Trouble: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Lane, Ellen (3)

Chapter Twelve

 

For the first days after she’d gotten back, Pam hadn’t wanted to see anyone. It was all she could do to go to work and get back to her routine. Eventually, of course, she had to return to the real world - and one of the first things she got to, was the bevy of messages left on her phone.

Her heart leapt at the thought that maybe one of them was from Franklin, but fell as she scrolled through them and merely found about a thousand messages from Laura Beth, a few from Marlin, and many more from Janice and Rosario. They wanted to see her and hear all about her fantastic trip - but Pamela didn’t feel much like talking about it.

Talking about it made her remember Franklin, and remembering him...hurt. More than she wanted to admit to herself.

After the amazing trip they’d taken together, all the things they’d done and seen, she still couldn’t believe that he would ignore her opinions so easily. It was his life or death they were speaking of- and she didn’t want to think Franklin would be so callous as to ignore a valid threat to his person.

The thought of someone killing him made her stomach twist and her palms sweat.

Made it hard to think of facing her friends.

But, Pam was forced to admit that it would be good for her. It would be nice to get out and about - to start to forget. Even if she didn’t want to. Her time with Franklin had been, without a doubt, the most fabulous two weeks of her life - until reality had come crashing down on her.

She tried her best not to think about it. To dress up and prepare to go about her evening, meet Laura Beth and her friends and pretend to be just as chipper as she’d always been.

Or, at least, more chipper.

 

“Dear sweet Jesus.”

They had settled down at Pamela’s favorite pub, and the moment Jaclyn served them their drinks, Pam started talking. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She, who was always so secretive, spilled everything to Laura Beth, Janice, Rosario, and even Marlin, who had shown up unexpectedly. Though she managed to maintain herself enough to keep from crying, she couldn’t help the emptiness that filled her.

There had never been a man she was more comfortable with - never been a man who had so easily gotten close to her. Pamela had given him more than she had given any other man for years...and then he’d simply cast her opinion aside like it meant nothing.

“Jesus.” Laura Beth repeated, sipping on her wine as if she were in the midst of a particularly good soap opera. “I knew the man was famous but that high profile? Maybe you dodged a bullet on this one, Pamela.”

“For sure.” Janice was nodding enthusiastically over her own drink. “If we had known the man was such an ego-maniac masochist, we would never have set you up with him.”

The thing was...that didn’t sound like Franklin at all. He wasn’t an ego-maniac masochist. Quite the contrary, if anything. At least...that’s what she’d thought before his notoriety almost got them killed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Pam.” She snapped back to the present when Marlin addressed her, surprised. “Men like him are always going to draw danger. They can be blasé about it. They can afford to hire bodyguards and correct mistakes, but they’ll always be in the spotlight.” He shrugged. “It’s better if you’re away from all that.”

“But…” Pam couldn’t stop herself from rebutting, somewhat confused. “You don’t mind being around him, Marlin. Aren’t you afraid something like this might happen again?”

The corner of the dark-haired man’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “I gotta be back up for him, don’t I? I figure if we both get taken out, at least the end will be epic.”

“That’s not funny, Marlin.” His sister smacked him on the arm, her expression annoyed. “Maybe you should stop hanging out with him too!”

“Calm down, Laura. No one’s going to attack him here. They’re all fucking in love with him!”

But Pamela wasn’t so sure. If a terrorist was willing to travel half of Hong Kong to get at Franklin, she doubted they’d be intimidated just because he was in his own country.

But that, she had to admit to herself, was none of her business anymore. Franklin had made it clear that he didn’t hold her opinion in high regard, and atop that, he hadn’t tried to contact her once since she’d walked out of his cabin. She had never been the clingy type - even though Pamela had to admit to herself that, if she were, it would be like Franklin. Just to listen to him tease her about it.

She missed him. God, she missed him. But now, if she valued her life, she knew she had to stay away from him.

There wasn’t enough wine in the world to help her deal with that.

Pamela spent the next few days transitioning. Her position at her old firm had finally ended and she was preparing to start work in a new secretarial position. Two months ago, she would have been happy with her lot in life. Happy to have a position, to be earning money, and to have her little flat all to herself.

Now, when she contemplated a new secretarial position, in a tiny firm in her tiny village outside of Leeds, she felt as if she were shorting herself. The world was too big, and there was far too much to see and do for her to be stuck in the village for the rest of her life.

But…. the village was safe. Her job was secure. With the exception of Franklin, very few rich or exciting people ever visited, which meant that her way of life would be preserved.

The very thought was enough to make her frown, and Pam spent the rest of the day cleaning out her office, in a foul mood. She was surprised when, at the end of the day, they threw a little party for her - even Stanley grudgingly admitted that he would be sad to see her go.

It was enough to distract her from her troubles for a few hours. Pam was proud that, by the time she got home, she hadn’t been feeling desolate for the entirety of her evening. When she turned on the TV to watch the news, however, one special report was enough to shock her into staring, absolutely flummoxed, at the screen.

It was Franklin and his family. She had never met them, but the handsome, older woman standing beside him had the same jaw line, and a man she presumed to be his brother was a taller, brawnier version of Franklin’s swarthy, lean form. They stood behind a podium speaking at a press conference, and the headline for the news story scrolled across the bottom of the screen repetitively.

THREAT TO DARWELL FAMILY UNVEILED - TERRORIST ATTACK IN HONG KONG SUSPECTED ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT

Franklin was speaking to the crowd, dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit as he looked over everyone assembled. He looked, Pam noted, absolutely decadent, and she found that both her body and heart ached powerfully in need.

“For years, my family has been at the forefront of charitable giving and aid relief. Despite any and all threats that we may have received, we are not dissuaded.” Pam would never have imagined he would want to speak publicly, but Franklin’s voice was sure and strong, his words enunciated perfectly. “There are those in the world that need our help, and no one will dissuade us from giving it to them. As long as there are those less fortunate, we will be there, and no attempts at terror will sway us.”

She stared at him, utterly transfixed. The splits on his last two fingers seemed horribly obtrusive, and as she took in the words of his speech, Pamela remembered the blinding terror of their experience in Hong Kong. There was no way someone sane wouldn’t fear that happening again.

God, just thinking about someone going after Franklin anew was enough to make panic claw at her chest. He was all but challenging them. Not that she didn’t think that the WHO and charitable giving were important, but what about his life? Wasn’t that more important?

Pamela was jolted from her reverie by the sound of the doorbell. It was loud in the quiet room and she jumped so violently that she knocked over the cup of tea she’d poured.

What on earth?

It was close to ten in the evening on a Thursday. Who in their right mind would be calling at this hour? When the bell rang again, Pamela rose from the floor, quickly mopping up the tea that had spilled over her jumper and skirt before hurrying to the door. She expected to see a late postman, or maybe even a neighbor.

She certainly didn’t expect to see Franklin Darwell standing on her doorstep, wearing the same three-piece suit he showed off on the telly.

For a long moment, she just stared at him, half convinced that she was dreaming. He was in London. How could he be here? How the hell did he even know where she lived?

Her next thought was that she looked an absolute fright - tea spilled all over her, her hair in disarray...she’d thought only of preparing herself for bed, so, of course, the last thing she anticipated was a visit from him.

“You’re…” She pointed weakly back towards her living room. “You’re on the telly.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner in a way that made her knees go weak before he sobered just as quickly, clearing his throat. “That was hours ago, honestly. I started for Leeds the moment it was all over…” He gave her a long once-over, and Pamela found herself blushing. How was it that the man could make her feel sexy when she was covered in English breakfast tea? “Could I come in for a moment?”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate - she didn’t even have to give it any thought. When she stepped back to admit him, Franklin swept past her, carrying his signature scent in his wake. Pamela’s heart did a little jig and she closed the door behind him, completely unsure as to how she should proceed.

“Um…” Christ, she’d been in this man’s bed a few weeks ago and now she couldn’t come up with a decent thing to say. “Would you like a cuppa?”

“Please.” He replied, the single word sending shivers down her spine. Pamela rushed to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea, even as her mind whirled. He was in her home. In her sacred space. As put out as she’d been the last time she saw him, she couldn’t even begin to think of kicking him out. Not when she’d missed him so bloody much.

By the time she returned with the fresh tea, Franklin had seated his long form on her couch and was gazing around her small flat with no small amount of interest.  “It’s like being in a shop in Xi’an,” his offhand comment as she handed him his cup made her beam. It was absolutely nothing of the sort, but when she’d been decorating, she could only have hoped to receive such a compliment.

She took up her own tea -and a seat across from him - and they sipped in silence for a full minute before the man spoke. “Pamela...I owe you an apology.”

She only continued to stare down at her tea, unsure of what to say. Luckily for her, Franklin continued to fill the silence. “I didn’t take the threat in Hong Kong seriously, even though we were caught in the thick of it. I didn’t take my name and titles seriously...and I didn’t consider just how much danger I might be in... we might be in. It was callous of me but...I have to admit, I never imagined things happening this way.”

At that, Pam looked up at him, meeting his deep blue gaze with her own. “What do you mean?” She managed softly, setting her tea aside.

“I mean that…” Franklin seemed to hesitate before continuing, “I might be heir to the Darwell title, but I’ve never been the most popular Darwell. I mean...you’ve seen Russell.” He gestured to the television, which was still playing his speech quietly on mute in the background. His brother stood next to him, looking grave and important all at once. “He was supposed to have inherited first. He’s always had the temperament. People have always liked him. I’ve rather made a name of not caring what anyone thinks of me, and it shows.”

Franklin ran a hand through his long blonde hair in frustration. “Why the hell would anyone want to get at me? Not that I’d ever wish harm on my brother, but hell, if I died, who the bloody hell would give two shites? They would probably be glad Russell was inheriting...it would be an onus off of my mother’s chest and I-”

“Don’t.” Pamela interrupted him before he could go any further, her expression hard.

She was starting to understand now. “Don’t you dare start that crap, Franklin Darwell.”

His eyes widened as he looked at her, shocked at her tone. “No matter what you may think, many people like you. They like you and they follow you. Not necessarily for your money or your titles, but for what your family represents. What you represent. They don’t want to strike you down because you’re famous, they want to strike you down because you defy them. You were doing good. And terrorists don’t like that. So, you can self-deprecate all you want, but at the end of the day, they come after you because you put yourself out there, where you’re needed. You can’t ever sell yourself short because of that.”

The words all burst from her in a rush. They had been swirling around her head for the past week or so and, honestly, Pamela had been convinced that she would never really get the chance to say them.

But now her tirade had been aired, and it was like a weight had been lifted off her chest.

Franklin took a moment to respond, but when he did, his tone held tinges of amusement and awe in equal measures. “I don’t think anyone has ever so thoroughly put me in my place. Well done you, Miss Livingston.”

The corners of her mouth started to pull up as her heart swelled, and Pam knew she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from smiling. “Well, I’ve been thinking on that for a while. You do know how I like to argue.”

“I do.” Franklin replied quietly, his gaze never leaving hers. “I missed that.”

He had missed her. He was here and he had missed her. He understood what he faced, and he was meeting it proudly.

Bravely.

Christ, why couldn’t she be more like him? “I owe you an apology as well,” she finally managed, swallowing thickly. “I... I was scared, Franklin. I’ve always been scared.” It was something she was only now realizing - the reason why she had never stepped outside of her well controlled little bubble until he entered her life. “I like...I’ve always liked to have control. Control over my life, my job and my security. I liked thinking the only person I could ever be held accountable to was me...but now I realize...that fear was always holding me back.”

God, was she crying? She couldn’t cry in front of him? Pamela didn’t cry in front of anybody! But, there it was. Hot, thick tears sliding down her cheeks, one by one. “I always told myself I wanted to go to China, but I never really tried. I never tried for a better job that would have gotten me there because I always told myself that this was enough. That I should be grateful for what I had. But then, I met you and... well, everything fucking changed.” A burst of laughter made its way through her tears. “I’m still scared. You’re an important person. You’re Franklin Darwell. And I’m...I’m just-”

“You’re who I want.” Franklin cut her off, moving from the sofa to kneel next to the couch as he pressed two fingers firmly to her lips, silencing her. “And I realize that means I have to keep you safe. I will keep you safe, Pamela. Can you trust me to do that?”

Scared was an understatement. Pamela was terrified, really...but she was learning to overcome her fear and trust her own judgment.

And she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she wanted to be with him too.

In response, she took hold of his wrist, shoving his hand aside before she took hold of his face to mold his mouth to hers.

Franklin groaned in relief, the sound reverberating through her as he wrapped his arms tight around her, dragging her against him. In that moment, her tea-stained jumper, her frumpy outfit and her messy hair ceased to matter. All that mattered was that Franklin was with her, and she needed him more badly than she had ever needed anything.

Franklin’s tongue snaked out to slide silkily against hers and the young woman moaned, arching against him as liquid heat shot down to pool between her thighs. Without breaking their kiss, Franklin took firm hold of her thighs and hoisted her from the armchair into the air.

“Bedroom’s down the hall,” she murmured against his mouth, and Franklin chuckled lowly, nipping at her lower lip teasingly.

“Who said I was taking you to bed?”

“You’d better take me to bed,” she growled in warning, before he kissed her into silence once more.

Franklin navigated remarkably well for a man who wasn’t looking where he was going. They found themselves in her bedroom in short order, and Franklin tumbled her onto the bed before following her down, his body covering hers. Eagerly, Pam stripped his suit jacket from his shoulders and tossed it to the floor. She could only imagine how many thousands of dollars it had cost, and she hardly cared.

Franklin was tugging at her jumper, stripping it from her head to fling somewhere blindly before he all but ripped the lace of her brassiere, baring her breasts to his gaze. Within seconds, he had latched onto a straining nipped and Pam cried out at the sudden, white hot pleasure that bolted through her. Franklin continued to toy with her nipples as he kissed and sucked at her neck hungrily, growing harder and harder against her. Pam ground against his body shamelessly, wanting nothing more than to have him inside her. Her fingers worked dexterously at the buttons on his finely starched shirt, popping them free one by one so she could bare the mouthwatering expanse of his chest beneath. When she pulled him against her, the feel of his bare skin against her was absolute heaven, drawing a brazen moan from her.

“I missed this…”, Franklin groaned against her shoulder, tugging impatiently at the waistband of her skirt. “I need this.”

She was hardly about to deny him.

Pam wiggled out of her skirt as best she could as Franklin continue to toy with her nipples, and in short order she found she was clad only in her stockings and underwear. She gasped as Franklin reached down to take hold of the nylon material, rending it with ease. “I never understood why women wear stockings,” he chided, two long fingers, sliding past the barrier of her underwear to find her wet and wanting. “They always get ruined.”

“Franklin Darwell, you owe me a new pair of stockings.” Pamela barely managed a retort. It was hard when her lover was thrusting his fingers into her with increasing depth, making her squirm almost violently.

“I’ll get you as many pairs as you want,” he declared huskily, raising digits glistening with her leavings to his mouth to savor. “And I’ll ruin every one of them.”

The man was so deliciously depraved, and Pam adored it.

Reaching down, Franklin fumbled with his belt and the fastening of his pants just enough to free his erection. He didn’t bother with the shreds of Pamela’s stockings or her panties, merely tugging the fabric aside to thrust home in a single movement that took her breath away.

Pamela clung to him, her toes curling in ecstasy at the sudden fullness as she whispered his name like a prayer. “Franklin...oh Franklin…”

They clung to each other madly, each eager motion of Franklin’s hips driving her more and more flush against the headboard. He was hardly being gentle with her - but Pam didn’t want him to be. She wanted to feel him - every last part of him - and she wished the moment would never end.

She had neighbors that probably hated her for every creak of the bed - every muffled gasp and shriek - but she didn’t care. She raised her hips against his, met him motion for motion and knew that she was finally where she belonged: in Franklin’s arms.

When Pamela hurtled over the edge, his name was on her lips - and his body was so deeply inside hers that she didn’t know where he ended and she began. She lost all sense of time and space and all she could do was feel.

And it seemed to last for an eternity.

Eventually, however, she had to come back down to earth. When she did, it was to the heavy weight of Franklin atop her, his breath falling heavily against her neck. Pamela merely folded long legs around his waist to keep him there, her eyes shut in serene contentment as both their bodies cooled.

Pam was almost certain he had fallen asleep when he brushed a heated kiss across her collarbone. “I’m crushing you.”

At that, Pam rolled her eyes. “Don’t you dare move. I’m comfortable.”

He chuckled, kissing her neck again so a residual jolt of pleasure sizzled through her. “If I stay like this for much longer, you might end up regretting that, Miss. Livingston.” Pamela was torn between giving into what seemed to be an unending desire for Franklin, and her body, which demanded that she take a time out.

When he moved swiftly from her, she made a sound of disapproval. Franklin quickly assuaged her by arranging the coverlet over them and pulling her into his secure embrace. Pamela was quite contentedly nuzzled against his chest when his soft question drew her attention upward. “Who’s that?”

Pam glanced at Franklin, then followed his gaze over to her bedside table where the picture she treasured so faced them both. For a moment, she wondered why she wasn’t absolutely stricken that Franklin was seeing one of her most private memories - and then she decided that she was glad. It would make telling him a lot easier.

Sighing, she turned away from him to pick up the picture in its ornate frame, her eyes traveling over her younger self and the elderly Chinese man at her side with familiarity. “I suppose you’re wondering the real reason why I seem so interested in China?” She inquired softly, wondering if he would be upset that she had been dishonest.

However, when Franklin’s embrace only tightened encouragingly, she forced herself to go on. “After my parents died, there was a period when I was overlooked in the system. I was shuffled from shelter to shelter and eventually ended up on the street. It was one of the hardest times in my life...and just when I thought I couldn’t go on any more...I met Mr. Lin.”

Pamela brushed her fingers over the image reverently. “He was a Chinese immigrant. He had barely been in the country for a few months, and could hardly speak English, but he took pity on me.

“He couldn’t afford it. The only jobs he could get paid minimum wage, and so it was hard enough to support himself, let alone two people, but we lived in his one room apartment together and he kept me warm and fed. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a father since my parents died.” Though she had been smiling in reminiscence, Pamela’s face fell as she continued. “When I was around twelve, the government caught up with him and he got deported. They took him away from me and shuffled me back into the system. I never got to say goodbye.”

Even now, it hurt to say. The only thing that kept Pamela from crying was that she had already done so once that evening. Twice was unforgivable. But just because she couldn’t cry didn’t mean that her chest couldn’t be tight. That her tongue couldn’t thicken and her eyes could squeeze closed against the moisture that threatened. It had been almost twenty years...and still, she missed him.

“You wanted to look for him.” Franklin’s soft words weren’t a question. It was easy enough for him to put two and two together. “You’ve always wanted to look for him.”

“The best memories from my childhood are memories of him...he used to tell me, as best he could, about where he’d come from and what he missed. He left behind his own children. He told me once that I reminded him of his daughter...that I needed to grow up big and strong like she was…”

She couldn’t say any more.

Pamela set her picture aside, taking a steadying breath before she turned back into Franklin’s welcoming warmth.  If she couldn’t find Mr. Lin, at least she could be with Franklin - and that offered her no small amount of solace. Franklin’s arms were the place she felt most secure since she’d lost her guardian, and she couldn’t think of a more secure place to allow herself to mourn his loss.

“You know, Pamela, it’s alright to be vulnerable. Everything you tell me is sacred.”

