EIGHTEEN
Gigi
Everything overwhelms me at once, and my heart rate amps like a rocket preparing for take-off.
Jack was killed in a crossfire. He and Harry were – are – criminals.
Everything starts to fit together in my brain like a jigsaw puzzle, all the unmatched pieces finally finding their place. All the crime. All the blood.
“How have I been so stupid?” I ask, dropping my head in my hands.
Through the thick of it all, certain factors stand out with perfect clarity in my brain …
Partaking in crimes in exchange for being one of the most untouchable people in London.
Thriving off endless cash so you never have to work a retail job again.
Never having to be afraid you’re the victim as you’re the victimiser.
A question claws at me relentlessly, and I can barely restrain myself. “How do you join this society?”
Harry whips his head towards me. “Did you not listen to a word I told you?”
Right, the worry about the car being tapped. I forgot.
“I was just asking a question.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “What’s your fixation with it anyway?”
“It’s pretty damn important.” I scoff. “What is it with you still keeping secrets from me? What else are you hiding from me, Harry?”
He keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead. But even from this angle I can see his body tensing up, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he tries to pull himself back together.
“Listen. You just need—shit!” He ducks down in his seat as something in the rear-view mirror captures his attention.
A police car starts gaining speed alongside us. Their lights blare a fluorescent red-and-blue as they flash their hazards, signalling for Harry to stop the vehicle.
“Pull over. They’re probably just pulling you over for a broken taillight or something.”
He scoffs as if the suggestion is utterly hilarious. Leaning over the centre console, his arm briefly brushes my leg as he pulls two black baseball caps out of the glove compartment. Hiding his hair beneath one, he gestures for me to take the other.
“You’re going to want to wear this, and hold onto the seat.”
I take it with hesitation. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to outrun the fucking police.”
“All right. I won’t tell you that.” He smirks. There’s a brief pause before he says, “I’m going to need you to hold on tight.”
“Oh God!”
Bracing myself, I press one palm flat against the dashboard as my other grips the chair beside me. But when Harry lowers a gear to speed up, nothing can prepare me for the way my body is thrown back into the seat and the air is swept from my chest. When he suddenly pulls the wheel to the side, I shriek as the tyres skid across the dirt road, and he races onto the slip road leading to the motorway.
Harry slams his foot down, cutting in front of another vehicle that blares its horn when he pulls into the fast lane. The G-Wagon gains speed at an impressive rate, but the police car behind us is fast on our tail.
“For fuck’s sake!” Harry curses, throwing a look over his shoulder before making a dash to the other lane.
I slam my hand against the door as my body is chucked to the side. “You need to pull over! They’re going to catch us, and I don’t want to spend the night in jail!”
“Bit late for that … You’re witness to a murder, princess.”
“What!” I shout. “You murdered someone!”
He throws his head to the side, facing me. “I thought you knew!”
“I had my suspicions, but I didn’t think you’d murder a man!”
There’s a moment of pause as Harry’s hands turn white round the steering wheel. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve anyway.”
Oh … OH. That guy.
He really did kill him … for me?
What. The. Fuck.
“Are you mad!” I shout, coming to my senses.
The car jolts to the side, swerving between lanes, as we narrowly miss a car while continuing to drive at an excessive speed. My back is thrown against the door, and I clutch onto the handle above the window. Come to think of it, I’ve never known what those things are called.
“I told you to leave me alone,” he barks.
“You’re really blaming this on me right now?” I throw back.
I catch a quick movement in my peripheral, and my lungs seize as a second police car creeps up alongside Harry’s blind spot.
“One on your left!”
Harry nods. He checks the mirrors, swerving through motorists on the fast road. The tyres screech, and he turns the wheel erratically, yet with perfect flexibility … just like he’s done this before.
As Harry swerves into another lane, he slams on his brakes as a car in front of us also swerves across. I scream, squeezing my eyes shut as the adrenaline pumping through my body starts to make my arms shake.
“Put your hands on the dashboard,” he demands.
I pry my eyes open, my teeth starting to jitter.
His eyes rake over me with concern. “Hands flat against the dash, Gigi. Stretch your arms and put your head down. Now!”
I do as he says immediately.
Hands flat against the dash.
Arms straight.
Head down.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I stare at the footwell, arriving at the thought today was an awful day to wear a skirt. I focus on the goose bumps flooding my skin to distract myself. Hair falls down the sides of my face and blocks my vision, but I can feel every movement of the wheel. Every car we’re passing. Every bit of speed in every breath I take.
“I’m going to pull off the road in about ten seconds. Brace yourself.”
Ten …
I nod, digging my fingernails into the dash instinctively.
… nine … eight … seven …
Breathe. Just breathe.
… six … five … four …
Harry lowers to third gear.
