Chapter 7

Becka

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Ethan’s shape standing in the doorway.

“Stay back!” I shouted, looking around for something I could use as a weapon. Of course, the only thing I could find was a wine bottle. I grabbed it and pointed it at him.

“Becka, what the hell is wrong with you?” he asked me. “Give me that. If you wanted a glass of wine, all you had to do was ask.” He smiled as if this was all just a big joke. I jerked away and, still holding the bottle in one hand, pointed at the blood on the floor with the other.

“If Oliver is just in hiding away from the press, then whose blood is that?” I demanded. “What did you do with him?” I couldn’t believe it; I felt like I was in the middle of every horror movie I’d ever seen, where the damsel in distress ends up realizing the truth far too late; that she let herself get seduced by the murderer who kills the hero while she’s too busy trying to figure out which one is better marriage material.

But this was real, and Ethan’s figure, domineering and scary in the doorway, was taking my breath away. My eyes were playing tricks on me; he barely resembled the man I’d been so drawn to earlier. And he still hadn’t answered.

“What did you do?” I screeched, my voice sounding foreign even to me.

“Becka, calm down,” Ethan said, holding out his hand to me, palm out, as if he was urging me to not make any sudden moves. “I didn’t do anything to Oliver. I told you that. The blood is mine. I cut myself earlier while I was making dinner.”

“Show me your hands,” I said. “Show me where you cut yourself.”

“It was a small cut,” he explained. “You can’t see it from there.” He held out his finger and I could, by the dim light of the wine cellar, barely see a red mark on his finger.

“All that blood, from that tiny cut.”

“I’m a hemophiliac, Becka. I bleed nonstop whenever I cut myself. I take medication for it, but even a paper cut would bleed far more than you could ever imagine. I promise you,” he said, stepping toward me, “I didn’t do a thing to Oliver.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of everything. “Are you telling me the truth about the hemophilia thing?” I asked.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Besides, if Oliver and I had gotten into it enough for me to cause him serious harm, first of all, though it pains me to admit it, I’d have some marks on me. Second, there’d be a lot more blood around the place—both his and mine.”

I looked into his eyes and couldn’t read what I saw there. I found myself growing more and more annoyed.

“Why can’t you two just be fucking honest with me about anything?” I yelled, tossing the bottle of wine to the floor. It shattered and splattered red wine all over my legs, but I didn’t care. I was done with both of them.

“I used to have a totally normal life,” I said, storming past him out of the wine cellar. He stared after me like I’d gone completely crazy. “I had a dissertation I was working on and I was a well respected member of my cohort, with the admiration of my professors and an incredibly bright future ahead of me. Now, I’m caught up in this ridiculous media circus, a huge scandal, and I’m facing the idea of going to jail. You’re hot. Oliver is hot. I don’t know which of you I’d choose if I had the chance, but, as of this moment, I choose neither of you! This is all too much trouble!”

I was standing in the kitchen cleaning my legs off with a damp dish towel. Most of the wine had landed on my shoes, which were ruined, but I didn’t care. Ethan was staring at me in a combination of fascination and mortification, as if he’d never seen a woman lose her shit before.

“Listen, Becka, I know it’s frustrating. But, you don’t understand what all of this media attention could do to Neurotova. It could destroy it. Other companies, competitors of Neurotova, live for times like this. They send in spies disguised as journalists. They head hunt, looking for scientists who don’t trust that Neurotova can weather the storm, and they entice them to come work for their companies instead. All of this attention could very well drive Neurotova into the ground. Oliver was smart to go under for a bit. If no one can find him, including the people who he cares about, like you, the safer everyone is, including Neurotova.

“I don’t understand why you care,” I said bitterly, still rubbing red wine from my clothes. “You’ve been trying to destroy Neurotova and Oliver from the start.”

“I wish you knew the truth,” Ethan said. “I wish I could tell you everything. You’d see a far different side of Oliver and of Neurotova if you knew everything that I know.”

“So why don’t you tell me?” I asked, exasperated. I was tired of both of these brothers and their coy language, their secrets.

“It would only make things worse for you. The less you know right now about Neurotova and the history between Oliver and me, the safer you’ll be. I promise. I know you’re annoyed.” He stared pointedly at the pool of wine. “The entire wine cellar knows you’re annoyed. But you can’t be allowed to know any more than you do. I’m sorry.”