The young woman found herself laughing softly. “Who would you tell? I’m fairly sure no one in your inner circle is even aware that I exist.”

At her comment, Franklin stiffened slightly against her, looking down at her sheepishly. “Ah. About that. I may or may not have told my family about you.”

Pamela’s eyes widened in complete shock. “You what?” She felt a pleasant warmth bubbling up in her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs.

“I told my family. Just my mother and siblings, mind you. I’m not announcing it to the media or anything...When I told them how you felt about Hong Kong, it provided the impetus for them to launch an investigation...and confirm your suspicions.”

Pamela gaped at him. So, he had ultimately taken her words to heart. His family had taken them to heart, having never seen her face. She felt both embarrassed and incredibly humbled. “I’m sure they’re not enthusiastic about your seeing a secretary.”

Franklin snorted. “I don’t give two shites what they think...but, for your information, they’re eager to meet you. They can’t fathom the idea that a woman exists who can stand me.”

Pamela laughed. Surely, they didn’t think Franklin was that bad. “Well I’ll talk you up to them.”

Franklin made a face. “I can’t imagine you’ll have anything pleasant to say.”

“Oh hush.” She slapped at his shoulder playfully, unable to keep from grinning. “You’re a wonderful man, Franklin Darwell. Even if you are a bit rough around the edges.”

Her words brought a mischievous glint to the man’s eye. “I’ll show you just how rough I can be, darling.”

Pamela was more than happy to let him - and by the time he was finished, she was deliciously sore in places that had been woefully neglected until he had come into her life. As dawn broke and rosy light spilled in through the curtains of her bedroom, the young woman dozed off in Franklin's embrace, content for the first time since she’d been twelve years old.

 

**

“This is ridiculous.” Laura Beth was pouting to an extreme she had never gone before, staring at the window of her car into the wide expanse of the public park. It was a gorgeous, crisp winter day and snow was covering the ground. In the seat beside her, Rosario looked over at her friend, concerned.

“Beth, what happened has happened. Shouldn’t we be happy for Pam?”

Laura merely looked over at Rosario, incredulous. “Happy for her? Happy because she’s so goddamned lucky? Because she doesn’t care enough about her own safety to stay away from a man whose being fucking targeted?”

“I’m sensing you wouldn’t mind if it was you on his arm,” Janice pointed out dryly, her eyes flicking over to the park that had Laura transfixed.

Franklin Darwell and Pam were there, holding his arm as they strolled leisurely around the edge of the grounds. Pam was beaming as Laura had never seen, and, naturally, that only irked her even more.

She had only set the two of them up as a joke in the first place! She hadn’t particularly minded when the man took Pam to China. After all, she herself had gotten an African cruise out of him that had to have cost almost as much. Laura had held out hope that, maybe when Franklin returned, she could have another go at him.

When Janice had pointed out that her attitude had been very different before the cruise - that she had, in fact, thought Franklin very rude and unlikeable - Laura Beth reminded her that money changed a lot of things. A week in the lap of luxury on one of the finest ocean liners in the Mediterranean had helped to reorient her.

When she heard about the terrorist attack, of course she had been worried about Pam. She didn’t want anyone to die - but the moment she found out her friend was alright, she began scheming as to how she could use the situation to her advantage. The opportunity had presented itself wrapped up in a nice little bow: her brush with death had terrified her, and she and Franklin had a little spat. They were all but split up, and all she had to do was swoop in and charm the man.

And she was very, very good at charming men.

But then this had happened. Somehow, Pam and Franklin had made up, and now they were positively lovey-dovey. Atop that, Franklin now came with his own security entourage. Four burly men who, try as they might, couldn’t blend into the wintery scene. That made it impossible for Laura to get any closer than she already was. And so, all she could do was fume.

“Laura, come on.” Janice was gazing at the couple with something that looked horrifically like stars in her eyes. “Give Pam a break. She’s had it hard. She deserves something like this.”

“Deserves it?” Laura snapped, incensed. “A few months ago she didn’t even want to talk to any man who wasn’t a fucking janitor, and now she lands Franklin Darwell? How the hell does she deserve it?”

Janice looked like she was about to argue, but they were interrupted by the shrill sound of Laura Beth’s phone echoing through the interior of the car. Laura looked from Janice to her phone and then back again before cursing lowly. When she picked it up, she was hardly in a mood to be cordial.

“What?”

There was a brief beat before her brother’s voice surprised her.  “Beth, where are you? I just called your office and they told me you weren’t there.

Laura looked at the phone incredulously, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. “Why does it matter? What the hell are you doing anyway? You disappeared!”

“Beth...you aren’t still chasing after Frank, are you?”

Laura stiffened, her mouth dropping open. How could Marlin possibly know where she was? And moreover, why did he care? Her business was none of his affair!

“I’m not chasing him,” she insisted, her face burning even brighter in a combination of outrage and embarrassment. “I’m just...making sure he’s ok! Pamela’s with him! I have to make sure that she’s ok too!”

“That’s Pamela’s choice,” Marlin returned, his voice surprisingly hard. “But I thought we agreed that he was dangerous. That you should stay away for your own good?”

“What, while you watch his back?” Laura scoffed, tossing her short hair. “Marlin, if you’re not staying away, I’m not staying away. I have to watch out for Pamela too.” It was the perfect excuse, and Laura was going to keep riding it for as long as she possibly could.

“Beth, grow the hell up.” She was surprised when Marlin’s voice came back so sharply it made her jump. “Franklin doesn’t want to go out with you. He’s chosen Pamela, so respect that and stay the hell away from him. The poor girl doesn’t need any more of your pretending to be her goddamned friend.”

And then he hung up on her. Hung up on her!

Laura Beth eyed the phone in shock. Who the hell did he think he was?  He might be older than her but that didn’t mean he could tell her what to do!

“Was that Marlin?” Janice asked, surprised herself. “He sounded pissed.”

Laura Beth only glared at her before turning her key in the ignition, so the car roared to life.  She wasn’t leaving, she told herself, because Marlin told her to. She was leaving because she was pissed at him and she needed a bottle of wine so she could stew.

As they pulled away from the park, however, the young woman found she couldn’t help but be a little disconcerted. In all her life, she had never heard Marlin take that tone with her - as if he were admonishing a child. His voice sounded hard and commanding, and she could only wonder where it came from. Was he really that worried about Franklin? The man had a gaggle of bodyguards following him at all times. Were he and Marlin that damn close after only six months? Somehow, she doubted it.

So where did he get off telling her what to do?

Laura Beth resolved that the next time she saw her brother, she was going to give him a piece of her mind - and she didn’t care if she pissed him off. It was only payback.

**

“Where are we going?” Pamela kept looking out the window as if she expected their location to magically reveal itself and Franklin chuckled. Somehow, he had managed to convince her to let him buy her a nice dress for the occasion, and Franklin kept his hands clenched on his lap to keep from peeling it off her.

It was a gorgeous, long-sleeved number made of pure silk, hanging from her shoulders as if it were made for her. When he remembered the face she made in the shop at the amount of cleavage she was showing, he smiled. With her wearing that, he was going to have to be on alert. She looked absolutely breathtaking, and he was sure he wasn’t going to be the only man to notice.

Even if they were supposed to be going to a wholly proprietary event.

“It’s a surprise.” Pamela looked over at him with a scowl, her silky hair sliding over one bare shoulder.

“You can’t say that. You can’t make me get dressed up and then not tell me where we’re going. I have work tomorrow, Franklin.”

“No, you don’t.”

For a long moment, Pamela stared at him, her green eyes incredulous. Franklin felt his stomach clench. Perhaps he might have been a little over-enthusiastic in his intentions to make her happy. After all, he hadn’t asked her before he made some of the decisions he had in the past few weeks, but all he wanted was to see her smile. To see her reach her full potential instead of being stifled in an office.

“Franklin…” Her tone held thinly veiled warning as her gaze narrowed. “What do you mean I don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“Well…” Franklin ran a hand through his blonde hair nervously before everything spilled from him in a deluge. “I called your temp company and tendered your resignation. Told them you found another position.”

As expected, Pamela exploded. “You did what!? Franklin, what on earth gives you the right to do that!?” The lovely woman almost hit the roof of the car, and Frank was pretty sure that by telling her what he had planned, he was taking his life in his hands, but at this juncture, he had to finish, or she wouldn’t understand. “What was I supposed to do? You do have a new position.”

Pam’s mouth snapped shut in the middle of her tirade, and Franklin couldn’t help but admire how decadent she looked when she was angry. In his opinion, their arguments were always worth it as making up was always so addicting. “I... I what?”

Franklin merely gave her a crooked smile. “Be as angry as you want, but I knew you’d never leave the agency if I asked you to. So, I spoke to the Britain branch of WHO and convinced them that you would be a wonderful choice for a secretarial position to a senior donor. Well, let’s be honest: to me.” Pamela’s eyes got wider and wider the more he explained. “It would mean you get to travel with me everywhere I need to go for the organization...which is almost certainly a good thing because I need the organizational help. The compensation would be considerably more than you were getting at the temp agency, which I think is a fair trade for having to move to London - bullocks, woman! That hurt!”

Pamela had smacked him hard on the shoulder, cutting him off, and for a moment, Franklin thought he was about to get another lecture. When he looked down at her, however, he found that Pam was merely looking up at him with eyes brimming with tears. “You…” She sucked in a shaky breath. “You meddled in my affairs and now...now…” She hit him again, making him yelp as a broad smile erupted onto her face beneath her tears. “You bloody bastard! I’m going to kill you!”

“Well, do it gently.” He caught her hand as she made to hit him again. “I’m a very delicate creature.” He tugged her arm so she topped into his lap before molding his mouth lingeringly to hers. No matter how many times Franklin kissed her, it would never be enough. All he wanted was her - he didn’t need anything else.

Even if she was constantly swatting at him.

“Don’t cry.” He receded only reluctantly to wipe the tracks of tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I know it will be tough traveling all the time, but I promise I’ll only torture you a little.”

“You...cheeky fucking twat.” Pamela reached up to cup his face in her slender hands. “You’re lucky I wanted to get out of that job anyway.”

“Yes, but I’m your cheeky fucking twat. Doesn’t that make you the lucky one?” Pamela merely rolled her eyes, kissing him again so Franklin grew uncomfortably hard in his tailored suit. By the time she lifted her mouth from his, he was wondering how much trouble he would get into for ruining the car and how much time they had left before they reached their destination.

Unfortunately, all his speculation was for naught. No sooner had he begun to slide his fingers beneath the hem of her dress than they pulled to a stop and the driver knocked on the glass partition that separated him from them.

Franklin swallowed the curse that rose to his lips, reluctantly sliding her from his lap. “We’ve arrived.”

If the hungry glint in Pamela’s eyes was any indication, she was just as disappointed at the interruption as he was. “You still haven’t told me where we’ve arrived.”

Franklin merely smiled mysteriously, turning to open his door and slide out of the back seat of the car into the crisp London air. They were standing before the Cadance Museum, an establishment that was usually famous for its collection of modern art. The building itself was done in the characteristic style of its architect, Elias Johnson, who happened to be a friend of Alice’s brother. It was she who had gotten them this venue for a large charity function - one that would be the ultimate affront to those who thought he would cower because they had come after him once.

At the sight of the grandiose building before them, and all the important people cresting the steps, Pamela paled. Since she had accepted his promise to protect her, Franklin would admit she had made leaps and bounds in accepting his station - who he was and where he came from. There were fewer arguments that had to deal with the money he had, and more rational conversations.

But he had known this would make her nervous. It was the first major function he was attending with her on his arm. He would be announcing to the public that she was his, and thus putting her in the path of the same danger that threatened him.

But Pamela didn’t bolt. She merely stood tall once he helped her out of the car and took a deep, steadying breath. “You could have told me,” she muttered underneath her breath.

Franklin merely chuckled. “But I love surprising you.”

“You love teasing me.”

At that, he wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her close, murmuring in her ear. “You’re in for plenty of teasing later, darling.” He took a moment to revel in the shudder that passed through her before nodding in the direction of the steps before them. “Shall we, then?”

Pamela stared at the doorway for a long while before taking another deep breath. “Just tell me one thing, truthfully: Is your family in there?”

Franklin wouldn’t have lied about that - besides, he’d been threatening to take her see his family for at least the past month.  “They are. You’ll be fine.” 

If she was nervous, she hid it admirably. Taking his arm, she followed him up the steps into the high vaulted museum atrium.

It had been decorated elegantly for the event, strung with gold and silver streamers and intricately carved ice sculptures. Pamela’s hand tightened on his and Franklin merely smiled down at her reassuringly. “You look lovely. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”

Probably more than half of the people present, in actuality. They were here by virtue of the money they had contributed; and though Franklin was grateful for the funds, it wasn’t as if any of them actually cared about where their money was going. “We have to mingle.” Franklin glanced towards the doors, where his four bodyguards - hired at his family’s insistence, kept a sharp eye out. Though he didn’t like having them, if it made his family feel more secure - if it made Pamela feel more secure, then he would do his best to endure.

Luckily, he was only forced to grin and endure one introduction before his sister-in-law called his name, saving him the trouble of having to find her.

“Franklin!” At her summons, he turned gratefully to see her striding towards him with Russell in tow. As usual, Alice was ravishing enough to draw the eye of every man she passed, wearing a dress of her own design. Russell, for his part, stared down several admirers challengingly, and his wife had to tug at him to get him to relent. By the time she reached them, Alice was slightly out of breath.

But that didn’t temper her smile. “You’re on time, for once!” Once she had stood on tiptoe in her already sky-high heels to kiss his cheek affectionately, she turned her radiant smile on the woman at his side. “And you must be Pamela. You’re so lovely, darling. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The blonde’s eyes widened as Alice kissed her as well before ushering Russell forward.  “I’m Alice, Franklin’s sister-in-law, and this is-”

“My brother.” Franklin finished for her, “Russell. The better man.”

“Whoever’s out for your blood doesn’t seem to agree,” Russell rebutted with a small smile before taking Pamela’s hand to kiss briefly. “Charmed. Glad to see someone has finally reigned in his wild side.”

“Oh, that’s bloody impossible,” Pamela blurted the words before she could stop herself, and Russell burst into laughter as his brother merely smiled.

“Oh, good choice, Franklin. I like her.” Pamela’s cheeks burned, and Franklin found his gut filling with a curious warmth. After a lifetime of declaring that he would never bring home a woman as he was certain he couldn’t tolerate most of them, it was actually quite nice to introduce Pamela to the people he loved.

“Well, that’s a bonus.” He smirked at his brother. “Where is everyone else?”

“Well,” Alice ticked people off on her fingers, “Mum and Janeane are charming several of the biggest contributors - always a talent of theirs.  Rose is here, but Michael’s running a bit late. He had a surgery run over at the hospital. And Elias is...being Elias.” She gazed through the crowd, her expression one of consternation. “He’s probably snuck off somewhere with Catherine.”

“Brilliant.” Franklin chuckled. “We just have to worry about them getting caught.”

“You have to mingle.” Alice shot her brother-in-law a grin as she took Pamela’s hand almost possessively. “I’ll take care of your lovely guest, alright?” She looked to him like a deer in headlights, but Franklin merely laughed softly.

“You’d better return her in one piece.”

“Of course. Now go be charming.”

“Not exactly his forte,” Russell jabbed, following his brother through the crowd.  Alice winked at her husband before tugging Pamela in the opposite direction.

“Come with me, darling. We’ll get a drink and show you around.”

 

**

 

Laura Beth had always been one to hold a grudge - especially when she thought someone was avoiding her - and Marlin was avoiding her like the fucking plague. Ever since the time he had “caught” her stalking Franklin and Pam, he had suddenly started acting far more authoritatively than she liked. Telling her where to go and when to go there -constantly checking in on her to make sure she wasn’t lurking.

She was irked enough to ignore his calls and texts - irked enough to send him e-mails telling him exactly what she thought of him - and even angry enough to be distracted from her original goal enough to refocus her efforts on her brother himself.

It was hard, when Marlin seemed to have all but disappeared. At first, Laura thought he might have gone home without telling her. He hadn’t, after all, told her when his holiday was supposed to be ending. But that was impossible. His things were still at the hotel where he was staying, even if he wasn’t there himself.

Another theory was that he was spending all of his free time with Franklin, but that couldn’t be true, as Franklin now spent most of his time with Pamela. Since his announcement that he was being targeted by terrorists, Franklin seemed to have captured the media spotlight, even when he was in Leeds. Laura knew exactly when he was with Marlin - and it wasn’t often.

She needed to talk to her brother and get to the bottom of his ridiculous behavior - and so, she had a few shots before making her way to his hotel room. She didn’t really expect him to be there, but she got the key to his room by slipping the receptionist a twenty-pound note.

It was her every intention to park herself in his suite until he returned and then chew him out for attempting to act superior after so many years of an otherwise symbiotic relationship. Since their parents had died, they were all each other had, and they needed to nip whatever was between them in the bud.

The moment she entered his room, Laura made a face. Of course, he was an absolute slob - clothes strewn all over the room, luggage open on the bed. There was a stack of papers strewn all over the kitchen table and Laura was pretty certain the food on the bedside had been there far too long for its own good.

She made her way over to the kitchenette and managed to shove enough stuff out of the way to find a seat. Once she had settled down, however, Laura found herself wishing that she had at least brought her wine bottle with her, as there was absolutely nothing she could do while she waited for Marlin to come home.

Frowning, she glanced down at the table where a few candy wrappers overlaid a series of printed documents. Frowning, she brushed the wrappers off the table and onto the floor before taking a look at the documents beneath.

She was surprised to find that they were blueprints.

Why the hell would Marlin be interested in blueprints of anything? He wasn’t an architecture buff. He was into mass media - that was his job.

Laura Beth tugged the blueprints towards her, looking over them carefully. They weren’t any building that she had ever heard of - not that she would know the name of the damned thing anyway, as the text on the page was written in Chinese. What the fuck would Marlin want with a Chinese building?

She shoved the plans away, shaking her head as she rose and stalked to the kitchenette. Maybe she’d get lucky and the man would have a beer or two in the fridge to keep her occupied. When she opened the refrigerator, however, Laura Beth only stared at its contents.

What the almighty fuck?

There wasn’t a single article of food or drink inside it. Instead, the space was occupied with what looked like...chemicals. At least twenty or thirty bottles, each labeled with tiny print.

Inexplicably, the sight of them sent a chill down Laura Beth’s spine. What on earth was Marlin keeping in his fridge? Squatting carefully, the young woman reached out to take a bottle in hand, attempting to read the minute, scrawling handwriting that labeled it. Marlin’s writing had always been chicken scratch, but these words were absolute nonsense. Ammonal, Armstrong’s Mixture, Acetone Peroxide, Nitrocellulose… She quickly tired of reading and simply replaced the bottle, closing the fridge.

As she returned to the table to take her seat, she looked up one of the names she’d seen on a whim and almost choked on her saliva.

Acetone Peroxide was an extremely unstable organic white peroxide that was used in a variety of explosives.

Laura took a deep breath as her heart stuttered in her chest.

What on earth was Marlin doing with something like that in his fridge? After hesitating for only a moment, she returned to the fridge and opened it once more, looking up the name of every bottle she could get her hands on. They were all explosives, or things that were used to make chemical explosives.

Which basically meant that her brother’s refrigerator could go off at any moment, taking the entire hotel with it.

