You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance Page 2

  "I agree. That's why I want to watch you and my brother tonight. You won't even notice I’m in the room," Dexter says before giving me a lascivious eye sweep.

  "Isn't it weird? You’re brothers," I contest.

  "Not really. I'll watch him fuck you while I jerk off," Dexter explains in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Once I’m done, it’ll be Dex’s turn,” Damon says.

  By not showing up, Amelia left me with two very horny Americans and now I'm not really sure what to do with them or their incendiary proposal.

  “It’ll be fun, sugar." Dexter’s words snap me back to the moment.

  I don't know if I can go through with this.

  My eyes shift between the two handsome twins. They’re both smiling wide at me, but I can only respond by nervously chewing on my lower lip.

  Suddenly the music changes to a remix of Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s, ‘Relax’.

  We all laugh.

  It’s only when I find my composure that I notice a familiar face parting the crowd as he walks towards me. In a sea of happy faces, his frown stands out. My senses are already on alert.

  "Can you forgive me for a second. That's my assistant," I say pointing in front of me. “Let me just go see what he needs."

  “Sure,” Damon says at the same as Dexter says, “No problem.”

  With that, I grab my gold clutch and push myself off the bar. I weave my way through the ebullient crowd as I stride to the middle of the dance floor.

  “Terry? What are you doing here?” I tilt my head up to meet his worried gaze.

  "Can we go somewhere where we can talk?"

  "Of course," I nod. The words barely leave my lips and already Terry has his hand clasped around my wrist and he's dragging me across the dance floor. I break into a small jog just to keep up. He doesn't stop until we’re outside. "What the hell is going on?" I growl.

  He flips around to face me. "There has to be a pretty darn good reason for me to drag my ass out of bed and cross the entire city at two o'clock in the morning to find you. I had to promise the doorman I’d sell him my soul because I'm not on the guest list. And that taxi ride cost me a hundred quid," he blurts out.

  "What happened?"

  "Since you silenced your phone—”

  "I’m off the clock," I quip.

  "Well, shit happens when you're off the clock," Terry retorts.

  "Stop talking in riddles," I snap. “Spit it out."

  “Timothy Raines has been trying to reach you since nine-thirty." Instinctively, my eyes shoot down to my diamond watch. “Yeah, that was five hours ago. When it became clear he wasn't going to get hold of you, he came after me." He pauses. "With a vengeance."

  "Weren’t you on a date?" I ask.

  "Exactly. The first time Timothy called, I silenced my phone because things were going so well with Daniel. He was a perfect gentleman all night long. When I got home, I decided to check my messages before falling asleep. Okay, okay. I was hoping for a goodnight text from Daniel. The sexy MD didn’t disappoint. Alas, my excitement quickly faded because that's when I realized what I had missed."

  "What?" I press.

  "Mr. Raines left me eighteen voice messages and sent me twenty-five text messages."

  "Why? What’s so urgent?"

  "Two words." I frown my confusion. "Jason. Belvedere."

  "Blimey." I bring my hands to my forehead, already feeling the onset of a bad headache. "How bad can it be? He only got to London two days ago and Timothy assured me that Jason would be on his absolute best behavior."

  Terry pulls out his phone and after doing what I suspect is a search, he hands it to me. "Does this look like best behavior to you?"

  My eyes widen and my jaw drops at the headline.

  "For crying out loud," I gasp. "What a bloody wanker.”

  "You understand now why Timothy has been frantically trying to reach us."

  "Timothy must be pulling his hair out."

  "And now it's your turn." Terry's comment leaves me puzzled.

  "There isn’t much I can do until tomorrow morning—”

  “Timothy has no intentions of waiting that long. He has a jet on standby at Heathrow airport."

  "I need to go back to my place to pack," I protest.

  "Forget about it. It isn't part of the program.” I’m shocked by Terry's words.

  "Does he expect me to walk around naked? I can't prance around in this," I say looking down at my sexy fitted top that drops in a revealing V, gold glitter shorts and black and gold Louboutin high heel sandals. The outfit is perfect for the Warwick. Not so much to deal with a shit storm.

