Only One Touch (Only One #4) - Natasha Madison Page 0,68

ignore the questions and try to ignore the camera flashes getting into the waiting car and then taking off my sunglasses. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Lizzie says, huffing as she sits next to me.

“Did you tell the driver I want to go to Becca’s place?” I ask, and she turns with her back against the car door.

“Are you insane?” she asks. “You don’t think they are going to follow your every single step?”

I look over my shoulder as we drive out of the gate, seeing four or five SUVs following us. “You have two choices.” She looks down at her phone and then up at me again. “We can either go home, where there are seven reporters waiting.” My mouth hangs open. “Or we can go to the office where there are four reporters.”

“I have to go and see Becca,” I say. “So drop me off at home and then give me the keys to your car. My patience is running very fucking thin at this point, Lizzie.”

“Trust me, I know,” she tells me. “But do you want them to get an inkling that you and Becca are linked?” I just look at her. “Do you want them camping out at Becca’s house and hounding her and throwing it in her face that you are married and that she’s your mistress?”

“She’s not the fucking mistress,” I hiss out. “She’s the actual person I’m with. She’s my …” I don’t even know if I should call her my girlfriend.

“Why don’t we go home and see if the press gets bored or there is another more entertaining story out there?” She is the voice of reason in this whole thing, and I know that she would not steer me wrong.

“Nico.” She says my name softly. “I know that you want to go to Becca.” I swallow, and the only thing going through my head is that I’m so close to her, yet I couldn’t be more farther from her. “I can only imagine what is going through her mind right now, and my heart hurts for both of you.” My fist goes into a ball. “But you have to protect her, and showing up and stomping to her door isn’t protecting her.”

“Protect her?” I say the words so bitterly. “If this is me protecting her, then what is me hurting her?” My mouth is as dry as the desert in the summer heat.

“I just don’t want her to think that what we had …” Lizzie puts her hand on mine, and she squeezes it.

“Lizzie,” I say. “I felt something for her I haven’t felt with anyone else,” I admit to her. My heart hammers in my chest, the pain becoming stronger and stronger the more I think about how Becca must feel. “She was.”

“She is,” she corrects me, and I look at her. She has her own tears in her eyes. “Let’s see how today goes, and if anything, I will sneak you out tonight.”

I don’t say anything more. I just swallow the lump in my throat, and when we pull up to the house, the number of reporters seems to have doubled. “Call security and have them off my property,” I say to Lizzie, who is already on the phone with them. “I also want people outside the gate.”

“I’m ordering it right now,” she says, and I walk into the house. I walk up the stairs to the bedroom, and I smell her right away. Walking over to the bed, I sit on her side of the bed. The note I left her two days ago is on the side table. My stomach hurts, the burning starting. Nothing is going to make this go away. The only way this is going to go away is when I see her and hold her in my arms. When I can kiss her and tell her everything.

I hold the note in my hand, hearing Lizzie’s steps coming closer and closer. “Okay, so they have been escorted out, and security is parked in front of the house.”

“Good,” I say, looking at her and then looking down. “How long before I can leave?”

“I would say maybe an hour.” I look back down at the note. I take my phone out and send her another message.

Me: I miss you.

The rest of the messages have been of me begging to talk to her. I don’t even know if she is reading them or ignoring them. But I’m going to send them to her anyway. Over and over