… three … two … one …
The tyres’ high-pitched shriek pierces my ears as Harry swerves across three lanes all at once.
Tyres squeal.
Horns blare.
Sirens blast.
My body tries forcing itself to the side with the gravity of the movement, but I fight to remain still. My toes curl in my shoes as if it’ll help keep me rooted in place. Struggling to catch my breath, and to steady my racing heart, I keep my head down.
Minutes pass before Harry finally slows to a stop. When I feel brave enough to raise my head, I see he’s parked on a backstreet far from civilisation. A bridge sits overhead, rumbling with heavy traffic and concealing our vehicle as sirens continue to wail in the distance.
He yanks on the gear stick, steadying the car. Barely waiting a second, Harry cups my cheeks between his strong palms and turns me to face him.
“Look at me. Gigi, look at me. We’re okay.”
When I meet Harry’s eyes, they’re alert and scanning every part of me as adrenaline courses through my veins, allowing me the sense I can conquer anything.
The windows of the car start to fog from our heavy breathing.
My skin beads with sweat, and the back of my neck heats with anticipation.
I blink, and Harry’s gaze transforms from panicked to ravenous, his eyes practically black from the lust overwhelming them. The power sets my body on fire.
His eyes drop to a stray bead of sweat trickling from my jaw, down the curve of my neck and then to the valley of my breasts. “Gigi …” he whispers.
Fuck … my … life.
Like magnets we meet in the middle of the car, hands gripping one another simultaneously. He kisses me as if I’m air and he desperately needs to breathe.
His hands run over every part of me that he was ever afraid to touch, and I moan at the mere thought of us having to make up for lost time.
When I tug at his hair the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard falls from his lips. So I do it again, eliciting the same reaction. I clutch the back of his head as his lips fall to my chest, scattering kisses across the tops of my breasts.
He wraps one arm round the curve of my back, pulling me against his chest as he hauls us over to my seat. His hands move down over the length of my body, soaking up the curve of my side, before he clicks a button that sends my seat flying backwards. I pull him between my legs and spread my thighs to allow him between them.
“Harry …” I moan his name in a breathless pant. “Please.”
A growl rumbles in his chest as his hips meet mine. He grinds between my legs, his cock fighting hard against his jeans. Grabbing the hem of my T-shirt, he pulls it down, along with my bra, bringing his mouth to my nipple.
“I’ll never be able to let you go if I do,” he mumbles against the skin, grazing his teeth across the peak.
I throw my head back against the headrest, my back arching from the seat to encourage his touch. “Stop talking and just do it.”
“If I have you—”
“Just shut up.”
He brings his hands up under the flimsy material of my skirt, running his touch across my underwear. The cotton is drenched, and I whine at the contact. There’s no need to prepare me, but he slips the fabric to the side and pushes in a finger, curling it inside of me.
“Fuck,” he says, slipping in a second and pushing it knuckles-deep. “You’re fucking soaking.”
My cheeks flare with heat, and a whimper gets stuck on my tongue as he starts pumping his fingers inside. I fumble with his belt buckle, desperate to free him from the restraints. I pull the jeans down over his ass, along with his boxers, and my mouth waters at the sight of him. I want to taste him desperately, but I might just explode if he doesn’t fuck me right now. He’s massive, and as my eyes rake over the length of him I consider how it’ll even fit.
“It’ll fit,” he says with a cocky smirk, as if he read my mind. “Are you on birth control?”
I nod, whimpering as he retracts his fingers and pushes my underwear to the side, pressing the tip of his cock to my entrance. He pushes inside in one hard thrust, and I’m forced to stretch to maximum capacity to take all of him.
His forehead meets my shoulder and he growls my name, teeth nipping at the skin. He pulls out completely before thrusting in hard again, and the butterflies in my stomach erupt in chaos at the feeling of being so full. My fingers pierce his shoulders through the fabric of his T-shirt, clinging onto him for dear life.
Desperate not to let this euphoria end, I raise my hips up to meet his and encourage his thrusts deeper.
“Don’t,” he growls, pinning me down by my neck. “I won’t last another minute if you do shit like that.”
I’m panting so hard I hardly recall what he says. His hand remains on my neck, his other hand running over my ass, my upper thigh, and then to my knee, where he pushes it against my chest, building up a quicker rhythm as he pounds his cock into me deeper.
I can hardly stand it. My body seizes with pleasure and my nipples tighten to the point of pain. He notices the reaction on my chest and drops his head, taking the peak into his mouth again and toying with it between his teeth.
Harry’s hand drops down to my clit and he rubs at the spot with friction and precision. I’m a mess beneath him.
My hands grab at the headrest and I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping, “J-just like that!”
