A Dom Is Forever (3 page)

Ian nodded. “Then it’s your op. But the minute Nelson rears his head, I take over.”

Ian pressed through the turnstile. Liam took a deep breath. One hurdle over. Now he had to figure out the best way to get close to Avery Charles.

It didn’t help that the very thought of sliding into her bed got his dick hard. Yeah, he couldn’t lie to himself. She might be some sweet, innocent thing, or she might be hiding something dirty beneath all that sugar.

Either way he knew exactly what Avery Charles was. She was trouble. Luckily he was a man who could handle a little trouble.

* * * *

Avery smiled at Simon Weston. He was a very nice man, and she was so deeply uninterested that she had to fight back a yawn.

And that really wasn’t a nice way to think. He’d been nothing but polite to her. She forced herself to focus in on him. Simon was very sweet and often made her laugh, but they were in completely different departments so they hadn’t had occasion to spend much time together.

Though he seemed to try to be around her. It was a mystery.

“I was telling Jason the other day that he simply had to try the new Indian place in
Soho
. The fish curry is amazing. Nothing like I got when I went to Bangalore, but it’s the best you can get in London.” Simon leaned forward a little. “You know we could go there for lunch one of these days. The food here can’t be great.”

It was overpriced, and she often had to scarf it down on her way back to
Charing
Cross, but nothing could compete with the views. She’d spent her hour looking through the Elgin Marbles rooms, carefully reading every placard, amazed that she was looking at the very same work that had decorated the Parthenon. She almost
teared
up thinking about it, but Simon Weston didn’t seem like a man who would understand that a bunch of ancient marble could fire her imagination. It pointed out to her that while she had many fascinating conversations with her very intellectual boss, she was lonely. Thomas was into economics and business. Though he tried, she could see his eyes glaze over the minute she started talking about art. Simon was the same way. And she was drifting. What had he said? Oh. The food. “It’s okay. A sandwich is a sandwich, though I’ve come to really love salmon and cream cheese.”

She had a bit of a distracted brain.

Simon’s fingers drummed along the table. “Rumor has it you come here every day.”

She stopped, hands in mid-motion of bringing her sandwich to her mouth. “There are rumors about me? Gosh, you guys must be really bored.”

She was the dullest thing in the world. Her great and grand scandal was forgetting to recycle on occasion. Well, that and the fact that everyone assumed she was sleeping with her boss. Which she wasn’t.

Simon grinned. He was quite adorable. He was tall and lean and had Hollywood-actor good looks, but he also seemed a bit calculating. She couldn’t figure it out, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like he was sizing her up and making decisions based on some matrix in his head. “Well, life at United One Fund can be quite boring, but with the boss in town, it’s picked up considerably. We’ve never met the big guy in person, you know. And meeting his lovely assistant was even better.”

Avery set her sandwich down, completely unable to figure out how to handle the problem of Simon Weston. He was a lawyer and had been with the company for almost a year. Like almost all of the employees of the Fund, as they liked to call it, Simon had taken a pay cut to work for a foundation known for its good works.

He was obviously a good man. So why did she think he had ulterior motives for pursuing her? Nothing in his manner told her he was attracted to her except his words. And why did she think she should follow her instincts? She didn’t have any. She barely knew how to function in the dating world. She knew next to nothing about men. Her only experience had been Brandon, and he was a distant memory now. When she thought about her husband, her memories were of a happy, sweet smile and the awkward way he’d loved her. They’d been so damn young. He was a ghost, and her memories were starting to fade. She was practically a virgin again.

Except virgins didn’t miss their babies.

Avery took a long breath and forced herself back into the moment. The moment was everything. Forward. Always forward.

She was well aware that every woman at the Fund thought she was completely insane for turning the tall, lean blond god of a man down. It seemed to be yet another reason for the rumor that she was sleeping with Thomas.

