Tidying her as well as he could, Thomas looped his tie loosely around his neck and shrugged back into his jacket. Taking her chin and raising it, he nodded. "You were very brave. My good girl. We'll leave this room with flushed cheeks, looking as if we'd just had the fuck of a lifetime and heads held high. I will take you home immediately."
Lauren could feel their combined spend trickling down her thigh and clenched her legs together. "Yeah, okay."
They did exactly as Thomas described, and Lauren refused to look at anyone, knowing her furiously flushed cheeks spoke for her but just focused on the exit to this shitty hellhole and the end of this vile "team-building exercise." Clara and Number Three were nowhere to be found, so she assumed they were still fulfilling their host's required "hospitality," and Arabella was still on the couch, idly swishing her drink and staring at nothing. "Goodnight Arabella," Lauren managed as they passed her, and the woman looked up and smiled blankly.
"Bye, honey. Hopefully Ben doesn't make this an all-nighter, I'm getting bored."
Nodding back with an equally blank smile, Lauren let Thomas lead her to the car and away from there.
"??????? ????????? ? ???????. ??????? ???????." - "He begged and pleaded."
"??????? ?? ????? ??? ????? ?????? ?????!" - "So we took his children instead!"
"? ?????? ??? ? ????? ?????? ??????? ?????, ? ???????. ?????, ??? ??? ????? ??????????." - "I'm taking you to my newest business here in London. I think you will enjoy it very much."
Chapter 16 - Abruptly, As My Passion Now Makes Me…
In which Thomas outdoes himself. As he should.
Thomas was not in bed by the time Lauren woke the next morning.
Not that it surprised her. Sighing and sitting up a little gingerly, she noted the aches and pains from their rough coupling the night before making themselves known. When they'd arrived home, she'd headed straight for the shower, and her Crime Lord husband was smart enough to not offer to scrub her back. Nor was he in their bed when she came out, skin bright red from a vigorous scrubbing and her most unattractive jammies covering her like a sea of Avengers-themed flannel. She did feel Thomas slide into bed much later, putting one long arm over her waist and kissing the back of her head gently, nuzzling in her clean hair. Taking in a deep sigh, the girl was angry to feel tears well up in her eyes.
"Well, you can just cut that shit out," she counseled herself, "no crying over spilt milk, or spilt come, or-" For some reason, this struck her as hilarious and when Thomas came in, perfectly groomed in a dark blue suit, one brow raised to see his bride giggling uncontrollably.
"Good morning," he intoned, watching her sober immediately.
"I see you've dressed for work already," Lauren said a little stiffly.
Thomas made an agreeing sort of noise and sat next to her, watching her defensive body language. "How do you feel?"
Watching her fingers twist until he put one big hand over them to still her nervous movements, Lauren cleared her throat. "About, what? Do I feel physically okay? How do I feel about our little Team Building Exercise From Hell from last night, or-"
"Our team what?" he interrupted, fighting the smile that wanted to erupt.
"You know," Lauren mumbled, "like when you do the Trust Fall or walking over hot coals or... you know, that stuff." She refused to look up at him. Part shyness, but part feeling gross.
Somehow, he seemed to have a sense of what she was feeling. Thomas could feel himself slide into autocratic Number Two persona, but he forced himself to slow his irritation. "Tell me, darling. If I had wanted to fuck you- in a filthy, delicious way- in some dark corner in no way related to Bratva or Mogilevich, you would have enjoyed it, wouldn't you?" It was the wrong thing to say. His bride stiffened, looking up at him in hurt, humiliation, and fury.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't that. We, you know, did it against the wall of some sleazy room in a strip club. And I'm pretty sure that psycho Russian was right outside with his hand down his pants while he listened. Is this my- our life?" Thomas absently noticed her tears made her lavender eyes a dark violet, always beautiful. "Do you always let business partners push you around like this? Make you do weird stuff?" Her rant stopped abruptly when she saw the cold fury in his expression.
"No. One." he gritted, "Tells me what to do."
His big hand slid up her chest, long fingers settling around her throat. Lauren drew in a deep breath just in case it was her last and continued. "You married me to please them. You go to their little dinner parties and their strip clubs and you make me feel like nothing-" humiliated that her voice broke, the girl paused for a moment, refusing to look at him, "-using me just the way he told you to. Did you leave my ripped-up undies for them to find? A little souvenir to-"
"STOP!" Thomas watched her flinch, feeling vaguely disgusted with himself. The only person in his life he was relentlessly honest with, was of course himself. He was angry at Lauren because she was absolutely correct, not because she was being disobedient or disrespectful. Drawing in a deep breath, he slid his hand down from her throat and smoothed his long fingers along her shoulder blades. "I've done you a disservice darling, both as your husband and your Sir. I should have paid closer attention to Mogilevich's intentions, and kept you at home and out of harm's way." Thomas leaned closer and Lauren cursed herself for instinctively swaying into him, smelling the crisp notes of his cologne, and the warmth of his skin. "Poor baby," he soothed, "I've treated my sweet girl terribly." His lips ghosted along her jawline and his tongue dipped out to suck on her ear lobe, enjoying her helpless shiver. "I owe you something lovely for that, don't I? You don't have a rehearsal today, correct?"
Lauren cleared her throat nervously.Smooth bastard,she thought, how could he pull her from her outrage insecondslike this? And even more surprising, why wasn't he doing something terrible to her for talking back to him? "Uh..." she stumbled, "no?" She felt him grin against her neck feeling oddly aroused and still terrified, picturing him as that panther again, ready to sink his teeth into her throat.
"Then I am going to change," he said calmly, "and I suggest you do too." Casting a jaundiced eye over her voluminous jammies, "Something not as... squishy as these."
"Wait!" Laura called out after him, "What am I dressing for?"
Thomas turned and gave her what was unmistakably a leer. "For everything, darling," he said before disappearing into their dressing room. After tidying up in the bathroom, Lauren peeked in to look at what Thomas was wearing and dressed in something similar- a comfortable flowing sundress that matched his black jeans and pale blue shirt. She almost never saw him dressed down like this, so it was with a little bit of a thrill that she realized they looked more like just a normal newlywed couple. The thought warmed her and she eagerly took his outstretched hand.
"Where are we?" Lauren's eyes widened after Thomas took his hands from covering them. They were suddenly surrounded by an unspeakably lush garden with stately columns dripping with wisteria. There were fluttering butterflies and hummingbirds, the sun filtering just so through the green branches above them. She started laughing in delight. "Seriously? There's like swans over there on that pond. All these animals are straight out of Central Casting, I swear."
Thomas took a basket handed to him by an expressionless Chuck and ordered the bodyguards to trail at a discreet distance. "Hampstead Hill Garden," he answered, pulling her along the slate path, "very private, very quiet."