I glared at him. “In that case, I’m going to be alone tonight, with my annoyed thoughts. I’m sleeping in one of the spare rooms. And I’m locking the door. Don’t come to find me, don’t knock on my door in the middle of the night, and don’t think for a moment that I’m going to change my mind and come to find you and sneak into bed with you. I’m going to sleep now because I’ve had too much to drink and I’m tired. And angry. In the morning, I’m leaving at first light to go back to my apartment.”

I stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a quite speechless Ethan holding a broom and dishcloth above a shattered bottle of wine.

I found my way to the closest guest room, which was just down the hall from Oliver’s main suite. It was a simple room, but it had everything I needed: a bed and a bathroom. I had left my overnight bag in Lisa’s car, so all I had with me was my purse and my phone. I set them both on the night table and turned down the bed. I stripped down to my underwear and bra and slid between the cool sheets, feeling, for a moment, like a normal human being.

I realized how exhausted I was, and, though I had planned on watching television, I found my eyes fluttering closed. I thought about how my life had been before I’d met either Oliver or Ethan. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I was torn. My feelings for Oliver were so strong, and those feelings had been confused, but not erased, by the presence of Ethan in my life. Lisa was right; I was incredibly lucky to have two billionaires after me—not because they were billionaires, though that didn’t hurt, but because I had two men who were interested in me. But, did I? And was I incredibly lucky? Ever since Oliver had come into my life, I’d had nothing but problems, and those problems had only compounded themselves when I met Ethan. I was a simple woman; I didn’t need or want a billionaire’s lifestyle.

And yet, when I thought Oliver was hurt, I had felt my breath tear against my lungs. I still wasn’t completely sure I could trust Ethan, but, really, I had no choice. I had to agree that if Ethan had harmed Oliver, there would have been more blood. And, Oliver would have put up a fight. No way would Ethan not have marks all over him, defensive wounds, a black eye.

I decided that, when I woke up, I would leave Oliver’s mansion and go home. I’d do my best to forget that either Oliver or Ethan existed.

Ethan

I cleaned up the bottle of wine; Oliver was going to be pissed. It was a collectable bottle of a vintage he’d only managed to get a few bottles of. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice, but, even if he did, there was nothing that could be done now.

I turned all of the lights off downstairs and went back to the bedroom. The sheets were still messy from earlier in the night when I’d been sharing the bed with Becka, and I shook my head, flipping on the television. I did think for a moment about knocking on her bedroom door; I knew she had gone to the room at the end of the hall. But, her threat was loud and clear in my mind, and the last thing I wanted to do was have another scene. If she started thinking rationally, I’d have a real problem on my hands. Best for her to go to sleep angry, wake up angry, and go back home.

The news was more of the same. Damn Oliver, I shook my head and poured myself a scotch from the bar. He was messing everything up, and, just when things were coming to a head, he’d bailed. Not a lot of what I’d told Becka was the truth, but my not having any idea where Oliver was happened to be true, unfortunately. If I’d known where he was, I would have flown to get him and dragged his sorry ass back to face everything that was going on. Such a chicken shit.

I sat in an overstuffed leather chair and watched the talking heads on CNN rip Neurotova apart from every side. There was a panel discussion focusing on the financial impact of business on food science and on the American diet. The heads were saying that scandals like what was happening, where aspects of animal cruelty came into play with food that we put on our children’s tables, was one of the unfortunate aspects of the culture in which we lived. Of course, an argument ensued about how if the billionaires in charge of businesses like Neurotova were as rich in ethics as they were in dollars, it wouldn’t be an aspect of our culture… and blah, blah, blah.

I zoned out, letting the voices wash over me along with my scotch. When my first scotch was done, I refilled it. I walked by the door and, again, thought about going to Becka’s room and knocking on her door. It seemed so strange to be in Oliver’s house to begin with, but then to have Becka sleeping so close and not be near her seemed downright wrong.