Her new neighbors were easier. The two Americans who had moved in after Mrs.
Elenora
Pettigrew had decided she needed the country air were perfect. They were gorgeous. Simply divine. They were easy to talk to. Well, Adam was. Jacob seemed to grunt a lot, but he was friendly enough. She could look at them all she liked because they were also gay.

At least she thought they were. She was confused here in England. No. They were Americans. They were gay. Straight American men didn’t wear pink
polos
with skinny jeans.

It would be easier if Simon was gay.

“I’m not gay.” Simon’s huffed words pulled her out of her head.

Damn it.
Had she said that out loud? “What? I asked ‘what did you say’? Sorry. I missed it.”

He stared at her for a moment as though trying to decide if she was for real. She gave him her best dumb smile. She didn’t have to pretend. She felt really dumb. Socially awkward. She’d spent so much time alone, she sometimes talked out loud. It had worked when she was in the hospital and rehab for years at a time. No one questioned the insane woman who talked to herself. In the real world, she was odd to say the least, but she’d somehow managed to find a weird place for herself here in London.

Simon’s flushed face turned back to perfectly charming. “I was saying the Fund’s been more interesting with you around.”

“Is it because I routinely pratfall and tumble down the stairs?” Her leg gave out at the oddest of times. The staff had taken to calling her the Amazing Falling Woman. She gave regular shows at nine and noon. Everyone was welcome.

Simon frowned. “I don’t think that’s very amusing. You have a bad leg. People shouldn’t comment on it.”

She sighed. Why was he here when they were so obviously not suited? He was very proper, and she was a walking
Three Stooges
movie. “It’s the reality of the situation.”

“If the staff is making fun of you, I shall talk to Molina and have them fired.”

Yes, this was the heart of the problem. Half the time she was sure what Simon felt for her was sympathy. The other half she wondered if he wasn’t trying to move up the chain by getting close to the boss. “They’re not making fun of me. They’re helping me to laugh about it. It’s funny, Simon. I can be talking about the most serious subject in the world and sounding deeply intellectual and then I’m on the floor. Sometimes it takes a few steps for the person I was talking with to realize I’m no longer with them. It would be different if they were letting me lie there and laughing at me. They help me up.”

He sat back in his chair, his jaw a mulish line. “Still, I don’t know that it’s a laughing matter.”

If she couldn’t laugh, she would cry, and she was so tired of crying. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to work. It felt good to explore a whole world she’d never imagined she would see.

And lately she was wondering if it would feel good to explore more than museums and parks. She’d started to wonder if she could explore intimacy. But she knew damn well she wouldn’t be exploring it with Simon. Though he was truly a handsome man, with broad shoulders and lean muscle, there was no heat in his eyes when he looked at her.

And she needed to be wanted.

She decided to change the subject. “So you needed me to look at something?”

He nodded and reached into his briefcase. “Sorry. You didn’t answer your phone and this just came up. It’s a potential donor, but he wants to meet with Molina. We all know that you’re the one who gets to decide who meets with Molina. It’s a substantial donation.”

He passed the file to her. Two million and change. Yes, that was substantial. She glanced at the name. Lachlan Bates. She had no idea who that was. Molina was a bit of an introvert. There were only a few people he regularly met with. A few friends, like the one he’d come to London to see. She thought it rather funny that her very prissy boss made time once a week to meet his friend at a fish and chips place on the Thames beside the Tate Modern. She would have guessed Thomas wouldn’t eat anything so common as fish and chips. He was a caviar and
foie
gras
kind of guy.

Simon pointed to his file. “He claims to be a self-made millionaire. Something about software or something.”

“I’ll take a look at the file and talk to Thomas about it. It’s odd, though. Usually donations this large go through Monica. I’m surprised it got on your desk.” She rarely dealt with actual donations, and it wasn’t Simon’s department at all.

He shrugged. “It just showed up on my desk with some other paperwork. Probably a mistake. I thought you would be the person to handle it. You’re the only one who calls him that, you know.”