“Look at me when I fuck you.” I open my eyes as his forehead meets mine. “I want this sight to be forever etched into your brain, princess.”
“Oh God.”
“Even he won’t save you from me, Gigi.”
My eyes slam shut again as my orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. Spots of colour burst across my vision. I feel like I’ve just hit a new realm as my body curves off the seat and Harry wraps his arm round me, pumping into me faster through the heat of it all and increasing the pleasure tenfold.
His thrusts pick up – he isn’t far behind – before he releases himself into me. I rest my head back, breathless, watching the moment the pleasure overwhelms his face. It’s a sight I want etched into my brain for the rest of my life.
When he finally recovers, he watches me with strained breath, and the reality of our actions slowly creeps into the crevices of my mind, nicking at the pleasure still flushing my body.
“I hate you,” I say on a heavy exhale.
Catching his breath, he runs his tongue over his lower lip, smirks, and then says, “I know.”
Certain the police are no longer on our tail, Harry drops me back to his house. There’s no point in him dropping me home or to Mia’s place considering my car is on his driveway. I thought he’d be pushing me to leave, but he encouraged me to stay. And I’m not entirely used to this feeling with him.
He tells me to keep myself busy while he makes a few phone calls. While I now have a little more insight into what that could possibly mean, it still doesn’t ease my suspicions he’s still withholding information from me.
When he walks into his bedroom for privacy during his call, I take the opportunity to freshen myself up in the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror stills me. I look like I’ve been well and truly fucked. My hair is chaotic, and my lips are plump from being so thoroughly kissed. But there’s also a relief that no longer sits on my shoulders, like I can visibly see the weight that’s been lifted.
When I exit the bathroom I can still hear Harry’s voice quietly echoing through the bedroom door. Walking the opposite way down the hall, I stop instinctively outside of the godforsaken room that’s been eating away at my dreams and keeping me up at night.
It’s not that I don’t trust Harry … there’s just a deep-rooted feeling I get around him that I’m aching to discover more of.
I try my luck with turning the door handle and almost freeze as it audibly unlocks. With anticipation I twist it in my palm. And when I catch sight of what’s behind it, I freeze.
A scene akin to something from an underground warehouse glares right in my face. Screens as far as the eye can see flicker with moving pictures. I’m forced to squint my eyes shut, raising my arm above my line of vision to accommodate the harsh light.
I force myself to blink as I take in what’s in front of me. Hesitantly lowering my arm, I hover my gaze between endless broadcast screens. There’s so much footage my brain can’t keep up. And it’s all … live. Every street in London. Every small alleyway. Every tourist hotspot stands right in front of me.
Buttons sit underneath the screens on a desk that spreads the length of the four walls. I couldn’t tell you what any of them mean, but my eyes stall on every one as if I could. I push on a soundbar and one of the screens starts to pick up with sound.
There’s not an inch of the city that’s not being recorded …
They can see everything .
Forcing the lump in my throat down with a heavy swallow, I turn to the only part of the wall that’s not filled with an abundance of technology. Something similar to a detective board sits on the wall, strands of thread connecting information about high-end department stores, jewellery brands, sales figures, times, and even dates. One is even dated the first night I met Harry.
Hovering my finger over one of the pieces of thread, I whisper, “What is this …? ”
“Not photography, that’s for sure.”
I look to the side to find Harry leaning against the doorframe. His ankles are crossed and he leans his shoulder against the wood, arms folded over his chest with awe-striking composure, acting as if I haven’t just walked into a new world.
“Not even for a hobby?” I ask, my voice low.
“Photography was always a passion, but it wasn’t what I was good at,” he says, eyes flicking over the abundance of screens and then back to me. “Have I scared you yet?”
He steps forwards, trying to appear threatening, but I straighten my spine as he backs me into the wall. Flickers of light burst across one side of his face from the moving screens, highlighting his features. It casts a shadow on the other side, hiding half his face in darkness.
Maybe lust overwhelms all my other emotions, or perhaps I’m more intrigued by this idea than I should be, but I bite my lower lip and say, “No.”
“You should be,” he says, his height crowding my body.
“I know.”
I hook my finger round the hem of his T-shirt and pull his face to mine. Our lips meet, and I’m already moving my mouth against his as if I’ve spent far too long away from it. Before I know it, Harry’s belt buckle is open and my underwear is pushed to the side as he presses his cock to my entrance, slipping inside of me.
He lifts my thigh round his hip, fisting the flesh of my ass. My eyes blur with the light of the screens, Harry focusing in my vision as he fucks me deeper. Bursts of pleasure pool in my stomach, bringing me to the conclusion I’m done trying to uncover Harry’s secrets. This is a new motive in itself.
I’m drunk on the feeling of him, and I welcome the intoxication deep in my bones.