I thought about my lips on hers, how we had finally kissed, finally connected, and how intense our connection had been. Regardless of her past with Oliver, I was sure that I somehow had a future with Becka. But, as I sipped my drink, I heard my brain negating that very idea. It was so unlike me to even be thinking of her. I had never gotten caught up in a single woman, certainly not to the point of distraction. All of the decisions I’d been making lately seemed to be relating only to Oliver and Becka and having nothing to do with myself and my own wellbeing. That had to change.

I knew that Becka could never know the truth. Oliver hadn’t told her, of course, outside of letting her know that we were brothers. That was plenty, and I’d had to take him to task for it. Our fight in his office had been long overdue, and it all came as a result of him telling Becka more than she was entitled to know.

The trouble was, she was smart. She was smarter than any woman I’d been interested in for at least the last several years. I had never needed to worry about women asking about my past, my family, even what I did for a living. I met my women at fundraisers and business functions; all they cared about was that I was a billionaire, nothing more.

Becka didn’t give two shits about my billionaire status… and that, I realized, made her the most dangerous woman I’d ever known. I needed to ensure that she didn’t know any more about Oliver, Neurotova, or me than she already did. She already knew far too much.

Becka

I woke up early the next morning, and I was sure I was up before Ethan, since the sun had just risen. Still, I grabbed my purse and phone and, as quietly as I could, I snuck past his room and down the hall. I didn’t hear any noise from his room and was grateful that I was able to sneak out. Though a night of sleep had helped my mood, I was still highly pissed. I felt like I had a good plan moving forward, though: I was going to go back to school and focus on my dissertation. Though I was technically still Oliver’s assistant, while he was underground, I was as well. I had no intentions of showing up anywhere near Neurotova until I heard from him. I reasoned that if he wasn’t going to tell me where he was, then he could very well live without an assistant until he was willing to do so.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple; I was starving. Then, I walked into the entryway. I had gotten all the way to the front door and had one hand in my purse when I realized: I had my keys, but I had no car. Lisa had dropped me off the night before. Shit.

Well, I knew I’d walk to town before I’d go knock on Ethan’s door and ask him for a ride. But, I also knew that Oliver had a driver, and he had several cars at his disposal in his private garage. His garage, of course, would be coded with some security password. No matter, I would figure it out. I walked out to the front lawn and began to explore around me. I went to the back and tried the garage; of course, it was locked. I looked for a motorcycle (not that I knew how to ride one), a scooter, hell, even a riding lawnmower. Nothing.

I walked back toward the front of the house and sat on the stoop for a minute, trying to collect my thoughts. I could text Lisa to come and get me. Or, I could go wake Ethan. Neither of those possibilities seemed like real answers, for the same reason: both involved having a conversation with Ethan before I was ready to do so.

I sighed, not knowing what to do. My eyes wandered across the driveway and, as they came across Ethan’s car, I nearly slapped myself in the forehead. Of course; I could take Ethan’s car. He wouldn’t mind, right? I snickered at my cleverness. I walked to the driver’s side and peered through the tinted glass. I didn’t see any keys, which wasn’t a huge surprise. I walked back in the front door and tiptoed through the foyer into the kitchen. Jackpot! There, on the counter, was a set of keys. They had to be Ethan’s. I grabbed them, and quietly snuck back out of the house. I half expected Ethan to come jumping out at me, but luck was on my side and he didn’t.

I found the right key immediately, thank goodness for those huge, gaudy fobs every car touted these days, and, in three minutes, I was on my way down the driveway in Ethan’s Alfa Romeo. I looked back when I reached the end of the driveway and grinned; Ethan had awakened at the sound of his engine revving, and he stood in the doorway in his boxers shouting at me.

I waved in the rearview mirror, knowing I was already too far for him to see me. It felt good; it felt like at least a minor victory. My phone began to light up immediately with calls and texts from Ethan; I shut my phone off and hid it under the seat.

My plan was to drive straight to school. I hadn’t showered or even changed clothes from the day before, but my desire to feel something normal, something like home, was overwhelming. I wanted to see Dr. Evans, to sit in her office and have a conversation like I was just a plain old ordinary student once again.

That plan changed the moment I drove onto campus. I had never been more clandestine in my life; there was no way a grad student like myself could possibly afford the car I was driving, not to mention my lack of showering had left my hair looking like, well like less than its usual sheen. I put on my sunglasses and drove through the campus, my stomach sinking as I did.

