21. NICO
21
NICO
M y cock is aching like a bitch, but I blast the air con on full and tune into the voices on the radio. Not that I’m listening to the words; it’s a blur of upper-middle class British accents which is oddly soothing. Streetlights streak across the road ahead as I speed back towards London.
Kate Lansen is going to be my undoing. The attraction I thought I had locked down has opened like Pandora’s box this weekend. And I couldn’t even stay to see it through.
My PA called after I finally fell asleep to tell me that Charlie had been arrested. He was safe; no one was hurt, but the police were holding him.
I floor the accelerator, guilt running through me because I wasted time with Kate when I should have been on the road. But there was no way I could deny her when she was standing outside my room in that stunning underwear.
I probably shouldn’t be driving this fast, but I’m agitated. The speed provides something close to the release I denied myself earlier.
I shut down thoughts of Kate, of her soft moans and the desperate way she clung to me as she came, focusing instead on the task at hand. I call my PA again from the car. It’s antisocial, but fuck it, she has the details and I need to be prepared.
She stifles a yawn. “Mr. Hawkston. How can I help?”
“I’m on my way. What happened?”
“He spray-painted a vehicle. Graffitied all over it. A neighbour found him and called the police.”
None of it makes sense.
“Did the police call you?”
“No. Charlie did. He was trying to get through to you.”
My brain is slow to compute. “Why would he call me instead of his mother?”
“He says he doesn’t want to see her.”
Shit . That doesn’t sound good. “Okay. Thanks. Sorry to wake you.”
“No problem, Mr. Hawkston.”
I’m not sure I’m any calmer by the time I park the car outside the police station—a vast concrete block on the edge of a roundabout. It’s fucking ugly. How is this the culmination of my evening? It feels like a bad dream.
I take a breath, stalk up to the doors and push my way inside. The station is brightly lit and smells like bleach. There’s a female police officer behind the desk, but otherwise, the place is quiet. One of the strip lights in the corner isn’t working, and it flickers in my peripheral vision like the beginnings of a migraine.
“I’m here to collect Charlie Hawkston,” I announce.
When she looks up at me, her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Whatever she was expecting, I’m not it. She drops her eyes to scan through some documents in front of her.
“Nico Hawkston,” she says, tapping a piece of paper. “Are you the father?”
“Uncle.”
She presses a buzzer, and when a voice responds, she instructs that Charlie be brought through to the front desk.
“The owner isn’t pressing charges,” she tells me. “You’re free to take him.”
Charlie slouches out between the two officers, his head hanging low. He’s wearing huge baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt with Bart Simpson on the front. The outfit makes him look skinny and younger than his fifteen years.
“You were lucky this time,” one of the officers, who looks so fresh-faced this could be his first night on the job, tells him.
Charlie shrugs and ambles towards me, not meeting my eye. I’m not equipped to deal with a teenager going through an existential crisis. Then again, I’m not sure Matt would be that much better.
“Can I stay with you?” he asks when he reaches me.
Fuck, no . I’m not living with a teenager.
“Get in the car,” I say, nodding my head towards the door. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Charlie slumps in the seat beside me. He hasn’t spoken since we left the station. The drive to central London is quick at this time in the early morning, so I don’t have long to get to the bottom of what’s going on. We’ll be at his house in fifteen minutes, and I need to know what I’m going to say to Gemma when we get there.
And what I’m going to tell Matt.
“Why didn’t you call your mum? You can’t hide this from her.”
“Oh, she knows.”
I frown. “Okay. So you rang her? Why isn’t she the one picking you up then?”
“No. I didn’t call her. Didn’t need to.”
“Then how do you know she knows?”
“Because he’ll have told her.”
“He? He who? The police officer?”
Charlie lets out a low, sad chuckle. “No. The man she’s screwing.”
I swallow and clench my jaw. Shit. A hundred questions crowd into my mind, but I settle for the one I can’t ignore.
“How do you know she’s doing that?”
