Shrugging, Arabella made a noise of agreement, finishing cocktail number two. "He is completely correct, your Thomas. I feel guilty being so happy that you married Number Two and that you're so sweet and fun to be with-" Like magic, another glass appeared before the woman and she took a long, somewhat inelegant gulp, Lauren joining her and finishing her first.
This thing really was delicious, she thought, savoring the lemongrass and Kaffir lime juice.
"-but it's such a relief to have someone to talk to."
Lauren nodded a little vehemently. She was feeling more relaxed now, that tightness in her neck and chest from rehearsal not so noticeable. "Exactly. Never knowing what I can say or what I can't. I mean, even today with Thomas's neighbor, I-" She took another swallow, "-I never know what he's going to do. What hecoulddo. And that's the scariest part."
The waiter was back with a third drink for her and a fourth for Arabella. When he left, Arabella's voice dropped to a whisper. "Has he hurt you, honey?"
"What?" Unaccountably, Lauren was insulted for Thomas. "Me? No!"
"Good, you didn't fight him," Arabella nodded knowingly, "I'm relieved. I was so worried he'd hurt you quite badly if you put up a fuss."
Thinking of the spanking her new husband had given her in the kitchen a couple of days ago, Lauren squirmed uncomfortably. But she knew that wasn't what Arabella meant, and the woman actually looked a little disappointed. "Why do you think Thomas likes to uh, hurt women?"
"Not just women," Number One's wife began to giggle, a little shrill and a titch sloppy. She was finishing her fourth drink and gestured at a man pushing an elegant little martini cart around the room. "Let's try something new."
"And maybe some food?" Lauren asked hopefully, she was starving, but she thought getting some food into this woman would be a good idea. The dark, mean-faced man sitting with Chuck was undoubtedly Arabella's minder and neither of them looked happy right now.
Following her nervous glance at their bodyguards, the older woman immediately pulled back. "Just some water please, and your small plates menu," she ordered, and Lauren relaxed a little. Arabella was flushed, her platinum blonde hair just slightly out of its elegant chignon and her tanned skin too ruddy. Stabilizing the blood alcohol level of her (maybe?) friend was a good idea. The one thing the girl was quite certain of was that the horrible Number One was not a man to displease. She could tell Arabella was desperate to let loose but this wasnotthe place. Lauren felt an odd sort of protectiveness for the woman, even knowing she probably couldn't trust her and that at more than fifteen years older and over a decade in The Corporation, Arabella should definitely know better. Even so, she persisted. "Why do you think Thomas likes to hurt women?"
Arabella laughed incredulously, then stopped as she looked at Lauren's puzzled face. "You mean, he hasn't?" abandoning the small plates menu, she leaned forward again. "Thomas hasn't you know-" she drunkenly waved her hands around, "safe words and the titles and all that?"
"Lauren. Hello, darling. I see the two of you are having a little Hen's Night?"
Lauren's heart froze. Thomas wasright behind her,his hand on her chair and his body heat radiating through the thin cotton of her sundress. His voice was low and beautifully composed, the tender and slightly indulgent tone of a husband here to collect his wife after one too many cocktails with a friend. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, the girl croaked, "Yes? I mean, Arabella told me the board was meeting tonight, so we thought we'd-" Lauren looked at the other woman who suddenly looked terrified. Was this an unauthorized outing? Feeling the need to cover for Number One's wife, she forced a smile, "So we thought we'd have dinner and catch up while we waited for you all to... uh... finish?"
Looking up, she couldn't quite gauge his expression. Thomas had his urbane smile in place, but his grip on her shoulder was slightly too firm and he hovered over her, almost protectively. "Of course, darling. I'm glad the two of you kept busy while we finished up some boring details." He chuckled in a charming fashion, his eyes crinkling and white teeth flashing. The "Board meeting" was actually an execution list of underperforming employees, of which Frank Marsh was spared because of his new familial association with the Vice-President of Jaguar Holdings. The other three men would not be so fortunate.
His Lauren's eyes were wide and anxious, but her smile was sweet and her voice calm as she stood, putting her napkin on the table and leaning over to shakily air-kiss Arabella's cheek. "Thanks again for the night out, it was so nice to chat."
"You, too!" her friend shrilled, smiling widely as her bodyguard stepped up behind her.
Being escorted out of the bar, Lauren resentfully eyed Chuck's placid expression. He obviously had called Thomas, reporting on her like an adult calling out an underage party-goer. She was too upset to notice the eyes of most of the men in the bar watching her leave, though the suited arm of her husband possessively sliding around her waist was quite clear.
"Goodnight, Straker."
Lauren could feel the dull rumble of Thomas's deep voice along her spine as Chuck politely bid them both good night, then sheared off as she was helped into her husband's Jaguar. Her fingers clenched the fabric of her dress when he suddenly leaned over her, then relaxed as Williams simply clicked her seat belt. His low chuckle as he withdrew from her side of the car and shut the door made her hiss like a cat. They drove in silence for a while, until he suddenly commented, "Next time, I expect you to contact me first if you intend to deviate from your schedule."
It was such an odd way to put it that Lauren turned to stare at his cold, beautiful profile, more confused than afraid. "My what, my schedule? I went to practice and then Arabella texted me and told me you were all in a late meeting and that we should meet for drinks? I thought you knew?" She didn't want to say that she assumed he'd approved the outing because that really did sound completely pathetic. Though, she did, indeed, assume that.
He looked at her briefly as he shifted gears. "No. I was not aware of the change in plans until Straker contacted me."
It took Lauren a moment to realize he meant her new bodyguard because he was already cemented as "Chuck" in her mind. "Okay..." she said cautiously, "I guess I thought... you'd just said today that The Corporation wives stuck together because..." They were pulling into the driveway of their townhouse and the garage door closing behind them when Thomas took her chin firmly between his long fingers.
"No, darling. I was unaware. And I do. Not. Wish. To be unaware of your whereabouts. Ever again." Thomas could see by the sudden terror in Lauren's eyes that his tone was fiercer than he'd planned. Drawing in a calming breath, he forced himself to relax. "I know Arabella texted you, it's not your fault. But you must check with me first. She may be a Corporation wife, but that doesn't mean I trust her. Nor should you."
Puzzling over his warning, Lauren absently allowed Thomas to help her out of the car and through the door to their kitchen.
"You haven't eaten, have you?" She looked up, startled to see he'd spoken again, opening the huge stainless-steel refrigerator.
"Um... no. We were just about to order when you showed up," Lauren admitted, watching her new husband pull out a series of items; eggs, bacon, cheese, and mushrooms.
Thomas slipped out of his jacket, laying it over a chair and rolling up his sleeves. Despite herself, she shivered, watching his long, capable fingers fold up the fine cotton of his shirt. Williams's forearms were broad and strongly muscled, and unbidden the vision of how easily he'd manhandled her in bed that early morning made Lauren shiver. She scowled to see a slight smile cross his lips, but her infuriating new spouse said nothing. He asked her a few calming questions about how the rehearsal went, what she did that day, as he cooked a beautiful-looking omelet, slicing some fresh fruit and putting in some toast to brown.
Setting the kitchen table as he finished, Lauren was struck with a moment of Deja vu. Looking up to catch her glistening eyes, Thomas asked, "What are you thinking?"
Shaking her head and smiling with somewhat forced cheer, Lauren took the plate he offered her. "Oh, it's just... my mom used to make this for me sometimes, 'breakfast for dinner,' she'd say." To her gratitude, he simply smiled and pulled out her chair. She wouldn't cry about her mom in front of him. Nothim.
