The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Chapter 17

17

Alistair’s bedroom is amazing. Floor-to-ceiling French doors lead out to a balcony overlooking the back garden. More of the high ceilings and gray walls like downstairs, but the effect is softened by the furniture. Both the bed and side tables are solid wooden pieces matched with another large white lounge. He obviously spends most of his time up here. There’s evidence of his presence. The huge unmade bed with white linens, bedside tables piled high with books, and an empty teacup and saucer. Because of course he drinks tea. A discarded T-shirt lies on the blanket box at the foot of the bed. I definitely do not sniff it, because that would be weird and wrong. Like it’s my fault the man smells divine.

He had my shopping bags brought upstairs to his walk-in closet. So many packages. But I refuse to feel guilty for spending his cash. He goaded me into going hard. He knew what he was doing. None of this, however, explains why he finds me barefoot and bewildered. Just surrounded by stuff. An overwhelming number of new things.

“I got through to his personal secretary,” says Alistair, appearing in the doorway, phone in hand. Judging by the set of his jaw, his mood is set to unhappy. “Told him to call off the private investigator or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I haven’t quite decided,” he admits. “But he seemed to take the threat seriously. I can’t protect you from the paparazzi. Not really. But I won’t have you being followed by a private fucking investigator.”

“Thank you. Though why they would require someone to continue reporting on me if I am so boring and subpar would be nice to know.”

He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms. “Lilah, what are you doing?”

“Cataloging. I organized them by color, then by outfit, and now by vibe.”

“I thought you’d be getting ready for tonight.”

I nod and turn back to the assortment of clothing and accessories spread across the room. “That was definitely the direction I was going in, and then...”

“Then what?”

“There are so many options. I mean, do I go with a dress? If I do, should it be short, long, or midi? And what level of fancy are we talking? Because I now own several evening gowns,” I say. “Not something I thought I would ever say. One may even qualify as a ball gown.”

“Hmm.”

“But wait, because then there’s the shoes to consider. And bags and jewelry, and the list goes on and on.” I take a breath, not that it helps. “Your face is very serious, Ali. What’s on your mind apart from my failure to get my act together for dinner?”

His gaze jumps to the ring on my finger and his brow furrows. Which is telling.

“Here.” I wiggle the diamond off my finger. “You should put this somewhere safe.”

He takes the ring and slips it into his pocket without comment. “We don’t have to go out.”

“Don’t you want to go out?”

He just shrugs. As if it means nothing. A heck of a change in attitude.

“Talk to me.”

“This is just... It’s all happening rather quickly.”

Not going to lie. His words hurt. But on the other hand, he has a point. It’s almost a week since we met, and here I am, making myself at home. “Do you need some breathing room?”

“No,” he says with no hesitation.

This is a tricky situation. I have a sneaking suspicion his abandonment issues are butting heads with his whole lone-wolf/man-of-few-words aesthetic. Usually at this point I might spiral into a one-girl pity party. But the clock is ticking. I don’t have time for that shit. Not when it does me no good.

I lean against the door frame opposite him and give him my best supportive smile. “We’re not really engaged. That was just some nonsense spun by your mother to mess with the princess, right?”

“Right.”

“And you want me here, but you’re not used to having people all up in your personal space, are you? The question is, which side is going to win?”

His lips flatline.

“We never did get around to discussing your rules for dating. You know, the ones Shane mentioned,” I say. “Care to give me a brief rundown?”

“I’d prefer not.”

I just wait.

He turns away for a moment. “I don’t usually encourage the people I’m seeing to hang out here.”

“It’s more of a come-and-go situation, huh? How do you get them to leave?” I ask, curious. “What do you say?”

“Lilah...”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know. I tell them I have work to do,” he finally admits. “It’s usually the truth.”

“But you want me here because you’re worried I’ll do something stupid. Like go swimming with sharks or tap-dance on the highway.”

“Yes,” he says in a low and reluctant voice. “But it’s more than that.”

“Is it?”

He licks his lips and sighs. “You know I enjoy your company, Leannan. Where are you going with this?”

“Kind of wondering if you’re going to turn tail and run.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Guess we’ll see,” I say. “How often do people try to use you in the hope of getting close to your father or some such bullshit?”

“Often enough.”

“Protecting yourself makes sense. Controlling your little corner of the world. It’s just self-preservation.”

“I’ll ask again, where are you going with this?”

“Just thinking out loud,” I say. “Your anxieties and my insecurities are bound to keep things interesting between us, that’s for sure. But back to the topic of your previous relationships. So, you’ve actually dated people for months or even years at a time while maintaining these strict boundaries?”

