough to leave bruises, all the while murmuring filthy words of encouragement in her ear that, somehow, aroused her passions even further.

Pamela bucked against his every thrust, meeting his hungry undulations with her own, and all too soon, she found herself hurtling over the precipice again. She muffled her scream against his shoulder as her inner muscles contracted powerfully, milking Franklin’s orgasm from him with ease.

He followed her a few seconds later, groaning her name, long and low, as he emptied himself inside her in a series of long, hot spurts that made her shiver.

She closed her eyes as she attempted to catch her breath, parts of her body still trembling in sensation.

In that moment, she couldn’t believe it had taken her thirty full years to experience sex with a man like Franklin. She had been positive that she was the only one who could get herself off, and while it was pleasant, it was nothing to write home about.

She’d never been happier to be wrong.

Franklin shifted, and she unwound her arms from his neck, meaning to move out from beneath him. She gasped when he merely picked her up from the bed and moved them both up against the pillows, he was still inside her. Immediately, he looked down at her, his gaze concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

At his question, Pamela found a bit of her former indignation. “I’m not exactly tiny, Franklin. I doubt you could hurt me if you tried.”

In reply, he merely settled her against the headboard before resting his entire weight upon her - which served to drive his somehow still prominent erection so deep a shriek of shock escaped her. “Is that a challenge?” His blue eyes gleamed mischievously.

The young woman just stared at him as a body she was sure had been on the edge of exhausted responded very accordingly. Pamela had no idea what was coming over her, but already she wanted him again - and she was pretty sure she would continue to want him until she collapsed from exhaustion.

“It might be.” Her words earned her a wicked smile - and Pam found that she had absolutely no regrets.

**

It was around ten in the evening by the time they finally ventured from the bed to order food - or, at least, Franklin did. Pam was dozing, and very rightly so.

Franklin slipped from the mussed - and gloriously ruined - bedclothes. As he tugged his slacks on, he gazed down at Pamela’s sleeping - her hair tangled, her lips swollen with his kisses, and wondered, almost painfully, if he had more in him to give her.

She had turned him into a masochist as far as endurance was concerned. Franklin was very aware that he wasn’t half as young as he used to be, but being in bed with Pam made him forget his physical limitations - especially when she challenged him.

He always liked a challenge.

It hadn’t taken long for him to discover that she was woefully out of tune with her own body. It made him think that no man had ever shown her what proper pleasure was, and that raised his ire no insignificant amount. She seemed surprised every time he drove her to multiple orgasms, shocked when all he wanted to do was pleasure her and wanted nothing in return - and halfway between exasperated and anticipatory when he nudged her into another round.

And now she was taking a much-deserved break.

Sighing, Franklin ran a hand through sweat-damp hair. It had been a long, long time since he had wanted a woman so much - in fact, he wasn’t convinced he ever had wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Pamela. It was an interesting revelation, considering that they had only known each other for a matter of weeks and he didn’t consider himself an impulsive person.

But there was something about her...well, several things about her really. Despite how she’d run off when they were first introduced, she wasn’t intimidated by him. She wasn’t afraid to call his bluff and tell things like they were. She matched wits with him easily and didn’t let herself be cowed. She wasn’t looking for charity - she depended on no one but herself to get her through life, and that was a refreshing change from what he was used to.

And then there was her love for China.

It was a strange, ephemeral thing, and Franklin was sure there was more to it then Pamela was letting on, but he wouldn’t pry. She would tell him when she was ready, and not before. He had no issue with that.

In fact, he had an issue with very little where Pamela was concerned - and that, in and of itself, was a revelation for him.

Franklin’s entire persona was based on him having an issue with the world. Issue with his station, issue with the people that surrounded him - it was nice, for once, to simply be. Not even with Marlin was he as innately comfortable as he was with Pam - though a part of him knew he had to be insane to admit such a thing when, in reality, he barely knew her.

His brother and sister liked to tease him by saying there was no woman who was ever up to his standards. Even Alice had picked his brain in an attempt to understand what he looked for in a partner - but no one ever understood. Rather than someone who tried to fix him - who strived to make him better - Franklin preferred someone who accepted him just the way he was.

And Pamela Livingston did that pretty effortlessly.

He sank down onto the edge of the bed, running his fingers through a few stray strands of hair that had fallen over her face. “Pamela.” He murmured her name lowly, wary of startling her awake. “Pamela, are you awake?”

She made a soft, sleepy sound that made his lips quirk before her eyes fluttered open. “Barely.”

He chuckled. “Well don’t go to sleep just yet. I’m going to get food. Any preferences?”

Pamela stretched leisurely, yawning. “Do they have Redbull in China? And energy bars?”

Franklin smirked. “What on earth do you need more energy for? Planning on challenging me again, were you?”

She flushed darkly, burying her face in her pillow so her response came muffled. “God no. Not after what you did to me. I’ll be lucky if I can bloody walk tomorrow.”

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that was what he like to hear. “I just want to make sure I don’t sleep until the end of the century.”

“I see.” A smile still lingering on his lips, Franklin lowered his head to place an indulgent kiss against the nape of her neck. “I’ll be back then.”

Though he made to go, Franklin didn’t get very far before Pamela’s unexpected grasp on his wrist stopped him. “Franklin, wait.”

He glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “What is it? Are you alright?” She had abandoned the pillow, but her cheeks were still flushed a sweet shade of pink that he was quite partial to. “I’m fine...I just...can you stay a bit longer before you go?”

At that, he arched a brow in inquiry. “I’m coming back, Pamela. And rather quickly, I might add.”

“I know that.” She replied, her brows knitting together. “Just...stay. For just a minute.”

She was begging him.

Franklin had heard a great deal of her pleading in the last few hours, and he thought he’d never tire of it - but this was completely different. This time, what she wanted from him wasn’t something sexual, and he knew he’d be a fool if he didn’t oblige her. Without a word, he climbed over her to slip back into bed. Though she didn’t ask, he wound an arm around her waist and pulled her flush back against him.

A part of him expected she might struggle - be a little uncomfortable with such intimacy. But Pamela settled back against him without complaint, a soft sigh of contentment leaving her.

For a long moment, they just lie there, the silence comfortable between them. When Franklin finally took the impetus to speak, his tone was soft - cautious. “Pamela, are you sure you’re alright?”

She didn’t say anything for almost a full minute, and Franklin was worried that he’d angered her. But when she answered him, somehow, she managed to say what he least expected.

“Franklin, I want you to know that...this isn’t me. I mean...I’m not usually like...this.”

That was a very amorphous this, if he’d ever heard one.

“Meaning...you don’t usually like to cuddle after an afternoon of brisk activity?” Pamela turned over to look him in the eye - her scowl twitching mysteriously at the corners.

“Meaning I don’t usually jump into bed with men I don’t know very well.”

At that, Franklin couldn’t keep the laughter from bubbling out of his chest. “I’d say you know me very well by this point. Better than most people.”

Pamela’s green eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Why would I lie about that?” Franklin’s face screwed into an expression of displeasure. “I’m highly against lying in most cases - in almost all cases, actually. It gets me into trouble a lot.”

That much even she knew - his mouth was more often than not the source of tension between him and other people.

Pamela’s eyes, nonetheless, narrowed in suspicion. “Because you’re trying to be romantic.”

“Perish the thought.” Franklin groaned, his face adopting a look of horror. “Not romanticism. Not that.”

“Oh, stop it.” Pamela slapped his shoulder gently, unable to hide her smile this time. “Never mind. You wouldn’t know romance if it smacked you in the bloody face.”

“Pamela, you think I don’t know what kind of woman you are?”

She sat up with a wary gaze, clutching the sheet protectively to her breasts. Franklin found himself fighting the impulse to tug it down - that would almost certainly upset her, given the current circumstances. “And what kind of woman am I, Franklin?”

It was clear from the defense that suddenly sprang up around her that she expected insults, deprivation...nothing short of an all-out attack on her person.

“A careful one,” he answered, folding his arms behind his head as he met her gaze steadily from the pillow. “One who doesn’t give out her affections easily. Who doesn’t give of herself easily because she doesn’t feel like dealing with the judgment of others. One who takes the entire world on her shoulders simply because the struggle invigorates her.”

Pamela merely stared down at him for a long moment with wide eyes before she realized what she was doing and her scowl returned. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Franklin merely reached up to brush a thumb over her lips, soothing the hard lines from around her mouth. “Because, Pamela Livingston, you are more like me than you could possibly imagine.”

Franklin had planned to get food - and a few more supplies that they might need. He’d planned on taking advantage of a Pamela who needed him for as long as he possibly could.

But, naturally, the woman kept on surprising him.

In a smooth movement, she had shifted to straddle him - and despite the currently exhausted state of his body, Franklin felt himself stirring in his slacks in renewed interest.

By this point, it looked as if she had stopped caring what the sheet covered and what it didn’t. The bedcovers were pooled about her waist, exposing the loveliness of her breasts, her strong thighs, and everything else in between as she looked down at him with a curious perturbed expression on her face.

“I don’t think you know me half as well as you think you do, Darwell.” The softly whispered words had him straining to hear them, even as his hands rose to glide indulgently over the curve of her hips.