“Because he comes to the house when Dad’s away.”
My chest constricts. “Maybe that’s not why he comes—”
“I saw them.”
I flick on the indicator, trying to focus on the road, although my mind is spiraling. I don’t want to be the one to break this to Matt. “You saw them?”
“Yeah. Last week. It was late, and I came downstairs for a glass of water. They were in the kitchen.” He makes a retching noise. “It was fucking disgusting.”
I should reprimand his language, but it doesn’t feel like the right moment.
“What did your mum say?”
“She tried to gaslight me. Said I’d imagined it, but how do you imagine your mum naked on the—”
“I don’t need to know the details.”
He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, she told me I’d better not tell Dad, which was as good as admitting it.”
“Your dad doesn’t know?”
“I’m not sure. But even if he did, he wouldn’t exactly blurt it out, would he? Bit embarrassing. He’s Matt Hawkston, multi-billionaire. And Mum’s off shagging some random guy. His house is tiny too. One of those terraced things. I think he’s only in the top-floor flat.”
I raise an eyebrow and side-eye him as best I can whilst keeping my focus on the road. “Less of the judgment.”
“I’m just saying… He’s not even good looking.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “It was his car? The one you graffitied?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a car, though. It was a van.”
“A van? What does he do?”
“No idea. When he comes to see Mum, he drives a car. That’s what I really wanted to fuck up.”
I sigh. “Watch your language.”
Charlie stares out the window. “Anyway, the van was there instead of the car and it was white with loads of space to spray paint, so maybe it was better that way.”
I’m about to laugh when I remember how serious this is. “What did you write on it?”
Charlie clears his throat. “You mother-fucking piece—”
“Okay. Enough. I get it.”
A tiny smile plays on his lips. “I drew on it too.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
I park outside Matt’s house—a great white stuccoed mansion in one of the most exclusive areas of London. A family home.
I scrape a hand down my face. What am I going to do? Ring the doorbell and tell Gemma that Charlie’s told me everything, and then force them to sleep under the same roof? “You want to stay with me?”
Excitement dances in Charlie’s eyes. “Seriously?”
“Sure. Just until your dad gets back.”
“Hell, yes.” He slaps the dashboard, then looks at me sternly. “Just don’t screw anyone in the kitchen. I don’t wanna see more of that.”
“I promise I won’t have sex in the kitchen. Or any public spaces while you’re living with me.”
“Good. Not even with Kate Lansen.”
“Huh?”
He smiles. “Kate, who sits next to me. I know you like her.”
I grip the steering wheel hard with both hands. “I won’t have sex in the kitchen, if you swear not to graffiti anyone else’s car, house, whatever. No defacing anyone else’s property. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“And don’t go talking about Kate, either. That’s how rumours start, and rumours can ruin a career. She’s my employee, and it would be highly unprofessional if anything were to happen between us.” I’m a lying shit, but I’m not about to dump more crap on Charlie’s plate.
“Okay. But you might want to be a bit more subtle next time you check out her bum in the office.”
This kid .
I open the car door.
Panic flashes over Charlie’s face. “Where are you going?”
“I need to tell your mum. I can’t kidnap you.”
“No. Please, don’t do that.” He sounds desperate.
“It’s either that or I call your dad in New York.” I bring up Matt’s contact details and hold up my phone so Charlie can see I’m one touch away from dialing. “You want to tell him what you did and why?”
Charlie slumps in the seat and crosses his arms. “Fine. But don’t go inside. Send Mum a message.”
I rub a hand over my jaw. It bristles with stubble. “I think I need to do this face to face, even if it is the middle of the night.”
Charlie presses his lips together and scowls at me. “What about Lucie? Can you get her too?”
I think of my niece. Cute as she is, I can’t be responsible for her. “Don’t push your luck. I’m not taking a three-year-old back to my place.”
It’s early the following morning when my phone rings.
Who the hell is calling at this time ?