Laura gazed at the contents in horror, backing away slowly as she blindly dialed her brother’s number on her phone. When she held the device to her ear, it seemed to ring endlessly until the answering system finally picked up.

You’ve reached Marlin. I can’t get to the phone right now, so just leave a message. Thanks.

She hung up immediately, her brain working overdrive.

She hadn’t talked to him in almost a week now - and in that week, he’d spent an inordinate amount of time in London.

Every once in a while, he would leave her messages reinforcing how dangerous he believed it was to be around him, and to stay her ass in Leeds.

Laura knew she wasn’t necessarily the most logistically smart woman, but even she knew enough to start putting two and two together. Her brother had the blueprint of a Chinese building and a shit ton of explosives in his fridge. He had come to visit her only after he had made friends with Franklin - almost as if the purpose of his trip to England had been to find him rather than to visit his sister.

And he’d grown closer with Franklin in six months than he was with many friends back home that he’d had for years.

Laura Beth found her palms sweating as her anxiety mounted. She reached for her purse, rooting through it until she came up with the business card her brother had once given her for his business in the US. He had always told her that he worked in the media, but he’d never shown her any recordings he made. In fact, he made surprisingly little to do about the whole affair, considering that he tended to be a ham about such things; but she let it go because they lived in two different countries and she wasn’t his babysitter.

Now, she called the number, waiting to see who was on the other line.

The line rang three times before beeping harshly and a mechanical voice informed her that the line wasn’t in service.

For almost a full minute, Laura Beth stared down at her phone, trepidation growing to fill her chest.

Why had Marlin showed up in London out of the blue? She’d lived abroad before, and he always announced himself before coming to see her, but London had been a completely different story.

She turned back to the kitchen table to take up some of the other documents that covered it. There were more blueprints, instructions on how to make certain chemical explosives, and a number of documents that she supposed were encrypted, as she couldn’t read a word of them.

But, by now, Laura Beth thought she knew what they might say.

And the prospect made her sick.

When she reached for her phone a third time, her hand was trembling slightly, and when she dialed, she knew that she was probably making one of the most important phone calls of her life.

 

CHAPTER 13: The Confrontation

All in all, the event wasn’t nearly as bad as Pamela had suspected it might be. Not that she ever thought it would be a terrible place to be, she merely thought that she would feel completely out of place surrounded by people who made more money in a day than she did in her entire lifetime.

But, somehow, being with Alice Darwell made things simple. It was easy to see why Franklin preferred his sister-in-law to his brother.

As it turned out, people were more than eager to meet the mysterious woman Franklin Darwell had been seen with over the past few weeks, and Alice was more than glad to introduce her. She flitted from group to group, tugging Pamela in her wake and introducing her to more people than she could ever remember. After each and every introduction, however, Alice provided a tidbit of information about the individual that had Pam struggling not to laugh aloud.

“That’s Trevor Knight. He’s the son of a Duke but he can’t inherit because his father is convinced that he has a sex addiction. He visited a brothel in the Netherlands once, and only to say he’d been.” That was a juicy one. Or: “Lady Agatha Charles. She’s been cheating on her husband for twenty years with his maid and he turns a blind eye.” One of the most interesting stories, however, was that of David Plinch. “He’s the son of the prime minister and was caught last year trying to vandalize a sex shop during his stag party. The management retaliated by naming one of their newest additions after him. The Minister’s still trying to hush that up.”

There was more to these people, Pamela soon discovered, than pomp and circumstance. They were very much regular individuals like she herself, and many of them had problems that money couldn’t even begin to address. By comparison, Franklin seemed almost normal.

Speaking of Franklin, she wondered where he was. Earlier on, she’d seen him chatting with a handsome dark-haired man who Alice told her was the architect responsible for the museum itself. She’d been separated from her lover for only an hour or so but she already itched to touch him. Over the past month or so, she had come to crave Franklin’s touch almost every waking moment of the day. She had to make up for nearly a decade of being starved the intimacy of a true embrace.

She’d like one of those embraces now, really. As lovely as the benefit and Franklin’s sister-in-law were, Pam found herself feeling oddly...exposed. Even with the bodyguards she knew were watching Franklin like hawks. She knew he’d promised her he’d protect her, and she believed him...but it still took some adjusting to get used to the fact that she was dating a man who someone desperately wanted to off.

“I see you’re looking for Franklin.” Alice teased her, snapping her from her thoughts so she smiled sheepishly.

“All this meet and greet is rather overwhelming. I just need a breather.”

“Of course.” Alice smiled empathetically. “Let’s go and find him, shall we?”

Pamela followed her, bemused by all the men that stared at the dark-haired beauty. She could hardly concentrate when she was in Alice’s presence, so she could only imagine how men felt trying to talk to her. In fact, everyone in Franklin’s family seemed fairly good looking - to say the least. She felt positively dowdy next to them.

But, she reminded herself, he had chosen her. Which had to mean something.

All at once, her phone buzzed in the small bag she’d brought with her. Pam let go of Alice’s hand long enough to check the number scrolling across the screen. She was surprised to see it was Laura Beth. She’d had relatively little contact with the girl since she and Franklin began steadily seeing one another. Franklin was of the opinion that Laura Beth had been gunning for him and her bitterness got the best of her, and after a few failed meetups, Pamela had forced herself to admit that, perhaps, that really was the case.

But if it was, why was Laura Beth calling her now?

“Alice, I’m going to step out into the hall for a minute to take this call.” She called ahead to the dark-haired woman busy scanning the crowd for her brother-in-law. “If you spot Franklin, just send him out to me.”

“Of course, lovely.” Alice blew her a kiss before starting through the crowd as Pamela stepped from the hall where the event was being held and into an outer corridor to answer her phone.

“Hello? Laura?”

For a moment, she thought the younger woman might have dialed her by accident, but then, Laura spoke.

“Pam?”

Her voice was trembling and frightened. The tone was enough to send shivers down Pam’s spine as her eyes widened in concern.

“Laura? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Pam…” Laura sobbed softly, and Pamela had to lean against a nearby wall for purchase. What on earth was wrong? It must be something earth-shattering to make Laura cry. She was almost as adamant about Pamela about not wearing her emotions on her sleeve - unless it meant getting what she wanted. Somehow, Pamela didn’t think this had anything to do with that. Laura sounded genuinely terrified. “Pam... there’s something wrong with Marlin.”

**

Franklin was tired of the benefit already. He had only been here for a few hours and he already longed for the seclusion and privacy of Pamela’s flat, where he had been spending most of his time. Since he had arrived, he had seen little of her. He was, as Alice had instructed him, busy charming people as well as he could.

Annoyed as it made him.

At some point, even Russell had abandoned him, and he was left trying to deal with Elias, who frankly he only endured because he was close to Alice’s brother. How a man like the self-absorbed architect could be married to someone as nice as his wife and protégé was beyond Franklin - but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. He shook hands and smiled until his jaw hurt. He reiterated the greater points of the speech he made, impressing upon anyone who asked that he would not allow terror to threaten the efforts they made to make the world a better place.

It was usually enough to get people off his back.

At some point, however, it all got to be a bit much, and he began looking for Pam. She had to be doing admirably that she hadn’t sought him out yet, but he’d already been away from her too long for his liking. He had done his civic duty, and he wanted nothing more than to return to her house and lose himself in her.

One of his favorite pastimes.

When the explosion came, it was completely unexpected. Franklin was about to enter the ladies room to make sure Pam wasn’t inside when the wall fifty feet in front of him blasted inward in a hail of stone and steel. The din filled the main chamber of the museum - roaring, crashing and twisting steel - soon joined by the horrified screams of all in attendance.

Franklin was thrown backwards against a nearby pillar, connecting with enough force to daze him and crack two of his ribs. With an agonized shout of pain, he lost his footing, sinking into a heap as the sound of screaming around him only increased in volume.

It took him a good thirty seconds to process what had happened, and once he had, sheer horror gripped him.

Again. It was happening again.

This time, there was no hesitation. The first thought that crossed his mind was that he had to find Pamela, wherever she was. He had to find her and get her out.

When he tried to rise, however, his head swam and the ceiling above him jolted with a sickening crack.

It was sheer chaos.

People begin running for the exits, stumbling over one another in their expensive dresses and suits as they sought to escape the trembling, acrid space that had been the great hall of the museum. There were, of course, those who couldn’t move. Those who had been injured and those who were….

His family.

Jesus, Christ, where was his mother? Where was his sister?

Franklin remembered seeing Alice idling at the punch bowl near the site of the explosion a mere five minutes before it happened. Was she alright? Was she with Russell?

Was she with Pamela?

When he tried to get up again, Franklin stumbled, clutching the remains of a nearby table for purchase. There was rubble all around him - so much that he doubted he’d be able to find his way through it. And even if he did, there would then be the hordes of stampeding people to contend with.

He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, only to have half of it filled with blood. Reaching up gingerly, he probed his hairline and hissed to find a gash there.

Bloody hell.

Where were the bodyguards he was paying so much for? What the hell good were they if they couldn’t prevent something like this?

“Franklin!”

His ears were ringing, and so, at first, Franklin thought he was imagining the voice that called his name. When it came again, however, there was no mistaking it. “Franklin! Fuck, Franklin!”

All at once, a burly male figure knelt by his side, his face swimming briefly before he could take him in clearly. “Marlin?” He croaked, in disbelief. What the hell was Marlin doing at his function? He had invited the man, but Marlin, increasingly distant in the past few weeks, had told Franklin that he’d only embarrass him.

And yet, here he was.

To say the least, Franklin was happy to see him. “Franklin.” Marlin’s expression was grave as he looked him over. We’ve got to get you out of here. You’re messed up bad.”

Slowly, Franklin shook his head. “Pam. I can’t leave without Pam.”

“She’s alright.” Marlin replied almost immediately. “I was across the street at a cafe when the bomb went off. I saw her come out on my way in.”

Franklin could have shouted in relief. Thank God. Thank God. “What about my family? Did you see any of them?”

“Rescue vehicles are on the way. They’ll get them out, Frank. They’ll be ok. We need to worry about you though. You’re losing blood fast.”

Leaning down, Marlin took hold of one of Franklin’s arms and guided it around his neck. “I’ll help you stand. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Right.” Franklin managed, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ribs as he shifted. Marlin helped him slowly to his feet as the sound of sirens grew from a distance. He clung to Marlin as his friend helped him out over the rubble, wincing at the sound of the screams of pain around them.

It seemed to take an eternity, but they finally emerged from the museum. Outside was pandemonium, people shoving at one another as they looked for family members and loved ones lost. Marlin began to lead Franklin towards a waiting car, but Franklin stopped, gazing at the sea of faces around them. “Pamela. Where did you see her?”

“I’ll call her.” Marlin’s voice took on a suddenly impatient edge.  “She’ll come meet us at the hospital. Come on, dude. Before you collapse from blood loss.”

Franklin must have been weaker than he thought, as he swore he heard Pam calling his name faintly as Marlin helped him into the car. Once he settled back against the seat, however, he only hoped they could get to a hospital sooner rather than later - he felt like absolute shite.

 

**

“Franklin!”

Pam was going to break her neck, attempting to run through a crowd in heels she could barely walk in, but she didn’t care. At that moment, sheer willpower thrust her forward. What Laura Beth had told her on the phone had her heart pounding and her mouth dry in sheer disbelief.

Marlin.

Marlin wasn’t who he claimed to be.

When the explosion had gone off, Pam lost her connection with Laura, but they had talked long enough for the younger woman to tell her what she found when she visited her brother’s hotel room - what all of it meant.

For the past few weeks, she and Franklin had been so absorbed in one another that she knew her lover didn’t have much time to spend with his friend - but that hadn’t stopped Marlin from trying to get them both to go out with him at once. Franklin, however, always wanted to stay in, and as a result, they saw very little of Marlin.

And now Pam knew why.

“Franklin!” She coughed, her throat thick with dust. The scene was so much like the one in Hong Kong that she felt sick to her stomach, but she had to push through it. She had to find him. “Franklin!”

“Pamela!” She almost tripped headlong over Alice, who was sprawled over the floor with her leg at an odd angle.

“Alice!” Pam cried out in horror, immediately sinking to her knees. “Oh bloody hell. Your leg. It’s broken. Dear God…” She looked around frantically. “Where’s Russell? Where’s everyone else?”

“I’ve no idea.” Alice’s teeth were gritted in pain. “Can you help me up?”

“I don’t want to move you,” Pam retorted almost immediately. “Just...just stay here. I’ll be right back with help.”

Alice merely nodded, doing her best to shift into a more comfortable position as a groan of pain escaped her. Pam shot to her feet and crept through the rubble as carefully as she could. It was no small task, getting out of the building without being trampled or breaking her neck, but somehow, she managed. Far in the distance, she could hear the sound of sirens approaching. Should she wait for them? Should she try to find someone who could help her with Alice, or should she keep searching for Franklin and the other members of the Darwell clan?

She looked around frantically, her heart racing -

And then she saw him.

Franklin was leaning heavily against Marlin, very obviously injured, and the American was helping him into the back of a car.

He was taking him away.

Pamela screamed in horror.  “Franklin, no! Don’t go with him! NO!”

But it was too late. The door was closing and the car pulled away from the curb. “NO!”

“Pamela!” Her scream was cut off when she was jerked around and faced with a burly red-headed man that she only vaguely recognized as Alice’s brother, Michael. “Where is Alice?”

“Alice is inside. Her leg is broken but I think she’s alright.” She struggled in his grip to look after the car that was rapidly disappearing from view. “Michael, that car! Franklin’s in that car!”

Michael looked after the car, his expression confused. “Is his family with him?”

“He took him!” Pamela moaned in terrified dismay. “The man who’s been after him all this time! He took him and he’s going to kill him!”

Michael’s face turned ashen in the space of a single second. “Bloody fucking hell.”

**

“Wake up, Frank. Come on.”

Franklin groaned lowly. Somewhere along the way to the hospital, he had blacked out. Marlin’s voice seemed to be calling to him from a thousand miles away, and he clawed his way up through heavy blackness to get back to him. “Wake up Frank.”

What words couldn’t do an agonizing blow to his jaw achieved fairly quickly.

Franklin came to with a grunt of pain, his head throbbing.

He expected to see the stark colors of a hospital room, but instead, he found himself in a low, dark room, sitting in a hard-wooden chair. When he attempted to move, he found he couldn’t. He was tied securely to the chair, and all his struggles earned him was a lightning jolt of pain to his injured ribs. “Calm down, Frank. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Franklin looked up to see Marlin standing over him, a strange, small smile playing about the corners of his mouth. He swallowed thickly, groaning. “Marlin. What’s going on? Where are we?”

“Not important.” Marlin replied, reaching down to take hold of Franklin’s blonde ponytail and tug it backward until his neck was painfully taut. “What is important is that we appreciate this moment. I’ve been waiting for it so very long, you know that? You are a very difficult man to kill, Frank. But, finally, here we are.”

Franklin stared up at him in disbelief, his neck screaming as Marlin pulled it even more taut. This was a joke. Some kind of ridiculous, awful prank. “You seem surprised.”

“You...you…” Franklin tried swallowing to wet his dry throat. “What are you doing, Marlin?”

“Oh, I would have thought that painfully obvious: I’m going to kill you, Frank. There was a point where I thought it wouldn’t be necessary, but things have changed.”

“I... don’t understand.”

Marlin laughed at his confusion - and it was nothing like the laugh Franklin knew. This one was high and mirthless. “I don’t work in media, Frank. I work for an organization that doesn’t really like how charitable you are. You keep fucking up our shit, and, I have to say, even as nice as you are, that can get frustrating sometimes.” He released Franklin so the man gasped in relief. “I was just going to take a peek through your paperwork - see what projects you were planning on working on with WHO so we could pre-empt you, but that didn’t work so well.”

Franklin watched in mounting horror as Marlin withdrew a gleaming silver weapon from his back pocket.  “You’re the one who tossed my cabin.” He murmured in realization. “When we first met. You were at the lodge.”

“Pretty slow for a know-it-all, aren’t you? But you didn’t have what I was looking for, so it ceased to be important. Motives changed: Kill someone prominent in the WHO and cow the rest.  Instill fear and stagnate development - the usual. Of course, it would have to be you. You don’t care about security.” Marlin waved his gun almost casually to illustrate his point and, to his shock, Franklin saw none other than his four bodyguards standing against the far wall. “It was painfully easy to install my own men when you hired your guards, and even then, you expose yourself way too much. I know you find some kind of weird amusement in pretending not to be who you are, but for the love of God, sometimes I thought you were just stupid.”

Slowly, methodically, Marlin began loading his gun.

Franklin forced himself to speak, forced his brain to work. There had to be some way out of this. “Where’s Pamela?”

Marlin shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I wasn’t lying about that. I think…” he mused, “It would have been better if she took my advice and stayed away from you, but women are fickle things, aren’t they?”

At least she was safe - far away from this maniac. “Now, Franklin…” Marlin mused, closing the gun’s chamber as he looked over it. “After all these months of waiting and watching, we’ve reached the main event.”

Franklin could only glare at him. He was tied far too tightly to do anything with his hands, and he was too weak to take the entire chair with him. Even if he wasn’t weak with pain and blood loss, he would still have Marlin’s four friends to get past, and that was all but impossible.

“Why…” He took a deep, steadying breath, “Why did you even bother to feign friendship? Wouldn’t it have been better to just kill me in my sleep?”

“Oh, Franklin…” Marlin shook his head, his expression chiding. “Franklin, Franklin, Franklin. Where’s the fun in that?”

With that, he leveled the revolver at his head, and Franklin stiffened. Was this really how it was going to end? Just like this, in some unknown place, with a single bullet in his brain? He might never have imagined his end would be nearly so exciting.

Or terrifying.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to think of something, anything. He wouldn’t give Marlin the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

Almost at once, Pamela’s face sprang to the forefront of his mind. Her green eyes, clever smile and soft laugh. At least he had time with her. Time he hadn’t been so alone.

She had changed everything.

When the sound of the shot came, there was searing pain, a high feminine scream, and then, nothing.

**

Everything happened so fast Pam hardly had time to register it.

There were more than thirty policemen surrounding the small abandoned apartment building where Marlin had taken Franklin. Thanks to Michael and the Darwells’ connections, they had managed to find the vehicle with relative ease.

But that didn’t mean waiting outside for an opportunity was any easier.

At the news of her son’s plight, the Darwell matriarch had been almost hysterical. Russell forced her to go to the hospital with Alice while he himself accompanied Pamela and the police.

Pamela had watched the policemen surround the building, but was forced to stay in the back of the car they’d taken, watching helplessly as they handled the situation. Franklin was in there. He was in there with Marlin and she had no idea whether he was dead or alive.

“Breathe, Pamela.” Russell’s hand squeezed her shoulder, making her jump. When she looked over at the large man, his was smiling slightly, even if the rest of his body was rigid with tension. “He’s alright. I know he is.”

Pamela didn’t know anything. She just wanted to see him. To know that he was alright!

It seemed like an eternity before a detective finally opened the door to the car and gave them an update in a low, serious tone. “Darwell is Alive. His attacker is preparing to kill him and we’re getting a sniper in position. Once we take the shot we’re going to storm the place and get him out.”

Pamela thought she might be sick. This all had to be some awful nightmare from which she would awaken if she only willed it hard enough. “You’ll...you won’t miss, will you?” She managed weakly.

