When The Corporation's Number Two did return to London, his first stop was not home, though, to his chagrin, that was Thomas's immediate impulse. As the wheels of the jet touched the tarmac, his first thought was going home to undress Lauren, putting her on their bed and kissing her all over very slowly until she made those sweet pleading noises, lifting her hips shyly in invitation. He thought of where she would be at that moment- practicing at the rehearsal hall? Walking through another old section of the city? Firmly pulling himself back from his unseemly eagerness, Williams crisply instructed his driver to take him to The Corporation's headquarters.
Lauren didn't let herself think about why she woke early that morning, tidying up the already spotless house and trying on a couple of different outfits. She'd had an idea on when his flight was set to return, but when she didn't see him, she simply assumed he was running late. By that evening, the girl ate the carefully prepared meal she'd made by herself, finishing off the first bottle of wine and starting on the second. And by midnight, Lauren was in bed staring out the window and wondering if this was her life from now on.
Two days earlier...
Lauren never could have so successfully summed up her personality as well as Thomas had, but it was true. She was made to love, and her wide circle of friends and loved ones had shrunk to a narrow focus of primarily her husband, her bodyguard, and her now and forever absent best friend. The loneliness was crushing. It was one of the reasons she had agreed when Arabella had wanted to take her out to lunch a couple of days before. Even though it was to that same strange bar where the stares of the men had made her so uncomfortable that first time. In fact, a minuscule frown crossed Chuck's bland expression when she told him to take her there. But he merely grunted in agreement and started the car. Arabella stood and waved from their table as Lauren came in. As usual, the older woman was a drink or two ahead of her friend, bright pink spots on her cheeks, flushed and vivacious. "No martinis this time until I get some actual food!" joked Lauren, shaking her head at the martini cart and asking for a menu. After she ordered a tempting array of tapas plates, she raised her brow at Arabella. "You're not eating?
The woman raised her glass mockingly. "A liquid lunch," she said, "it's how I keep my girlish figure."
Lauren laughed. "You know you have a perfect body," she teased, "you could eat sixteen cakes and it wouldn't make a dent." Even carefully testing each word before it left her mouth for safety and blandness, it was nice to be out and chatting with someone. Lauren began to relax a little bit and tried a new kind of martini, sipping it blissfully. "I've never been one much for anything other than wine," she confided, "but this is freaking delicious." Arabella was her most sparkling butterfly-like self, her tinkling laughter making diners around them look up from their business lunches and smile. Lauren noticed one booth of men, in particular, spent most of their time staring at their table. Quickly looking back as one of the men caught her eye and smiled, Lauren asked, "Why do you like it here so much? It feels like such a boy's club."
"It is," agreed Arabella, signaling for another drink. "It took me a long time to be worth enough money to get a seat here. I'm not letting go of it. Let them stare. Some of these arseholes wouldn't speak to me for years, acting like I was dirt under their shoe."
"That makes sense, I don't blame you," Lauren said thoughtfully, "it's satisfying, isn't it? Rubbing their noses in your success."
Her friend paused, staring at her. "You mean my husband's money, don't you?"
"No..." Lauren finished her martini, looking sadly into the bottom of the glass. It would not do to have another. Chuck and whatever thug who was currently minding Arabella were seated quite close to them and she did not want Thomas receiving a report about his drunken wife. She shuddered a little. Especially not now. Bringing herself back to the moment, she finished, "It doesn't take just money, and you know that. It takes connections. Intelligence, and you're fierce, honey. I wouldn't cross you. I'm guessing a couple of these expensively suited assholes here have learned that."
Arabella was utterly still, staring at her. To Lauren's concern, it looked like the older woman had tears in her eyes. "You mean that. Don't you?"
Frowning, the girl nodded. "Of course. I was raised in a Fortune 500 company family-" Lauren chuckled bitterly, "though I have no idea what Frank's done to my grandfather's business these days. But the money isn't enough. You can't buy your way to the top in circles like these."
Nearly knocking her off her chair, Arabella suddenly reached over, giving her a huge and awkward hug. "No one's ever said that to me before. No one's even thought it. I was just the whore who married well."
Flinching and hoping the woman's voice wasn't loud enough to carry, Lauren settled her in her chair again. "No, you're not. You're the woman who's handled Jaguar Holding's Number One for-" she tried not to shudder, "for what, ten years? A decade of Mrs. Ben Kingston? You're the queen, 'Bella."