Franklin had a clever answer on the tip of his tongue, but it was lost when Pamela undid the button and zipper of his slacks. She didn’t bother undressing him, and it barely crossed his mind that they were going to ruin a perfectly good pair of trousers as she drew the length of his erection from the crevasse she’d created to stroke him firmly.

It appeared as if the ravishing woman had found the one way to render him absolutely speechless.

He watched, transfixed, as she lifted her hips before sinking down on him, enveloping him in blessed, clenching warmth so a low groan of obscene pleasure spilled from his lips.

And he didn’t say anything else for a very, very long time.

Chapter Ten

 

The next stop after Guangzhou was Hong Kong - which also happened to be the last city on their tour.

Franklin didn’t expect Pamela to marvelously open up and cleave to him just because they’d slept together and, true to form, she didn’t. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something softer about her - something more vulnerable and less defensive. Something less argumentative and more open.

On the train ride to Hong Kong, she leaned against him in their private car as she read a classic play on her tablet, and didn’t mind reaching across him to grab a bottle of water - when he reached for her to kiss her, she didn’t shy away - though she certainly wasn’t as flagrant as they had been on the plane.

It was the little things, Franklin told himself, that counted. After all, the end of their China trip wasn’t the end of everything. He had all the time in the world to woo Pamela, and he was prepared to put his heart into the endeavor - even if it took years.

Hong Kong, having been a British colony for almost a century, was a curious mixture of the west and the east. One of the most metropolitan cities they had been to, it also had the most varied landscape, and the most flagrant international presence. No sooner had they dropped their bags in their hotel room than he was off showing her some of his favorite sites. The view from Victoria’s Peak was immaculate, as always, and the ride across the bay on the Star Ferry, if short, was more than enough time for him to tell her all he knew about the city’s skyline.

They made a short visit to the WHO headquarters on the edge of the city and, though he didn’t speak Cantonese, he worked with a translator and took several notes that he intended to show to his brother back home. This, of course, would necessitate a trip to London. Franklin was sure it would make Marlin just as happy as it irked he himself.

But, for that moment, he vowed to simply enjoy his last two days with Pamela. She was as entranced with Hong Kong as she had been with the rest of the country, and couldn’t seem to decide where to look first. Franklin took her to a number of markets, they picked their way through several streets filled with carts and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and, as the sun was setting, he somehow got her to agree to a reservation in a posh restaurant with a breathtaking view of the bay spread out below them. From where they were, they could even see back to the mainland, and Franklin was reminded just how vast of a country China was.

“I had a lot of fun.” He was distracted from his reverie by Pamela’s almost shy statement and his gaze rose to her. That evening, she was wearing a deep blue dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and Franklin swallowed thickly. He had no idea how she’d feel about their being intimate when they got back to the hotel, but he knew bloody well how he felt about it.

“I’m glad. I hope that it was all you expected.”

“All that and more.” As she smiled, Pamela’s face took on a suddenly far-away expression - one he was sure he would have missed had he not been paying attention. As soon as it appeared, however, it had gone, and the young woman was reaching for her wine. “Franklin, what was your childhood like?”

The question caught him completely off guard. His childhood? Franklin was so used to being the center of media attention that he would have thought everyone in England already knew exactly how his childhood had gone. His parents had raised him with great gusto, despite being split up, and he had mostly gotten along with his siblings - at least until adulthood. If Pamela didn’t know, however, Franklin doubted that she wanted to hear about his polo matches and croquet lessons. She wouldn’t care what famous schools he had been to or what his credentials were.

No, she was looking for something different. “Well,” he began thoughtfully, taking a sip of his own wine, “I suppose it was different from a lot of young people in my position in that our mother took a very self-involved approach to raising us. There were no nannies, and only a few sitters, really - and only when she had to be away for long periods of time. My Father was always in the spotlight, of course. Still is. I didn’t see a lot of him then, but he’s a kind person. I think, deep down, he’s as fed up with his station as I am, but of course he doesn’t have the freedom to say so.”

Pamela seemed to take a moment to absorb this before she asked him another question. “And you have siblings, you say? At least a brother?”

“Half-brother.” Franklin corrected her succinctly, though, in all honesty, he had never thought of Russell as anything less than his brother, no matter how much the man could annoy him sometimes. “And a full-sister. I don’t see them as much as I ought to, but I think they’re far better at being titled than I am?”

Pamela chuckled, though her mirth didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stared down at her plate of food, toying with it with her fork for a moment before she seemed to come to a decision. When she spoke, her words were practiced - and oddly detached.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was very young. I barely even remember it.”

Franklin suddenly realized that he’d been very, very foolish. “Pamela…” His tone softened substantially, “I’m terribly sorry, I-”

“It’s alright. It happened a long time ago.” She replied, her smile forced. “But I never really had much of a proper family. I was put into foster care. Shuffled from home to home for a while. I finally settled down with a couple, but I think it was more for efficiency than anything else. They didn’t bother me much, and in return, I offered my obedience. It worked out - at least until I was old enough to fend for myself, anyway.” She took a single bite of the pasta she had ordered before setting her fork down and fixing him with a steady, unreadable gaze. “Franklin, I get the impression that you don’t like to spend much time with your family, and I’m not trying to judge you. I’m in no position to do that. But you know...it might not kill you to see them every once in a while. Especially when I’m sure they think the world of you.”

Franklin’s first impulse, of course, was to get defensive. There were a million retorts that rose to the tip of his tongue, each more brusque than the last. But then, he took in Pamela’s expression and looked at her - really looked at her. There was no condescension in her gaze. She wasn’t trying to tell him what to do or to Lord over him - heaven knew he had more than enough people in his life trying to take on that role.

She was just divulging herself to him.

And Franklin knew enough to know that, when it came to Pamela Livingston, there was no greater sacrifice.

“I’m...not sure what they think of me.” That much was true, and it caused the most genuine smile Pamela had worn the whole conversation.

“They ask after you, don’t they? They want you home.”

That gave Franklin a jolt. She was absolutely right. No matter how rotten he was to anyone in his family - how brusque or foul mouthed, they always forgave him. A large part of him had believed that this was out of obligation, but, deep down, he supposed he knew better. It was because they knew who he was and they accepted him - sometimes grudgingly, of course, but they did it.

Pamela had never had to worry about any of that. She was quite alone in the world.

Franklin knew better than to believe that Laura Beth, Janice and Rosario were truly her friends. If they were, they wouldn’t speak down to her the way they did; on top of that, Pamela, he imagined, must be a hard woman to truly befriend. She seldom let her defenses down, and he would be surprised if anyone truly knew why.

Hell, he didn’t even know...though, perhaps, he might be beginning to.

“Please tell me you’re not asking to meet my family.” He tempered the suddenly serious atmosphere between them with a jibe, as he always did. “Because I’m telling you, you’re going to regret it.”

Pamela merely made a face, reaching for her wine once more. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franklin. You’re not that good in bed.”

Perversely, her words went straight to the choicer bits of him. There she went again challenging him when she knew he would only rise to the bait. For Franklin, there was no other choice.

Raising his hand, he searched for the waiter. “You’re going to regret that.”

Pam flushed scarlet. “Franklin, we’re not even finished with our dinner!”

“That’s what takeaway is for, darling. We can eat later...right after I make you eat your words.”

He loved to watch her battle with her proprietary and sensual sides. It was a sight to behold.

Though Pam wasn’t one to be public about intimacy, there was no way she could stop him from nibbling and kissing at her neck while they were in the cab. Initially, she tried to brush him off, but eventually, she simply settled for squirming and panting as she grew increasingly more aroused. Franklin was contemplating how complacent she would continue to be if he slipped a hand up her skirt when they finally arrived back at their accommodations.

Once they were in the lobby, he pulled her into a small alcove to mold his mouth to hers before she could protest. It had been almost a full twelve hours since he had last kissed her, and now that he could, Franklin couldn’t think of anything else he would rather be doing.

Pamela, despite her initial reservations, was soon arching against him as she clung to his shoulders. She liked it when he toyed with her lower lip with his tongue and teeth, and by the time he pulled away, she was rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat. He loved to see her eyes like this - glazed over and cloudy with lust. He loved knowing that he was the man to put it there, and knowing that very shortly, he would be completely and totally wrapped in her .

All at once, the world exploded around them.

And it had nothing to do with lust.

The was a deafening roar and the entire building rocked on its foundations a moment before debris flew through the air, littering the lobby with bits of stone and wood. Another immense din of noise suffused the building and the ceiling cracked overhead.

Franklin watched the entire thing go down almost as if in a daze - as if it was a dream he was certain that he would wake up from.

It was Pamela’s scream that brought him back to the present, and the threatening rumble of the ceiling, which was looking ever more like a jigsaw puzzle as cracks zigzagged across the plaster. “Franklin!”

All hell had broken loose.

People were screaming and running, and already, some were wailing in pain. When another explosion came - loud and thunderous, Franklin finally took firm hold of Pamela’s wrist and jerked her from the alcove - a moment before a section of the ceiling caved in with a tremulous expulsion of dust and plaster.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. All around them, the hotel was falling apart.

