Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
IMOGEN
A few days after our heart-to-heart, Alexander bursts into my rooms and announces he’s taking me on a date.
I give him an incredulous look. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m your wife. You don’t date your wife.”
Encircling my waist, he pulls me flush to his body. “How could I forget that? Oh, and while we’re gone, I’m having the staff move your things into my apartment.”
A thrill rushes through me. We’ve grown so close, I’d hoped he’d offer, and now he has. But I can’t help teasing him. “And if I don’t want to move in with you?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Your persuasion technique needs a little work.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my persuasion technique. You’re moving in. Done. No further persuasion needed.”
I laugh, even though, on behalf of womankind, his bullish behavior should infuriate me, as well as set off several red flags. But that’s just him.
“Fine, but I’m taking the left-hand side of the bed. ”
“Works for me. I sleep on the right-hand side anyway.” His lips meet mine, and by the time he releases me a minute later, I’m a puddle of need, and all thoughts of a date have scattered. But as I ride his leg, letting him know my intentions with my actions, since I still struggle to verbally express anything “dirty”, he lets me go, wagging a finger at me.
“The date is not in your bed.”
I pout. “You’re bored with me already.”
“Not true, but I have this whole thing planned. So, dress in something comfortable, wear layers in case it gets chilly, and be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Oh, and I have a surprise for you.”
“What surprise?”
“You’ll find out.”
He leaves me to change, and by the time I get downstairs, Alexander is already waiting. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt that clings to his chest and shows off his biceps. For a man who, for all intents and purposes, has a desk job, he keeps himself in great shape. Maybe it’s all those men he kills.
His proclivity toward violence should scare me, but the fact he makes sure of their guilt and only targets men who’ve hurt and abused women and defenseless kids makes me proud to call him my husband. I wish with all my heart he’d felt able to share what happened to his sister and his mother before now, but since we spent a large part of the first weeks of our marriage in a state of constant angst, it’s hardly a surprise he kept something so private and painful to himself.
He’s leaning against a red, racy-looking sports car I haven’t seen before. I don’t know much about cars, but I bet it goes fast. Strangely, though, it only has two seats .
“Your carriage, Mrs. De Vil.” He opens the passenger door with a flourish and gestures for me to get in. As I do, he bends over me and clips in my seat belt, stealing a kiss on his way to standing.
“Where have you put Steven?” I ask, referring to one of his bodyguards. “Have you stuffed him in the trunk?”
He chuckles, jerking back his head as a black SUV rolls to a stop behind us with Douglas driving and Steven in the passenger seat. It’s weird to think we’re never completely alone, but after what he told me about his and Annabel’s kidnapping, I understand his obsession with security. It’s probably overkill, but our experiences shape who we are as people, so it’s unsurprising he’s over-the-top about the risks, however small.
Once he climbs into the driver’s side and fastens his seat belt, a question I’ve been musing on comes to me, and I decide to voice it.
“Can I ask you something about your kidnapping? If it’s too painful, that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
He starts the engine and pulls away from the house. “You, my darling wife, can ask me anything. I may not always answer, but you should never be afraid to ask.”
“How did the men get into Oakleigh without being detected?”
He rolls his lips, a muscle feathering in his cheek. “It’s a good question, and one I have thought about often over the last nineteen years. Both my father and I came to the same conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“They had help from the inside.”
My eyes widen. “Who?”
“We don’t know. My father and Uncle George, as well as several Consortium members, interviewed every single person who worked at Oakleigh at the time, but they never found the culprit. And believe me when I say they did not go easy during questioning.”
I shudder at the hidden message behind that innocuous sentence. He misreads my reaction, squeezing my hand.
“You’re safe, Imogen. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Oh, I know. I’m only sorry you didn’t get the answers you deserved to.”