The media was everywhere, swarming not just the food science building, but the student center and every other building on campus. A helicopter sounded overhead, and I had to stop several times for photographers who were running across the street, peering into my car as if they were expecting me to be Oliver or Ethan, or… me.

There was no way I could get to Dr. Evans with these crowds, and I realized for the first time that my life as I’d known it before, before Ethan and Oliver, was largely over. The college was suffering for the actions of Ethan, and my involvement with him and with Oliver hadn’t helped. I felt nauseous, and I knew a panic attack was close at hand. I pulled over, locked all my doors, and I took out my phone.

I hadn’t listened to my messages for more than a day, since I’d checked when I was with Lisa. I still didn’t have any messages from Oliver, and I had plenty from Ethan about the theft of his car, but I also had a number of messages from Dr. Evans, wondering where I was, wondering if I was okay, asking me to contact her, giving me her personal number, telling me to stay away from the campus if I could, that everything was a nightmare.

I watched the carnage, the media frenzy, knowing I had partially caused it. I drove through, faster than I should have for someone not wanting attention, and I drove toward my apartment. I didn’t have any idea if Lisa was home or not; all I knew was, I needed a safe place to be.

I drove home quickly, not bothering to stop anywhere along the way, though I was dying for a coffee. I knew I had coffee at home, and I reminded myself that I could live without it, though I also felt quite strongly that, at minimum, I deserved a cup of damn coffee for everything I’d been through in the last twenty four hours. I pulled up into the parking lot of my complex, sped into the building, and sighed with relief as the elevator doors closed.

When they opened on my floor, I used my key to open my door, but, to my surprise, my door was open.

“Lisa?” I called as I pushed the door open.

“Not Lisa,” Oliver said. He stood in my living room.

“What the fuck?!” I asked, incredulous, a little scared, and, okay, a little excited as well. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

He walked to me and embraced me. “Becka, I’m so sorry about all of this. I’m just so sorry.”

I pulled away, the flash of anger I was feeling mirroring that which I’d felt for Ethan the night before.

“Don’t apologize and try to hug me like everything is just okay. What the hell are you doing here, where the hell have you been, and what the hell is going on?” My voice rose with each question, and Oliver held out his hands to quiet me down.

“Okay, I know you’re mad. You have every right to be mad, I agree with you. Please, let’s get you some coffee, I know you’re dying for some, and I’ll tell you everything.”

I glared at him, then, a sense of relief washed over me suddenly, an emotion I hadn’t expected, and I threw my arms around him. I felt tears poking at my eyes, but I refused to let them out.

“I thought something bad had happened to you,” I said. “I thought Ethan…”

“You thought Ethan hurt me?” He held me close, and the warmth of his body seemed to find all of the cold spaces in mine and sooth them. “Honey, Ethan is a calculating asshole, but he’s not a murderer. He would never hurt me.”

He pulled away and looked into my eyes. His concern was evident, and I made sure to let him see the full scale of how hurt I was, not just by Ethan, but by him not communicating anything to me.

“You didn’t call or text. I didn’t hear anything from you. And then I got to your house and Ethan was there, and there was blood all over the floor, and what was I supposed to think?” My voice came out of me in a tumble and I realized how grateful I was that he was alive… and that it meant Ethan had been telling the truth. If he was telling the truth about Oliver’s wellbeing, then maybe he was telling the truth about other things as well. Maybe I wasn’t such a huge misjudge of character after all.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “I never meant for any of this to happen, not like this. And you were never supposed to get involved to the level that you have been.”

“My career is all but ruined,” I said. “My dissertation… I mean, my advisor is barely speaking to me, my college is crawling with the press, and I’m being accused of things I can’t even explain because I don’t know what they are! I mean, what the fuck!” I threw up my hands in exasperation, a gesture I felt was becoming second nature to me.

“Becka, honey, let me explain…”

Oliver

I knew that I owed Becka more than just a basic explanation.

“Go take a shower,” I said. “How did you get here?”

She smirked and looked at me out of the tops of her eyes. “I stole Ethan’s car,” she shrugged.

I laughed. “Well played! How many times has he called you?”