He huffs out a “Yes.”

“No hanging out at your house and no meeting your friends for the first month?”

A stiff nod is the only response.

“They have their lives, and you have yours. It all sounds very... What’s the word I’m looking for?”

He offers nothing.

“Neat. Contained. Cautious. ” I cover the short distance between us. The polish on his plain black oxford business shoes is flawless. His hands are stuffed in his pants pockets, and his face is back to the careful blank. His default setting. He hides from the world behind that handsome face. You might think he feels nothing at all. The only tell is the thin line of his lips. And the sight of it fucking thrills me. “None of those things are really me. At least, not these days.”

He grunts.

“I kind of feel like you’ve been on at least part of that journey with me. But now I wonder if we’ve finally hit a wall now that I’ve made myself at home. Because you do not look comfortable.”

A muscle in his perfect jawline pops. “It’s not a problem.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me you have work to do?”

“Lilah—”

“What’s going to happen when I really start stepping on your toes? That’s what I’m worrying about. And between you and me, it’s bound to happen sooner or later. What do you think?” I ask, getting all up in his face. “Should I just go ahead and do it and see what happens? Put us both out of our misery?”

The man is whip-fast when he moves. Hands fist in my hair and his mouth slams down on mine. This is absolutely what I want. No holding back. I’ve finally shredded his control, and it’s a beautiful thing. His tongue in my mouth as he kisses me senseless. My fingers fumbling over the buttons of his shirt. There’s no teasing in him now. No clever talk or power play. The hem of my shirt is ripped out of the waistband of my pants. Then he tears the two sides of my top apart caveman style, buttons spilling across the floor.

His own shirt is given similar rough treatment. Just wrenched off over his head. How I love touching him, feeling the heat of his smooth skin. My palms travel up and over his thick shoulders. I am an endorphin-soaked mess. And all the while, he’s moving us in the direction of the bed. He toes off his shoes, tears off his socks, and dismisses his pants in short fashion. Holy shit. The sight of him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs is sublime. And I am not above staring at the outline of his cock. While I’m lost in wonder, he’s dealing with my pants, and we’re both in our underwear in no time. He’s already seen me in lingerie. Though the way he stops to appreciate the sight is sweet. He slowly trails his fingers over the lace edging of my bra. He caresses the curve of my stomach and the thickness of my thighs. I couldn’t be more seduced by the man.

“On the bed,” he says, his voice rough.

There’s something hypnotizing about his dark eyes. His pupils are dilated and his focus on me complete. I do as I’m asked and he follows, looming over me like a predator. My back hits the mattress and he hooks a finger on either side of my nice new panties. Going, going, gone. I don’t recall anyone stopping and staring at my sex in this manner. But Alistair plays by his own rules. His cheekbones stand out in stark relief, and the hunger in his eyes is... Shit. I don’t know. My mind is mush.

Oral is often hit-and-miss for me. Josh had an attention span of less than a minute. And that’s being generous. The one before him would only go down on special occasions. You can imagine how upset I was when we broke up mere days before my birthday. The sad truth is, in my experience, a sex toy is generally more reliable than a man. I hate to be harsh, but—

Teeth deliver a sting to my mound. Alistair bites me just hard enough to ensure he has my full fucking attention. There is no easing into things. No slow getting to know you and your private parts. He licks and sucks and bites as he pleases. With an arm wrapped around each thigh, he holds my legs wide open. He suckles on my labia and nibbles on my inner thigh. His breath warms me as he runs his tongue back and forth along my seam. No part of me is neglected. From drawing circles around my clit with the tip of his tongue to teasing my back entrance. I swear, when he groans, it goes right through me. Same with his snarl. The noises he makes light me up from inside.

Each move he makes amps me higher and higher. So much pressure low in my body, gathering at the base of my spine. When he settles in to suck on my clit, it’s all over. The orgasm crashes into me like a supernova. I am darkness and stardust, scattered throughout space and time. At least, that’s what it feels like when he blows my damn mind.

While I catch my breath, he wipes off his mouth, retrieves a condom from the bedside drawer, and loses the boxer briefs. His dick is sizable. A little longer than average length and a bit thicker too. On goes the protection as his gaze wanders over the flush that’s coloring my neck and chest.

“I like that shade,” he says. “Why is your bra still on?”

I have removed brassieres daily since the age of twelve. Nearly twenty years’ worth of dealing with hooks and straps. But sex addled as I am, my fingers blunder about. The man’s mouth is dangerous, his tongue a hazard, and as for those teeth... There are no words. I almost high-five myself when I finally manage to remove the damn thing.