“I haven’t given up, and I never will, but as each year passes, the chances of discovering what happened lessen. I’m convinced, though, that the men who took us and murdered Annabel were not acting alone. They insisted they were, but I didn’t believe them then, and I don’t believe them now. Whoever they were working for must have had immense power, because those men chose to die rather than give me a name. I’d wager whoever was in charge threatened the men’s families if they grassed.”
The car growls when he presses the gas pedal, and we set off toward the entry gates. They open as we approach, the guard on duty saluting as though Alexander is in the military. My eyes fall to the gun holstered around his waist. It’s not the first time I’ve left Oakleigh, but on the previous occasions, I never noticed the guards were armed.
“I thought guns were illegal in Britain.”
“They are.”
“But not for you?”
He regards me out of the side of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No.”
“Your family doesn’t follow the rules, huh?”
“Only the rules we set. ”
I’m beginning to figure out who I’m married to, and it’s a heady kind of power.
Once we reach the freeway, Alexander opens up the throttle. I’m thrown back in my seat. and I scream.
“Oh, my God! This is wild! Go faster.”
He grins. “How fast do you want to go?”
“How fast can she go?”
“Tops out at one-sixty.”
“Wow. You can’t go that fast, though. You’ll get pulled over by the cops.”
Arching the brow I waxed that’s almost grown back, he says, “No, I won’t.”
Oh, that’s right. He has the police in his pocket.
“Go faster.”
He reaches across the center console and rests his hand on my thigh. “Whatever my wife wants.”
I lose my nerve when the speedometer passes one hundred and thirty miles an hour. Alexander laughs, dropping the speed to eighty. As we approach the outskirts of London, the traffic thickens, and he slows almost to a crawl.
“Did we lose Douglas and Steven?” I twist to look out of the back window. The SUV looms behind us, dark and menacing. “Oh, they kept up.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m intrigued by what you would have done.”
Without breaking stride, he deadpans, “Killed them.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Fine. Fired them.”
“Marginally better.” I laugh, and he does, too.
An hour after leaving the freeway, we pull up to a set of impressive, wrought-iron gates, and a guard approaches. Alexander opens the window, and the guard stands at attention, his spine straight as a pencil.
“Mr. De Vil. Welcome. Everything is ready for you, sir.” The gates open inward, and we drive through.
“Where are we?” I ask, gaping at the pristine gardens, the grass cut with so much precision, the grounds staff must use scissors on it.
“Clarence House. The gardens are usually open to the public in the summer months, but the king owed me a favor, so the space is ours.”
My jaw literally hits the floor. Okay, not literally, but close enough.
“The… the king ? As in the King of England?”
“He’s the king of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, but yes.” He confirms it with such nonchalance, as if it’s an everyday occurrence. “Clarence House is one of his London residences, but he’s away on an overseas tour at the moment.”
“Oh, so the king and queen aren’t planning to join us?” I’m joking, but Alexander’s expression blooms with so much wickedness, I press my thighs together to stop myself from dribbling down my leg.
“No, and it’s just as well, considering the things I plan to do to you, Mrs. De Vil.”
“I thought you were all powerful.”
“Oh, we are. But I happen to respect our king, and while I’m not averse to a little exhibitionism, fucking my wife while our monarch looks on isn’t on my bingo card.”
“We can’t have sex on royal property.”
“Says who?” He slows the car to a stop and cuts the engine, twisting in his seat to face me.
“Me,” I squeak. “And what about Douglas and Steven? ”
“They’re waiting outside. There’s more than enough security on the grounds to keep us safe.”
“Exactly!” I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not too happy for them to watch us, either.”
“They know we’re not to be disturbed unless we call.” He captures a tendril of my hair, twisting it around his finger. “You’re fighting me. I don’t like it.”
“I’m putting forward logical arguments.”
“Logic has no place in sex.” Opening the door, he gets out and wanders around the back of the car.
By the time I join him, he’s carrying a large picnic basket and a carryall.
“You brought a picnic.” I touch my chest. “I love a picnic. And I love my surprise.”
“This isn’t your surprise.”