“I don’t know, fifteen? Twenty? I shut my phone off. After I realized I didn’t have any messages from you.”

I heard the bite in her voice. She was willing to joke, but only to a point. She didn’t want me to forget that she was angry.

“Ah. Got it,” I said. I needed to change the subject. “When you’re done in the shower, I’ll have coffee and breakfast made. Then, we can sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

She seemed satisfied with that, and she set her phone, Ethan’s keys, and her purse on the table along with her own keys. She disappeared into the shower. I heard the door lock, a final reminder that we were doing things today on her terms, no one else’s.

I had spent the last few days out of the country, away from the prying American media, but not a moment had gone by that I hadn’t missed Becka. I had thought it would be safer for me to leave her behind, but the more time I’d been gone, the more I had wished she was with me. Of course, saying that to her now amounted to no more than an empty platitude. I needed to prove it to her; I knew that.

She got out of the shower and she took her time getting dressed. She finally emerged from her bedroom in sweat pants and a tank top, her hair wet and hanging in strands around her shoulders. She looked gorgeous.

I had, as promised, prepared coffee, bacon, eggs, and toast. I asked her if she wanted pancakes.

“I want answers,” was her response.

I sighed. It was time.

I served her breakfast, then made a plate for myself and sat across from her at her breakfast bar. Then, I began to fill her in on the history of Neurotova, and my relationship with Ethan, and how it had all gone so wrong.

“When we’d started,” I said, “Ethan and I had had our hands equally in everything. It was a partnership, and it looked like we were going to pretty much run the world. We were the perfect partners: brothers, we knew the other inside out, we could communicate… we could even fight without it being that big of a deal. In short, it was perfect.” I sipped my coffee. I knew I had Becka’s full attention; she had barely touched her food. “But,” I continued, “after a few years, it became clear that his interest was more on the financial and business front, whereas mine was far more on the food science and chemical part. I should have known right then that bad things were about to happen. He was so greedy.” I shook my head.

“When I’d realized how greedy Ethan was, that he cared not about the production of healthy alternatives to some of our most harmful foods, I began to investigate him privately. Neurotova was booming at the time; we were considered by both Fortune and Time to be the next up and coming investment opportunity and our stock was rising daily.” I paused and looked at Becka.

“The success made me spend more time in the lab; I was there day and night, working with the scientists we hired to maintain quality and consistency, to make sure that every procedure was followed to the letter. I had visions of being not just the world’s most lucrative company, but the most ethical as well. It seemed that every other company, food science or not, faced scandal after scandal with corrupt CEOs, employee embezzlement, or unethical practices such as animal testing, human testing, or mislabeling of ingredients. I wanted more than anything to rise above all of that.”

“It had been a few years before I realized what Ethan was doing. He had covered his tracks so well. And, actually, it wasn’t me who ultimately found out what was happing; it was an intern from the local college, the same college you attend.” Becka perked up here; I could see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she knew the intern.

“The intern had come to me with concerns about evidence of animals in the lab; he had found fur, feces, and scraps of little used for rabbits, rats, and other small animals.

‘What do you mean?’ I had asked.

‘I think, Sir,’ the intern had said nervously, ‘that someone, or maybe more than one, is performing tests on animals in the Neurotova facilities. And trying to hide the evidence.’

Well, you can imagine my shock. The intern had been one of my best scientists at the time, regardless of his intern status, and I set him to work immediately on a private, separate assignment to find out what was happening in the lab. With use of video equipment, special access to the company emails and records, and an all access key to any lab and office in the facility, a month later, the intern had returned to me with a full report on what was happening.”

I stood up and began to pace around Becka’s kitchen, the emotion of the entire situation still raw, still active within me.

“I had been disgusted, almost physically sick, as I watched the testing going on in the labs after hours. Animals were, I’d realized, in cages in Neurotova that very moment, waiting until the majority had gone home and the lights had been turned off.”

“What did you say to the intern?” Becka asked.

“I asked him, ‘Who do these people report to?’

The intern looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and speaking quietly. ‘They report to Ethan, Sir,’ he had said. ‘There are agendas of meetings with Ethan’s name on them, and Ethan can be seen in some of the video footage. I can’t determine if he’s facilitating the experimentation, but he’s supporting it at the minimum.’