The detective didn’t answer, and Pam found herself stumbling from the car in his wake, despite Russell’s attempts to stop her. When she tried to follow him past the yellow tape walling off the area, two policemen stopped her, physically taking hold of her when she struggled. She watched, horrified, as a sniper atop a nearby patrol car took careful aim at a window on the first floor of the building.

What if he missed. What if he hit Franklin and killed him all the same?

When he took the shot, she screamed, sagging in the arms of the officers that held her.

And then everything happened in a rush. The policemen assembled rushed in through windows and broke down the door, and within minutes, they were carrying two bodies from the first floor - as well as leading out four familiar men in handcuffs.

But Pam could care less about the living.

The moment the bodies were in range, she rushed forward, finally breaking free of the officers restraining her. “Franklin! Franklin!” At her fervor, the paramedics holding his gurney parted to let her see him.

He was unconscious, a sickening red patch spreading from a wound on his shoulder. “Franklin!”

“He’ll be alright.” One of the paramedics took her arm to keep her from panicking. “He’s been shot in the shoulder, and he’s lost a lot of blood, but he should be alright if we get him to the hospital right away.”

But nothing she said could keep Pamela from clinging to his unconscious form as if her life depended on it.

Next to the stretcher upon which he lay, another set of paramedics were carefully loading Marlin’s lifeless form into a body bag, and Pamela found she couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at the man she had considered her friend -who she had seen laughing and joking with his sister only months ago.

Nothing in the world was right - and it wouldn’t be right until Franklin told her it was.

“Pamela, let him go. They have to take him to the hospital.” The next thing she knew, Russell was all but prying her from Franklin’s supine form, holding her tightly against his chest. “He’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.”

Pam felt her legs give way beneath her.

He was going to be alright. Franklin was going to live.

Tears of relief coursed down her face as all the adrenaline from the evening finally dropped away and it was all she could do to cling to Russell, totally exhausted. Franklin would be ok...and she could tell him...she could tell him all the things she had feared she’d never be able to.

All the things that had suddenly risen to the very front of her mind when she realized she might never see him again.

She was going to get a second chance.

And there was no way she would waste it.

Chapter Thirteen

 

Everything hurt. Everything.

Franklin couldn’t remember the last time he had been in so much physical pain. There was a blur of faces above him, voices fading in and out. A needle pricked the crook of his right arm and blessed numbness swept through him.

Relief.

He slept.

Slept on and on and had amorphous dreams that all blended together. Pamela crying as though her heart would break, Marlin sneering at him, his mother clinging to him so tightly he could barely breathe.

It seemed like he slept for an eternity - so long that by the time Franklin opened his eyes, they stung at the intensity of the light that momentarily blinded him. It took him a full minute to adjust -for him to realize that he was in a completely white room, staring at a sterile white ceiling.

He swallowed and his throat burned. He was thirsty as hell - so thirsty his mouth could barely form the word.

“Water, please.”

The two single, hoarse words drew a cry of surprise from somewhere around his hips and he caught a flash of blonde hair a moment before a glorious pair of green eyes came into view. “Franklin? Are you awake?”

Pamela.

His Pamela.

Even with her pinched, worried expression, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Did you say water? You want water, right? Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

When she left him, he groaned at the loss - but he needn’t have worried. She returned within thirty seconds. And when she did, an entire entourage of people accompanied her.

Pamela hurried to his bedside, extending a paper cup of water. When Franklin attempted to raise his arm to take it, he found it was oddly heavy.

“Franklin, darling!” His mother was at the other side of his bed immediately, tears in his eyes.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Alice hobbled in next on crutches, her expression amused as she brushed off Russell’s attempts to help her.

“He finally wakes.” Michael brought up the rear, clad in his doctor’s coat, his expression warm. “The sedative wore off hours ago. I was about to come and check on you.”

They were all fussing over him, but Franklin only had eyes for Pamela. She held the cup to his lips and helped him drink it all before setting it aside. The woman perched on his bedside and took his hand between both of hers. Somehow, Franklin sensed that she had been here for quite a while.  “How are you feeling.” Michael came up behind his sister, shooing Alice out of the way before he leaned down to shine a bright light into each of Franklin’s eyes in turn.

“Like horse shite.” It was easier to talk after the water, but Franklin was gradually coming to realize that he ached everywhere.

“Well, that’s to be expected. You have a few cracked ribs and a head injury. You were also shot.”

And it all came back to him in a rush.

The explosion at the museum, the chaos that ensued after, and Marlin. The man he thought was his friend but, all the time, had only wanted to sabotage the WHO by any means necessary- even if that meant taking Franklin’s life. “Is everyone alright?” He managed, gazing around the room. “Rose? Elias? Catherine? Did everyone get out of the museum alright?”

“They’re all fine.” Alice piped up with a smile. “We honestly got the worst of it. There were a fair few people injured, but no deaths.”

“That’s not true.” Pam spoke quietly, drawing Franklin’s attention to her. “Marlin died. They shot him.”

Franklin’s gut twisted and shut his eyes tightly.

Fuck. Fuck.

Michael, who had just finished taking Franklin’s vitals, cleared his throat. “We’ll give you a few moments alone, Franklin.” There was much shuffling and the thud-swish of Alice’s crutches as all occupants of the room left.

All but one.

When Franklin opened his eyes, Pam was looking down at him, her hands still holding his. “Franklin…” she breathed, her tone heavy with guilt. “I’m so sorry. Laura Beth...she called during the function to tell me about some things she found in Marlin’s room in Leeds and what she found out. I tried to find you, I swear I did...but he’d already taken you and I thought...I thought…” She trailed off before leaning forward to wrap her arms around him as carefully as she dared. “I thought he’d killed you. I’m so sorry, Franklin, I should have known. I should have suspected-”

“Hush,” He returned softly, his tone firm. “None of this is your fault. Neither of us suspected. I thought...I got close to him. I would never have imagined...He fooled his own sister for Christ sake….” Franklin wrapped his good arm around Pamela in turn, inhaling the sweet scent of her and relishing in the feel of her against him.

She was here with him. He had time.

He had never been more grateful for anything in his life.

“Franklin,” Pamela spoke softly against his ear. “It hurt. Nothing has ever hurt as much as imagining you dead. I... thought I would never get to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” He inquired lowly, his heart suddenly in his throat.

“I... think you know.” She squeezed him a little tighter and Franklin swore he could feel her cheeks heating.

He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. It hurt. “I don’t You’re going to have to tell me.”

Pamela expelled a long breath before straightening enough so that she could look him in the eye. “You are insufferable, Franklin Darwell. But I suppose I love you all the more for it.”

She was right. He had suspected.

But that did nothing to stem his elation. She loved him. Loved all the arguing and banter - loved that they teased one another and loved that he didn’t temper himself to fit anyone’s mold. She loved him despite the danger, and despite the complications involved - loved him for who he was, as Franklin had once believed no woman would ever be able to.

And all it had taken was two brushes with death.

The ironic thought was enough to make him chuckle.

Pamela frowned slightly. “What’s funny? Literally nothing is funny. You’re in the hospital. You got shot.”

“Life is funny.” He replied, reaching up to stroke a stray strand of blonde from her brow. “If it took all this to get you in my life, I’d gladly do it again.”

Pam’s eyes widened. “Bite your tongue Darwell.”

Closing his eyes, Franklin sighed in pure contentment. “I love your smart mouth, Pamela Livingston. And I love you.”

Her breath caught and barely half a second passed before she was in his arms again, hugging him hard enough to make his ribs twinge as her mouth moved gingerly, carefully over his.

The moment couldn’t be more perfect.

“You hardly need mouth to mouth resuscitation, Franklin.” He parted from Pamela only reluctantly to see Russell smirking in the doorway. He scowled.

“I thought we were supposed to have privacy.”

“Yes, well, Doctor Tate also says you need meds, so, whenever you come up for air.” With a decidedly un-Russell like wink, his brother disappeared once more. Pamela merely rolled her eyes.

“I can see why he bugs you.”

Her comment made Franklin groan. “Finally.”

 

**

Six Months Later

 

Pamela had always been fairly adept at adjusting. She switched jobs every few months at her temp job and had been shuffled to more foster homes than she could count as a child. Change was part of her life.

But she had never experienced as big a change as working for Franklin and the WHO.

Of course, after he got out of the hospital, there was no small amount of controversy. The organization wanted him to take a leave of absence. To consider the ramifications of his near death experience and consider appointing someone else to fill his position.

But Franklin was having none of that. The moment he was healed, he insisted on not only resuming the sporadic work he’d endeavored upon before, but a more full-time position. Nothing anyone told him could dissuade him - least of all arguments from his mother and family.

He was delayed for a month or so, but eventually, the paperwork went through and the blonde man was smiling smugly at his mother every Sunday dinner. The Darwell matriarch was forced to admit that, though stubborn, her son had a good heart, and Alice promised she wouldn’t wallop him until he got completely well.

For Pam, Franklin’s new position meant not only moving to London, but an immediate foray into more travel than she’d known was possible in a month. She had hardly learned her duties - far more inclusive than those of any secretary position she’d ever held - before she was whisked off to Sweden, then Germany. France, Italy, South Africa...the entire world suddenly lie at her fingertips, and she got to see the way it worked in person rather than merely watching it on the news.

She couldn’t ever remember being excited to wake up every morning - and that was no small feat, considering that, more often than not, Franklin kept her up half of every night with his insatiable hunger for her body.

He was perhaps the best part of this new chapter in her life. Everywhere they went, he taught her something new. He showed her the world he had always been a part, and built on hers until Pamela realized the true scope of what she had really been missing.

He helped her realize her dreams, and he was there by her side every step of the way.

Life was suddenly so drastically different that Pamela could hardly believe that she was the same person. She was in love, she had a brilliant position, she was making a difference in the world and she was more fulfilled than she had ever been.

When she told Franklin so one night after they made love, he merely kissed her soundly. “That makes two of us.”

With an indulgent smile, she snuggled against his bare form, wondering just how long she had before he began to seduce her anew. Franklin stroked down the line of her spine leisurely, his breath warm against her shoulder. “Pamela, are you truly happy?”

She raised her head to beam up at him. “Nothing could make me happier than I am right now, Franklin. Nothing.”

Franklin merely smiled mysteriously, sitting up to reach over to the bedside table to pluck an unmarked manila envelope from its surface. Without a word, he handed it to her.

Pamela looked at him curiously, but he didn’t say a word, merely prompting her to open it. The moment she did so, Pamela’s heart stopped.

Atop a thick file of information was a very familiar picture - that of a young girl and an older Chinese man laughing together. The man who had taught her curiosity - who had fed her hunger and made her believe she could achieve anything if she tried hard enough.

According to the documents with the picture, his name was Pei Wang Lin. He was seventy years old and currently lived in the small city of Yangshuo in the Guangxi province of China - and he was booked on the next flight to London.

Pam looked from the booking information to Franklin’s face in complete shock as the man she loved merely smiled at her. “I thought,” he teased lightly, “You said nothing could make you happier.”

Pamela’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She couldn’t help it. How did he do it? How did this man continually fill her heart until she thought it might burst? “You...you found him for me.” She croaked. “Franklin I...I... don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you might want to brush up on your Chinese.” He replied matter-of-factly. “Like this. When you see him, the first thing you should say is this: Yeye, ni neng lai wo hunli?”

Pam had to try several times before she got the words right, though she didn’t sound near as proficient at them as Franklin. “What does it mean?” She finally managed, smiling through her tears.

In reply, Franklin’s smile turned oddly tender. “It’s a wedding invitation.”

Pamela laughed, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. “Whose wedding?”

“Well…” Franklin took her hand, and Pam inhaled sharply at the cool, velvety slide of metal against her finger. “I thought that should be fairly obvious.” When he released her, a brilliant square cut diamond glittered against her skin, and she simply stared.

Oh God.

“You’re...not even going to ask me?” She finally managed, her throat thick as she did her utmost to keep from breaking down completely. “You…twat.” The insult came out on a sob and Franklin merely gathered her against him until all she could feel was him. All that mattered was him and the adventure that lie ahead of them.

“Marry me, Pamela. Until death do us part.”

She laughed. Franklin certainly had a way with words.

THE END

Thank You!

 

I wanted to start off by just saying thank you for choosing one of my books. I know that there are millions of romance books out there and I know how valuable your time is so I am really grateful that you took the time to read my book.

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NAUGHTY BUSINESS

VLADIMIR KENSLEY

E LLEN L ANE

Chapter 1 - The Line of Succession

 

Vladimir Kensley didn’t know what to do with himself when he was at home.

It always seemed as if there was a sudden lack of things to do - or rather, things he needed to do. He was, after all, a person who thrived on schedules and carefully planned itineraries. A man who could be so brutally anal about the way his day was laid out that he’d gone through five personal assistants before he found one that understood the way his mind worked.

Of course, Marcy was on vacation now - and he was supposed to be too. But things had always been a bit harder for Vlad when it came to taking leisure time.

It was five in the morning and he was wide awake. By this point, he knew there was no hoping that he would magically go back to sleep. He would simply have to wait until someone else was up and puttering around before he made his appearance - most probably his mother. Next to him, she was the one who rose the earliest. Many a morning had been shared between just the two of them drinking coffee in the kitchen as they discussed how things were going for him in Manhattan.

But it would be at least another two hours before she even stirred.

With a sigh, he tucked his hands behind his head, staring at the intricate whorls of paint that decorated the ceiling of his room. Though they were meant to be random, he had no problem seeing a pattern in them - reading them almost as if he would have read an equation. The first time he’d mentioned this to any of his brothers, they had merely looked at him as though he were some kind of oddity - all of them except Ethan, that was. When it came to mathematical patterns, Ethan was as close to as savant as it was possible to be.

But he was nowhere near as uptight as his elder brother.

Ethan was, arguably, the most relaxed of them all - and Vlad only thought so because Alistair’s idea of relaxation was probably something that involved endangering his life. His oldest brother often liked to insist that a little base jumping or cliff diving would clear Vladimir’s mind, and Vlad always made sure that Alistair knew, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn’t be taking his life in his hands anytime soon. He felt completely comfortable leaving that to the Scottish man, and periodic check-ins were the only reminder he needed that Alistair would like nothing more than to toss his entire family off the edge of a cliff.

With bungee cords attached, of course.

Their father had done it once - much to Vladimir’s shock. The man was nearing seventy, yet he liked to indulge Alistair’s crazy schemes every once in a while. When the Scot had suggested bungee-jumping from the highest platform in the world while on a business trip in Macau, Jackson Kensley had actually accepted.

When his wife found out three weeks later, she had given him a massive earful. Sixty- eight-year-old men, she insisted, weren’t made for bungee jumping! They were supposed to rein in their sons’ crazier impulses! But that, of course, had fallen to Vlad. Things always fell to Vlad, in that respect. He was supposed to be the responsible one.

It was a role he didn’t take lightly.

Shifting onto his side, Vlad searched the slowly lightening horizon outside. The sun would be rising soon, and when it did, it would bathe the family estate in warm, golden light as far as the eye could see.

He could remember the very first time he had watched the sunrise on Kensley grounds. He had been a thirteen-year-old boy, barely able to speak English, wondering what on earth his future would be like. At the time, he had been in the United States for a single week, most of which he had spent sequestered in his room trying to figure out how to get back to where he had come from. He decided, stubbornly, that he didn’t like this new country, or the man who had brought him here.

How foolish he’d been.

The first time he’d ever seen the sun rise over the grounds, he had been hell-bent on running away - though he didn’t know where he was returning to. As a child, he had been willful, stubborn and unquestionably rebellious - enough so that now, he was surprised by how much he’d changed. At age thirteen, the first light of morning had meant it was time to make his move - to pack all he could find to hawk for money and make his way from the manor into the strangeness of a country that wasn’t his own.

To this day, he had no idea how his father had known what he was planning - just that Jackson Kensley had been waiting for him in the entry hall -presumably to thwart him. To young Vladimir’s great surprise the man hadn’t tried to keep him from leaving. Jackson had merely fixed him with those intense, piercing gray eyes of his and opened the door for him, providing a sure path of escape.

He hadn’t taken it. Whether it was because he was intimidated by the man he would come to call father, or that some more mature part of him realized the mistake he would be making, Vladimir had merely dropped his bag of loot and hurried back to his room. Jackson had never asked him where he might have been going, and he had never apologized for his attempt at flight. It was a silent agreement between he and his father.

Kensley manor was his home now - perhaps more than Manhattan would ever be, even though he’d been living in the city for almost the past decade. Here, there were fewer professional pressures on him, even if he still felt the pressures of the Kensley family rather acutely.

A sudden knock on his door startled him, and he sat up, his expression curious. Who the hell was up and about at this hour? “Who is it?”

“I’m jetlagged out of my mind.” At the sound of his younger brother’s voice, Vlad found himself smiling slightly. “And I assumed you’d be awake. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” When the door opened, Toshiro was standing on the threshold. Vlad and the younger man were hardly ever in the same place at the same time, as Shiro was constantly on the move. Where Vlad was required to stay in Manhattan almost constantly, Toshiro never got to put roots down -such was the nature of their respective positions - and as such, they were slightly envious of one another.

“Surprised to see you here.” The Japanese man looked, as always, as put together as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all. He tightened the belt on his blue yukata before crossing the room to sink into an armchair near the window with a sigh. “Never thought you would leave the office in the middle of a budget review.”

“Yes, well - blame our mother. She guilt-tripped me into it.”

“Ah, well,” Shiro’s lips curved upward into a knowing smile. “That explains a lot. I almost felt guilty for taking a few days off myself.”

Vlad frowned immediately. “Why? You probably take less personal time in a year than I do.”

“Well,” Shiro sighed, ruffling his short cropped black hair thoughtfully. “You are technically my boss.”

The statement was enough to make Vlad eye him in warning. “Christ, it’s too early for that, Shiro. Don’t start.”

“Well, you know what otou-san always says,” Toshiro chuckled. “The early bird catches the worm.”

“Right.” Vlad rolled his eyes. “And the jetlagged brother catches Vladimir off-guard in the early hours.”

“Something like that.” Vlad usually wasn’t one for teasing, but Toshiro smiled so seldom that he couldn’t help but find himself grinning in return.

“So, how was China?” He changed the subject, far more interested in his brother’s travels than his own insomnia. Toshiro sighed, reaching into the pocket of his robe to extract a small bamboo pipe. The Japanese man had never smoked and didn’t plan to, but he didn’t like his hands to be idle. He spun the pipe between his fingers carelessly as he spoke.

“Same as usual. They’re not particularly enthusiastic about dealing with a Japanese man.”

“If they want our father’s business, they’ll learn to be a bit more accommodating. Vladimir’s frown had returned. While he was perfectly aware of the history of enmity between China and Japan, there was no part of him that believed it justified for all Chinese to dislike all Japanese, and vice versa. They weren’t about to replace Toshiro anytime soon, so, instead of facing the wrath of Jackson Kensley, the Chinese behaved themselves.

For the most part.

“They put you up in a better hotel this time, at least.”

“Oh, yes.” Toshiro chuckled. “This one even had running water.”

Vlad made a disapproving sound in his throat before his brother smirked. “Teasing, Vlad. You were never very good at being teased.”

The Russian sighed, “I suppose I’m always a bit on edge.”

Toshiro arched a brow, the pipe stilling against his palm. “Don’t tell me you’re still worried about that deal with South Africa. That went off without a hitch months ago.”

