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.
Chapter Two
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.”
“No problem.” Damon’s accent was cultured, not a hint of cockney or country in there. He was pure Oxford bred. “I’m happy to have you. All of you. More of you than I expected.”
The last was said with a broad grin, as though the man was thrilled at the prospect of a little chaos.
Ian’s brow furrowed, a sure sign that he wasn’t happy. “I told you to expect Eve. And this is Liam O’Donnell. He’s running the op. He’s the one who found the connection between Molina and Eli Nelson.”
Damon turned to Liam, holding out a hand. Would the big guy want to shake his hand if he knew he was likely considered a traitor by his government? Liam didn’t miss a beat. He shook Damon’s hand. “Nice to meet you, O’Donnell. Your crew is in the meeting room. And I’ve offered everyone who has rights at Sanctum the same rights in The Garden. Feel free to enjoy the club. Especially that pretty little brunette your boys brought with them. From what I understand, she’s a bit of a celebrity. Siobhan back there says her books are all the rage.”
Ian’s face went cold. “They wouldn’t.”
Liam bit back a laugh. Someone was in serious trouble. “Oh, I bet they would. They just got married, Ian. I would bet little Serena didn’t like her boys heading off to Europe without her.”
“I’m going to kill them.” Ian strode into the dungeon and toward the lifts. Liam followed, Damon’s laugh echoing through the big room.
The Garden was very different from Sanctum, the club Ian owned in Dallas. Sanctum was a dungeon, and it looked that way. The Garden was pure theater. It was one of the most unusual spaces Liam had ever been in. There was a large hole in the dead center of the building, a massive skylight that allowed light to fill the space. The big dungeon was decked out as a decadent, wild garden, with vines and dark plants seeming to permeate the walls. Liam didn’t really look, though. He was on a mission, and a bunch of night-blooming flowers weren’t really his thing. He did see a couple of clever scene spaces. St. Andrew’s Crosses dominated one wall, and there was a space with plush spanking benches. Damon Knight seemed to thrive on the drama of his dungeon space.
Ian jabbed at the lift button, his impatience seeming to grow by the minute. Liam followed him into the lift.