documents of Bernard’s life. She had made it clear that if I couldn’t disclose any details for her, there was no reason to continue our cat-and-mouse. Whatever attraction she might have felt toward me was clearly not the priority. Her priority was to catch Bernard using everything she had. I absolutely could not fault her for putting her client, and her contract, first.
And I absolutely wanted her to be following me now for a better, more personal reason.
The tone of the music shifted, turned slow and elegant. A melodic tease for the senses. I sank back into that space of leisure granted me by every note. I’d been correct in my intuition that the goddess wasn’t a Devon. Sloane fit her like a glove; Sloane was a better descriptor of her earthy sex-appeal and sultry allure. And Sloane hadn’t vanished from my thoughts after coming clean and revealing all of her mysteries. Instead, she had taken up permanent residence in my hourly sexual fantasies and tormented my every dream.
All night long, she had taunted me, crawling up my body with her hair wild around her face, trailing the silky ends across my stomach. Over and over I palmed breasts cupped in pink lace, ran my tongue along the column of her throat as she moaned. The last image I remembered was her lithe body—pinned beneath mine—as we rocked against each other in a furious, uncontrolled rhythm. I woke with my face buried in my pillow, grinding my hips into the mattress in a vivid interpretation of what I had been doing to her in my dream.
What happened next didn’t spring from any semblance of real, rational thought—more biological need. I rolled onto my back, took my cock in hand, let myself fall back into the fantasy. Except this time it was no dream, and I had full command. Which was my preference, anyway. My fingers worked, stroking up and down, while I entwined my fingers with Sloane’s in the ornate, metal headboard. Her legs wrapped high around my waist as I fucked her in a sweaty, panting, demanding rhythm. The fantasy could be called romantic if loud, bruising, animalistic sex was a person’s idea of romance. It certainly was mine. The Sloane I fucked in my fantasy felt the same way—her orgasmic euphoria had my hips thrusting off the mattress and come spilling down my fingers. I hadn’t been quiet either, and I prayed to every god I knew that she hadn’t heard me through our shared wall.
The lights in the Royal Opera House slowly brightened, filling the room with a warm, glittering glow. Intermission had begun. I immediately searched for Sloane and caught a glimpse of black hair moving toward the lobby. Straightening my tie and re-buttoning my suit jacket, I walked confidently into the large room, filled with elegantly dressed patrons sipping from glasses of champagne. I located the goddess, moved past groups of people, reached out and touched her wrist.
“I’ll remind you again, Ms. Argento, you can knock on my door if you want my attention. You don’t need to keep up this charade of following me everywhere.” I paused, waited for her to turn around.
And when she did, it was decidedly not the gorgeous private detective. This woman’s mouth dropped, hand flying to her chest. “I’m sorry, what?”
“My apologies,” I said quickly. “I thought you were a friend.”
I walked back into the red-and-gold room before embarrassment could get the best of me. Embarrassment and disappointment, which was numbing the former effects of all that glorious, leisurely music.
My phone buzzed with a text from Delilah—a picture of my desk with Sam sitting behind it doing an extremely dramatic glower I was sure was meant to be an impersonation of me. Freya and Henry were pretending to cower, hands above their heads, while Delilah grinned goofily right at the camera. Things are getting weird without you, Abe, she’d written. Don’t worry, Sam was happy to step into your role of Office Dad/Dictator. Freya and Henry were scared yet obedient.
Another buzz. Another text—this one from Sam. We had been drinking, sir.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, smiling at their antics. I started and stopped a dozen different replies before landing on: Happy to hear I’ve been replaced by someone with such a talent for Dictator-ing. Will be shopping for your souvenirs tomorrow. Send requests please and keep it PG.
I withheld the rest, even though everything that had happened to me in the last days would have shocked them