“No, no.” Vladimir waved him off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand and stretch briefly before joining the younger man by the window. “There’s a big summit coming up in Chicago next month and I’m supposed to be presenting the results of our sales last quarter-”

“Vlad, you’re obsessed. Really.” Toshiro’s dark-eyed gaze locked onto him as he addressed his elder brother frankly. “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re the reason everything is running smoothly?”

Leaning against the wall, Vladimir crossed lean arms over his chest. “Father’s the reason everything runs smoothly. He always has been. He’s the one who built this company from the ground up - and when he leaves…” Vlad trailed off, his brow furrowing. He didn’t know if he wanted to think about what would happen when their father retired. Of course, their old man had never properly announced it, but it was to be assumed that Vlad would be the one to take over as CEO.

The thought was more than a little intimidating.

“When he leaves, you’ll be ready to take his place.” Toshiro finished for him. Far from being kind or ingratiating - his tone was matter-of-fact - as if he couldn’t imagine anything less than the vision he painted occurring. “To blow him out of the water, even.”

That drew a small smile from Vlad - it was as difficult to imagine as it was gratifying. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he?”

“He’d fucking love it,” Shiro deadpanned, the pipe beginning to spin jovially through his fingers again.

This family, Vladimir thought - not for the first time since he’d been adopted - was something else. He wasn’t the oldest or even the most experienced, but they had absolutely no issue respecting him as Jackson Kensley’s heir. There had been several occasions when his brothers had even told him they could imagine no one else but Vlad taking over the family business.

As much as their comments heartened him, they also put him under no small amount of pressure. The Kensleys had made him who he was today. Disappointing them wasn’t an option.

Vladimir and Toshiro spent about an hour in comfortable silence together, watching the sun rise, before the rest of the family began to stir. Though they were all relatively early risers, Vlad could have predicted who got up first.

His mother knocked quietly on his door around seven and asked what they wanted for breakfast. Toshiro tried, as he always did, to tell the older woman that they were grown men and could make their own breakfast, and, as always, Olivia Kensley looked at him as if he had offended her very existence. Then their father woke to begin his daily walk around the grounds. As the years passed, it got harder and harder for him to make the one mile circuit - but he was determined to get his exercise, nonetheless.

Besides their parents and Toshiro, the only other occupant of the manor was Isabella, the housekeeper.  The moment she was sure Vladimir was awake, she swept into the room to wish him good morning and begin making his bed - the end of any attempts he might have made to go back to sleep.

Vladimir took the opportunity to indulge in a long shower as Toshiro’s words echoed through his mind once more. You’ll be ready to take his place. Blow him out of the water, even. Somehow, Vlad doubted he could do so well. He believed he was a decent hand in running the company, but how could he improve upon something that was already perfect? He had following his father’s model for almost a decade now, and he didn’t see the need to fix something that wasn’t broken.

There was, of course, a part of him that worried he wasn’t innovative enough to maintain the momentum his father had built for the firm. If forced to Vladimir would admit that the prospect sometimes kept him up at night - but he had never been the kind of man to divulge his insecurities. His problems were his own, and the only people who knew about them were far too sensitive to his moods to mention them aloud.

Sometimes, Vladimir wondered what people saw when they looked at him. When he gazed into the mirror, he never saw anything extraordinary. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t take pride in what he did, or in his position as a Kensley, but he was far from believing that he had the world at his beck and call. According to his father, by this point in his life, he should have been beating woman off with a stick, but Vlad almost never found the wherewithal to even address most women. He knew what they wanted, and refused to let a bad experience taint the possibility of finding actual affection.

Not that a mate was very high on his list of priorities.

For Vlad, the most important thing was making sure that his father’s legacy remained ironclad. Jackson’s was a heavy reputation to try and live up to.

“You haven’t even had breakfast yet and you already look worried about something.” His mother was and always had been abnormally perceptive. As she set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him at the breakfast table, her greeting made him frown.

“Good morning to you too, Mom.”

Across the table from him, Toshiro smirked over his coffee. It was something along the lines of what he would have said, but Olivia Kensley never pulled her punches.

Even at sixty-five - and before most people were up for the day -she was an elegant woman, with light blonde hair that had gone almost completely gray and kind green eyes. When Vlad was younger, those eyes had never been judgmental or angry, even when he did things he knew must have displeased her. Now, even though he was certain she meant for him to talk about his concerns, her gaze wasn’t intimidating. Rather, she simply gazed at him expectantly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Vlad blew out a breath, looking from her to his brother and then back again. He didn’t know which of them was worse when it came to prying. He thought he might prefer his other brothers’ light teasing to this kind of mental undressing.

“I’m not worried.” His first line of defense was always a good offence - not that it usually worked.

“You’ve always been a bad liar, darling.” Olivia answered breezily, coming to sit next to him. Once she put her coffee down, Vlad automatically added a bit of cream and two sugars - he knew how she liked it, and he wasn’t about to disrespect her, even if she was interrogating him.  “You’re supposed to be on vacation, aren’t you?”

“No such thing for Vlad.” Shiro commented off-handedly. As their mother had taken over the questioning, he was now only casually vested in the conversation, reading over a Japanese newspaper carefully. Vladimir scowled at him. He supposed he should be happy they weren’t ganging up on him, but this was almost as bad.

“I’m always on call,” he returned, as diplomatically as he could, “I can’t be out of touch. There might be an emergency.”

“You’re good at what you do, Vladimir.” Olivia returned warmly, taking an indulgent sip of her coffee as she smiled at him. “I can hardly imagine the people under you can’t deal with a minor issue or two in your absence.”

That, Vlad wanted to insist, wasn’t the point. There were few people he trusted besides himself to be able to clean up if things got really messy; and the last thing he wanted was his father to get wind of anything that went amiss. “You should really try to relax, darling. You’re always so tense.” His mother patted his shoulder gently and, despite his best intentions, Vlad found some of the stress seeping from him. Being around his mother had that effect on him.

No matter how wound up he was, her gentle suggestion was enough for him to start cycling down - it was ingrained in him. Vladimir took a deep breath before expelling it slowly, and Olivia beamed. “That’s it. Should I add some whiskey to your coffee? Would that help?”

Vlad snorted. “It’s nine in the morning. I think I can do without.”

“I’d like some.” Shiro held out his cup with a grin. “It’s never too early for a pick-me-up.”

Olivia laughed, rising from her seat to putter through the kitchen, on the prowl for the bottle of whiskey her husband always kept close at hand. Jackson Kensley was incredibly fond of Scottish whiskey and there had never been a time - at least, not in Vlad’s memory - that there wasn’t a bottle or two present in their household.

When he was seventeen and Alistair was nineteen, they’d stolen one from their father’s study and gotten ridiculously drunk. Their mother, ever practical, had announced that their half a day of retching was more than adequate punishment and left it at that. Since then, Vlad had learned to be more cautious with alcohol. Even these days, he didn’t consume much unless it was a special occasion, and even then, never to excess.

His brother Ethan would argue that it was part of Vlad’s methodological personality pattern - getting drunk would, of course, interfere with his lucidity. He wouldn’t be able to worry, and worrying, as they all knew, was what Vladimir Kensley lived for.

While Olivia was pouring a generous dollop of whiskey into Shiro’s coffee, the steady thud of their father’s walking stick announced that he had finally finished his morning walk. Vlad looked up to find the older man - still surprisingly spry for his age - making his way in through the back door, waving off the help of the gardener with a scowl. It was inevitable that one of the staff always tried to help him finish his circuit of the grounds when he appeared to slow down, but Jackson Kensley would have none of it.

As far as he was concerned, the only time he would need someone to help him with his daily exercise was when he was dead - and Vlad had no issue visualizing a number of pallbearers carrying his father’s casket in a circuit around the Manor as he urged them on from the afterlife.

That was the kind of man Jackson Kensley was - fiercely independent - a slave to his routine. In that aspect, he was a lot like his son - but Jackson had always been far more adventurous. “What’s all this tension at the kitchen table?” Jackson thundered, setting aside his walking stick to ease down in the seat next to Toshiro. “It’s too early for such nonsense.”

“I agree entirely.” Vlad piped up, nodding in relief. Toshiro merely smiled knowingly, taking a bite of his toast.

“Morning Otou.”

“Morning to you too.” With a bright smile, Olivia rose to peck her husband on the cheek before bustling to get his breakfast. By this time, the housekeeper had learned to get out of her way when it came to such things. While Olivia wasn’t opposed to having a couple of meals a week cooked for her, she vastly preferred to run her own house - with Isabella scurrying around in the background to do as much as she possibly could. It wasn’t that their mother and Isabella didn’t get along - quite the contrary in fact. Olivia was always trying to get the woman to take paid vacations, which Isabella refused as if someone had insulted her validity as a person. She had probably learned that from Olivia herself.

It was quite the interesting dynamic, to be sure. “Are they already hassling you this early in the morning, Vladimir?” It was if Jackson had a sixth sense. He always seemed to know what was going on before he entered a room.

While he had been glad of the interventions when he was younger, Vladimir now found them slightly embarrassing. He was more than old enough to be able to fend for himself.

“Everything’s fine.” He took a sip of his own coffee, casting both Shiro and his mother warning looks. If he was supposed to be here on vacation, then hopefully they could be kind enough to keep any conflict from arising.

“Bullshit.” Vlad nearly spit out his coffee at his father’s profession. “You’re supposed to be here on vacation and they’re hassling you. Lay off this boy, you hear?”

Vladimir could have groaned. Instead, he busied himself staring at the table, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “He’s hardly a boy, Jackson. He’s thirty-five years old.” Olivia replied, her smile amused.

Exactly. Which meant that this entire conversation was unwarranted.

“All I’m saying, Olivia, is that you should give him some time to himself. God knows he worries enough without you lot worrying him about his worrying!”

Jesus Christ. Spending time with his family always tended to be equal parts relaxing and exasperating- of course, this particular breakfast was rapidly turning into the latter.

“I think I’m going to finish my coffee on the terrace.” With that proclamation, Vlad rose from the table, leaning down briefly to peck his mother on the cheek. “I’ll see you all in a bit.” It was, he figured, the safest way to keep his dignity intact without worrying that he might say something he’d later regret.

It was times like these, Vlad mused, as he left the kitchen, when he wondered why he couldn’t relax with more ease. He lived to stress about one thing or the other, and without something on his docket, he felt ill-at-ease.

It had been that way for as long as Vlad could remember. Back in Russia, he always had to worry about feeding his family. His father had often been so deeply under the influence of alcohol that he could barely find food for himself, let alone his son or infant daughter. Even after Vita had been taken away from them by the government, his wife spent more time screaming at him to sober up than she did going food shopping - mostly because they usually didn’t have any money to do so.

Was it really such a surprise that he resorted to stealing? Vlad had always had a razor-sharp intellect, and he was ridiculously street-smart to boot - which meant that he never got caught.

Or, at least, almost never.

If he hadn’t had his run-in with the police at thirteen, however, he would never have met Jackson Kensley - and he wouldn’t be where he was now.

Of course, Vlad wasn’t always certain that he was cut out to be a Kensley. Even after over two decades, he was still uncertain of his place with them. Not as an adopted son, to be sure. He knew that his mother, father and brothers all loved him unconditionally. It was his father choosing him as head of the company that he questioned.

There had to be someone more qualified - someone who wouldn’t worry about every little miniscule detail…

“You know, just because I tell them not to pester you doesn’t mean I don’t question what you’re thinking.”

He looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to find that his father had followed him out onto the terrace and stood in the doorway, assessing his son with knowing eyes. At his piercing stare, Vladimir merely chuckled. “You can assume it’s something to do with the business. You know I can’t ever really take a break from it.”

“One of the reasons I’m sure you’re best to replace me.”

The words made Vlad blanch slightly as his father shut the door to venture out into the cool morning air with him. “Because I’ll worry myself into an early grave?”

“No.” With a small smile, Jackson curled a strong hand into his shoulder. “Because a man who worries is always looking to improve himself.”

Well, when you put it that way, it sounded almost noble. Vlad had to hand it to his father, he had a way of making everything more poetic. Hamlet would have had a field day with him. “You know, you’ve done an incredible job with the firm. It’s doing better than ever under your management.”

Vlad glanced at his father, his lips quirking slightly. “All I’m doing is following your business models.”

“Which is perfectly fine. You’ll find your own stride soon, Vlad. I wish you wouldn’t put such pressure on yourself. You’re too smart for your own good.” The statement made his son chuckle lowly, a bubble of humor chasing away the heaviness in his chest.

“Never smart enough.”

“More than smart enough.” Jackson ruffled his hair in a gesture that might have been more suited for a teenager than for a thirty-five year old man, but Vladimir found he didn’t mind. It was always reassuring when the architect of a multi-billionaire empire reassured you that you weren’t fucking up completely - and it didn’t hurt when said architect was your father. “You know what might take the edge off for you?”

Vlad swallowed a groan at the subject change. He knew what was coming. It was a conversation he might have expected to have with his mother, but Jackson Kensley seemed determined that all his sons should find the right women to be with; he had a tendency to play matchmaker that Vlad had done his best to avoid over the years.

“Please don’t say a woman, Dad.” He returned, as carefully as he could. “I’ve got far too much on my plate right now to be concerned with something as trivial as dating.”

“Trivial?” Shit. Now he’d done it. “Do you know, son, that if it weren’t for your mother, there would be no Kensley enterprises? She believed in me when no one else would - gave me the courage to keep from losing my mind when I felt like everything was coming down around my ears. The right woman can make you see everything differently.”

Yes, and the right woman could also distract him - leading to a disastrous mistake where one could be avoided.

It wasn’t as if Vlad didn’t like losing himself in a woman on occasion. Lord knew there were more than enough willing, gorgeous women throwing themselves at him in his position - he just didn’t think that any of them really wanted to burden themselves with everything that came with his job title. Sure, there was money and prestige - but Vlad had come to realize that neither of those things meant very much if he didn’t deserve them.

So he always worked to make sure he was deserving.

“Dad, you know I would never demean the relationship between you and Mom. She’s an amazing woman.” Vlad finally returned, eying his father seriously. “But I have to be honest: Getting married is pretty low on my to-do list right now. Especially knowing…” he trailed off, leaving the words unsaid. He didn’t like to consider what he knew was coming - especially considering how hard he was on himself as things were.

But Jackson was never one to shy away from the truth. He didn’t hesitate to finish his son’s sentence. “That I’m retiring?” He arched a brow, his expression surprised. “Vladimir, you’re going to be a better CEO than I ever was - and I’m sure that you’ll realize it over the next year.”

There was a healthy retort on the dark-haired man’s lips when he realized what his father had just said. The color drained from his face as he turned to look over the older man with a mixture of trepidation and disbelief. “A year? One year?”

Jackson, however, looked far from worried. “I wanted to tell you at the breakfast table, but you looked like you already had a lot on your mind.”

That was an understatement. “Vladimir, you’re ready for this. You’ve been ready for years.”

He knew better than to argue, but Vlad still had a lot to learn. While he was good with the mechanics of business, he was no genius when it came to innovation. That was his father’s forte - how was he supposed to implement that kind of development?  “You shouldn’t forget,” His father’s voice brought him back to the present, where the older man was smiling at him warmly, “You’re far from alone. There’s a reason you’re where you are and your brothers are where they are - the four of you work as a cohesive unit that keeps the company running smoothly. And your excellent leadership ensures that it will stay that way, Vlad.”

Slowly, he nodded before gazing back over the grounds. When he was a child, he had run away more times than he could count to climb some tree or another and lose himself in the foliage. Even then, he hadn’t been sure that he could be the Kensley everyone expected him to - and that had been far before he had known his father planned to put him at the head of the company.

How things changed.

“I think,” Jackson went on, his smile turning wry, “That you seem incredibly uncertain for a man who so easily commands others.”

At that, Vlad reddened slightly. It was true, he gave out a lot of orders in the office - but that was because he knew how he wanted things to be run - how his father would expect things to be run. But now he was on a timetable. He had a single year to be sure that he could run his father’s company effectively without him.

And it didn’t seem like very much time at all.

“Vlad, I think that when you’re finished with your vacation, it might be good for you to go to LA.” The sudden subject change had Vladimir looking to his father in confusion before the older man went on. “We’re working on a new building in the downtown area to serve as the West Coast headquarters and I’d like you to personally oversee the building and work with the architect. I can handle things in Manhattan while you’re gone.”

The request was so sudden, Vlad didn’t know what to say. There was only one thing he could say. “Of course.” He managed, after a disjointed beat. Seeing as how they were in the middle of a budget overhaul, he would have thought his father might have wanted him back in the office as soon as possible, but it seemed as though Jackson had other plans.

There was a glint in the older man’s eye as he grinned. “Wonderful. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Vlad didn’t know if he liked that glint. It usually meant his father was up to something - and Jackson Kensley was a man who could be relentless in getting what he wanted.

Chapter 2 - The Art of Confidence

 

Charlotte was walking on air.

Even two weeks after the fact, she still couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, of all people. She hadn’t even submitted a design - she’d been convinced that her father would tease that she had a leg-up because she knew the Kensleys personally; but that was a bit of an overstatement.

He knew the Kensleys personally. In fact, Trevor Gardner had been close with Jackson Kensley since the two of them were boys. Her father had thought the CEO might have gone a bit overboard when he adopted five boys within three years, but he had gradually come to believe that Jackson made the right decision. After all, all five men were now pretty seamlessly installed in their father’s company.

Well, four of them were, at least. The last Charlotte heard of Lucas, he was still struggling to find his feet - though there was no shame in that.

In her wildest dreams, the young woman had never believed that she would have an opportunity like this one: designing a building for Jackson Kensley himself. Even if her father was close to the man, Charlotte herself had never met him or any of his family. She was far too busy chasing her own dreams, which, even at the best of times, were a bit outlandish.

But that had never stopped her.

Humming softly to herself, she tapped her pen rhythmically on the edge of the desk as she stared at the blank pad laid out before her. In the past six years, she’d spent more time at her drawing table than she had anywhere else, but now she was having trouble coming up with a suitable idea.

She found herself somewhat torn.

Like everyone else, when she heard that the Jackson Kensley was looking for someone to design his LA headquarters, she had been beside herself at the notion. However, upon looking at the rest of his company’s buildings around the world Charlotte quickly became disillusioned. The construction style that Kensley preferred seemed a bit boring to her - straight up and down buildings with little to no imagination, uninspired by the individual and intrepid cities in which they were housed.

With centers in places like Madrid, Tokyo, and Shanghai, one might have thought the architects might have taken inspiration from the natural beauty of the cities. Instead, it was just like they had slapped something together. All the business centers looked the same - and Charlotte found the sight quite depressing.

Though when she mentioned this to her father he had only laughed. She had, he reminded her, been one of the most imaginative women he’d ever known since she was very young. Perhaps Jackson Kensley might be drawn to some of that imagination.

Charlotte found that she disagreed. This was, of course, why she hadn’t even taken the time to submit a design. She was still on her first position out of architecture school, and though her work was quickly gaining acclaim on the east coast, it was among a more artistic crowd. Those who tended more towards the avant-garde and greener building initiatives. A few more grounded builders even went so far as to say that, rather than trying to think outside the box, Charlotte was trying to remake the box.

She took it as a compliment, much to the chagrin of her peers.

Charlotte was completely surprised when her father told her that she had received a letter from his good friend. Things came into more perspective when he revealed to her that he’d sent the man a few of her designs, just for the fun of it. He was just as shocked as she was when Jackson told him immediately that he wanted Charlotte for the LA project.