It looked like the ceiling had caved in around the reception desk first, and Franklin was sickened to see the blood already leaking across the floor from the wreckage. When he looked up, he could see portions of the rooms above - furniture sliding sideways Helter Skelter to tumble through gaping holes to the next level - people screaming and scrabbling to catch their footing.

What the hell was this?

“Franklin move!” Pamela’s terrified voice came again, and the next thing he knew, he was shoved as a pile of marble and rock crumbled into the place where he’d been standing just moments before. Clouds of dust rose, blocking his view, and Franklin coughed as particles stung his eyes.

What the fucking hell…

It was at that moment that he realized that he’d been separated from Pamela and his heart jumped into his throat. He couldn’t see her- he couldn’t see anything. There was only debris and destruction, and a nightmare that had come to life. “Pamela!”

The building still rumbled ominously around him, and Franklin was sure it wouldn’t stay up for much longer. They had to get out - but where the hell had Pamela gotten to?

“Pamela!?” He shouted blindly into the dust. Though shock and awe had guided his actions for the past three minutes, now panic took route. He just had her - her hand had been in his mere seconds ago. “PAMELA!”

“I’m here!” Her voice came back thick with dust as she coughed, and Franklin nearly collapsed with relief, despite the chaos around him. “I’m over here, Franklin!”

He had no idea where she was, so all he could do was follow the sound of her voice. Blindly, he stepped through the remnants of the hotel lobby, doing his best not to fall over debris - over people - until, finally, through the gloom, he spotted the tell-tale gleam of Pamela’s long blonde hair. “Franklin, here! We have to help her!”

Almost immediately, he was stricken. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to get out of the building and take Pamela with him. It was selfish of him, he knew, but they didn’t have much time, and if he lost her because he’d hesitated...Franklin didn’t know what he would do. “Please!” When he reached her, Pam’s eyes pleaded with him as she tried desperately to clear the rocks and rubble that trapped a sobbing child. The little girl couldn’t be more than four or five, and her face was bloodied with a profusion of cuts. Her legs were caught beneath the rocks. The sight of Pamela trying to move the rocks tugged at Franklin’s heartstrings even as his rational mind screamed at him to run.

“Franklin, please...I can’t let her die.” Pamela’s voice was trembling, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. She had already saved him by shoving him out of the way of falling debris - but it looked like if he wanted to return the favor he would have to help her save this little girl first.

“Move.” He finally ordered, pushing her gently aside to bend and grasp at one of the large rocks. It was heavier than it looked, and he found that he was only able to move it by heaving with all of his strength. After several seconds of shoving additional rocks out of the way, the little girl’s legs were freed - though he could see, from one glance, that she would probably never use them again. “Take her!” He lifted the squalling child into his arms and passed her to Pam, who cradled her to her breast without hesitation.

Something above them cracked like a gunshot and the entire building groaned.

It was coming down. They’d run out of time. “Come on!” Franklin grabbed Pamela’s hand and tugged her through the hailstorm of objects falling from the damaged ceiling. Stone, furniture, desks and live electrical wires - it was if the entire world had it out for them, and Franklin could only pray as he yanked Pamela and her precious cargo out of harm’s way more times than he could count.

The exit was still miraculously clear, but it seemed a mile away. Then the distance halved, and then halved again. The doorway began to shudder and fold in on itself as Franklin reached it, shoving Pam through first.

But they didn’t stop running there.

Out on the streets of Hong Kong, people were screaming and pointing as the building began to collapse, floor by floor. Dust billowed out into the streets like clouds, following in their wake as they ran furiously uphill trying to escape the damage. The entire world had descended into chaos, and they were in the very center of it, praying - hoping - they would make it out alive.

They made it half a kilometer away before Franklin yanked Pamela inside an already crowded noodle shop -and not a moment too soon. The dust cloud blew past them, darkening the street and blotting out the sun.

And then, inexplicably, everything was silent.

 

**

Pam was still shaking.

She didn’t know if she would ever stop shaking.

She still didn’t know if she believed what had happened. Reports were pouring in from all over the city - there had been a terrorist attack in Hong Kong, and their hotel, the Ritz Carlton, had been one of the buildings hit the hardest.

But it wasn’t the only one. A mall in Victoria’s peak, the building that housed the restaurant where they’d had dinner - the IFC center - and the port had also been hit. As much as she followed the news, Pam had never actually been in a city where a terrorist attack had taken place - she found the entire experience somewhat surreal - just as much as she found it horrifying.

By the time the dust had finally settled outside the noodle shop, she and Franklin had been hiding there for a good two hours. A bevy of rescue vehicles were on the scene beginning to dig people out of the rubble that had been the five-story tall Ritz Carlton. The sirens on their street, however, were far from the only ones sounding. The entire city was in chaos, and everyone was wondering where the attacks had come from.

Once they found the emergency trucks, Pam and Franklin were immediately swarmed with workers. The blonde woman hadn’t realized until that moment that she was actually injured. A network of cuts and scrapes ran up her arms and a particularly bad gash on the back of her neck would require stitches.

Franklin had dislocated two of his fingers moving the rubble that had almost crushed the little girl, and he didn’t even notice until the paramedics pointed it out to him. He sat with surprising stoicism as they reset them for him, lost in his own world. The only time he ever spoke was when they tried to move Pamela into another truck. He snapped at those attending him that she wasn’t to leave his side so sharply that she herself jumped, shocked at his intensity.

As the little girl they had saved was whisked away from them the moment they ran into them, she had nothing else to concentrate on but the destruction around her. 

People were questioning her, but she didn’t really know how to answer. They had been heading up to their hotel room when the entire world had come apart - was there something else she was supposed to know? Something she had missed?

Eventually, they were shuffled along to the hospital - only to find the establishment was already packed to the brim with people whose needs were far greater than theirs. It was no question when they were asked if they would mind being transferred to a hospital off-island.

It was a long day. One of the longest Pamela had ever endured. Though she and Franklin said little to nothing to each other for what seemed like hours, the man never left her side. Pamela had never been and would never be a clinging woman, but she was willing to bet that, at that juncture, Franklin didn’t care. At certain times she caught him looking at her with a rather desperate expression, and she wondered what was running through his mind.

After almost an entire day in the hospital, they were confronted by the Police Bureau before they were discharged. By that point, Pamela was exhausted, and she doubted her ability to endure questioning through a translator. She was surprised when the detective questioning them spoke English.

They were asked, for the umpteenth time, what they’d been doing when the bombs went off.

Bombs.

It was like saying the words made it real, and Pamela was horrified all over again.

How they got out of the building, where they had taken shelter, if they had contacted anyone outside of Hong Kong to tell them what was going on. The questioning seemed to go on and on and on, until it seemed as if the words were actually running together.

They seemed interested - though that might have been a fairly tame way of putting it - in Franklin’s identity. When they found out who he was and that he worked with the WHO, they apologized profusely in the middle of the questioning, placing several calls so they could have their superiors speak to him.

At some point, Pamela fell silent and let Franklin do all the talking. She was tired. She was overwhelmed. All their things had been lost when the hotel collapsed, and all she wanted to do now was sleep. Maybe when she woke up, this entire awful nightmare would be over.

It was around midnight by the time they were finally released from the hospital, and Franklin booked rooms at the first hotel they could find - regardless of the luxury of the accommodations. Pamela all but crawled into the room before collapsing on the bed, every part of her body aching.

To her consternation, however, she didn’t immediately fall asleep. Her mind was too full of the things that had happened that day. All the things they had done and the places they’d gone seemed to pale in comparison to the chaos that had come after. Pam kept seeing the hotel coming down around them, all the people screaming, running and dying…. the little girl who she could only hope had survived...then she slow realization that they weren’t the only ones who had suffered.

“Pamela.” Franklin’s voice was slightly hoarse from talking. When he spoke her name, she rolled over onto her side, too exhausted to do more than look up at him. “Detective Wen wants us on the first plane back to England tomorrow.”

She supposed that she wasn’t surprised. Pam wouldn’t be surprised if all the expats in the country were being evacuated - if it was, indeed, a terrorist attack that had taken place. She merely nodded, covering her face with her hands. They were sore and stiff from all the cuts and abrasions, and there was an ache at the base of her neck where the feeling was coming back in the wake of the stitches she’d been given.

“Pamela, I’m sorry.”

The bed dipped beside her and Pam dropped her hands to see Franklin’s hunched back as he settled on the edge of the mattress. His expression was somber, only deepened by the clear tiredness etched into his features.

Slowly, Pam pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

But Franklin was just shaking his head. “When the attack first started I just bloody stood there. I stood there and let it happen.”

Pam’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped in shock. “How the bloody hell were you supposed to stop a building from blowing up?”

“That’s not what I mean.” He returned sharply, his tone making her flinch slightly. “I’m talking about you. Maybe if I had reacted quicker, I could have gotten you out of there.”

Pamela’s mouth snapped shut as her cheeks flushed. “Don’t start that, Franklin.” Her voice held an edge of warning. “I’m not some damsel in distress. You saved that girl and we both got out of there. That’s more than enough. We’re both going home and we’re both alive.”

It was one thing for the words to come out of her mouth, and another entirely for Pamela to keep herself from reliving their frightening experience over and over again. She found that she suddenly had a new respect for people who went through this every day - the horror, the pain and the death.