Well, you can imagine my rage. I destroyed nearly everything in my office that day, and I scared the shit out of that poor intern.”

“What did you say to Ethan?” Becka asked.

“First, I had to reward my intern. I told him that he’d done exceptional work.

‘Your work will be reflected in just a few weeks when you’re offered a formal position with Neurotova.”

The intern’s eyes had widened and brightened at the same time, a smile beginning to spread across his lips in spite of the situation.

‘Really, Sir?’

‘Absolutely,’ I had declared. ‘Your loyalty is unwavering and your research is impeccable. I’d have hired you regardless, but this investigation of yours shows me that you are exactly the type of person I want in this company moving forward. Because there are going to be some changes very soon.’

Those changes had begun by me calling Ethan in to a meeting. I presented him with the evidence.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I’d yelled. ‘Do you know this could ruin us? What’s the matter with you?’

Ethan had stayed surprisingly calm. ‘You’re out of touch, Oliver,’ he’d said. ‘You think that you can become top dog by just playing along with everyone else’s rules, but that’s not how the business world works. Yeah, a few bunnies might get hurt,’ he said dryly, ‘but that’s the price. We’re lagging in manufacturing and in creation; we need to be moving faster if we’re going to stay competitive. This is a shortcut, a harmless one, that can help move us straight to the top.’”

I watched Becka as she turned white, as if she could hear those specific words coming out of Ethan’s mouth. I knew that she had his number. I also wondered, briefly, if they had slept together. A surge of jealousy rolled through me, but I shut it down, reminding myself that she was mine, that she loved me, and that anything Ethan had gotten out of her, he had gotten the same way he had gotten pieces of my company: deception and robbery.

“What did you do?” Becka asked.

“I continued to confront Ethan,” I said. ‘It’s stopping, right now,’ I’d said. I couldn’t believe his thought process and how cold and separated he was from everything. He looked like a sociopath, cold and calculating. Even though we had never really gotten along when we were growing up, I mean, we fought just like any normal siblings, I couldn’t believe that this was my brother standing in front of me.

‘No, it’s not,’ he’d responded. ‘It’s never stopping. And I have safeguards in place to make sure that things will continue to go as long as I want them to, in case you’re thinking of interfering.’

The safeguards, it turned out, were to pin everything on me if I chose to go public with the animal testing. I had spent more than a year pulling my reputation out of the tank with investors and the media… and I had fired Ethan. Ethan hadn’t gone cheaply, though; every month since I’ve been sending checks to E.H. Enterprises, which was Ethan’s blackmail account. Ethan had agreed to not speak to anyone in the company as long as he got his money.”

“Blood money,” Becka said.

“Exactly,” I said. “So, now you know everything.”

She looked at me, her head cocked as though she couldn’t quite fit all of the information I’d given her into her brain. I didn’t blame her; it was a lot. It had taken me years to absorb it all, and I still wasn’t sure I believed everything that Ethan was capable of.

Then, she asked me a question I hadn’t anticipated.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

That was Becka, living in the present and the future, not the past. What was I going to do about it—a problem solving approach. Stop whining, that comment said, and figure out your shit so you can move on with your life.

I thought about how I might answer that question for the majority of the rest of our breakfast, which we shared in silence. The obvious answer was that I had to, once and for all, take Ethan down. The question that resulted from that answer was, of course, how.

I knew Becka had been researching Neurotova to an incredibly deep level, and I knew that she knew more about Ethan, me, and even the company than she was letting on. She did much of her research on the computer in her office while she was my assistant, so of course I could see everything she did. I knew she had far more information than she realized she had.

“Well?” she asked, after several minutes had gone by.

“Well,” I said, my mouth full of eggs. “I guess I’m going to use the people around me, the people who I know have been onto something for a long time, and hope that they’re willing to fight for the right side.” I looked at her pointedly, then I held up a mimosa and waited for her to hold up hers. “Cheers,” I said. “To those in the know.”

“Cheers,” she said back, slightly hesitating.

“And now,” I said, standing up and walking toward her, “I have missed you.”

I waited for a moment to make sure that she would be receptive to my advances, and, when I saw her face flush deep in her neck and all the way up her cheeks.