She was all but bouncing off the walls in elation - even though she knew it was ridiculous for a thirty-year-old woman to carry on like she was. Luckily, she had a friend or two who were just as enthusiastic as she was. The celebrations had gone on for a full week, and now, after her last few days in her old office, she was ready to start working on the Kensley Center.

The redhead couldn’t deny there was a part of her that was nervous. She had staked her entire career on this, and Kensley hadn’t even approved the design. He had judged, from the ones her father had sent him, that he favored her style, but what if she drew out the plans and he changed his mind? Took back the deposit and put her out in the cold?

The moment the thought entered her mind, Charlotte shook her head stubbornly. That wouldn’t happen. If anything, it said something that Kensley had hired her without even having the plans in his hands. He wanted her to implement her vision into his building, and she could certainly do that.

Designing buildings with her special vision in mind was her forte, and Charlotte swore to herself that the Kensley center would be one of the most eye-catching towers in downtown LA.

With that thought in mind, slowly, carefully, she began to draw.

It was around six in the evening when she started, and a full eight hours had passed by the time her roommate, Delilah, came in around two in the morning. The younger woman did her best to enter quietly - at least until she realized that the light in Charlotte’s study was still on. Arching a brow in weary curiosity, she dropped her things and made her way down the hall to push the door open slowly.

And there was her roommate, hunched over her drawing table. By the looks of the pile of crumpled paper at her feet, Charlotte must have been there for years. Her deep brown eyes were trained so intensely on the paper that she didn’t even notice when Delilah entered. Smiling in amusement, the blonde leaned back against the door to watch her friend.

Charlotte was certainly a character. Lila met her when she was a student in architecture school and she came into the spa where she worked as a masseuse. She remembered vividly that Charlotte’s shoulders had been so locked up that she was surprised the elder woman could even move them. The redhead told her, quite enthusiastically in fact, that she was an architecture student and spent eight to ten hours a day bent over a drawing table. At the time, Lila had been both fascinated and horrified.

She had quickly learned that Charlotte wouldn’t have things any other way. She loved what she did, and she was determined to make money doing it, despite what any naysayers around her might believe.

The truth of the matter was that Charlotte was a brilliant architect, if a little eccentric. The latter fact was easily illustrated by the fact that she sat at her drawing table nude from the waist up, her long red hair swinging over her bare breasts.

Sighing, Lila wondered how long she had been sitting there and when she had last eaten. Though she was loathed to interrupt the creative process, sometimes she liked to think she was the only reason Charlotte’s already slender form hadn’t wasted away.

“Lottie.” The first time she called her friend’s name, the young woman didn’t even look up. When Charlotte was absorbed in her work, she was completely lost - nothing short of hellfire or flood could snap her out of her trance. “Lottie!” This time, she yelled so sharply that the redhead dropped her pencil with a gasp before spinning around in her chair.

“Lila.” She smiled, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No kidding,” the blonde returned in wry amusement. “I’m pretty sure someone could have murdered me in the living room and you wouldn’t have heard.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Charlotte returned, pushing a mass of bright curls from her face. “Bloodcurdling screams usually break through.”

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Lila grinned, “Even if you had come to save me, my assailant would have gotten an eyeful.” Charlotte arched a brow before glancing down at her bare chest. Despite being no larger than a size two, by some enviable miracle, she had pretty generous tatas - something Lila always liked to tease her about. 

“Well, I could have taken him out while he was staring at my boobs. Works for me.” She hopped down from her drawing stool before turning back to her drawing to lean over it critically.

“How long have you been at it this time?” Lila inquired, crossing the room to stand beside her and look over the drawing as well. Of course, architectural plans were half about figures and preciseness, half about aesthetic appearance, and so she usually couldn’t glean too much from the images that Charlotte came up with - but this one was different. The moment Lila’s eyes fell on the drawing, they widened in surprise.

“Wow.”  She couldn’t think of any other word that would do the building before her justice. The angles were incredible, there were almost more windows than there was wall space, and the entire affair was both eye-catching and astounding in its glory. “What’s this?”

Charlotte smiled triumphantly, tracing her fingers lightly over the lines. “It’s the plan for the new Kensley Center.”

Lila’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, the one you’re doing for Jackson Kensley. This!?”

Her tone made her friend look over a bare shoulder at her inquiringly. “What’s wrong with it? I’m proud of it.”

“As you should be!” Lila returned, reassuring Charlotte that she meant no offense, “But that thing...it’s going to completely remake the LA skyline.”

“Won’t it, though?” Charlotte returned almost dreamily, her expression so besotted that she could have been talking about a lover.

But Lila knew better than that. When it came to Charlotte, men didn’t tend to stick around for very long. The redhead liked to go back and forth when it came to major decisions, and while she tended to throw herself into relationships when she had them, her work always came first. It was enough to drive any man crazy, especially one intimidated by an architect that was rapidly becoming a common name in LA. For lack of a better term, Charlotte was a force of nature that couldn’t be tamed - not that several men hadn’t tried.

What the woman needed in her life - at least, in Lila’s opinion - was stability. She was all over the place, and if there was someone who could bring her down and ground her in the moment…

But she doubted that day would come anytime soon. When Charlotte got this project, she’d been so absorbed in it that she could hardly think of anything else. Not only was it the creative opportunity of the decade, but it would also provide her with the funds to start her own firm - something she’d wanted since she became an architect.  Everything was falling into place for her - and she probably wouldn’t be slowing down anytime soon.

“Did you want to grab dinner or something?” Charlotte seemed to snap from her reverie, looking over at Lila in question. “Since you’re home.”

Lila laughed in incredulity. “Lottie, it’s like two in the morning.”

“Oh.” Charlotte looked over at the clock, her expression only registering slight surprise. “Fuck.”

“‘Oh fuck is right.” Still snickering, Lila reached into her bag to pull out the remains of the Chinese she’d eaten four or five hours earlier. She found herself grateful that she elected to bring them home rather than tossing them at the spa - if she hadn’t Lottie probably wouldn’t have thought very much of going to bed without a dinner as well. “Here, eat this. I swear, you’re not human.”

“Definitely human.” Charlotte took the bag from her with a grateful smile. “Or else I wouldn’t be hungry.”

She didn’t even bother to go into the kitchen, instead merely moving her precious plans aside to tear into the cold Chinese right there on her drawing table - still nearly bare as the day she was born. Sighing, Lila merely shook her head. “Is there any food in the fridge?”

“Probably not,” Charlotte covered her mouth as she spoke to keep from spraying Lila with Lo Mein as she spoke. “I meant to go shopping earlier, but I got a little side-tracked.”

“A little.” Lila smirked. “There’s no such thing as getting side-tracked in moderation with you.”

“That’s why you love me.” Swallowing the bite in her mouth, Charlotte grinned at her. “Because I’m so unpredictable.”

“Crazy,” Lila corrected her, without missing a beat, “You’re completely out of your mind. And that’s why I love you.”

Charlotte merely smiled fondly at her before going back to her dinner.  “I’m going to bed, Lottie. Long day.” With a yawn, Lila looked over the chaos that was her roommate’s study. “Are you going to be up much longer?”

“Probably not. Want to get up early to refine the plans later.”

Of course she did. Lila couldn’t say that she was surprised. “Well, if you ever come out of the study, I’m off tomorrow. We can go see a movie or something.”

“Ooooo, slasher-horror or action-explosion?”

Lila chuckled. “Which one would be more likely to draw you out of seclusion?” Charlotte appeared to think about it for a moment.

“Probably action. Definitely action.”

“Action it is.” With a fond smile, Lila took in the tall, slender woman before her, every inch of her bare skin covered in riotous freckles, her red curls in complete and total disarray. Shaking her head in amusement, she shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Don’t work too hard, ok? The last time I gave you a massage, I was pretty sure I was going to break my fingers.”

“No finger-breaking.” Charlotte waved her off. “Now go to bed. Recharge. Goodnight.”

Charlotte would, Lila told herself, undoubtedly be up for at least another one or two hours before she finally got to bed, and then she’d wake up well before the blonde in the morning. Charlotte was a hopeless insomniac, which she liked to say fed her talent as an artist. She rarely ever got more than four hours of sleep at night, and she dealt with it far better than people who were convinced that insomnia was their curse. She was an enigma, to be sure - and Lila was pretty sure she was one of the only people on earth that could deal with Charlotte affectively.

And love her unconditionally.

 

Though she spent the morning traipsing around the house in her towel, Charlotte made sure to get dressed before Lila woke around ten or so. She was lounging on the couch in one of her favorite black maxi-dresses by the time the other woman trudged into the room in her pajamas, still yawning. At the sight of Charlotte on the couch, Lila merely groaned.

“Like I said: inhuman.”

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.” Charlotte merely smiled, sipping from the glass of juice she held. Compared to the previous night, she was almost prim, her crazy curls tamed into a tight knot at the base of her neck as she surfed through channels on television. She was lucky, she knew, to have a roommate like Lila who didn’t really care how much she wore around the apartment. The masseuse understood her like few people could, and dealt with her crazy hours without complaint.

She was a diamond in the rough.

“So, did you finish the plans?”

The question made Charlotte frown. “I had to take a break. If I look at something for too long…”

“I know,” Lila finished before she could with a knowing smile. “You end up scrapping it. Then regretting it.”

“Bingo.” Sighing, Charlotte took another sip of her juice. “So, what’s on your docket for today?”

“Well,” Crossing the room, the blonde took up the glass of juice that Charlotte had been sipping on to have some herself, “Besides the movie, I thought...maybe...we could go on a double date.” Charlotte’s expression changed from amiable to skeptical so fast Lila’s head might have spun.

“Lila…” When she spoke, her words held thinly veiled warning. Despite the fact that Charlotte had nothing against men in general, she almost never dated when she was working on a major project. Her excuse was that it threw her concentration off. It wasn’t that Lila didn’t respect her friend’s proclivities, it was simply that she liked to take any opportunity she could to steer Charlotte towards a more...healthy relationship.

That was...one where she felt like the guy wouldn’t run for the hills when he realized how particular her friend was.

“Oh, come on, Charlotte. It’s one of Benny’s friends. You like Benny.”

Indeed, Lila had been pretty surprised when Charlotte announced that she’d taken a liking to her boyfriend. Though the architect was polite to people in general, there were few people that she actually liked. Benjamin Thompson was easy-going and fun - a Doctor over at Hamilton General Hospital, about ten miles away. While most men in his position might be stuck up or anal about their line of work, Benny was the most laid-back doctor Lila had ever met. Perhaps that was why she liked him so much - and by default, Charlotte seemed to be pretty fond of him as well.

“Is that supposed to mean I’m going to fall all over his friend?” Charlotte arched a brow, taking her juice back with a wry smile.

Lila groaned. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lottie, I’m not talking about sex. Though, I suppose getting laid wouldn’t kill you.”

Charlotte made a face, swinging her legs over the side of the couch to plod into the kitchen. “Not while I’m on a project, Lila. You know better.”

The blonde listened to her putter around in the next room for a moment before she returned with two full glasses of juice and a smirk. “You should have known this was coming.”

“Do you really think I’m so horrible for trying to see you happy?” When all else failed, Lila usually played the guilt card - her ace in the hole. She would probably say she got what she wanted about fifty percent of the time when she used her last resort.

This time, it didn’t seem like luck was on her side.

“No, I don’t. But I do think you’re horrible for trying to plan a double date without telling me first. Have some respect for your elders, Lila.” When Charlotte stuck her tongue out at her playfully, Lila knew it was over. She hated when her roommate pulled the “elder” card on her. She wasn’t quite two years younger than Lotte, and there were times she was certain she was more mature.

Even the redhead’s own father had agreed on one of his many visits.

“Fine.” She took her juice from Charlotte to set it down on a side table before flopping down herself. “So, what then? We do a movie and then you go back to your study all evening?”

“While you enjoy a lovely night and some sizzling hot sex with Benny, yes.” Charlotte grinned knowingly as her roommate blushed. “Isn’t that better than obsessing over me?”

“I do not obsess,” Lila rebutted, reaching out to slap Charlotte on the thigh in reprimand.

“Of course not.” Her friend acquiesced. “You just worry about whether I’m sleeping properly, if I ate enough, what I’m doing, when I’m starting my projects, that kind of thing.” She eyed the blonde wryly, knowing that she had her.

All Lila could do was glare at her roommate for a moment before consenting defeat.

“Fine, you win. No double date.”

Charlotte grinned, triumphant. “You’ll have a better time without me.”

And she meant it. They had their girl’s afternoon - bought enough candy to make themselves sick and only consumed half of it in the movie theater before Charlotte left Lila to spend her evening with Benny.

The way things were supposed to be.

As Charlotte returned to the apartment, she wondered if she would ever be like Lila - the type to settle down and fall for one person til death did they part. Not that Lila had admitted that Benny was the one yet, but, in Charlotte’s opinion, it was pretty easy to tell. She was touched that Lila wanted that for her, but Charlotte had long recognized that she wasn’t exactly the type.

Sure, sex was great. Fantastic, even, with the right person - but they were few and far between, and when she did find them, they were usually intimidated as hell by her lifestyle - the way her career was rapidly expanding and the amount of time she could spent bent over her drawing table at one time.

Charlotte didn’t plan on giving up her career anytime soon, so she was certain that she would stay single until she retired -which might be never. Surprisingly, the idea didn’t bother her as much as people might believe. She was still perfectly up for a fling when the occasion called for it, and, luckily enough, she wasn’t the type of woman who developed attachments easily.

At least, not to men. Charlotte could fully and wholly admit that she was very attached to Lila, and wanted only happiness for her best friend and roommate.

Which was why she’d sent her out with Benny alone. No matter how nice Benny’s friend might be, or how good he might look, the last thing Charlotte wanted for Lila’s date was that trial period of awkward over which two people got to know each other. It was horrible, to say the least, and Benny and Lila were way too far along to deserve any of that.

Besides, as good as the movie had been, she was itching to get back to her plans.

Tossing her purse onto the couch, she grabbed her laptop for a quick perusal of her e-mails. She thought that, perhaps, there would be one from Jackson Kensley, asking her how the plans were coming along. Instead, Charlotte merely found one from her architecture firm - the one she had her last day at just the previous week.

She scanned it quickly, a smile turning up the corner of her mouth when she found they were asking if she’d be available in the future for consulting work. This was a company that had, over the past five years, constantly attempted to curb her creativity. They had hired her only reluctantly, and after that, every time she came up with a building design that seemed to go against their company ‘ideals’ they made her draft and redraft it until they were happy with the result.

As much as she loved being an architect, Charlotte couldn’t ever remember being so stifled in her life. She had put up with the position because making a living in LA was hard, but it hadn’t stopped her from working on her own designs in secret to feel fulfilled. The only ones who had seen those designs were her father and Delilah, and rightfully so. Charlotte knew well enough of the proclivity of companies to denounce designs in front of architects and then attempt to sell the works as their own.

Of course, whenever clients asked for something more creative she was sent, like an obedient little puppy, to bring out her first drafts to meet demand.

In the end, Charlotte had been so worn down that she would have done anything for a chance at freedom. She was contemplating quitting as it was when her father took the liberty of showing some of her designs to his friend, Mr. Kensley.

And now, here she was, with a chance at everything she had ever wanted. Charlotte had never been so nervous or elated in her entire life. She was, she told herself for the hundredth time, lucky to have such a supportive friend in her life, and a father who had devoted his entire existence to encouraging her to be whatever she wanted to be, regardless of what anyone else thought.

It wasn’t as if the young woman wasn’t aware that her designs were unconventional. Quite the contrary, in fact. She knew that what she was doing was new and innovative - it was just hard to be the first person touching something innovative when everyone around her was certain that she was a little crazy.

And maybe she was.

If Charlotte was a little bit crazy, then she could embrace it. Crazy was what made her who she was, and if she wasn’t who she was, then she wouldn’t be where she was.

With a deep, tremulous breath, she deleted the e-mail - her last remaining tie to the company that had made it their inherent duty to oppress her - and made for her study. After about twelve hours of being able to brainstorm and get out of the house, her plans were calling her. She knew just what additions she would make.

And when the representative for Kensley Enterprises arrived in a few weeks, she would be prepared. More than prepared.

She was going to give this project everything she had - and then some.

 

Chapter 3 - Unstoppable Force Meets Immovable Object

 

Vlad wasn’t particularly fond of travelling. Shiro was the one that travelled, and though Vladimir often wondered what it would be to accompany him to some of the more exotic locales he visited, in the end, any time spent traveling was just time that he spent away from the office.

And that always worked him up.

Even though his father told him that he and the office managers would handle everything in his absence, Vlad still found himself somewhat anxious. He had been to the sites of several other buildings for the firm during construction, but his father never sent him alone. He realized that Jackson had been slowly but surely leeching power over to him for the past ten years, and that this day was inevitable.

But he still wasn’t quite sure what proper decorum was.

His flight got into Los Angeles at five in the evening, and he was slated to meet with the architect the next morning. Even now he found himself reluctant to leave his desk. At a sharp knock on his door, he looked up, expecting to see Marcy in the doorway. Instead of the brunette, however, he found his brother Ethan grinning at him.

Arching a brow, he eyed the blonde man in inquiry. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking over the budget projections for Japan?”

“Always happy to see me. Brings such a smile to my face, Vlad.” Truth be told, Ethan, despite being a brilliant accountant, was always looking for one excuse or another to get out of his department. He hated to stay in one place for too long - in that aspect he was a lot like their oldest brother Alistair.

“Did you finish the projections?”

At his unrelenting question, Ethan merely sighed, leaning against the doorframe with a long-suffering expression. “Of course I did. Have I ever failed to meet a deadline?”

He had a point. Despite the younger man’s tendency to wander, he never neglected to finish an important project, and today would be no exception. Sighing, Vlad finally allowed himself a small smile. “Happy to see me go?”

“As my boss or as my brother?” Ethan replied with a teasing smile, stepping into the room to gaze around the office. He had often commented on how threadbare Vlad’s decorative sense was. He liked neutral colors - nothing too terribly eye-catching, as he believed it distracted him. His office was an organized, neutral zone that Ethan insisted made more creative minds want to climb the walls.

“Very funny.” Vlad grabbed a stack of folders from the top drawer of his desk before sliding them into his briefcase.

“Oh, come on, Vlad. You know everyone will miss you...That’s why I’ve come really - to tell you not to be gone long.” Ethan winked. “The office isn’t the same without you.”

“More relaxed I’m sure. Dad will take care of things.”

“You know,” Ethan braced his arms on the desk, grinning up at his brother. “You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are. Obsessive, maybe, but not scary.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.” Vlad smirked, shutting his drawer after gathering a few last stacks of papers to take with him. Though he already had the budget for the LA building, his father had advised him to be flexible and keep an open mind. When he said so, he’d gotten that damned twinkle in his eye again - the one that tended to make Vlad suspicious as hell. He only hoped the man wasn’t plotting to have the building constructed underground...Vladimir could only imagine the logistics nightmare.

“Well, you have to come back if you want to see what a debacle I’m making of my life.” Vladimir arched a brow, wondering what on earth he was talking about. “Oh, Dad hasn’t told you yet?” Ethan took his expression almost gleefully, more than ready to tell all. “I’m going to be speaking to a matchmaker in a week or so. I thought it might be a good bit of entertainment.”