Their warm moment was ruined when the men from the "staring booth," rose and walked by them, eyes fixed on the two women the entire time. The shortest, a grey-faced man with grey hair, and an expensive grey suit stopped next to Arabella, bending to take her hand. "You look lovely, Mrs. Kingston. I hope you are well." From the corner of her eye, Lauren could see her friend's "minder" growl and put his hand in his jacket. Chuck's arm shot out like a snake to block him.
"Easy..." Chuck murmured, and Lauren could suddenly see why Thomas had assigned the man to her. He was utterly lethal, body straight and leaning forward like an arrow, eyes moving calmly between her, a flustered Mrs. Kingston and the grey man currently kissing her knuckles.
"And this must be Thomas's new wife?" he turned to her, and Lauren swallowed. His eyes were dead. Like a rattlesnake's. "A pleasure to meet you, dear. I'm Colin Martinsson, an... associate of your husband's." One of the men with him chuckled but quickly turned it into a cough.
Lavender gaze moving between her suddenly shaking friend, Chuck and the Grey Man, Lauren ignored his outstretched hand but favored him with an insincere social smile - she was getting good at those - and said, "I see. Well, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Martinsson. 'Bella, honey. We need to get going. You know Thomas and Ben are expecting us."
"Oh, I thought they were out of town?" the Grey Man said innocently.
Her insides suddenly felt like they'd been shoved in a subzero meat locker. "They're just getting home," Lauren lied pleasantly. "Goodbye now." Pulling her friend up by her arm and Arabella's minder suddenly taking her other one, Lauren turned her back on the men and began walking an unsteady Arabella calmly out of the dining room. Looking behind her briefly, she found Chuck locked in a staring match with the Grey Man. She'd never seen that expression on his face, and she was grateful for it. "Chuck?" Lauren managed. He was at her side in a moment, following them out of the room. Bundling Arabella into her car with a hasty kiss on the cheek, she was about to pull back when the woman grabbed her hand.
"Colin. He's-" Arabella looked to see where their bodyguards were standing, "he's much nicer than he seems. Please don't say anything- no need to upset our husbands, correct?"
Lauren sadly shook her head. "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure one or both of these guys has already sent a message. Maybe with video and audio, I don't know." Her heart twisted to see the look of terror on her friend's face. "'Bella, don't worry, it wasn't our fault. We didn't do anything wrong." Reluctantly releasing her hand as the minder shut the car door, Lauren stepped back, Chuck just to her left shoulder. "Well, that could have gone better," she sighed.
The car was silent on the drive home, under they were pulling up to the door. Chuck got out to briskly escort her inside while the other Corporation shooter - someone new - stayed in the car. After quickly checking the house, the big man came back down to the kitchen where Lauren was pouring her second glass of wine. "There is a reason," he finally intoned, looking out the window into the back garden, eyes moving restlessly, "that dining at Connaught Bar is ill-advised."
Swallowing a gulp of her pinot grigio, Lauren nodded, "Because the psycho Scandinavian guy hangs out there? Is that why everyone was staring at us?"
Chuck sighed slightly, folding his hands before him. "Yes, he is deeply out of favor with Jaguar Holdings. He holds court at the Connaught, and the wives of the two highest men in our organization dining there is unsuitable. It gathers the wrong sort of attention."
"You think?" choked out Lauren. "What was Arabella thinking? Jesus! Thomas and her creepy as fuck husb- Kingston will kill us!"
Stepping closer, he carefully took her shaking hand. "No, Miss Lauren. This was none of your doing. I will make that quite clear." Even Chuck's stone exterior cracked a little when she raised her heartbroken gaze to his.
"But what about Arabella? She doesn't deserve what-" she choked a little, "what that sick bastard will do to her."
"I'm sure she'll be fine," he replied mechanically. "Why don't you go settle your nerves, relax for a moment?" Nodding distractedly, Lauren climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, and he heard the frantic strains ofRavel: La Valsetearing from her cello. After playing for an hour, her nerves settled and her left hand painfully sore from the finger work, Lauren came back downstairs again to start dinner. Her bodyguard was just finishing a call. "Yes, sir. I'll tell her. Very good." Hanging up, Chuck nodded to her politely. "I have apprised Mr. Williams of the situation, and he is requesting that you do not associate with Mrs. Kingston until he returns."
Lauren froze, hand on the refrigerator door. "That was Thomas?" Instantly despising herself for being hurt that he spoke to Chuck and not her, she forced herself to nod. "Sure. Not a problem." Her back to him as she was pulling out some pasta, she forced herself to casually ask, "Did he mention when he was coming home?"