  "It's going to have to do. His Highness Raines wants you on that jet, pronto. He's throwing in a ten thousand pound allowance for you to buy a whole new wardrobe—including knickers—when you arrive at your destination. Bon voyage!"

  Blimey.

  CHAPTER 3

  Barrett

  Remember what I said about eager pussy?

  If my new client had kept that in mind before unzipping his jeans, he wouldn’t find himself in this colossal mess that threatens to take down his career. Of course, that also means that I wouldn’t be stuck in this hellhole of a police precinct.

  My feet had barely touched the ground at Athens International Airport than Derek Lindley, the junior lawyer accompanying me, and Mara Nomikou, our local translator, headed straight to the Omonia Police Station.

  That was nearly nine excruciating hours ago.

  As I walk out of my second meeting with my arrogant client alongside my Greek counterparts, I pat myself on the back for having the foresight to call for backup. Last year, I worked with Perraki, Lekkas, Kazakos and Associates when I represented one of my billionaire clients who was being sued by a greedy supplier. It only made sense to call on Dialina Moras and Christos Kazakos again.

  “Dealing with the police in London is enough of a ball breaker. In Greece? It's pure hell," I lament. All five of us are strolling down the corridor towards the exit.

  "I won't argue with you. There's an order to things in my country,” Christos says.

  "You mean, a very long nightmarish procedure laced with bullshit," I reply. "I've been here since three o'clock this morning."

  "I can't believe you’ve been stuck in this precinct that long. You should have called me. You could have come to my house and waited there," Dialina says. "It would have been far more comfortable for you and you could have done better things with your time," she purrs.

  She's been flirting hard since the first day I met her, and she isn’t very subtle about it.

  "I wasn't going to leave Derek or Mara behind," I reply.

  "Oh, of course not.” Dialina doesn't even try to hide her disappointment.

  "So, the next step is to find out more about the mysterious girl our client was with and why she was sent straight to jail instead of held at the precinct?" Alekos Karabelas, Christos’ assistant and junior lawyer, asks.

  “Absolutely, Alek. It's imperative we know what we're dealing with here," Christos says.

  "Let me see what I can dig up since the police aren’t forthcoming,” Alek says. Are they ever? "If it's okay with you, I'll head back to the office," he says.

  "I won't stop you," Christos laughs.

  "Why don't you take Derek with you," I suggest. “He's a sharp lawyer.”

  "I'll gladly help," Derek chimes in.

  "Perfect. Two heads are better than one," Alek replies. “I’ll drop him off at the hotel when we’re done."

  "Brilliant," I say.

  Both junior lawyers head towards the door and I'm left with Dialina and Christos. Things were dragging on far too long, so I sent the translator home.

  “Barrett, why don’t we go for lunch before…"

  I don't hear the rest of Dialina’s sentence.

  I can't.

  I do a double take to make sure that I'm not seeing a mirage. After all, I didn't sleep a wink last night.

  I'm not.

  Blimey!<
br />
  My eyes land on the sexiest thing I've seen in a very long time.

  Bloody hell.

  Long slender legs adorned with the most cock-hardening high heel sandals I've ever seen in my life are just staring at me. Tempting me. The alabaster color of her skin tells me that she just arrived in Athens. The fact that the woman has her head tilted back against a wall with her hands covering her face is irrelevant.

  I know those legs.

  I know them very well.

  They were wrapped around my neck six months ago as I punishingly drove my cock inside her slickness.

  Six months...

  That’s too bloody long.

  “Barrett?” I faintly hear Dialina calling out my name, but I’m far too mesmerized to break from this spell. “Barrett?” When she calls my name again, I snap out of it.

  "I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me, I see someone I know."

  CHAPTER 4

  Charlie

  God, do I ever hate Jason Belvedere.

