There’s a hole opening in my heart already knowing that this is goodbye.I can’t draw that out.It’ll only make it worse.I have to think of myself as well as him.
“Dylan, I don’t think that’s a good plan.”
“Please.”He squeezes my fingers.“I’d really appreciate the company.It doesn’t have to… We don’t have to… I’m not expecting you to do anything like that.”
He might not expect it, but with the best intentions in the world, my guts tell me it’ll happen all the same.Once we’re out of sight, once nobody can see the kisses that he craves and that I want to give him, they’ll happen.But when it’s done, we’ll be right back in the same position we’re in now—fucking up how to say goodbye.
“One coffee.”
It hurts, but I shake my head.“It’s better we end this now.I can’t be your guilty secret.”And I know that’s what I will be if I follow him upstairs to his suite.He’ll never acknowledge me as a lover, not even as a fuck buddy, because he can’t even admit to himself that he’s attracted to me, let alone stomach the possibility of anyone else finding out.
“Kira?”
I give my head another shake, and what little joy remains in his face fades.His perfectly kissable lips droop at the corners.
“Okay,” he says quietly, and releases his grip.“Thank you for the ride home.”He swings open the car door, and climbs out, steadfastly refusing to look back even when he pushes the door to.
Thank you for breaking my heart, he may as well have said.
Well shit, Dylan, you’ve broken mine too.
The ignition sparks life into the engine, and I listen to the purr as I watch him traverse the concrete to the lift doors.They open and he steps inside.Even then he stays faced away from me.I don’t know why I expect him to wave, or why I even crave it.It’s better this way.It makes for a cleaner break.Not that it feels that way.Everything seems so horribly knotted.
Another car sweeps past me, nearly taking my wing mirror with it as I pull out of the car park.The face that glowers at me through the side-window is vaguely familiar, but I’m too hung up on Dylan to even return the one-fingered salute I receive when I lean on the horn.Stupid bitch didn’t even have her headlights on.
The rain has grown heavier, as the night sky has darkened.Even with the wipers on full, there’s a constant cascade of water obscuring the road.At the second junction, the centre of the road is flooded, and the cars sweep through with little regard for the pedestrians huddled beneath umbrellas.Strictly speaking I’m still on duty.I ought to go back to the Wilde-Caine engagement party now that I’m no longer shadowing Dylan, but my foot slowly pulls away from the accelerator, and before I even consciously decide not to resume my post, I’ve turned into a side street and parked up on double yellow lines.
If I genuinely love him, how can I leave him alone after all that’s happened tonight, and when he so desperately needs someone to be there for him.I’m a pitiful excuse for a bodyguard if I can’t even shield him from unpalatable memories.I should at the very least have escorted him as far as his door.Also, am I really possessed of so very little willpower that I’m incapable of giving a man comfort without falling into bed with him?Aren’t I supposed to be a professional?
I bang my imbecile head against the steering wheel and inadvertently set off the horn.The curtains in the surrounding apartments immediately start to twitch.Sheepishly, I pull away, and take a right across the lanes and back towards Dylan.I’ll just satisfy myself that he is okay, and make sure he doesn’t need anything.
There’s a spent syringe in the lift up from the hotel car park to the suites.Nasty.It just goes to show that even in supposedly high class establishments there’s a seedy underbelly of substance abuse.It makes me think of Bask and his rambling insistence that he’d been set up.That it had all been Dylan’s idea.As if anyone was ever going to buy into that possibility.
My phone bleeps as I exit onto Dylan’s floor.I reject the call, but hit ring back when I see the name of my boss flash up on the screen.
“It’s Kira.Sorry, what is it?Do you need me back at the party?”
“Where’s Drake now?”
“In his hotel room.Why?”
“Good, you’re with him.”
“Well, no, not quite.I dropped him off.What’s wrong?”
I don’t like the pause that follows.“Listen Kira, you have to get back to him.It’s not Bask.Believe it or not, his mad cap ramblings actually check out.Whatever he may or may not have done in that bathroom, he’s not responsible for the rest.He’s not our stalker.The text messages setting up that encounter at the party are all there on his phone.”
I pick up my pace to a jog, the phone still clamped to my ear.“Explain.I’m not really grasping what you’re saying.You’re not suggesting that Dylan’s behind the threats, or that he actually orchestrated that encounter?”
“God, no!Bask was being deceived.He thought he was communicating with Dylan, but it was someone else.Someone not savvy enough to cover their trail very well.The tech team have already managed to trace the number.It’s registered to someone named Whit.”
“Hugo Whit,” I say at exactly the same time as Howard.
“You know him?”
“We bumped into his ex-wife and daughter at the gala dinner.Dylan and Bask worked with the Whits on a commercial for Feinstein and Clairmont that never got shown.I believe the three of them may have been intimate.Mallory—”
“Who’s Mallory?”