All the while he watches with amusement. “Well done, Leannan.”

“Shut up.”

“Such language.” He crawls up my body, taking a breast in hand and sucking on the nipple. “And not even a thank-you. Your manners are appalling. See if I eat your sweet cunt again.”

“I take it back and thank you.”

“Hmm.” He gives the same attention to the other breast. “To be honest, I had my fingers crossed. I will definitely eat you again soon. Now be a good girl and wrap your legs around me.”

Being no fool, the man doesn’t need to ask me twice. What he does do is take his dick in hand and line it up with my opening. Then his hips kick, and with one hard thrust, he’s buried inside of me. Such an overwhelming feeling of fullness. I gasp and he moans. The way he stretches me leaves room for nothing else. No thoughts. No worries. There is only him and me and now. My fingers knot in his hair and this is just a whole lot of him. His heat and scent and everything. It would be safe to say the “great sex” thing can be crossed off the wish list.

Teeth scrape over the soft skin of my neck and his whispered breath warms my ear. “We’re definitely missing dinner. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Good.”

And with that, he proceeds to fuck me into the bed. My back must leave a permanent outline in the mattress. His hands hold me tight as he pumps into me fast and hard. First with a firm grip on my thigh, before inching all the way up to encircle my throat. How he gives me just enough pressure. A hint of a threat. A tease of control. He stares at me, and I stare back at him. Nothing else matters. We are one feverish sweaty mess. My hips rise to meet him, and my legs stay locked around him. The scent of sex fills the room. He swivels his hips and alters his angle, watching me all the while. When my mouth pops open, he gives me a manic grin. And he proceeds to hit the same spot over and over.

I rarely come once, let alone twice in a day, with hope for a third. But with his dick moving deep inside of me, stroking everything good and right, sensation spirals through me. The only things I can hear are the slap of skin against skin and the blood beating behind my ears. His hand tightens around my throat and it’s too much. The orgasm slams into me, making me gasp. My back bows and my limbs lock, holding him to me. Like I might never let him go. His hips buck against me. Then he buries himself deep and comes with a groan.

There’s this perfect moment. An instance when we’re one. Our hearts beat in time the same as our breaths. Then he carefully draws himself free and collapses at my side. The rise and fall of his chest are the only signs of life. I’ve never seen him so replete. He just seems serene for once.

He opens one eyelid and looks me over. “Sex hair becomes you, Leannan.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.” The eyelid closes. “You haven’t changed your mind about dinner, have you?”

“No. Though you will have to feed me at some stage.”

“We can order whatever whenever you like. I’m extremely easygoing after great sex.”

“Great sex. You just had to slip that in there, didn’t you?” I stare at the ceiling, thinking deep thoughts. “Ali?”

“Hmm?”

“How many times in a night would you say you can do that?”

“Do what?”

For some reason, I can’t get the words past my lips. Maybe it’s because I’m naked. Maybe it’s because we just had sex. I don’t know. However, the only thing that matters right now is my hormones and getting more of him.

Both eyes open and his head turns my way. “Are you asking how many times in one night I can fuck you?”

I nod.

He smiles. “Why don’t we find out?”

Saturday

Something wakes me. No idea what. Alistair is in the big spoon position, meaning he has a face full of my hair. I, on the other hand, have his morning boner poking into my lower back. Like that morning at the hotel. Only this time it’s not an accident, and we’re both as naked as the day we were born. My smile is satiated. A great word to be using the morning after. All in all, the world this morning feels...peaceful. Which is damn nice. There is nowhere else I would rather be. Not even the Royal Portuguese Cabinet of Reading in Brazil and that library looks amazing. This might just be the best Saturday ever.

The only possible problem with this morning is my view of my new Hermès watch ticking away on my wrist. Its second hand makes precise motions around and around. Marking the minutes of my life slipping away. And this could be my almost last day on Earth. It’s like there’s a waiting pit of doom and gloom inside me. A yawning abyss of fear and misery.

No. I refuse to think about that. Not today. Or not right now, at least.

“Go back to sleep,” Alistair mumbles in my ear. Then he grumbles something else I can’t make out.

I shuffle about and roll onto my back instead. All the better to see him and ignore my watch. He really is ridiculously attractive. And rich. Though I choose not to hold that against him. It’s his heart that gets me—so guarded and yet so giving. Feeling so much about someone so quickly should make me worry. There’s a lot on the line. More of me is invested in him and making this work than is safe. But I couldn’t stop now if I tried. My heart is all sorts of hung up on him, and it’s much too late to gird my loins. That country was successfully conquered and then some.