  When I arrived at the Omonia Police Station with Athina Oikonomakou, my translator, in tow, I naïvely thought that I could quickly get the lay of the land before rushing back to the hotel to sleep. Was I ever wrong. You can't just waltz into a precinct and demand to see your client. There are procedures. Dreadful, long and inflexible procedures. For instance, my client is in consult with his lawyers, which means, I have to wait. That's why I find myself sitting on this stupidly hard bench six hours after I landed in Athens still dressed in my party clothes. This is definitely not the wardrobe of choice to be taken seriously, but His Highness Raines left me no choice. Since Terry had the foresight to stop by the office to grab my MacBook Pro laptop, I thought I could at least get some work done, but no, Wi-Fi at a Greek police station is way too much to ask.

  "Well, well, well," a voice says.

  Huh?

  “Those sexy as sin sandals could give a bloke a heart attack.”

  No, no, no.

  "Just in case I had any doubts, that ruby and diamond bracelet around

  your wrist is one-of-a-kind. One I had designed. Specifically for you.”

  This can't be happening.

  The deep rich tone.

  The sharp British accent.

  The commanding way he speaks.

  The dry humor lacing his every word.

  God wouldn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t dare.

  "Are you really sleeping, Charlotte, or just ignoring me?"

  Slowly I slide my hands off of my face and cautiously open one eye,

  then the other.

  I furiously blink, praying that the fact I didn't sleep is affecting my brain.

  Nope. I have all of my senses.

  I blink again. Maybe the second time will be the charm.

  Blimey!

  It's really him.

  The second I see his gorgeous face—the one that’s haunted my dreams for the past six months—butterflies explode into flight in my stomach.

  Instinctively, I jump to my feet and take several steps back. In my shock, I nearly twist my ankle trying to distance myself from him.

  He takes a long step forward and reaches out to grab me, but I stop him with a raised hand. "I'm okay."

  If he touches me, I'm done.

  "Don’t worry, love, I don't bite… unless you want me to," he says with a devilish smile.

  “Barrett?” I hear myself breathe in surprise.

  He looks as beautifully brooding as the last time I saw him. Only Barrett can sport that frown and still look this sexy.

  “Charlotte,” he greets me with that impenetrable gaze of his. The one that leaves me weak in the knees.

  Everyone calls me Charlie—even my parents, but not him.

  “Barrett.” Don't even ask me why I repeat his name. As if it could be anyone else. Seriously. I could recognize him with my eyes closed, but there’s only one way to truly appreciate a man God has sculpted to perfection—with your eyes wide open.

  His sexy pouting lips.

  His almost smile.

  His cocksureness.

  His ridiculous magnetism.

  Damn.

  “You still wear the bracelet.”

  My eyes shoot down to my wrist. “It was the first thing I grabbed when I was about to head out the door,” I lie.

  “Right,” he nods. "You look…” he pauses deliberately, boring his eyes into mine, "…well."

  You look good enough to eat. "I could say the same of you."

  “How are you?” he asks.

  “I can't complain. And you?”

  I look away, intentionally not staring at the way his impeccable light gray two-tone checkered suit stretches across his broad shoulders. Of course, it’s so hot outside the sun’s rays could melt asphalt, but he’s wearing a bespoke suit like it’s nobody’s business. He looks like he’s all that. Wait a minute. He is all that!

  “Neither can I.” My gaze pulls back to his as if he were a magnetic force. My God, he’s bloody hot.

  My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My head is spinning like a torpedo, and I fight to pull myself together. "That's good," I say with faint nonchalance. “How’s your mum?”

  “She’s doing well. It’s still hard for her since Dad’s passing, but she keeps herself busy and she’s a strong woman.”

  A few years ago, Barrett’s father, Samuel Donovan Ascott, suddenly died. It was the strangest thing—one minute we were laughing over dinner, the next morning he was gone. He died of heart failure in his sleep.

  “Yes, she is.” His mum is a rock. “What about you?”

  “I miss Dad every single day, but I can’t bring him back, so I keep moving forward.”