She couldn’t imagine what the Hong Kong government must be going through now. Four different sites attacked…

As she recalled them in her mind for what must have been the umpteenth time that they had all been major tourist sites, all so close to where they’d been…

But not just close.

Pam realized, with a sickening feeling in her gut, that the sites were places they’d visited. The very same places Franklin had taken her when their day had been carefree and pleasant. Victoria’s peak, the IFC building, the pier...and they’d been staying at the hotel.

Could all of that really be a coincidence?

“I... I need to go to the restroom.” She quickly rose from the bed and made her way to the backroom before closing and locking the door behind her. The moment she had, she grabbed for the edge of the sink and collapsed on the toilet seat, shaking as violently as she had when she’d spoken to the authorities.

The attacks had happened at all of the same places they’d been to. Everywhere Franklin went, it was as if people knew him. They greeted him by name and he was given the VIP treatment. Was it so far of a stretch that someone had known this? Had counted on it?

Though Pamela knew that Franklin wasn’t a celebrity of the entertainment world, he damn well seemed to be when it came to charitable giving - he and his entire family. To be working with the WHO...it was no wonder she had been impressed by that particular feat. It was bloody impressive! The man had to have incredible influence in the diplomatic world, and yet he was incredibly blasé about it.

It was a dangerous attitude, really.

One that could be taken advantage of by any number of dangerous people when you really thought about it.

For a moment, Pamela wondered if she was just being a little bit far-fetched. Did she really think that people were out to get Franklin? The man who wanted anything but the fame and title he’d been born into?

Yes. Yes, she did.

In fact, it made even more sense that they’d target Franklin because he probably thought no one would be out to get him.

The realization was a little overwhelming, and Pamela hung her head in her hands if her mind whirled.

She’d so enjoyed her last few weeks with Franklin that she had almost forgotten that, first and foremost: he was a rich man. Part of the British gentry. A man that belonged to the type she could never, ever date because her world was so drastically different. How on earth could she have let that slip her mind? Even for a second?

For God’s sake, the man had shelled out how much money so that she could even go on this holiday. He paid for everything, from their food to their transportation to all the shopping she did. He was everything she had ever thought she couldn’t have -  couldn’t possibly mesh with.

And now it was quite obvious that someone was trying to kill him.

Pamela was suddenly very, very frightened. The problem was: she didn’t know if that fear was for Franklin or for herself.

She, who had never had to deal with anything more overwhelming than finding her next temp job was suddenly faced with the very real prospect of danger for a man she…

Well, if Pamela were honest to herself, she wasn’t quite certain how she felt about Franklin. She enjoyed his company, she certainly enjoyed their chemistry in bed together, but now, her feelings of panic were very quickly overriding anything that might have been called affection.

It had been a very, very long time since Pamela had been faced with a situation in which she didn’t know what to do. Now, she found herself struggling to breathe - struggling to come to terms with the path she had chosen. She let Franklin bring her here. Willingly traveled with him - and all the while, she had never giving what she was doing proper thought.

She needed to tell Franklin.

She couldn’t believe that the authorities hadn’t stumbled upon this particular hypothesis themselves. After all the time they’d spent talking to them, they had to see the conjunctions.

She burst from the bathroom with such intensity that the door slammed against the opposite wall, making both Franklin and her jump - but Pam recovered quickly. “Franklin, I think someone is trying to kill you.”

At her blurted proclamation, the man just stared at her for a long moment before the corners of his mouth twitched the slightest bit.

“Never expected you to be one for near-death humor, Pamela. You continue to surprise me.”

“It’s not a joke, Franklin.” She retorted almost immediately, still silhouetted in the bathroom doorway. “Tell me you didn’t notice that all of the sites attacked were places we had been! Right after we went there! That can’t be a coincidence!”

Franklin sighed, running a hand through his hair before he seemed to consider her carefully. “Pamela,” When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. “You do realize that there were also a number of other people there. They chose well-known tourist spots. Everyone visits tourist spots. Besides,” he went on, before she had a chance to argue, “Who the hell would want to target me? I happen to have a few drops of noble British blood in my veins. That’s all.”

Pamela stared at him incredulously.

A few drops.

He didn’t get it at all, did he? “Franklin, there’s far more to you than just having a few drops of noble British blood in your veins. You work with the WHO! And not only that, they know you by name. If they know you, who’s to say that there aren’t terrorist organizations that do too!”

All of this made perfect sense to her. Why couldn’t it to him?

“Pamela, the people who did this were trying to inspire shock and terror in an entire country. Why would they hit four spots and kill millions of people for an assassination attempt on a single person? A single person that isn’t even worth their chasing!” Now Franklin’s voice had hardened a bit. “Look, I understand you’re tired. We’ve had a long day. A horrifying day, but that’s not a reason to jump to conclusions. Inspector Wen, along with every other government official they’ve got on hand, is working on it. And, like you said, we’re going home. You just need to get some rest.”

She wanted to yell at him - to argue, like they were so prone to do around one another -  but Pamela found that she didn’t have the strength. She was just too damned tired. Too overwhelmed.

Something was awfully, awfully wrong with Franklin’s underestimation of his own importance. In the beginning, it had been exactly what drew her to him, but now, Pam simply found herself frustrated that he couldn’t seem to see why people would be attacking him.

And, by default, attacking her.

Without answering him, she merely rounded the bed to the other side and climbed in, sinking into the mattress. Franklin turned out the light, and for a long, long time, they merely lay in silence, both still awake and contemplative.

When a strong arm wrapped around her waist to pull her close, Pam didn’t protest. There wouldn’t be any point. Instead, she merely closed her eyes, and prayed for sleep to take away the disquiet that had begun to stir inside her.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

“Marlin!”

He had been half asleep, and when his sister shouted his name, Marlin nearly hit the roof. His head jerked upright where he had been nodding over his bowl of oatmeal to see Laura Beth standing before him, her expression somewhat alarmed.

No, strike that, very alarmed.

Marlin had been spending drunk nights at his sister’s apartment ever since he had arrived in town, and never had she been so wrapped up in an issue that she neglected to put clothes on before running out of the bedroom. Wincing, he placed a hand over his eyes.

“Beth, you need to put some clothes on.”

“Fuck my clothes, look at this!” She sauntered over to him still wearing only her itty-bitty panties and a camisole before shoving a paper under his nose. Marlin blinked sleep from his eyes, setting his oatmeal aside before he looked at the headline.

DEATH TOLL FROM TERROR ATTACK IN HONG KONG RISES INTO THE HUNDREDS

Marlin looked from his wide-eyed sister to the paper and back to his sister again. “Shitty, if anything ever has been, yeah. But is that any reason for you to come screeching into the kitchen at this hour when I’ve got a fucking awful hangover?”

“Pam’s in Hong Kong!” Laura Beth burst, her hands clenched tightly in front of her in a surprising display of worry. “I haven’t heard from her since she left! What if something happened to her?”

Marlin arched a brow. Not that he had ever insulted his sister by admitting such a thing to her face, but she didn’t treat Pamela Livingston much like a friend - even if she insisted that they were. But then, Laura had always had little tact when it came to such things. Marlin wouldn’t color himself very surprised if he discovered that she was only worried about Pam because she was with Franklin Darwell. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more positive he was that was the case.

In any event, that was far more like the Laura he knew.

“Darwell’s fine.” He replied with a small, knowing smile. “Don’t need to worry about him, Beth. He’s on his way back to England as we speak. Him and every other expat - the Chinese will be worrying more about how this made their security look than the actual death toll - as long as none of those deaths were prominent foreigners.”

He happened to know a little about foreign politics from his job, but he should have known that Laura Beth wouldn’t listen to fact. She was far more interested in speculation and danger.

“But what if something happens to the plane?”

With a sigh, Marlin pushed the paper aside, comfortably folding his hands behind his head as he eyed her. “Well, if it does, you’ll have wished it on them.”

In response, his sister merely threw a cushion at his head, which he dodged easily. “You’re so fucking immature, Marlin! Grow up.”

As she was stomping back to her bedroom, it occurred to him that being called immature by the queen of immaturity wasn’t much of an insult. He went back to his oatmeal, wondering when, indeed, Franklin would be home. He hadn’t heard from him after the explosions in Hong Kong - but he was certain Britain would have erupted in chaos if one of their favorite sons had died.

Which meant that he still had work to do.

**

Franklin had been prepared for many things when he returned home, and considering that, he had slept for almost the entire trip. Every plane to England out of Hong Kong had been booked for the next four days, and so he had been forced to take his brother’s private jet.

He should have assumed the man would be there waiting for him by the time he returned.

Pamela, for her part, had been oddly silent since they boarded the plane. Every time Franklin saw the stitches lacing their way across the back of her neck, he felt incredibly guilty - and at the same time, a little abashed.

She thought people were trying to kill him? Who the bloody hell was he? If someone were going to go after a Darwell, it would be his father or his brother, without question! Perhaps even his sister-in-law. She did, after all, run a massively successful international clothing line. Outside of Britain, Franklin was pretty sure almost no one knew he existed - and that was the way he liked it.

Pamela wasn’t so easily convinced, but he was certain he could bring her around. Once they got back to Britain and she saw they weren’t being stalked around corners by faceless assassins, he was certain she’d come to her senses.