Flashing his perfectly straight teeth, he clasps my hand and leads me around the rear of the property to a stunning garden filled with trees providing shade, neat hedges, and paved walkways. To our right, there’s an archway with scented flowers knitted together over the frame. He heads in that direction and sets the basket down on the grass, then shakes out a large blanket. From here, we’re completely secluded from the rest of the grounds and the house.
“Private enough for you, Mrs. De Vil?”
“It’s perfect. Can I take off my shoes?” I want to feel the grass beneath my feet.
“You can. Take off your dress while you’re at it.”
“I don’t care how private it is, I’m not having sex with you here.”
“We’ll see.” He follows my lead, taking off his shoes and socks, then sits on the blanket, patting the space beside him. “Sit. I want to kiss you. ”
Before my ass hits the blanket, he’s on me, pressing me into the ground, his body covering mine. I gasp at the suddenness, and he uses the opportunity to stroke inside my mouth, his tongue twisting with mine, his hands exploring me, first over the top of my dress, then burrowing underneath. He toys with the lace edge of my panties before slipping his fingers inside. Groaning into my mouth, he slides two blunt fingers into me, hooking them, his neatly trimmed fingernails scraping my G spot.
I arch into him, my worries about being seen smothered by the urgent need to come.
“Wife.” He kisses my neck. “You’re dangerous.”
“Why?” I hiss through my teeth as he rubs my clit. I’m close already, and he knows it by the way he increases the pressure, pressing his thumb hard on the bundle of nerves.
“Because if anyone even looks at you the wrong way, I’d kill them.”
If it was anyone else, I’d assume it was only a turn of phrase, but this is Alexander, and I think he means it. That level of possessiveness should scare me, but it doesn’t. It’s an aphrodisiac. I’m not sure what that says about me, and I don’t want to look into it too closely. Maybe he’s slowly corrupting me, subsuming me into the De Vil family until everything that made me a Salinger has gone.
My body crests, peaks, then falls. I cling to his shoulders, grinding against the heel of his palm to draw out this feeling I can’t get enough of. As I recover and open my eyes, he’s gazing down at me with something akin to adoration swimming in his amber eyes.
How did we get here? It doesn’t seem all that long ago we were at each other’s throats, and now we’re drowning in one another .
My stomach chooses this sensual moment to growl.
Alexander sits up, pulling me with him. “Let’s eat.”
“What about… your turn?”
He shakes his head, and at first I think he’s angry at me, but then I see his smile. “My wife is hungry, therefore it’s my job to feed her.”
He unpacks an abundance of food—far too much for the two of us. That doesn’t stop me from digging in, though. I polish off two salmon sandwiches, three cheese and pesto puff pastry swirls, and an entire bowlful of spicy rice with mixed peppers. By the time I’ve finished, I feel as though I could sleep for a week.
“You’ve screwed yourself,” I say, lying down and letting the sun warm my skin.
“How’s that?” Alexander lies beside me, linking our fingers together.
“I’m too full for sex.”
“Noted. Are you too full for your surprise?”
I sit up so fast, I get dizzy. “Absolutely not.”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, then caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “I spoke to Christian this morning. He’s looked into Zenith, and he’s satisfied they’re a good option for you. So, if you want to work for them, and they have a suitable role, it’s fine by me.”
“Really?” I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck. “Thank you! God, thank you. You’ve no idea what this means to me.”
He unwinds my arms and brings both my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ve got a fairly good idea. Now, how about a game of chess followed by a little sightseeing?”
“Sounds perfect. Can we go to Buckingham Palace? Oh, and Westminster Abbey. And Hyde Park. ”
I expect him to groan or give the impression he’d rather pluck out his fingernails with a pair of pliers, but his eyes gleam as he unpacks a travel set of chess and sets up the board.
“What my wife wants, she gets.”
“Your wife wants to beat you at chess.”
He grins. “Maybe she doesn’t get everything she wants.”