I’m exhausted after last night. It was nearly dawn when I got into bed. Half-asleep, I grab my phone to see Seb’s name blinking at me. I swipe to answer.
“What?” I groan.
“You said we needed to talk. About Charlie. ‘Call me ASAP’,” he quotes.
Blearily, I remember leaving him a voicemail from the car last night. “What time is it?”
“It’s ASAP, dick-head. What’s wrong? Has something happened? Is he all right?”
I hold the phone away from my ear to glance at the time on the screen. Five past six in the morning. Seb is panting down the phone. “You’re at the gym, aren’t you?”
He grunts. “Yup. What do we need to talk about?”
“Charlie found his mum fucking some guy in the kitchen.”
There’s silence, then, “Shit. This’ll destroy Matt. Shotgun not breaking the news.”
“Shotgun? You’re such a child.”
The thing is, Seb’s right. Matt would never cheat on his wife. And he won’t forgive cheating either. Our father cheated constantly when we were growing up. Dad’s still at it, only now the women are younger than we are.
It was an unpleasant environment to grow up in.
One time, we came home from school to find Dad in a compromising position with the housekeeper. Matt was furious. He told our mother, who screamed at him like he was the one who’d fucked up. She made us swear never to tell anyone. Never to mention it again. To let our father do what he needed, with whomever he wanted. After that, we all pretended it wasn’t happening. The dirty Hawkston secret we were never allowed to share.
“I think Matt knew. Or at least suspected,” I say, as I recall Matt asking us to watch Charlie before he left for New York.
“Then it won’t be so hard for you to break it to him when he gets back,” Seb replies.
I sigh. “I’ll do it now. No time like the present.”
“Now? It’s the middle of the night in New York.”
“Oh. Right. Later then.” I pause. “I’ve got him staying here. Charlie, I mean.”
“That sounds sensible. I thought you were at the Lansen’s old place for the party?”
“I was, but I had to leave. Had to pick Charlie up from the police station in the middle of the night.”
“The police station? Why?”
“He went on a bit of a vigilante rampage. Graffitied abuse all over the guy’s van.”
“He drives a van?” Seb snorts. “Did Gemma get tired of Matt’s array of chauffeur-driven cars or what?”
I acknowledge the comment with a short huff, amused that this is what Seb chooses to focus on. “Look, I’ll need you to take Charlie.”
“What? No way. He’s all yours.”
“Come on. Just a few nights. Share the burden.” My mind goes to Kate, the soft feel of her skin, the sweet smell of her neck, and the sound of her moans. My cock twitches beneath the sheets, already hard. Morning glory doesn’t even cover it. I glare at it like I can shame it down, then shift my focus back to the conversation. “I can’t be bringing people here when Charlie’s recovering from witnessing his mum get railed on the kitchen table.”
“People? Multiple people?” he laughs. “You sly dog.”
The phrase makes me think of my father and I grimace, swallowing down the bile that rises in my throat. “Mind your own business. But, yeah, I want some privacy. Having a teenager in the house isn’t great right now.”
“What makes you think I don’t need the privacy?”
“Fuck’s sake. I’ll take him back. Just give me a few nights.”
“Okay. But not until next week. I’ve got ‘ multiple people ’ staying until then.” I can almost hear him grinning.
“Good for you,” I deadpan, then refocus. “I’ll keep him this week if you take him Saturday night.”
“The weekend? You want me to take him for the weekend? Fuck off.”
“One night, then I’ll take him back. Come on. I’ll speak to Matt if you take Charlie for Saturday night.”
Seb tuts. “All right. I hope you have a bloody good Saturday night planned. You don’t know what I’m giving up here.”
“I hope so too,” I murmur, my mind already racing with images of Kate and all the ways I’m going to make her body mine. And how to plan a date so fucking good that any lingering doubts we should be together will fucking disappear.
I hang up to the sound of Seb chuckling down the phone, throw back the covers and head to the bathroom, where I plan on jerking off to memories of Kate coming in my arms.