But first, they had to get back to Britain - and that meant going through the airport.

Where Russell was waiting for him.

Franklin caught sight of the younger man when they were passing through the baggage claim. It was impossible not to spot him. Russell was definitely the taller and more handsome of the Darwell brothers. He stuck out like a sore thumb in most places, and the airport was no exception. Of course, his position wasn’t helped by the fact that he was surrounded by a gaggle of reporters.

Franklin almost turned around to get back on the plane.

When he stopped, staring at the sight before him in abject horror, Pamela almost ran into him. “Franklin!” She exclaimed in surprise, before inevitably attempting to peer over his shoulder. “What is it?”

After almost being killed, having a near row with a woman he was rapidly developing feelings for and then traveling across the world for eighteen hours, the last thing Franklin wanted was to explain his flight across the world to his brother - and that was including, but not limited to, Pamela’s role in it.

Franklin immediately turned to her with what he hoped was an earnest smile. “Pamela, darling, there’s a car waiting outside. Lane seven. If you’ll just go out the side door there,” he said, pointed away from the chaos, “and wait for me, I’ll be just a moment.”

Luckily for him, she was too tired to argue.

As he watched her trudge away, guilt tugged at him once more. He hadn’t meant to invalidate her suspicions when he spoke to her. It was simply that what she proposed was so unbelievably far-fetched that he had to believe it was a product of an overwrought imagination in the wake of immense peril.

Franklin took a moment to steel himself before he turned back to his brother, his glare deadly. He trudged into the crowd of reporters, ignoring each and every one of their questions until he reached Russell, who stared down at him with an unreadable expression. “How was your flight?”

Franklin merely scowled. “Why are you all the way in London? Aren’t you supposed to be in LA?”

Russell’s scowl matched his own. “You think I’m going to stay in LA after the city you were in got BOMBED?”

“How the hell did you know that I was in Hong Kong?”

“Boys, boys...can we not fight in front of the cameras?”

When Alice popped her head out from behind a reporter, Franklin’s mouth fell open. She told on him? What was he, a child?

“Don’t, Franklin!” She spoke before he could, stepping forward to take his arm and drag him away from the crowd of reporters with Russell in tow. “Over here. Come on.” He could hardly protest - not when a tirade would probably earn him a front page on ever paper in Britain at this point.

Alice dragged him off towards one of the lounges - it was no problem getting in. People were practically falling over themselves to let them in, but not to take advantage of the free food and relaxation.

Alice didn’t let him go until they had found a quiet corner in the first-class lounge and he was forced into a seat across from his brother. “Franklin,” Russell began carefully, “You know I don’t care where you go. It’s your life. But a bloody terrorist attack? Did you really think Alice wouldn’t tell me about that?”

“Well,” Franklin glared at his sister-in-law, who looked completely unrepentant. “I had hoped not.”

“Franklin this is your life we’re talking about. If we lost you…” Alice’s crestfallen expression- the way her lower lip trembled when she spoke - it was enough to bring his guilt rushing back. Perhaps this was the reason his brother had gotten married - so he could have someone to reign his elder brother in. “I’m not trying to spite you. I was just worried...and it looks like my worry was justified.”

Franklin had forgotten that he probably looked a fright. He had two fingers casted, hosted a bevy of cuts and bruises, and was sure that his dreams would be far from pleasant for the next few weeks.

He took a deep breath. Snideness would only do him a disservice here. It was one thing to argue with Russell, but his brother had brought Alice along for a reason. It was much harder to argue with someone he related with on an entirely different level.

“I appreciate your concern, Alice. Really, I do. But I’m fine. It was nothing more than a few minor injuries-”

“I’ve spoken with Inspector Wen.” At Russell’s statement, any hope Franklin had of lessening the blow flew out the window. Inspector Wen didn’t have the wherewithal to hide details from people; and the Hong Kong authorities, unlike Franklin himself, had proven themselves to be intimidated by his brother before. “He said you were in the Ritz Carlton when it collapsed.”

Apparently, Alice hadn’t heard the news, as the words had her paling so much Franklin worried she might be sick.

“You were in the hotel?” She finally managed faintly. “Jesus Christ, Franklin, you could have died.”

“I noticed.” He returned flatly, wondering how much Wen had told them. If it was just that Franklin was in the hotel, that much he could accept. The last thing that he needed was them trying to tell him that someone was after him like Pamela. “But I’m fine. It was awful what happened.” He shut his eyes tight for a moment, the memory making his words thick in his throat. “More than awful. I want to go back as soon as I can to help.”

“Like bloody hell you are,” Russell said, his expression darkening. “You barely got out with your life the first time!”

“That was a fluke, Russell.” Franklin returned with equal fierceness. “And, in any event, you were just telling me that you didn’t care where I went.”

“As long as you’re not putting your life on the line!”

“Russell.”

At his wife’s hand on his shoulder, the younger man looked up at her to find her expression carefully chiding. “Franklin is a grown man. He can do as he wishes...and it’s fruitless to turn it into a huge argument - at least, here, it is.” She gestured to the lounge around them before turning to Franklin. “Franklin, please, just promise us that you’ll wait a while - until most of the controversy blows over? I highly doubt they’re letting people back into the country at this point anyway. Just...don’t go gallivanting off again without telling people where you’re going. Is that too much to ask?”

Alice didn’t realize how much she was asking. Franklin reveled in his privacy. He held it above everything, and he didn’t want to trumpet to everyone he knew every time he decided to travel. It was a headache.

But then again, so was the prospect of dealing with his brother and his wife every time he came home.

Franklin looked from Russell to Alice and then back again. They were only going to let him leave if he agreed, and they would almost certainly hold him to it.

Franklin was too exhausted to fight just now - and by this point, he would be surprised if Pamela hadn’t left him.

“Fine.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “I’ll tell someone. Does that make you happy?”

His tone only deepened his brother’s scowl, even as Alice beamed. “Yes. That’s all I wanted.” When she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight, Franklin couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth. He patted her back quickly before sliding from her embrace.

“Now, if you’re done interrogating me, I’d like to get home and sleep.”

“I take it you don’t mean your apartment in London.” Russell returned, raising a brow sardonically.

“God no.” Franklin made a face. “The media would be all over me. I’m going back to Leeds for a while.”

“You’ve been in Leeds for half the year at this point.” Alice eyed him with no small amount of suspicion. “What’s going on up there?”

“Peace and quiet.” He snapped - probably a bit too sharply for his own good. “I’ll call you later.”

With that, he left the lounge, shoving his way through the reporters that had regrouped at the entrance and hoping that Pamela hadn’t left without him.

Franklin soon found that he hardly need have worried. The car was still idling at the curb and Pamela was stretched out across the back seat, fast asleep. At the sight of her, all of the tension seeped out of him. Carefully, Franklin slid into the car, raising Pamela’s head gingerly - careful of her injury. She barely stirred as he settled her on his lap, merely shifting into his warmth.

Franklin’s chest clenched tightly - almost uncomfortably.

He hadn’t told Russell about her - he hadn’t even told Alice. As an incredibly private person, Franklin was ill at ease to tell anyone of his personal relationships. As things stood, only Alice knew of Marlin, and Marlin certainly hadn’t met any of his family.

But Franklin had always been this way - loathed to combine his personal and private life for fear that he would make some irrevocable mistake.

Now, for the first time, he felt a bit remiss in hiding Pamela from his family. She wasn’t trying to rope him into marriage and she certainly didn’t want his money -which meant she had no ulterior motives as far as he could see...and yet he was treating her like his dirty little secret.

Frowning, he ran the thumb of his uninjured hand along her jaw line before directing the car to Leeds, three hours away. He had no idea where Pamela lived, so if she didn’t wake, he planned on letting her sleep in the cabin for a while and taking advantage of every possible moment he had with her before reality came crashing back down on them.

Or, more realistically, on him.

**

 

When Pamela awoke, she was groggy. As she was new to jetlag, she almost rolled over and went back to sleep, content in the fact that she was safe and sound in her apartment.

Only to realize that she wasn’t, in fact, in her apartment. She had no idea where she was, other than the fact that there was a bed and she was in it.

Despite her fatigue, Pam bolted upright almost immediately to gaze at her surroundings. It was immediately apparent that she was in some sort of cabin - the rough wooden walls were enough to tell her that. The spacious bedroom surrounded her, filled with Spartan furniture and more than a few items of clothing that she recognized.

More than anything else, however, the scent was familiar. Clean, fresh and masculine...after a few weeks of traveling with him, it was easy to identify Franklin’s scent.

She scanned the room for him quickly, but found that she was completely alone - and still completely dressed. On that note, Pam didn’t know whether to be happy or a bit put out.

Then, all at once, the events of the past forty-eight hours came rushing back to her.

Hong Kong, the attacks, their trip back...and her lover’s refusal to see what was right in front of his bloody face.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Pamela stood, intent on finding Franklin and getting him to see reason. Her hand was on the knob of the bedroom door when she heard hushed voices issuing from beyond.

“So, she’s still sleeping?” It was Marlin. She’d met the man enough that his voice was almost as familiar as his sister’s.