Vlad could only stare at his brother incredulously. If there was any man in the Kensley clan that had absolutely no issue getting any woman he wanted, it was Ethan. He was an innate womanizer, and he seemed to collect admirers like most people did clothing. “Why the hell would you need a matchmaker?”

Ethan merely chuckled, obviously amused by his brother’s surprise. “Like I said: fun. I’ve tried pretty much every other avenue to meet women. This one should be pretty damned interesting.”

With a sigh, Vlad merely shook his head. “In that case, I might try to stay away for longer than I anticipated. Far be it from me to come back to you torturing your next victim.”

“Oh, come on, Vlad. Am I really that bad?”

Vladimir didn’t answer, instead only smiling at the blonde man. Ethan was, indeed, all that and more. With all the determination their father had that he should settle down with a worthy woman, Vlad was surprised that he wasn’t more preoccupied with Ethan.

“Oh, fine then. Deny me my fun.” With that, Ethan stepped around the desk to enfold him in an unexpected hug. Vlad stiffened for a moment in shock before he allowed himself to embrace his brother in return. “Have a good trip, boss.”

After all these years, he was still reticent when it came to unexpected affection - but he appreciated it more than he had when he was at his loneliest.

“Don’t wreak havoc while I’m gone.” He thumped the younger man in the back before picking up his briefcase. As much as Ethan could grind on his nerves, he felt fairly confident knowing that he and his father would remain in Manhattan in his absence.

After all, the days were racing by at this point - there were less than nine months before he was supposed to take over his father’s position completely. Effectively, this project in LA would be his last before he ascended to the level of CEO.

It was a lot to think about.

In truth, though, Vladimir had been able to contemplate little else for the past few weeks - he had been even more absorbed than usual in his daily regime at the office, and when he went home to his Manhattan apartment, he was usually working as well. The dark-haired man was determined that he should know everything there was to know about the firm by the time he took his place at its head.

At least, that would be ideal.

If nothing else, at least his time in LA would give him a breather from the media bubble he existed inside in Manhattan. His father always told him that one had to deal with the media like they were particularly pesky bugs and only pay attention to the really important ones - but Vlad had never been very proficient at dealing with them period. It was one of the reasons he had hired Marcy - she doubled as his media representative and personal assistant.

Whenever possible, Vlad avoided the media completely. He knew that once he ascended to CEO status, this would be near impossible, so he supposed he had to relish his personal time while it lingered.

Though the flight was five hours, it felt to Vladimir as if the time passed in a whirlwind. All too soon, he was landing at the airport and he barely felt ready to face what he was sure promised to be a daunting task. He knew little about LA or the infrastructure there and was counting on the architect to fill him in.

He could only hope that Charlotte Garner wasn’t too wrapped up in herself to accommodate him. He’d been so absorbed in work that he had precious little time to research her before he got on the plane to LA. He didn’t really know what to expect. Of course, the last thing Vlad expected was to be confronted by a proverbial horde of media the moment he stepped from behind the security checkpoint.

For a moment, he just stared in shock. There had to be at least twenty reporters standing there, all with cameras trained on him. He had never been the type to travel with a security detail - but that didn’t mean he was as big or burly as his eldest brother Alistair. Vladimir wasn’t a shrimp by any means - he was almost six and a half feet tall, and working out was part of his daily regimen - but he didn’t think it would be a very good idea to go swinging through these reporters simply because they caught him off guard. That would hardly do.

Instead, he merely stood there as the throng surged towards him, intent on answers.

“Mr. Kensley, is it true that the new East Coast Headquarters for Kensley Enterprises will be built in the center of the city?”

“Has the design for the building been cemented yet?”

“Are you in competition with the other firms downtown?”

“Will the expenditure on this building be significantly higher than past projects?”

Vlad was far from prepared for the questions. He’d just gotten off a five-hour flight that he had believed would end in some semblance of relaxation before he had to get to work on the opposite coast - and now that idea was woefully disassembled. If he had to speak to the media, he would prefer to have something prepared - and Marcy was three thousand miles away, back in New York.

He merely stared at the flashing cameras for a long moment, trying to think of what his father might do under similar circumstances. There was no doubt that Jackson Kensley would know exactly what to say - the older man was possessed of an innate charm that Vlad knew he himself lacked.

He was prepared to answer the congregated people before him with a less than rousing “no comment” when, all at once, something completely unexpected occurred.

A tall, slender woman he hadn’t noticed stepped in front of him. She was glad in a deep green dress that accentuated her slim form - along with the curves she seemed to have exactly where they were needed. Her hair was the color of fire - riotous and red - it hung over her shoulders in a profusion of ringlets, haloing a face dotted with freckles splashed across creamy, smooth skin.

When she opened her mouth to speak, her soft brown eyes were bright and sure. “The design for the downtown high rise, has, in fact, been cemented. Mr. Kensley plans to go over it with the architect tomorrow in order to ascertain what the best day would be to break ground.”

Vlad blinked, shocked at how smoothly she articulated herself before moving on to the next question. “Kensley Enterprises certainly isn’t in direct competition with other firms downtown. It’s simply a reflection of their investment in the city that they purchased a chunk of prime real estate. They’re certainly moving to make their mark, as I’m sure all of you have noticed.”

Her answer sent a titter of amusement rippling through the crowd and Vlad looked at her in a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Who the hell was she? “As for the expenditure,” The redhead went on with a mysterious smile, “the firm is still working on that point. It will be released on public record when the building is complete, and anyone looking to criticize it can feel free to do so then. Now,” Even as the reporters began to clamor to ask more questions, the woman turned to Vlad, and he found himself unexpectedly struck by the mysterious, amused quirk of her full mouth, “Mr. Kensley has appointments that he needs to keep. There will be a press conference within the week. Mr. Kensley?”

It took him a full five seconds to realize that she meant him to follow her; and oddly, he did it without a second thought. Vlad fell into step behind a stranger, wondering how on earth she knew so much about the company’s project - and if she didn’t, how she managed to sound as if she did. Once they were outside at the airport curb, another few security guards hurried to control the reporters, allowing the fire-haired woman and he a wide berth as they moved towards the gleaming black Mercedes he’d been told to look for.

When she opened the door for him, Vlad merely looked at her curiously. “My apologies, but have we met before?”

She merely grinned at him, her smile lighting up an already pretty face. “I’m Charlotte Gardner, Mr. Kensley - the architect on your project. You were supposed to have an escort from the airport, but they got caught in traffic, and I was in the neighborhood. Sorry if I cut off whatever you planned to say back there. I got a little over excited.”

Charlotte Gardner.

She was Charlotte Gardner?

When Vlad’s father had mentioned an avant-garde, up-and-coming Californian architect, he had imagined a middle-aged woman dressed like a seventies hippie. Charlotte Garner seemed to be the very antithesis of this mental image. While she wasn’t a conventional, exotic model beauty, she was breathtakingly beautiful in her own way. Vladimir found himself strangely transfixed by the pattern of freckles painted across her bare throat and the vee of her cleavage - though he knew his thoughts were far from appropriate. One would think that an architect, someone constantly bent over a drawing table, would wear their hair up - or at least keep it from their face. Charlotte seemed to revel in the disorder of her curls - and Vlad had to admit, it certainly only added to her wild allure.

“That’s...quite alright.” He found himself answering cautiously. “I suppose I should be glad you came to my rescue.”

“Rescue?” Charlotte arched a brow as if the very notion offended her. “No, Mr. Kensley. I just came to make sure you got to the city alright. And now, here you are.” She gestured to the inside of the Mercedes with a small wry smirk. “I’d say my job is done.”

She had a very smart mouth and it occurred to Vlad that her attitude suited her appearance. “Well, Ms. Gardner, thank you for your help.”

“Please, call me Charlotte.” She stepped onto the curb and away from the car, giving him space to get in. “We will be working together from tomorrow, won’t we?”

She was right. As he hadn’t expected to meet her like this, Vlad had almost forgotten that he was supposed to have a meeting with her at nine the following morning. He would be seeing her again sooner rather than later - and for some reason, the fact gave him a little thrill that he couldn’t explain.

“I suppose we will. Until tomorrow then, Charlotte.” Nodding his head respectfully, Vlad grabbed his valise and slipped into the car. When Charlotte shut the door behind him, he found himself frowning. He didn’t very much like the way she treated him like a man that needed everything done for him - if anything at all, he should have seen her back to her car.

Even if that had been impossible with the media chasing him like they were.

Damn.

Vlad realized that he had been so caught up in the unfamiliar that Charlotte had completely controlled their first interaction - his father had always taught him that when dealing with new clients, it was always important to gain the upper hand as quickly as possible - not so you could look down on the other party, but so that you could dictate the terms of the engagement.

Charlotte’s unexpected presence had shocked him so that he hadn’t thought about it - he had been too busy counting her freckles.

He expelled a long breath, suppressing a groan.

What the hell was wrong with him? Vlad knew what he liked in a woman, on the few occasions that he deemed to sleep with one, and Charlotte Garner was not it. Even after just one meeting, he could tell that she was the opposite of a poised, impeccably coiffed, meticulously polite woman of high society.

And yet...there was something ridiculously drawing about all that hair and that wicked little smile - as if she knew something that he didn’t.

He would have to be on his guard. After all, their meeting hadn’t been official. It wasn’t too late, Vlad reminded himself, for him to dictate the rules of engagement. He just had to be on top of his game the next day. He wouldn’t let Charlotte Gardner surprise him again.

**

Charlotte chose to have dinner herself that night. She knew that Lila was supposed to be home around seven, so she purposefully skived off to one of her favorite sushi joints for a bit of privacy and indulged with a bottle or two of sake as she reviewed what had happened that afternoon.

She met her employer.

Charlotte had expected to have rather strong impressions of the man slotted to be the next CEO of Kensley enterprises. After all, she knew that she liked his father. Jackson Kensley was a force of nature - he controlled his empire with an iron fist without being cruel, and he was as honest as he was opinionated when it came to what he believed would take his company in the right direction.

But when it came to Vladimir Kensley...she had no idea what she thought.

The rational conclusion was that it was too soon to tell. She had spent perhaps ten minutes in the man’s presence, and that much only by chance. Charlotte had, in fact, been at the airport in order to pick up a friend of Lila’s who didn’t have a ride back to her house. The younger woman had decided to take a taxi, even though Charlotte had insisted that she didn’t mind driving her, and the redhead ended up stranded at the airport. Well, stranded was a strong word. She had decided to stay to people watch. Airports were fantastic places for activities like people watching - one could see cultures and ethnicities from all over the world in one place. That, and some of the most interesting people in LA seemed to hang out around the airport- from bums to artists.

She hadn’t planned on being there when Kensley’s plane got in, but she couldn’t have ignored it if she tried. The entire airport had cranked into high gear, and everyone on shift in the shops and restaurants wanted to take their lunch hour in a bid to see the man.

Unlike the rest of the Kensley family, Vladimir Kensley was infamous for his avoidance of the media. According to rumors, he liked to let his work do the talking more than any boasting he might put forth- which explained why he liked to keep himself sequestered behind closed doors. Of course, everyone wanted a good look at him.

Including her. Charlotte told herself that she had an excuse - she was going to be working with the man and this would provide a good opportunity for her to size him up. The few pictures she’d seen of him were hazy and unfocused, and considering his reputation, she had imagined him to be a pencil-necked, ingratiating businessman obsessed with his father’s legacy.

On her assumptions about his physical appearance, at least, she had been completely wrong.

Vladimir Kensley was pretty damn attractive - and that was an understatement. Close to six and a half feet tall, with dark hair combed back carefully from his brow and piercing blue eyes, he wore a perpetually perturbed look that was surprisingly sexy with his unusually full mouth. He was the first man Charlotte had ever seen who could make a suit look so sinful. It had to have been tailored for him - the way it fit his broad shoulders and narrow waist perfectly. It also did nothing to hide what she was sure had to be decidedly anti-pencil neck body beneath his clothes.

It was, therefore, understandable that she’d been shocked to see such an obviously imposing man hesitate in the face of the media. It had taken her a moment to remember that this was the man who didn’t like cameras - though she had no idea why, as the cameras had to love him. Them and half of the world’s female population.

He didn’t look scared, per say - merely as if the last thing he wanted on earth was to talk to a group of ravenous reporters after what had to have been an ass-long flight from the east coast- and on that, she could commiserate.

Perhaps that was why she had stepped in.

Charlotte had known as she did it that she was overstepping her boundaries - that, no doubt, Vladimir Kensley could just as easily have walked away from the crowd of reporters without her help - but something had drawn her to cover for him. It was easy when she could spout the answers to most of the questions reporters asked off the top of her head as if they were child’s play. She could feel Kensley’s eyes on her the whole time, and seriously hoped that he wouldn’t fire her for doing something so completely beyond her job description.

But he hadn’t even known who she was.

It made a certain type of sense. She hardly expected her father to have sent Jackson Kensley a picture of her - he would have been proud that she had been selected for her skill alone, and hardly considered looks important. It was the kind of thing a female applicant might have done on her own, but that she could give two shits about.

Even when she revealed herself Kensley hadn’t seemed angry. Or, maybe he had and she simply hadn’t noticed. Certainly, Charlotte had been more than a little absorbed in the way that he talked. Though the young woman knew from her father that Jackson Kensley’s five sons were all adopted, four of them from different countries, she had expected that decades stateside might have exhausted most of their foreign distinctions - on that case, she had also been wrong. Vladimir Kensley spoke his perfect, refined English with the slightest Russian accent - clipped vowels and elongated consonants, and damned if she didn’t find it sexy as hell.

But other than his innate good looks and the way he spoke, Charlotte found she didn’t get much more from Kensley. She considered herself a pretty good judge of character - she had known from the first night that Lila met Benny that he was going to be good for her. But Vladimir was hard to read. He seemed a bit...distant. Perfectly polite, but…. noncommittal.

At least, that was her first impression. Who knew what was going to happen the next day? To be honest, the most she could hope for was that he approved of the plan just as much as his father and allowed her the creative freedom she craved. Everything else was less important by far.

It was childish, Charlotte argued with herself, to want the man to actually like her. If anything, men like Vladimir Kensley were less inclined than most to like people like her. Charlotte was fully aware that she could be a handful at the best of times, but she could take care of herself. She didn’t need anyone’s approval.

But she wanted Kensley’s.

She must be losing her mind.

The thought was enough to make her order another bottle of sake as she considered her scallop sashimi.  Her entire career hinged on her ability to handle this job properly. Whether Kensley liked her or not, the important thing was that she didn’t fuck it up.

**

It took a lot to make Charlotte nervous. She had given presentations where she was certain people would think her out of her mind. She had shown her designs to her coworkers without certainty that they would remain hers, and she had been laughed at in her fair sure of her architecture courses - but she had never felt the way she did upon waking the morning of her first official meeting with Vladimir Kensley.

She had barely slept the night before, despite her three bottles of sake, and she trudged into the kitchen half-awake, her stomach in knots.

At the sight of her, Lila’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lottie! What’s up with you? You look awful.”

The redhead shot her a thin smile. “Thanks.” She made a beeline for the coffee maker without hesitation, pouring herself a cup of the strong black brew. She drank so fast that it burned her tongue and she winced, doing her best to ignore it. By the time she was finished, Lila stood before her with a pronounced frown.

“I just brewed that. You’re insane.”

“Not insane,” Charlotte nitpicked, pouring herself another cup, “Just exhausted.”

“You didn’t get any sleep?” Lila asked, her eyes narrowing in worry.

“Do I ever get any?” Charlotte’s bona fide method of misdirection was cracking jokes - but if there was ever someone to consistently see through her shenanigans, it was Lila.

“You usually don’t wake up looking half-dead. Tell me what’s wrong.” Charlotte sighed, sipping at her second cup of coffee more slowly. She was loathed to admit the source of her discomfort to anyone, but she knew Lila would only pester her until she came clean. Taking a deep breath, she spilled the beans.

“I have my meeting with Vladimir Kensley in two hours.” Lila merely stared at her, unblinking, as she processed this tidbit of information. A long beat of silence passed between them before the blonde replied with a single word.

“So?”

Charlotte merely gawked at her. “So? What do you mean ‘so’? This is Vladimir Kensley we’re talking about. I could only be higher up on the totem pole if I were meeting Jackson Kensley himself.”

Lila merely sighed, running a hand through her blonde waves. “Haven’t you known this was coming for three or four weeks?”

That gave Charlotte pause. She certainly had. The moment the date was cemented for Vladimir’s arrival, she had known. She’d had more than ample time to prepare. “Well, I-”

“And you haven’t been nervous this whole time. Why the sudden change of heart?” Lila’s eyes only narrowed further at her next question. “This isn’t like you. I can count on one hand the few people you’ve met who intimidate you, and one of them is your dad, so...what’s up, Lottie?

Fuck. She was caught.

How was she supposed to explain that she’d been up for half the night worrying about what Vladimir would think about her plans? After all, it had already been decided that she was going to be the architect. It wasn’t as if the son could override the father...but there was something more than that. For some unexplainable reason, Charlotte found herself wanting nothing more than to wipe that faintly disinterested look off Vladimir Kensley’s face. She wanted his shock, his admiration and... God knew what else.

It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with. She, who had spent most of her life adamantly refusing to care what other people thought of her. She ran a hand through her tangled red curls before blowing out a breath.

Reluctantly, she told Lila what had happened the previous day, watching her friend’s eyes go wide as she relayed the story of how she’d run into him at the airport. “So... what?” Lila finally demanded when she finished. “You snatch the man from the claws of reporters and... then what? No thank you? No acknowledgement?”

“Oh, he thanked me. He was polite as fuck - no chance of him skipping that.”

Crossing her bare arms over her chest, Lila eyed her quizzically. “Then why are you losing sleep over it?”

Charlotte groaned, setting her coffee cup on the counter a moment before she leaned against it herself. “I have no fucking clue. I should be excited. The project is going to start soon - the biggest project of my entire career…”

“Has the younger Kensley seen your plans yet?” At Lila’s question, Charlotte froze. Damn. How did the blonde get so good at getting to the very heart of her insecurities? It was uncanny.

Charlotte swallowed thickly, knowing she was digging her own grave. “No. Jackson was pretty insistent that he not see them until he got to LA.”

A pregnant pause hovered between them a moment before Lila responded with a soft, knowing. “Ah.”

Somehow, it irked Charlotte more than if her friend had lectured her. “Don’t ‘ah’ me. What is that supposed to mean? I’d rather you get all huffy than ‘ah’ me.” She glared at the shorter girl - a move that would have cowed many. Lila, however, only offered her a small smile.

“You like him.”

Charlotte immediately turned scarlet, the color clashing with her vivid hair. “What the hell!? Lila, I don’t even know him!”

“Right. And the fact that you don’t, and his opinion obviously matters to you, is a dead giveaway. You think he’s cute.”

That was the understatement of the century. Charlotte didn’t know a woman alive who would call Vladimir Kensley cute. He was undeniably masculine in every way that counted - even if he wasn’t a man splashed all over the tabloids with a new woman on his arm every week. Maybe it had something to do with that strange, detached manner of his…

“He’s my boss,” Charlotte decided to rebut diplomatically. “I can’t think he’s cute. At least not now.”

“Right,” Lila replied, hoisting herself onto the counter to swing her legs casually. “As if not being allowed to actually ever stopped someone from thinking something.”