She was well aware that Thomas Molina was misunderstood. For some reason the staff was completely intimidated by him, but he was sweet with her. Perhaps because of that wheelchair he would one day be confined to. She’d spent her time in one. They understood each other when it came to the pain of struggling just to walk. “It’s his name. I won’t wear it out.”

Simon stared at her. “I don’t get Americans sometimes. Come along. Let me walk you back. Perhaps I can convince you to have dinner with me.”

She had the best excuse in the world. Thank god for new neighbors. “I can’t. I promised to meet some friends for dinner.”

She’d agreed to help the new guys find some places. Adam and Jake claimed to be completely lost. Jake had been transferred by his American corporation to their London offices, and Adam wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Maybe he would like to do tourist stuff with her. She had Fridays off, and she was planning some day and weekend trips. It would be fun to have a companion.

If he didn’t figure out what a complete freak she was, she might make a friend.

Her small flat in the Financial District used to be Thomas Molina’s brother’s place. Now it was hers while they were in London. Thomas had generously offered her a room in his townhouse, but she’d needed a little space. After so many years alone but surrounded by people, she needed some independence. And she’d found some great places to eat. She was rather excited to share her finds with the new
hotties
.

“And I lost you again,” Simon said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry. I drift. I will handle this. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. We need all the funding we can get with the new Congo plans.” The Congo was on the verge of civil war or a spiral into the domesticity of true democracy. The Fund intended to help ensure the country had everything it needed to take the right path. Fed people were happy people. Educated people tended toward democracy. “I’m sorry about my plans tonight.”

“Of course,” Simon said. “Perhaps another time. At least let me escort you back to the office. You can explain to me the fascination this place holds. I can see a day or two, but you’ve been coming here for a while now.”

“And I could take another two months and still not see everything.” She wrapped her sandwich up. It could wait until she was back at her desk.

She began to follow Simon out of the light of the grand rotunda. Tomorrow she would visit the Egypt Galleries. And maybe she would find someone to talk to. Like that amazing-looking guy she’d seen here a couple of times. Tall, dark, and gorgeous. He seemed to be just as obsessed with the British Museum as she was. And today he’d even brought a friend. A blond Viking of a man.

He’d been beautiful, but nothing like the dark-haired man. She’d been thinking about him all week. Two chance glances at the same man and she was having dreams about him. It might not even have been the same guy.

Maybe she should stop reading those damn romance novels. They were giving her crazy expectations.

She followed Simon on to the train and thought about her green-eyed mystery man.

Liam walked through the very unimpressive doors of The Garden. There was nothing about the Chelsea club from the outside that would give away the decadent playground that was inside the bland-looking, six-story building. From the outside, it could be any office space. There was no signage, no neon lights marking the way. If a patron wanted inside The Garden, he had to know the way, and he better be approved by Damon Knight, the owner and resident Dom.

“Ian.” Damon stood behind the front desk talking to the hostess. She was already dressed in
fet
wear for the evening. The perfectly young and fresh sub was exactly his type. Skinny with nice tits and more makeup than any single woman should ever wear. She couldn’t be past twenty-two, so why did she seem so much older and harder than Avery? And why the fuck couldn’t he get that woman out of his head?

Damon Knight stood almost as tall as Ian, his shoulders broad and wide and his body still fit from years of time served in Britain’s Special Air Service. He was an old friend of Ian’s. Apparently ex-commandos-turned-
Doms
stuck together.

Liam just had to hope Damon wasn’t also working with MI6. Liam couldn’t imagine that Britain’s version of the CIA wouldn’t love to sit him down and have a talk about what had happened in Dublin all those years ago.

Not that he would have much to say since he didn’t bloody remember what had happened.

He’d been on the run for years, but now he’d walked right back into the lion’s den.

“Damon.” Ian held out a hand, shaking the ex-SAS soldier’s. “Thanks for hosting us.”