“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on my chest.

“What is it, my dearest?” Her hand on my chest aroused me, sent a spike of energy through me. I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms at that moment and have my way with her, to push myself into her and feel her wrapped around me, breathing hot in my ear, smelling her, feeling her beautiful, smooth skin pressed against mine.

“How did Ethan get into your house?”

I could see suspicion in her eyes. She thought I’d let him in. Perhaps, she thought the entire thing was a set up. I thought for a moment about the best way to answer.

“I don’t know,” I said finally. “My guess is he had a key made at some point. That seems like something he would do. I’ll get my locks changed so it doesn’t happen again.”

She kissed me, then, and I carried her to her bedroom. She was so soft, pliable in my hands, and I laid her on the bed gently. I was aroused, had been from the moment I’d laid eyes on her, but I took my time with her, getting to a level where I knew she would experience all the pleasure she was entitled to, all of the pleasure she had earned from my absence and all of the drama with Neurotova. I slowly pulled her top over her head, and she slid her sweat pants off with her feet. I pressed my hand between her legs and felt her soft flesh. I kissed her, her tongue sweet and warm as it connected with mine.

It felt absolutely perfect to be back in her arms again.

Becka

I had no intention of sleeping with Oliver, until he had said he missed me and looked at me with eyes that were so sincere, so genuine, I could have melted right on the spot. I had a lot to absorb; he had told me several things during his explanation… first, I now knew how Ethan and Oliver fit together. More importantly, Oliver had let me know that he knew about my research. I didn’t know how he knew, unless he had suspected I was doing something like that and had searched his computer on my desk. I suppose it was stupid of me to do my research there, but I had gathered very important evidence and I knew the only reason I’d gotten it was because I’d had access to some of the company’s files on that particular server.

He took me to my bed and he laid me down as gently as something treasured, then slowly began to undress me. I could feel his cock, hard, longing, against his jeans. I wanted him inside me, wanted him desperately, but I also wanted things to last. My trust in him had been broken slightly; I didn’t know if he was going to disappear again.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I whispered through our kissing.

“You can trust me,” he breathed.

“What if you disappear again?” I asked. “I mean, where were you?”

He paused, looking into my eyes. I knew we’d had our conversation and I didn’t want to keep bringing it up, but the fact was, I was scared. I knew if he could disappear without any notice and didn’t call me, I’d be on my own. The idea of being on my own to fend off the press, to explain his actions, even be alone with Ethan, was terrifying.”

“I told you; I had to disappear because of the heat of the press. There was no other reason. I promise you.” His fingers trailed over my breast and I felt a shiver move through me.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

“My love, the less you know, the less connected you are to me, the safer you are. Don’t you understand? That’s why I’m so worried about the research you’ve been doing. If you know more than you should, you’re far more apt to get caught up in the media shit storm, and I want to protect you from that.”

He made sense. He kissed me.

“If I’d told you where I was, or if I’d tried to contact you, the press would have somehow found out about it. They’re like sharks in a pool of blood. They snap at whatever they can get. Hurt first, ask questions later.”

I wrapped my arms around him, drew him to me, felt his cock pulsing against my thigh. “I don’t want to be without you,” I said.

His response was to kiss my breasts, one at a time, slowly, his tongue swirling around my nipple in a way that drove any thoughts of the past or future out of my mind. The only thing I knew was the present moment, his lips and tongue on me, my arms around him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt his cock moving closer and closer to its destination.

He pulled back from me and sighed admiringly, scanning my body in appreciation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. He moved down and began to kiss my inner thighs, sending waves of arousal through me. “You’re so wet,” he said, licking the apex of my thighs. He used his hand to spread my legs further, and slid two fingers easily inside me. He continued to kiss and lick me as he finger fucked me slowly, like we had all the time in the world together.

I gazed at him, licking up my arousal, and I knew that he was the one I wanted to be with. There was no way Ethan could ever measure up to Oliver; Oliver made love to me with feeling. We had a true connection.

He began to kiss up my stomach, stopping to sample each square inch of my flesh.

“Your skin is so smooth, so perfect,” he murmured as he made his way back up to my neck. I spread my legs and wrapped them around his hips and he entered me, beginning immediately to thrust into me with each breath. He filled me, his eyes meeting mine, and we rocked together until I felt my orgasm swelling.