So I happy sigh and stare at him some more. On the off chance my demise is at hand, at least we had this time together. No one can take these memories of waking up beside Alistair Lennox after a wonderful night. And not even the cloudy day could diminish my general feeling of joy.

Speaking of which, the likelihood of my dying sooner rather than later has now increased. Given the past day’s events and all. I can no longer award the soulmate prediction only half a point due to us meeting. There are now feelings to be considered. This takes the prophecy tally up to a solid three-quarters. I still don’t know if we’re soulmates. But what even is a soulmate, really?

At any rate, there’s now a 3.5 or 70 percent chance of me dying. Which sucks. I need to make my last days count. Go out with a bang. Or more banging. Which works for me.

He opens one eye and says, “What are you doing?”

“Being present and appreciating the moment.”

“Mmm.”

“And thinking.”

“About what?” he asks with a yawn.

“I just want you to know that there doesn’t need to be any hasty revisiting of people’s feelings. I am perfectly happy as things are now.”

Lines fill his forehead. “We’re getting straight into it, are we? Okay. Let me ask you, Lilah, do you see dating as a type of commitment?”

“Did we actually get around to confirming the dating thing?”

“Aye.”

I frown in confusion. “When?”

“Last night.”

“So you saw it as just a sort of bang-it-out situation?”

“Bang it out. Please.” He sniffs. “I wooed you properly. Made an eloquent speech on the subject and all.”

“Oh. That sounds nice. Remind me again when you did that?”

“Let me think.” He scratches his stubble. “It was around two p.m. After the third time. If you slept through it, that’s on you. I just assumed you were overjoyed to be my significant other but too overcome with emotion to respond.”

“Sounds plausible.”

He gives me a flash of a smile. “That’s what I thought. So there’s no need for us to talk about our feelings again. It’s all sorted.”

“I’m significant, huh?”

“Damn right you are.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I have to admit, I was a little worried you might have changed your mind. That you might have decided you’d had your fill of this circus after yesterday. You know, it’s still not too late. Though I’d be very hurt, Leannan,” he says. “You might have noticed I’ve grown somewhat fond of you.”

Whoa. The warmth that fills my chest at his words.

A buzzing noise comes from the bedside table. “Ugh. Is that my phone?”

“No. Mine.”

“Are you going to answer it?”

“Not yet,” he says, stretching his neck. Then he stops and stares at me. “You’re still worried about something. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m really glad we got this time together. It means a lot to me.”

His gaze narrows and he scowls. “You’re thinking about that damn death prediction again.”

“It’s hard not to. Seeing the lotto money appear in my account yesterday makes it more real somehow. But how many people win the lotto each year? Hundreds?”

“Thousands.”

“Thousands.” I cover the worry lines on my forehead with the palm of my hand. Like it helps. “Right.”

“Please hear me when I say that fucking prediction isn’t real. You’re not dying on me anytime soon. It’s rude and unnecessary and I won’t allow it,” he declares. “I think it’s time I had a talk with this Great Witch Willa face-to-face. Get this sorted out once and for all.”

“You want to meet Good Witch Willow?”

“Yes. As soon as possible.” His cell buzzes again. With a groan, Alistair stretches to reach for his cell, and the sheet slides down. And down some more. He really is incredibly distracting. I don’t mean to objectify the man, but oh well. With a frown at the screen he says, “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck, what?”

“Just a minute.”

I wait while he focuses on sliding his finger across the screen. He has such elegant hands. Both strong and dexterous. As he showed me time and again last night. There’s every chance my thoughts regarding this man are going to be purely physical and in the gutter for the next few days to come.

“My apologies, but I’m going to have to retract that last bit,” he finally announces. “It seems it is in fact too late for you to change your mind about us. There’s a horde of paparazzi and news vans at the gate. I’m sorry, Lilah. But news of our fake nuptials has been leaked.”

My eyes all but fall out of my head. “The world thinks we’re engaged?”

“Yes.”

“The whole wide world?”

He just nods.

“Shit,” I say. “Why? How?”

“That’s what I plan on finding out.” His cell buzzes and his gaze jumps to the screen. His lips thin as he puts the call on speaker. “Mother, what did you do?”

“How hurtful. I didn’t do anything, darling,” she says. “Unless you’re talking about the small fire at your grandfather’s hunting lodge that time. Someone really should have told me that serving flammable cocktails at my sweet sixteen was a bad idea. But it’s not like they weren’t able to rebuild. Still. You wouldn’t believe how Daddy carried on about it. Of course, Mummy didn’t care, but—”

“Mother, I’m not talking about that.”