“Jetlag. I’d be sleeping with her if you hadn’t barged up here the moment I got back.”

“Come on, Frank.” Marlin groaned. “You left me here with my sister. Did you really think that was going to go well?”

Franklin’s low chuckle ensued. “Well, you’ve been dealing with her your entire life, so I figured you’d be able to handle yourself.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Marlin’s tone suddenly turned from teasing to serious. “Frank...all that crap on you...your fingers...what happened?”

Pamela immediately tensed, her ear pressed to the door. What the hell was Franklin going to tell him? She knew that she sure as hell wouldn’t be telling anyone she knew that she was in the midst of a terror attack. Even people who she was barely acquainted with would lose their minds and that was attention she just didn’t need.

“Well, there was a bit of trouble in Hong Kong...I’m sure you heard.” Franklin spoke only with extreme reluctance. “It was hard to get around and we had a bit of an... accident.”

Well, that was one way of putting it.

“Is Pam ok?”

She was surprised at the concern in Marlin’s voice. Though he had never been as catty with her as his sister, she had never assumed that he had any more friendly inclination towards her.

“She’s fine. A bit shocked, but fine.” Franklin seemed to hesitate before going on. “She...she seems to think that someone’s after me.”

There was a long silence before Marlin finally answered. “What makes her think that?”

“I... I’m not sure.” Franklin finally returned, making Pamela’s eyes widen. “Seems a bit far-fetched to me...but you know that sometimes...shock can make a person...speculate.”

Shock.

He was still on about shock?

Pam found herself growing suddenly angry as her cheeks flushed. Why was it so hard for him to take her opinion seriously? After all, this was their lives on the line...her life…

All at once, the uncertainty she’d felt in the bathroom of their hotel room in Hong Kong came rushing back.

She shouldn’t be here.

If a man as important as Franklin Darwell wasn’t willing to admit that he was worth gunning for, then how on earth was she supposed to be safe around him?

Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was a sense of self-preservation, but, all at once, Pam couldn’t stand the thought that Franklin was on the other side of the door she faced. As long as she was close to him, she was in danger - and the fact that he refused to acknowledge that danger only confused her more.

Moving her hand to the knob once more, Pamela turned it, surprising Marlin and Frank when she appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

Franklin leapt out of his seat at once and Pam was angry at how quickly her body reacted. He was freshly showered and had obviously gotten little sleep from the circles under his eyes. Was that because of her?

“Pamela...I’m…” He looked from Marlin, who appeared entirely too smug for his own good, to her and back. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you home. Marlin’s just given me your address, but I thought we could-”

“Good.” She cut him off before he could say anything to make her lose her resolve. “I’d like to leave then.”

For what seemed like an eternity, a harsh silence reigned over the kitchen. Pam turned to Marlin. “Marlin, take me home.” Her tone softened a notch and her voice trembled. “Please.”

She needed to get away from him - from him, who he was, and all she had experienced, the good and the bad. Slowly, Marlin rose from the table running a hand through his dark hair. “Ok, Pam. Fine. If you’re sure.”

She couldn’t look at Franklin. Not now, when she felt the slightest bit of sympathy from him would be enough to get her to stay. “I’m sure.”

Marlin sighed, glancing at Franklin. “Well...I guess I’ll be back, then. You should get some rest then.”

When he turned to leave, Pam grabbed her bag from a table near the bedroom door and followed him quickly. When Franklin made to catch her hand, she dodged him, breaking into a jog as she fled after Marlin into the early evening air.

 

The next week was a series of sleepwalking through old routines for Pamela. Though she had only been gone for two weeks, it seemed like a lifetime. Getting back to her temp job seemed so far away from everything she’d seen in China - from the temples, the street markets and the amazing people she’d met.

Pamela had to force herself back to earth when her head was floating in the clouds. She had to remind herself that the entire reason they had come back early was because of what had happened in Hong Kong, and that, most certainly, hadn’t been the best way to end the trip.

She sat in the office, drumming her pen nonsensically against the top of her desk and wondering what the man was doing now. Since she’d left him two days ago, he hadn’t attempted to contact her once. Not, Pamela quickly told herself, that she’d expected him to. Franklin Darwell didn’t seem like the type of man to chase after women, and anyway, she didn’t want him chasing after her.

She wanted to be alone - far from his influence and the danger that accompanied him.

Still, now that she was at arm’s length, Pam found it hard to focus on her work. She flubbed a few of the transcripts she was supposed to be working on, which resulted at Stanley yelling at her and her supervisor shooting her furtive looks of disapproval. She finally ended up leaving early to return home and collapse on her bed.

Pam supposed that, in part, this was normal. She’d had a near death experience, so she was confused. She was lucky her brain hadn’t been scrambled in its entirety.

As she lay on her stomach, her gaze fell on the picture on her bedside table, and, for a long moment, all she could do was stare at it - stare at the smiling face that was her years and years ago, before she had to worry about being an adult, how complicated men were, or how choosing her job would define her life in ways she had never imagined. And next to her…

Jesus, how could she have forgotten. They left China in such a chaotic rush that she hadn’t even had time to recall why she’d been so eager to go there in the first place. For the culture, certainly. To see the unknown she had always pictured in her mind…

But she had also gone for him.

Straightening, Pamela leaned over the mattress and picked up the picture frame with the utmost care, her fingers brushing over the image in the frame.

 

What on earth had she really thought to do? Search every inch of Chinese soil until she found him? That was impossible...and she had known that she couldn’t even begin such an undertaking without telling Franklin.

And she hadn’t revealed anything to him. How could she? They’d only known one another for a matter of weeks and her history was something she rarely revealed to people that she had known for years. Not even Laura Beth knew about...him.

But as she had no one to speak to on the subject, Pam didn’t have anyone with which to share her shame. She had been in China - finally - and she hadn’t looked for him at all. She had been so wrapped up in Franklin Darwell - in her adventure - that she had only thought about her other reason for being there once or twice during the entire trip.

How could she be so selfish?

Sighing, Pam hugged the picture to her chest before collapsing on the bed once more. If she had a stable lifestyle, she might be able to take a few days off to figure out how she felt about this...what was the best way to proceed with Franklin. Pam was living paycheck to paycheck, and no time was that more apparent than in the wake of her lavish vacation.

She had never allowed herself to indulge before because she had been worried that she would grow too used to the finer things in life. That she would crave them, and that she’d never go back to the way she lived before. She was already trying to subsist on a shoestring budget. The last thing she needed was to acquire a taste for luxury goods.

But she hadn’t. Having nice things didn’t equate to needing them. Pam hadn’t even been concerned when they lost all of their things in the hotel. All she cared about was coming out in one piece.

She still wasn’t sure she had, sometimes.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to try to think of other things. How early she had to be in the office the next day, how she was supposed to leave her office for her new job in a short two weeks...but, try as she might, Pam couldn’t stop Franklin from popping up in the forefront of her mind.

It had only been two days, but she missed him.

She only wished that her trepidation weren’t five times stronger than the absence of his presence.

**

Franklin wasn’t pleased.

Not at all.

He sat in the back seat of the car that was currently taking both Marlin and himself to London for the visit Marlin had so looked forward to, and it had been an entire four days since Pamela left his cabin in an obviously upset huff.

It had taken Marlin an entire day to get back in his good graces, and even now, Franklin was contemplating whether or not he simply wanted to toss the man out of the car. He hadn’t even let him try to convince her to stay, and now that she had gone, Franklin wasn’t sure how to go about persuading her to come back.

“Would you stop looking at me like you’re going to kill me?” Marlin arched a brow at his intense stare, completely unruffled. “I said I was sorry and I meant it. How was I supposed to know you two were having a lover’s spat?”

“We weren’t fighting,” Franklin was quick to correct him. “I was trying to convince her that no one is after my head. No one would waste their time.”

“Yeah, it’s not like you’re a super-rich British pseudo-royal or anything. No one would ever want to get their hands on you.”

Franklin’s glare returned full force. “You’re not helping, Marlin.”

“I’m not trying to help.” The dark-haired man eyed him with equal intensity. “Ever think she might have a point? You like to carry on like you’re no one special, Frank, but you know, you kind of are.”

“Oh, come off it, Marlin.” Franklin’s words were all but snarled, but he cared little. He was in a bad mood, and as Marlin was available, he was the one who was going to get the brunt of his anger. “The attack was an attack on an entire city, not a single person. Hundreds of people died. We are not going to make this about me.”

“Not trying to make it about you.” Marlin’s voice was surprisingly calm when he replied. “Just wondering if you’re even going to try to see things her way if you’re going to try to get her back.”

“Who says I’m going to try to get her back?” Franklin snapped impulsively, almost immediately regretting his words. If Marlin was loyal enough to her to take her away from him when Franklin wasn’t ready for it, would he tell her what he said now?

He hardly wanted to think about it.

This, he told himself, was ridiculous. She was one woman. One wonderfully intriguing, alluring, independent woman, but a single woman nonetheless. Why on earth did he feel like such a hopeless lummox simply for stating his opinions? Franklin had been doing so his entire life with little to no regard for how people felt about it.

Why the change in heart now?