“I’m gonna cum,” I whispered. “Oh my God, you feel so good inside me.”

“You feel better than I ever could. Cum for me,” he said, pressing closer to me and hitting my clit with each thrust.

I came quickly, a force pushing through me, energy surging, and I cried out. He pushed harder, authoritatively, and groaned as he came in me. I held him to me, my nails scratching his back, keeping him as close as I could.

When he finished his final pulses into me, he sighed and relaxed. We lay together, him on top of me, breathing quietly, until he finally rolled off as our breath steadied.

“I want to make it up to you,” he whispered into the dark.

“Make what up to me? That was fucking amazing,” I said. I was smiling; I couldn’t help it.

“Not that… that was absolutely amazing. I want to make up the last week. Two weeks. The last month. I want you to know how much you mean to me. Where do you want to go? We can go anywhere in the world. We’ll leave tonight.” He rolled up on one elbow and I could feel him looking at me in the dark.

I thought. Where would I go if I could go absolutely anywhere? Italy? Russia? Belize?

“I want to stay right here,” I said. “With you.”

“Seriously,” he said. “I’ll take you anywhere.”

“That’s the problem with you; you run away too much. I want to stay here with you. A stay-cation. I want to order food in, watch movies, fuck, and fuck some more.” I stared at the ceiling, once again in disbelief of my own choices. There was a time when I would have wished for a million dollars so that I could go anywhere, do anything. Now, I had that chance, and I had the chance with the man that I cared about the most… and all I wanted to do was stay home.

“Well,” he said, “that’s a pretty easy thing to do.”

“Is it?” I asked. “Every time I turn around you’ve disappeared.”

He sighed. “How many times are you going to remind me of that?” I could hear an edge to his voice, and I knew that I was getting close to pushing his patience, if I hadn’t already.

“Until you understand how much it hurt me that you didn’t include me,” I said plainly.

He looked at me and I could see the whites of his eyes in the dark now that my eyes were adjusting.

“Becka,” he said slowly, “I know that you were and are hurt. I promise, I will never hurt you like that again. Ever. I’ve always only had your best interests at heart. I care about you, and the last thing I want, ever, is to see you hurt.”

He kissed me then, and we made love again, twice. In the morning, I woke up and heard him in the kitchen making coffee. I smiled, smelling the delicious coffee and imagining him bringing a tray of delicious breakfast into my bedroom for us to share. I heard him whistling happily. I waited, listening to him, until my stomach started to growl, and the scent of fresh coffee began to disperse around the apartment. What on earth was keeping him?

“Oliver?” I called out. “Honey?” I wrapped my robe around myself and I opened my door, walking through the living room and into the kitchen.

Lisa stood there, alone. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Do you want some coffee? There’s just a little left, but I can make more.” She looked me up and down. “Sorry, I thought you were staying at Oliver’s. I assumed I was alone.”

I looked around. “You didn’t see him this morning?” I asked. “What time did you get home?”

She giggled. “Like I have any clue. Four? Five? It wasn’t quite light, but it was close. Maybe.”

I looked around the apartment as if I expected Oliver to be hiding somewhere. And, truthfully, I think I expected him to be. There was no way he would have promised me everything he promised me last night and then leave this morning. Not a chance.

“Sorry,” Lisa was saying. “I truly didn’t see him.”

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I walked into the second bedroom Lisa and I shared as an office. I had overtaken it for the most part over the last few months with my research, which I kept in two file boxes next to the desk.

They were gone.

“Lisa!” I yelled. “Did you move those two boxes in the office? The file boxes on the floor?”

“The boxes you’ve been treating like your first born? No ma’am,” she said. “Not a chance in the world I’d even touch them.”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d moved them. Thinking of any reason why I might have taken them out of the office. But, of course, that was all my brain just exercising itself to no end. I knew full well I hadn’t moved the boxes. The outline created by their weight was still visible in the carpet. I never moved the boxes. Any research I was working to complete, I always carried in my messenger bag.

“That asshole,” I said.

“Who?” Lisa said, poking her head over my shoulder and looking into the office.

“Oliver,” I said flatly. “He stole my research.”