“No? Oh, no. Of course not. You’re talking about today’s big news—your engagement! So exciting, my sweet boy. I see the news is everywhere!”

“Did you have anything to do with that?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Lady Helena’s sigh is epic. “I suppose I did tell the princess in the first place. But how was I to know she’d tell them and they’d decide to leak it to the press? Though of course I knew she’d report back to them. Any idiot would know that. But telling reporters...how déclassé. My point is, I’m a mostly innocent party in all of this!”

“It definitely wasn’t you that told the media?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why would the palace leak it?” I ask. “What do they hope to gain?”

“Good question, sweetie,” says Her Ladyship. “As I was opening the second magnum of champagne last night, the princess happened to mention that the heir apparent is less than happy with his new fiancée. In fact, she said he’s close to calling the whole thing off. You can imagine the commotion such an announcement would cause. Which explains why the king has been calling me to work off some stress.”

“They’re using us to distract the media?” asks Alistair.

“I imagine the press were about to run a report the crown didn’t like. So they offered up you two instead. It’s not the first time we’ve lost control of the narrative,” says Her Ladyship. “But does it necessarily have to be a bad thing? Does it really matter if people know you’re engaged?”

Which is when I join in on the frowning. “But we’re not engaged.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean... Oh, God, I don’t know.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Make her stop, Ali. I love your mother, I really do. But it’s too early in the morning for this. The world thinks we’re getting married, and I haven’t even had coffee yet. Let alone talked to my parents.”

“It’s not as if you haven’t always yearned for some stability, my darling boy,” continues Her Ladyship, blissfully unaware. “And any fool can see you have feelings for each other.”

Alistair squeezes his eyelids shut tight and shakes his head. As if he’s in actual pain. “Mother. No.”

“You two are so sweet together and you’ve already got the ring. And you can be certain I wouldn’t hand over the Lennox diamond to just anyone. As I told the princess yesterday, it’s a treasured family heirloom.”

“You lost it for most of the early 2000s.”

“But I found it again. That’s what’s important.”

Her son does not look convinced.

“You and Lilah make such a charming couple. Odds are you were bound to take the leap sooner or later, don’t you think? And I don’t mean to be harsh, but you’re not getting any younger, darling. It takes a certain amount of energy to run around after children, and to make them in the first place,” she says with much raunch. “Just think about it... You could have the ceremony and reception here at the beach. The house is big enough for a few hundred guests at least.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“But, darling—”

I reach for my cell. Things have calmed down since I turned off notifications. But I still have a bunch of texts, several from Rebecca.

THIS IS YOUR MAID OF HONOR TEXTING. Are you really getting married?

Definitely not getting married , I reply. Long story. TTYL

There are also many messages from my mother, whose name starts flashing on my screen as the cell vibrates again.

“Mom?”

“How could you not tell me you were engaged?”

“Oh.”

“ Oh. Is that all you have to say? I had to find out about it from Otto at the bakery on my morning walk.”

“Otto from the bakery told you Alistair and I were getting married?”

“And Minh and Jackie across the road. They were out watering their garden!” exclaims Mom. “Nadine yelled out something as she rode past on her moped, but she was going too fast for me to hear. The point is, everybody knew except me!”

“That’s really only three people that we can be sure of. Not exactly everybody.”

“Lilah!”

I wince at the ringing in my ear. Mom always did have a great set of lungs on her. “Um. Yes, Mom. You’re upset. But the thing is—”

“I know we’ve had our issues over the years, but this is very disappointing, not to mention reckless behavior. You’ve barely known him a week. How could you be so foolish?”

“I know. But if you’d just listen—”

“You’ve hurt your father’s feelings.”

“My feelings are fine,” my father calls out in the background.

Oh my God. “Mom, please let me explain.”

“We haven’t even met this man.”

“May I?” Alistair holds out a hand. Hell yes, he can take the call if he wants. He clears his throat and says, “Ma’am, this is...Yes...If I could just...I would always try to be worthy of your daughter, of course, but...Sorry...Yes...I understand and...Hello?”

I accept the phone back without comment.

“We’re expected for lunch at one,” he says. “Probably best not to be late.”

“Okay.”

“She hung up on me,” he says in surprise. “I can’t remember the last time someone hung up on me.”

“It would seem my mother is experiencing a lot of big feelings right now. Try not to take it personally.”

“She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. To tell her the engagement isn’t real.”

“I’m not entirely sure that would have stopped the yelling. But never mind. We’ll break it to her at lunch.” And then something occurs to me. “How do we even get out of here without a swarm of media following us?”

His smile is almost childlike with glee. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”