“You look like you’re about to have violent diarrhea all over the seat.” At this particular comment, Franklin chucked his wallet at Marlin’s head as the American grinned. “That smitten, are you?”

“You know I only agreed to come to London with you on the condition that you actually pretend to be apologetic,” Franklin fired back, changing the subject abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about Pamela. Not with you, and not with anyone else.”

“Alright, alright.” Marlin held up his hands defensively as he settled back against the seat of the car, eyeing Franklin as though he still had a veritable mountain of things to say. Franklin didn’t much want to hear what anyone had to say at this point. He’d had five calls from Detective Wen in the past week and at least four from his own family.

Lord knew he didn’t need to deal with what they thought. He was already struggling against his anger at Alice for having told Russell, the last person he would have wanted to know about his plight. It wasn’t her fault. She had simply been worried about him - but that didn’t change the fact that his first impulse was to be angry.

He felt like his privacy had been invaded - and atop that, he felt like a horrible cad for giving two whits about his privacy when an entire country was still reeling from a terrorist attack - one of the countries that held a very hard to acquire piece of his heart. 

Franklin was absorbed in his thoughts the entire way to London, barely noticing the curious looks that Marlin cast his way from time to time. He realized, of course, that he was being a complete and total twat to one of the only men he had ever called his friend, but Franklin could hardly recall going through a series of more tumultuous emotions. For some reason, when he was with Pamela, he had opened up somehow - felt as if he could weather the world a bit easier, considering that it was hard for him to talk to people.

It had always been hard for him to talk to people, really. But with Pamela around he had been almost pleasant. He laughed more - he smiled more. Franklin didn’t know if that was because her wonder at being in China was contagious or if he was more comfortable around her, but he felt as if all the stress of simply being who he was had somehow melted away.

And now he had to contend with the idea that maybe it had just been a brief holiday from his life as it was.

Franklin didn’t, and had never liked the idea of a woman running roughshod over him, and the fact that Pamela assaulted his thoughts so intensely made him vastly uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, in fact, that he wondered why the bloody hell he was headed into London with Marlin on a trip that was supposed to be enjoyable. He didn’t enjoy London as it was, but he abhorred people who didn’t keep their promises even more, so, here he was.

Present and miserable.

At the edge of the city, his phone buzzed in his pocket and Franklin winced. He really didn’t want to see who it was, but considering he was considered a witness in an ongoing international investigation, it would probably be prudent to answer.

So, he did.

He was surprised when his mother spoke the moment he picked up the line. “Franklin? Are you coming to London?”

He repressed a groan. Who the hell had mentioned to her that he was coming to London? “The car company told me they sent you a driver this morning.” The news made him relax slightly. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone else stabbing him in the back. “You will stop by the manor, won’t you? It’s been so long?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

For once, Franklin didn’t only want to avoid his family for his own sake -he knew he was foul company just now, and the fouler he was, the more it upset his mother. “Mum, I don’t know if today is a good day.”

“Tomorrow then?” She came back just as swiftly as he could come up with an excuse. “Just for an hour or so. I only want to see you.”

What the hell kind of son would he be if he refused his mother a simple request like that? A piss poor one - and that was an understatement. Despite the fact that the woman often meddled in his business and tried to steer him in directions he wasn’t fond of, she was still his mother, and he knew she cared deeply.

So, he couldn’t be a complete arse.

“Alright, mother. Tomorrow.”

“Thank you, darling. See you then.” Thankfully, Marlin had the sense not to say anything about what he’d overheard. Their arrival into the city seemed to bolster the American’s spirits and, in short order, he was almost like Pamela, trying to look in every direction at once. He had stated in Leeds that he wanted Franklin to take him somewhere to pick up women, but the reality of the matter was that Franklin tended to avoid such places. In London, the media were rabid, and he knew he would never hear the end of it if his family members saw him lingering in places of ill repute.

But he couldn’t very well leave Marlin to languish by himself. When he made a fool of himself, as he undoubtedly would, Franklin would have to be there to pick up the pieces.

But that didn’t mean he had to look forward to this damnable outing. Not when he has so much to be bloody upset over.

 

In the end, it wasn’t half as bad as he feared. Of course, the worst part of Franklin’s day was getting shuffled from bar to bar and being swarmed by women who recognized him, all asking for a drink or a chat. Franklin, directed them all towards Marlin, sometimes with an air of clear animosity that sent them scurrying.

He couldn’t help it. Most of the time he wasn’t too keen on getting staked out, and now, with everything he had on his mind, he was even less in the mood.

It was about ten o’clock in the evening when he decided that he’d had enough. Thanks to his help, Marlin was surrounded by a gaggle of women and halfway drunk - on his way to what promised to be a memorable night. At that point, Franklin figured his friend didn’t really need him to get in the way anymore and made a discreet exit, texting Marlin to remind him of the address of his hotel.

When he got outside and managed to breathe deep for the first time that day, the first thing that assaulted him was a reminder of his loss. When he stretched, the fingers that had been dislocated ached and he frowned, rubbing them absently. When Pamela had seen the damage, she had been utterly aghast – never mind that she was hurt worse than him.

He wondered how she was faring now - if anyone in her office even cared that she had twelve stitches in the back of her neck. If she had met up with her friends and told them about her close brush with death.

Franklin realized, for the umpteenth time that day, he was still dwelling on Pamela and scowled, quickly catching a cab. He needed to get to his flat in London, find a bottle of whiskey and get roaring drunk.

Curiously enough, however, the moment he entered the vehicle, he found himself giving the driver the address of the manor. After gushing over him for a good five minutes, the middle-aged man finally started for the other side of London, and Franklin wondered what on earth was the matter with him.

Had he suddenly become a masochist?

What Pamela said to him in Guangzhou came back to him - that his family obviously loved him and accepted him for what he was, even if that meant he spent half his time trying to escape the title that hung over his head. Of course, Russell often made clear his disapproval of his behavior, and his mother expressed her exasperation, but they never imposed their wills on him.

They knew better.

All too soon, he found himself before the familiar manor. Once the driver left, Franklin stood on the front walk for what seemed like an eternity. His mother was almost certainly asleep, and he had no idea if Janeane was visiting or not. Either way, he would have to wake someone, and he didn’t relish the thought of trumpeting his presence.

Only, all at once, he didn’t.

“Franklin?” He had barely taken a few steps up the walk before the door opened and Russell was silhouetted there. At the sight of his brother, Franklin blew out a long breath, hesitating. “Well, don’t just stand there in the cold,” Russell finally continued with a small smile. “Get your arse in here.”

Franklin stared at him for a moment, blinking in surprise. Russell almost never swore - it was pretty shocking. But not shocking enough that he didn’t take him up on his invitation.  He entered the house as his brother closed the door behind him. It was close to eleven and the house was silent.

“Alice here?” He inquired lowly, making Russell smile indulgently. “I swear, she’s going to ask me for a divorce any day. You two are like peas in a pod.”

Franklin made a face. He could not, even in his most far-fetched dreams, imagine himself being married to Alice. It would be like marrying Janeane - and even more high-maintenance Janeane.

“Well, if she were to divorce you, she’d find herself single again. I’m still not in the marriage market.”

“Good to know that hasn’t changed.” Russell replied dryly before stretching with a yawn. “I was just up getting a cuppa. Alice is asleep. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you when she wakes up tomorrow.”

With that, he turned to start down the long haul towards the kitchen, leaving Franklin to stare after him. He would never be able to fathom how he and his brother had turned out so differently. It was a true anomaly if he’d ever seen one. If there was one thing they had in common, however, it was that neither of them were very enthusiastic about the Darwell title - but that, of course, had fallen to Franklin after Russell left England to pursue a career as a film agent and businessman in America.

Leaving Franklin to...be Franklin. Except on rare occasions that they traveled together to work for the WHO. He wondered, for a moment, what would happen if he allowed himself to get closer to his brother - to really know him instead of dealing with the derisive emotions and, yes, he could admit to himself - jealousy- at how easy it was for Russell to get along with other people.

If only it were that easy.

As always, Franklin’s room was ready for him. He all but fell into bed, closing his eyes as he wondered why the hell he just hadn’t gone back to his own flat. He was far from the age when he returned to his mother every time an issue popped up. He almost hoped Marlin called him to come get him, but one hour passed, and then two, and then he was certain the man must have gone home with one of the many women who had been swarming over him when Franklin left. 

As much as Franklin wished for sleep to come, it didn’t. He spent the entire night tossing and turning, growing increasingly more irritable until he couldn’t think straight. Every time he began to doze off, Pamela’s worried face loomed before his dark line of vision and he was accosted with the almost overwhelming urge to call her.

Around six o’clock, the house started to wake. Though the manor was large, it wasn’t so large that Franklin couldn’t hear his mother rise and get ready to start her day. He assumed Janeane must be present as well as she got up soon after - she would probably be out on her jog. Russell tended to sleep late when he visited - he was an early bird the rest of the time - or so Franklin imagined, being at the head of a talent agency when he was in the United States.

Franklin was torn between getting up to take a jog himself in an attempt to clear his head and remaining in his room in order to avoid talking with anyone. He didn’t know if he was in any fit state for human company at the moment.