Charlotte scowled at her. She was too clever for her own good - that was probably why she was her best friend. “In the end, it doesn’t matter what I think here, Lila. It’s what I need; and I need this job to go well if anything is supposed to come after it.”

“And it will, Lottie.” This seemed to be the point Lila had been getting at the entire time, as her face split into a brilliant smile. “I’ve never known you to let anything to get in the way of your job - regardless of how cute he is.”

Even as she smiled, Charlotte winced. “God, please stop calling him cute. He’s well over six-feet and breathtaking. I’ve never seen someone so mouthwatering in my life.” Lila laughed, shaking her head so her blonde locks spilled over her shoulders.

“Well, in that case, I think it might do you some good to be mouthwatering right back.”

Charlotte merely stared at her, completely perplexed. “You’re not telling me to seduce him?”

“Oh God no,” Lila stuck her tongue out. “I want you to keep your job as much as you do, Lotte. What I’m saying is that it always boosts my confidence if I go before intimidating people feeling intimidating myself. Catch my drift?”

It took Charlotte a good five seconds or so to realize what her friend was suggesting. Once she did, she eyed her with no small amount of reticence. “You do know that looking intimidating isn’t my forte? It’s the cray that sends everyone running for the hills.”

Lila merely chuckled. “I think, my dear Lottie, that you underestimate those killer pins and glorious figure.”

Killer pins? Glorious figure? Surely, Lila had been reading too much Cosmopolitan.

Within the hour, however, Charlotte came to realize just how serious her friend was. Lila insisted that she pull out all the stops, taking a shower and primping, taming her hair into a single braid down her back and struggling into a black pencil skirt and button up. When Charlotte slipped on a pair of heels and gazed into the mirror, she was slightly taken aback.

She didn’t even look like the same person.

She looked at herself first from the left, and then from the right before frowning and turning to Lila, who was eying her smugly from across the bed. “What do you think?”

Charlotte glanced in the mirror once more, taking in her carefully applied red lipstick and eyeliner. “I look like someone’s idea of a stripper gram.”

Lila snorted. “You look refined. Classy. Sexy without being obvious. You’re at the top of your game and Kensley will know it the moment he lays eyes on you.”

Charlotte managed to tear her gaze away from her image in the mirror long enough to smile at her roommate. “But I’m not seducing him.”

“Nope.” Lila replied, her grin growing even wider. “I forbid it. This is a strictly look-but-don’t touch situation.”

“You forbid it.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Like that’s ever stopped me.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll stop you this time.” Lila rebutted primly. “Besides, this isn’t about seduction - it’s about self-confidence, remember? Can you honestly not look in the mirror and feel sexy and confident right now?”

After assessing her reflection critically once more, Charlotte had to acquiesce that Lila had a point. In something like this, she was pretty sure she could take on anything - including Vladimir Kensley’s closest scrutinization.

 

An hour later, she was walking into one of the many high rises in downtown LA - this one, in particular, had served as an LA branch of Kensley enterprises for the last decade. Of course, now that they were designating the city the west coast hub, they needed to upgrade.

That was what she was here for.

When she told the receptionist that she had a nine am with Vladimir himself she was directed to the elevator bay and sent to the top floor. Though this building had been deemed too small to be the West Coast hub, the views were pretty breathtaking - even from the waiting room. As she was wearing heels, Charlotte felt prim enough to teeter her way over to the nearest armchair before sinking into it, her plans locked safely in the briefcase she hugged to her chest.

Lila was right. Her confidence had ratcheted upwards with her change in attire - but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still nervous just the same. Her heart hammered insistently against her ribs, and she had to remind herself that she was the best at what she did. She could handle this. If Jackson Kensley had chosen her, she could impress his son too.

Though she waited for about twenty minutes, to Charlotte, it could have been seconds. All at once, the secretary called her name and she was being gestured into Kensley’s office.

Her mouth so dry she could barely swallow, the young woman stood and made her way across the waiting room. Raising her hand, she took a deep breath before knocking briskly on the door.

**

“Come in.”

Vlad had just started to settle things to his liking in his temporary office when the secretary announced that his nine o’clock had arrived.

Charlotte Gardner.

The memory of all that red hair and those vivid eyes was enough to make his stomach twist. The dark-haired man wondered, briefly, if something he ate could have disagreed with him - but before he could come to a conclusion, she was answering his summons.

Vladimir looked up from where he sat at his desk and froze, staring at the woman who entered his office. She looked nothing like she had the previous day. Indeed, the female who stood before him was all at once demurer and more powerful than the woman who had stepped in at the airport. Her hair hung in a single, neat braid down her back, and the clothes she wore, while modest, left none of her curves to the imagination.

It was the first time in a long time that his body reacted to something without thinking, and Vlad found himself struggling against the heat that curled through his loins, even as she smiled jauntily at him.

“Mr. Kensley - wonderful to see you again.” She crossed the room in a few strides of long, slender legs to shake his hand, and Vladimir shot to his feet. He could smell her perfume - light and citrusy, floating across the distance between them and he had to force himself to hold out his hand for her.

The moment his fingers gripped hers, a bolt of awareness shot through him, making him swallow thickly. She had a grip as strong as any man he had ever met, and, instead of thinking it uncharacteristic, he was only further intrigued by her. “Miss Gardner,” he began, allowing himself the luxury of the same. “The pleasure is all mine.’

“Charlotte, please,” she reminded him, her smile becoming the mischievous one that he recognized from the previous day.

In that moment, Vlad remembered that he was supposed to be taking control of the situation. If he was too busy staring at her, he would be utterly useless in that regard. Luckily enough for him, he had no small amount of practice in tuning out the fantastical in favor of the numerical - and what they meant to discuss was certainly numerical.

He did his best to put from his mind how breathtaking Charlotte Gardner looked and how lovely she smelled. It took a little more work for him to ignore the fact that he couldn’t remember ever being so quickly drawn to a woman before, but somehow, he managed.  “Charlotte, then.” He indicated a plush leather seat that had been positioned before his desk. “Please, sit.”

She did so, sinking into the chair before primly crossing one leg over the other. In the process, her skirt hiked high on her thighs, and Vlad grimaced at the bevy of Russian curses that rose to the forefront of his mind.

“So, I’m sure you know that we’re eager to start the building,” He said, focusing instead on her intense, honey-colored gaze. “I’ve just come to oversee the project at my father’s request, and to make sure that everything goes smoothly. As I haven’t seen the plans yet, this meeting was arranged so we might discuss your creation.” He indicated the blank swathe of his highly polished oaken desk top. “Let’s have a look.”

Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate slightly before pulling the plans from her bag? Vlad decided that it had been in his mind as her nimble fingers worked on opening the clasp on her briefcase. Two seconds later, she was laying a stack of plans on the desk before him and unrolling them for his perusal.

When he looked down at the images set before him, Vladimir’s brows raced towards his hairline.

For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing.

In his time as operating manager of the firm, he’d looked over many sets of building plans. They all tended to have a pretty common theme - strong, solid lines, clear partitions between departments and spaces, and a spread into vertical space rather than horizontal. As many of their buildings were in enormous cities, it made sense to build upward and now outward, for the benefit of all parties involved.

The building he looked over now was the absolute antithesis of anything he’d ever seen constructed for the firm. True, the lot of land they’d purchased in LA was large, but this design would mean taking advantage of every square yard of it.

It was twenty stories tall, but each floor was almost as wide as a football field - and there seemed to be no discernable, concrete walls that he could see, besides the ones that closed off the staircases and encircled the structure proper.

There were windows - lots of windows, slanted lines, and almost absurd angles that he found himself observing more and more closely, wondering if it was even possible to construct a building this way. Though he wasn’t an architect himself, he found that his thought process worked quickly enough that he could understand why a great deal of them made the choices he did.

This was the first time Vladimir had looked upon a set of plans that he didn’t understand at all.

For a good ten minutes he stared at the parchment without saying a word. He flipped through all seven sheets of blueprints before him, each seemingly more convoluted than the last. This wasn’t so much architecture, he mused, as it was avant-garde artistry made into building form - was much flashier and far less grounded than anything the company had been associated with before.

He wondered, briefly, if these were even the same plans Charlotte had shown his father. While the older man had told him that her design was a bit unconventional, this was something else entirely. This building barely grappled with the edges of convention - so much so that he found himself voicing his questions aloud.

“These are the plans you showed my father, yes?”

Charlotte merely stared at him, unblinking, before nodding curtly. She seemed to be waiting for something - though exactly what was uncertain. Vladimir looked from her to the plans and then back again. It would be easier for him to believe that she had created them the way he’d seen her the previous day. It looked to him as if these plans had come from the mind of someone wild and untethered - the antithesis of the way he liked to do business.

If he was honest with himself, Vlad had no idea why his father had picked these particular plans. The design was unorthodox...it was like nothing they had ever employed before...and, to say the least, it made Vladimir slightly unsure as to what direction his father meant to take the company in. Something like this...it would surely change their public image somewhat.

“I assume you’ve seen what construction looks like on a number of other buildings our firm has commissioned from the ground up?” He looked up at Charlotte again and found her expression unreadable.

“I have.” When she replied, her tone was crisp, with an edge of defensiveness. “And they’re not the way I work, Mr. Kensley. I don’t favor cookie-cutter designs.”

Well, there it was. She’d laid her cards out on the table - and quite brashly at that.  “Perhaps not cookie cutter…” He replied smoothly, “But something more within the lines of conventionalism?”

Two bright spots of color appeared on the young woman’s cheeks. “Jackson Kensley seemed rather fond of these plans when I sent them to him. Are you suggesting that I redo the entire process?”

Vlad mused quietly for a moment before answering. “Of course not...perhaps merely alter these somewhat so that they’re not so…” He searched for a word to describe what he meant to say.

“Outlandish?” At her flat tone, he looked up to find her all but glaring at him. “Outside-the-box? Unique?”

Vlad wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Truthfully, he words echoed precisely what he’d been thinking. However, hard as it might be for him to emote when it came to most people, he’d be a fool to ignore the fact that Charlotte seemed quite perturbed.

No, that wasn’t the right word for it.

She was angry.  “You’re upset with my assessment?”

The young woman took a deep breath, visibly steadying herself before she replied slowly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be, should I? You wouldn’t be the first to think my work strange.”

Vlad leaned over the table, his eyes roving over the plans once more. The design was strange, but he supposed that if he looked hard enough, there was a peculiar kind of beauty to the way it flowed. Certainly not his style - or anything he’s seen the within the company’s repertoire - but something unique and new.

“It is unique…” He ventured, moving his fingertips over the wide, arched atrium where it spread out into the lobby of the first floor, “Perhaps more suited to a museum or a personal residence-”

“Who on earth needs a personal residence this big?” Charlotte’s tone was sharp, and Vlad reacted automatically, his head snapping up to gaze at her in thinly veiled warning. Charlotte, however, wasn’t cowed. “Your father cited that he wanted the design for his newest company building, not for his own use, sir.” The hard edge she placed on the title made him frown. “Do you mean to argue with his decision?”

She was challenging him.

Despite his rather mild demeanor, he did not like to be challenged when his business was involved. Vladimir knew very well that his father had chosen this design, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t discuss why he had done so. Especially if it meant making sure that the company didn’t spend millions on a structure that wouldn’t serve their needs as well as something more...contemporary.

“Not argue,” he returned, his voice equally as hard as hers, “Discuss, perhaps. I believe that my father always puts the wellbeing of the firm first. There must be some explanation for this.” If he had been dancing the thin line between courtesy and insult before, now Vlad overtook it before he noticed.

“This,” Charlotte hissed, clearly incensed, “Is my work. It’s what your father chose. If it’s not to your liking, feel free to discuss with him however long you like.” With that, she leaned over the desk and gathered her plans quickly before placing them back into her briefcase. The clasps snapped closed with a finality that echoed around the room. “Just let me know when we’ll be breaking ground. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Kensley.” With that cool dismissal, she turned on her heel and marched out of his office.

That’s right, she had been in his domain - so why did he feel like the one who had lost?

For a long moment, Vlad stared after her, completely and totally flummoxed. He wasn’t one inclined to obscenities, but he found himself wondering what the almighty fuck had just happened.

He expected the meeting to go somewhat smoother than this - that he would look over the plans, maybe suggest a few tweaks here and there, and that would be that - but what Charlotte had shown him challenged the boundaries of what he was willing to support. If what he had seen was a measure of her caliber of work then she was a singular artist, that was to be certain.

He supposed that it made sense that an artist would be sensitive about her work.

Very sensitive.

Sinking back down in his chair, Vladimir drew his hands heavily over his face as he replayed the meeting again and again in his mind. Charlotte had, no doubt, come here hoping to receive approval from the man set to be the building manager for the project - and he, in his honesty, had given her anything but.

Was he really to be faulted for that? Over his years working at Kensley Enterprises, Vladimir had always been taught to follow his instincts - that one should only take risks if the rewards were potentially greater than the loss. When he looked at the plans Charlotte set before him, he saw a huge risk and little reward to be had. Surely she could understand that?

The mere notion made him frown.

Could she even begin to see things the same way he did? This woman who had saved him from a horde of media like he was some kind of damsel in distress? Whose beauty was wild and untamed one moment and just as alluringly subdued the next?

Charlotte Gardner was an enigma that kept him guessing - the first he’d ever been this interested in. And despite the fact that Vlad thought he’d made the right decision to talk to his father concerning the plans she’d made, he felt guilty about the way he’d spoken to her.

He considered himself a thick-skinned person - there were few outside his family that could elicit a genuine emotional response from him. He’d known Charlotte Gardner for all of forty-eight hours and, somehow, he knew that he’d offended her on a personal level.

And he didn’t like it.

Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he extracted a number of documents that he meant to sign off on before his next appointment - but, somehow, switching gears wasn’t as easy as it normally was for him. He could barely read a single sentence before Charlotte’s outraged expression wormed its way back to the forefront of his mind.

He supposed that he should call his father sooner than later - just to be sure that the older man’s decision was concrete.

When he reached for the phone, however, Vlad found himself dialing his youngest brother’s number instead. He felt as if he hadn’t spoken to Lucas in ages, even though he was at their building in Manhattan almost constantly. While Vladimir had always had a relatively clear vision of what he meant to do in life - even if he questioned its validity - Lucas had spent a lifetime searching for his calling. He had shadowed each of his older brothers in an attempt to find if their positions appealed to him - and if, indeed, he desired a place in the firm at all. Their mother always told him that it would be no hardship if he didn’t end up at Kensley Enterprises, and Lucas seemed to take it personally.

Though he, more than anyone else, wanted to be of use to the firm, he seemed the least fit for it. The company didn’t bring fulfillment to him like it did to his brothers.

But, perhaps that was because Lucas had never been a man of facts and figures. He was a people person - and dealing with those around him in the most surprisingly astute ways had always been his forte.

When he answered the phone, he sounded no less surprised than Vlad was to be calling him in the first place. “Vlad? Wow...aren’t you supposed to be in LA? How are you?” Vladimir could picture him - not yet in his thirties, every bit as pale and fair-haired as you might imagine someone of English origin to be. Like his brothers, he still had traces of an accent. The more emotional he was, the more obtrusive his speech pattern.

“Alright, Lucas. How’ve you been getting on?”

There was a slight pause before the younger man answered him. “I get the feeling you wouldn’t be calling me if there was nothing wrong.”

Christ almighty. It didn’t matter how long it had been since he had last talked to one of his brothers, they tended to be able to read him instantly. Was he that predictable?  “I... I’m sorry, Lucas. I know I should call more.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re supposed to be our fearless leader,” Lucas chuckled, obviously amused at his embarrassment. “I don’t expect you to check on me every bloody day.”

“Yes, but-”

“Just tell me what you need, Vlad. You can play big brother later.” That made the dark-haired man smile - at least until he remembered why he was calling in the first place. Slowly, his smile faded as he wondered what was the best way to go about posing his question.

“I’m sure father has told you about the building going up in LA,” he stated, as diplomatically as he could. “Have you, by any chance, seen the plans for it?”

“No,” Lucas returned, curiosity coloring his tones, “He’s very adamant about keeping it a secret until the ground breaking.”

“Well,” Vlad blew out a long breath, “I saw them today. And... well...I found them a bit unorthodox.”

There was a beat before Lucas answered carefully. “Isn’t this something you’d be better off discussing with Dad?”

“That’s the thing...I can deal with Dad,” Vlad replied, hesitating slightly before he continued. “It’s this architect I’m worried about. Charlotte Gardner. I was rather...blunt with her. I worry that I might have offended her sensibilities.” That was a delicate way of putting it, if anything. Vlad knew he had pissed her off. He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again, which would, of course, promote a wondrous working relationship. “I was wondering if you had any advice. If we’re supposed to be working together, I’d like to avoid tension at any cost.”

Surprisingly, Lucas chuckled in the wake of his question. “You think you hurt her feelings. That’s not like you, Vlad. I thought you crushed and ate the souls of the weak.”

“Not funny,” Vladimir retorted, even as his lips twitched with the threat of a smile. “Even I can reflect and realize that I’ve spoken out of turn.”

“What did you say to her?”

Now that was a complicated question if there ever was one. Vlad contemplated sugar coating things before simply telling Lucas exactly what had happened. That he had called Charlotte’s work unorthodox, more suited to practically everything else than the company’s needs; and then he had promised to speak to their father to ensure that he had chosen the design most in line with the company’s image.

“Wow.” After a beat of silence, Lucas’ incredulous answer made his brother wince. “That’s...well, that’s...Wow.”

“‘Wow’ what?” Vlad demanded, obviously tense.

“Well, let’s see here,” Lucas replied mildly, “You insulted her work, her rationale, Dad’s validity in choosing her design, and her creativity all in one fell swoop. That’s impressive, Vlad.”

The dark-haired man’s stomach twisted in renewed guilt and he groaned lowly. “Is that all?”

“Pretty much, yeah. She’s probably pissed as hell - at the very least.”

No kidding. That he knew. “So, what do I do to fix it?”

Lucas blew out a long breath, contemplating for a moment before he answered. “Well, did you do any research on her or her work before meeting with her?”

Vlad arched a brow at the question. Should he have? He had hoped that he might do so after their meeting, trusting his father’s choice in design. That, he now realized, was a mistake. If he had researched her before their meeting, he might have been better prepared for what he’d seen - less inclined to make rash statements.  “I didn’t.” He admitted reluctantly. “I trusted father’s decision.”

“And I think you should continue to trust it,” Lucas replied mildly. “Dad doesn’t make decisions rashly. There has to be a reason he picked that design, and a reason he picked Charlotte. Might be a good idea to educate yourself on both before the two of you meet up again.”

Indeed. Even though Vlad had every intention of speaking to his father, the more he spoke with Lucas, the more convinced he was that the elder man wasn’t going to bend - which meant that the ground would break on Charlotte’s design sometime in the next two or three weeks.

And he would have to face her again. “Alright. I’ll look her up.”

“See that you do,” Lucas’ tone turned teasing, “Oh, wow. She’s cute. Not your type, surprisingly, but cute.”

Vlad realized that Lucas was doing just what he’d instructed him to do. Usually he would have merely rolled his eyes at the comment, but strangely, he felt something strangely like envy twisting his gut at Lucas’ warm assessment of Charlotte. “Think she likes younger men?”

“You stay your ass in New York,” Vlad growled with surprising conviction, “I’ll handle this.”

“Then handle it,” Lucas returned, obviously pleased with himself. “I have every confidence in you, Vlad.”