  Barrett kept it bottled up, but his dad’s death nearly killed him.

  “What about your family?” he asks.

  “Everyone is doing very well. Dad refuses to retire. He’s steadfast in his desire to remain at the helm of the family empire. Mum still thinks I’m crazy for getting up every day and going to work.” I let out a small laugh. “My sisters are living life to its fullest.”

  “I hear Veronica got married.”

  “She did. She’s ridiculously in love. They both are.”

  “Right.” He pauses. “It was weird reading about it in the society papers and online considering I’ve known her—and you—for so long.” His eyes bore into mine when he says that. I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Charlotte.” My name on his lips always sounds so sexy.

  “It has,” I murmur, suddenly caught up in echoes of the past.

  “Your schedule seems to be even more demanding than the Prime Minister’s,” he chuckles.

  Of all the people.

  “My company is growing in leaps and bounds,” I offer with just a hint of bite. I know I’m curt, but that comment got under my skin.

  “You’re impossible to reach or should I say, you’ve done a spectacular job at avoiding me. Your assistant, Terry, is a formidable gatekeeper,” Barrett sneers.

  What the hell? I'm impossible to reach?

  I manage to recover. My heart is racing, but I force myself to focus. There’s too much on the line for me to fall apart just because of our roller coaster past.

  “You never let anything—or anyone—distract you from building your dynasty. I guess I’ve learned from the best and I keep my eyes on the prize,” I retort in a snappy tone. Okay, so it's a partial lie.

  He looks down at me with a mix of frustration and amusement. “Of course,” he says. “I’m glad to hear that. You deserve the success.” His words are kind, but the raised eyebrow lets me know he’s onto me. To be fair, business has been booming like crazy, but I’ve made it my mission not to get back to Barrett. No matter how many times he contacts me. I guess the universe is in a particularly mocking mood today. Having him standing in front of me makes him impossible to ignore.

  “I gather you’re Jason’s publicist?” he changes the subject.

  “Touché,�
�� I say. “And you’re his lawyer?” I know it’s futile to ask. Why else would we be standing in the same precinct in Greece?

  “Yes. I just finished meeting with him for the second time today. What a bloody nightmare this Greek bureaucracy is."

  "Don't even get me started," I say. "How long have you been Jason's lawyer?"

  "The record company hired my firm a few weeks ago.”

  At only thirty-one, Tate Barrett Ascott is one of the most formidable civil litigation lawyers in London—if not the whole of the UK. Celebrity clients hire him because he has an impressive track record of fighting hard to protect their interests. In other words, no one can argue—and win—a case like Barrett can.

  "Ah, so you just started."

  “I'm still fresh and bushy-tailed," he nods with a boyish smile flirting on his lips. "It never occurred to me I’d already have to hop on my private jet to dig one of their clients out of a sticky situation. Since it isn't clear yet what we’re facing, the record label wanted me present just in case things turn ugly.”

  “I'm still waiting to go see Jason, but I’ve been warned that he’s a handful," I say.

  “I won’t argue. He’s a petulant teenager," Barrett rolls his eyes. "Have you been working with Groove Renegade for long?"

  I expected there would to be a lot more awkwardness between us. Friction even. But this conversation is generic enough to dupe me into believing that I don’t think about the man standing in front of me every single second.

  "Five months or so, but this is my first run-in with Jason. Groove Renegade only signed him up three months ago after snatching him away from Loop Records.”

  Barrett’s stare becomes keen. He brushes his eyes up and down my length and I feel completely naked. “Nice outfit,” he prods, one eyebrow rising. “But then again you’ve always had an exquisite sense of fashion.”

  “Thank you," I hesitate. "I got here as soon as I could,” I explain. "Timothy Raines had been trying to reach me for hours." I’m really not sure why I felt compelled to add that.

  “I gather you didn’t just come from the office?” he asks, gruffly.

  “No. When Timothy got in touch with my assistant Terry, he rushed to get me. I was at a club. Timothy didn’t even give me the time to go home and pack a bag."