Ultimately, he decided to take a long, hot shower in the hopes that by the time he went downstairs to the kitchen, it would have cleared out.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when that plan backfired spectacularly. When he showed up shirtless at the kitchen table, his entire family was somehow assembled, startling the hell out of him. Franklin merely grunted a greeting before heading straight to the coffee pot to start a brew.

“Darling! When did you get here?” When his mother swooped down on him, Franklin took a deep, steadying breath, allowing her to squeeze him tightly for a moment before disengaging her as gently as he could.

“Last night, mother. The manor was closer to where we were than my flat.”

“Was it now?” Janeane looked up from where she was reading the paper - wasn’t she supposed to be going out for a run or something? - and showed a picture of him and Marlin outside a bar in the party district - one that was far closer to his London flat than the Darwell manor. “Looks like Milton Street to me.”

Franklin merely glared at her, pouring his coffee as he attempted to reign in his temper. He should have gone back up to his room, but, in an attempt to be social, he settled at the end of the table, doing his best to seem absorbed in an article on his phone.

“So, how long will you be staying this time?” Janeane peaked over the rim of her own mug to fix him with a teasing smile. “Off to Leeds again soon? Hiding your life there, are we?”

“Leeds is none of your business,” Franklin found himself snapping with alarming rancor. “I go there to escape, if you didn’t recall.”

“Escape from what, exactly?” Russell returned dryly arching a brow. “You’ve been going there for years and you always inevitably end up back in London, somehow.” Usually, Franklin would just brush the comment off, but today, he didn’t feel like trading banter.  He felt like every word tossed his way was a personal barb designed to raise his ire.

And it was working.

“I came to see Mother, Russell. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attack me the moment I decide to try to be sociable.”

“Well, darling, you’re hardly being sociable.” His mother pointed out. “You’re absorbed in your phone. You know we’d love to hear whatever you have to say.” Her sincere smile only made him feel guilty about his own mood, guilt and anger compounding in his gut and souring to put him off his coffee.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’ve come to see you as you asked. I’m leaving after breakfast.”

“Franklin!” Janeane looked horrified at the very thought. “You know very well that mum meant for you to stay more than an hour or two. Can’t you put your attitude aside for a moment? She was worried about you.”

Her words rang through the kitchen in complete silence, and Franklin’s eyes narrowed to the barest of slits. He looked from Russell, to Alice, who had stiffened in her seat next to him.

He couldn’t think of any reason why his mother would be worried about him unless they had told her what happened in Hong Kong. Franklin knew they were family, but he was pretty sure Alice would have known he felt none too kindly about the prospect of their mother finding out that he had been in such peril. She herself had nearly blown her lid - and she was only related to him by marriage.

All at once, it was very apparent to Franklin what was going on in the manor. Russell never got up this early, and Alice was hardly an early riser herself. His mother was looking at him as if she suspected he might drop dead any second, and when her eyes fell to his bandaged fingers atop the table, he slipped them off the edge, his chest tightening.

They wanted to interrogate him. They were trying to corner him and get details about what happened - and Franklin wasn’t going to have any of it. Wasn’t it enough that he was expected to share his life with the world? That the media was constantly chasing him, wanting to know every detail of his life from his underwear size to how he liked his coffee? Now they wanted to know how he had almost died. How he had been so wrapped up in the chaos around him that he had barely managed to save the only woman he had come to care for in the last decade of his surprisingly lonely life?

That was the last fucking thing he wanted to talk about now.

“This is nothing but fucking idiocy.” He rose from the table, fairly trembling with rage. “You’re really all going to gang up against me? Why now? Is it because I’m not charming? That I don’t go around sweeping women off their feet, fucking them and leaving them like the master of suave?” He gestured towards Russell, whose face reddened. “Because I’m not a fashion genius? Because I can’t make myself into a brand whore or be a proper little Darwell Prince? Well, I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be thrust into the spotlight, I never asked to carry a name that means more to every other person in this bloody country than it does to me and I didn’t ask for somebody to drop a bloody building on my head. So, you can take this interrogation somewhere else.”

He turned with such violence that he knocked over his coffee cup and sent dark liquid spilling over the table top.

But Franklin hardly cared.

He left the kitchen seething and headed straight for his bedroom to slam the door behind him and lock it. He ran his hands brusquely through his still damp hair once, and then twice, before a profusion of expletives poured from his lips. This was ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous. His own family turning against him. Was it supposed to be his fault that he had never fit in? That people only cozied up to him because they wanted the Darwell name and not the person?

Bloody fucking hell.

The only person who seemed to understand how he felt was Pamela, and he hadn’t had to say a single word to her. Certainly, she wasn’t inquiring about why, exactly, he was as flippant as he was about his titles and the life he led, but she didn’t have to.

When he was with her, he could just be…and that was part of why he so sorely missed being around her.

Franklin thought there was a part of him that must have legitimately gone insane. He’d only spent two weeks with the woman.

…and for those two weeks he had spent every single waking moment with her -taking in the sights, eating exotic meals, laughing and joking with her. She was one of the only females he’d encountered since he had started dating who could go head to head with him without backing down.

Was it really any wonder, then, that he felt so guilty about the injuries she had sustained in Hong Kong?

He cared about her, however far-fetched the sentiment might be. He hated thinking of her now, wasted in some secretarial position when she could trade witticisms with him and discuss the plight of the world on an even keel with his knowledge. He had gone to Oxford for God’s sake. Pamela was completely and totally unlike any of her friends, doctors and lawyers who were inexplicably vapid; for all they jibed and insulted her, she outshone them all.

But she thought someone was out to kill him. Which meant that her being with him had inherently put her in danger.

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

“Franklin?” A sudden knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts and his scowl, somehow, deepened. He’d been so wrapped up in his troubles that he’d nearly forgotten that he’d just managed to insult nearly everyone in his bloody family and stormed off to his room like an ill-behaved child.

Christ.

He really was losing his mind.

“Franklin, it’s Alice. Can you let me in for a sec? I just want to talk.”

Because that had gone so brilliant for him a few minutes ago.  It was on the tip of Franklin’s tongue to refuse her when he realized that if he didn’t tell someone, he was very likely to go on being unpleasant until someone did see fit to assassinate him.

Taking a deep breath, he stalked to the door and opened it to see Alice standing there - no big surprise there. Franklin had imagined that she’d be pissed as hell after what he said about her and her husband, but Alice was only smiling at him, her expression hurt, but amused, nonetheless. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at getting at people’s insecurities.”

Franklin’s cheeks colored slightly as his gut twisted in guilt. “Well, it comes with the territory of being an arsehole.”

At that, Alice frowned. “You’re not an arsehole, Franklin. You’re just a private person.”

“Yeah, and a fat lot of good it’s done me,” He grumbled, turning from her. Anyone else might have thought he was dismissing them, but Alice knew better. She simply stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Well, if you really wanted to make it up to me,” Alice sank into a chair near his door with casual familiarity - she had, after all, been in Franklin’s room at the manor a good deal, being one of the few he could stand to hold a long conversation with, “You could tell me what’s got your knickers in such a twist.”

Franklin sank down on his bed, drawing a hand over his face. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Pam - even if he couldn’t agree with her version of what might have happened. Alice was one of his closest friends, and she also happened to be a woman. If anyone could help, it was her.

Grudging as he was to share the intimate details of his personal life.

Franklin hesitated for a moment more before the entire story came spilling out of him. How he’d met Pamela through Marlin and his sister, how immediately he’d been drawn to her. How she was reticent to date him because of who he was and ultimately, the way they traveled to China together.

It was hard to explain what happened in the Far East without sounding like an infatuated fool. How easy it was for him to talk to her, how well they meshed and how Pamela was never afraid to call him on his bullshit. How, eventually, it just seemed like second nature for him to be able to talk to her - to find pleasure in how much China awed and excited her.

Of course, when he was telling this grandiose tail, he eventually had to detail what had happened in Hong Kong - the sheer scope of the terror attack and how they had barely escaped with their lives.

He finished by relaying to Alice the gulf that had sprang between him and Pamela when she explained to him what she thought had happened - how, in his mind, she blew his importance completely out of proportion before leaving him in the dust in frustration.

Even now, he struggled against his pride - wanting to contact her but refusing to give in; of course, that was one little detail he didn’t let Alice in on.

The dark-haired woman listened to him with rapt attention until he had finished talking, her expression pensive. When he finally fell silent, a few moments of silence stretched between them before Alice finally spoke.

“Franklin, I know you’re not going to like hearing this, but maybe Pamela has a point.”

Franklin opened his mouth to argue before the severe expression on his sister-in-law’s face had him shutting it just as quickly. “Franklin, you’re a Darwell. Maybe people weren’t all over you in China, but it’s pretty evident everywhere else that you go that you’re a fucking Duke. You’re supposed to inherit the title when your father dies. Atop that, you’re an influential member of one of the organizations that likes to piss off terrorist organizations. Is it really so far-fetched to you that someone might be out for you?”

Franklin just stared at her. Her words weren’t all that different from Pamela, but, as she was his sister-in-law, and a member of the gentry herself, they had a slightly more pronounced impact. Alice didn’t know Pamela. There was no reason for her to be parroting what she told him.

Unless she actually believed it.

Which meant that he had been even more foolish than he thought.