Chapter Six
Malcolm stared at the building that housed
the restaurant. It was located in Belgravia, beautiful and obviously luxurious.
A high-end eatery sitting atop one of London’s jewels.
It was the kind of place he never belonged in unless he was
in the back washing dishes.
Fuck. He had to stop that. He had to change his bloody
mindset.
He had to stop allowing grief and fear to make choices for
him.
“It’s a cage, Mal,” William had told him.
Those words seemed to unlock something deep inside Mal.
Somehow discovering that he was grieving changed things for him. Made
him…softer.
“You’ve blamed yourself for a long time. It’s time to change
that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know you think you understand that, but
you’re punishing yourself and you don’t even know it.”
He did now.
He wanted to talk to Vivian. He wanted to sit her down and
thank her. She hadn’t been rejecting him. Oh, she’d rejected his insulting
offer, but she hadn’t rejected him. When she handed him off to William, she’d
been doing the right thing. She’d been serious about helping him even when he
was terrible to her.
“Are you just going to stand out here?” Oliver walked up, a
wrapped gift in his hand. “There’s an open bar up there and probably a bunch of
British aristocrats ready to hail the future duchess. Come on. We can make fun
of all the windbags.”
Oliver had neatly summed up why he was standing down here
wondering if there was some way out of the party. “Why are we here with
aristocrats? I understand that it’s Sophy’s birthday, but shouldn’t we have had
a quiet party at Dominion?”
“This is her uncle’s doing. I’m afraid Clive is determined
to beat his circle over the head with his wealth and power until they accept
his heir,” Oliver explained. “We’re invited because we’re her actual friends.”
“I’ve barely met her.” Sophy Weston wouldn’t miss him. She
would likely be surprised he was here. And if Vivian talked about him, her best
friend might toss him right back out.
So why had he come?
Being honest with himself was a terrible thing. He’d come
because Vivian would be here in a pretty dress, smiling and happy. He wasn’t
going to make a move. He simply liked seeing her smile.
“The entire company was invited so Sophy feels more
comfortable. Come on, Mal. You’ve been better the last couple of weeks. I think
whatever you’re doing with Willie Boy is working.”
“Why do you call him that? He’s an excellent therapist.”
Whatever he’d thought about the man in the first couple of meetings, he
respected the hell out of him now. William was smart and patient, but he knew
when to kick a little arse.
Oliver stared at him for a moment. “Do you want to know?”
“Probably not, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”
Oliver sighed, a long-suffering sound that was part of his
everyday vocabulary. “Or not since it’s about She Who Shall Not Be Named.”
It was Mal’s turn to sigh. Weeks ago, after Sosa had let the
proverbial cat out of the bag, he’d told Oliver he didn’t want to hear about
Vivian. He’d been a massive arse about it.
He’d been protecting himself, cutting himself off from
coworkers. Placing himself in a box so no one could hurt his feelings again.
Harsh. He acknowledged that he was being harsh with himself.
“Tell me. Consider the former rules a type of idiocy. I’m
going to try to be kinder to her. She’s a lovely woman.” Inside and out. She
was good to the people around her.
It made the part of him that still ached with loss
suspicious. It made the part of him he was trying to recover hopeful.
Vivian wasn’t trying to climb a ladder or get things out of
the people around her. She was helpful and kind and listened.
He was starting to come out of his shell, out of the cage
he’d placed himself in years before, and he wanted.
He fucking wanted her.
He wouldn’t have her. Not that way. She deserved better. He
still had much work to do, and she was so much younger than he was. But they
could be friends. He could bask in her light the way the others did, and she
didn’t even see it.
Oliver’s brow rose in seeming shock. “What the hell is that
man doing to you? Because I’d like to give him a medal. You’ve started to smile
again. It looks weird on your face.”
So sarcastic. “Well, I haven’t used those particular muscles
in a long time. Tell me. If this is about Vivian, did she date William?”
This was something he’d figured out over the last few weeks.
Vivian would be exactly the woman to keep up positive relations with an
ex-boyfriend.
Oliver nodded. “I could tell it was going to be a disaster
from the beginning. They’re too alike. Well, in some ways. William comes from
an old-money family. Very British. Very stiff upper lip and polite. He met her
family and ran like the wind. It was probably the conversation about condoms
and the revelation that her whole family is involved in kink and they’re open
about it. Far more open than Vivi had been to that point.”
“I thought Vivian came from a family who would fit in here,”
Mal said. “Now I’m starting to wonder if I’m wrong. Her best friend is a future
duchess. Her father owns an international security company.”
“Her father is part-owner,” Oliver was quick to point out.
“And her family does have money, but they didn’t grow up with money. They made
their money, and they do not try to fit in. Don’t tell anyone, but I admire
them very much. Like I admire my father who had money, lost it, and made it
again without kissing anyone’s arse. Like I admire my
mother, who walks into every room with her head held high because there is no
place she doesn’t belong. You were invited. You belong.”
He took a long breath. He hated the thought of Vivian
feeling ashamed. Oh, he was sure William had been kind about it, but it had to
have hurt. “I suppose the food will be good.”
Oliver snorted and started up the steps.
Mal followed him. Did he have more in common with Vivian
than he thought? He’d looked at how she held herself, her friends and her name,
and decided she was above him. But what did above and below mean? Again,
William was rewiring his fucking brain. He grew up poor. That wasn’t his fault
and it wasn’t his shame. He did good work and he belonged. He was sure Sophy
Weston didn’t care if he was there, but it was kind of her to invite him. He
moved up the stairs beside Oliver and glanced down at the package in his hand.
“The invitation states plainly no gifts.”
Oliver shrugged. “It was something I had at the flat. Not a
big deal.”
One of the great things about starting to figure himself out
was seeing the truth in other people. Oliver had a thing for Sophy, but he
wasn’t willing to let it show.
Oliver pushed the button that would take them to the top of
the building where the restaurant looked out over London. Even the lift was
posh, with windows that showed the lights all around them and the way the moon
shone off the Thames. Was she here? Vivian seemed to avoid him these days, but
surely she’d come to her best friend’s birthday party.
He could watch her, have a drink, talk to some people but
mostly watch her. Just be near her.
“You’ve got your creepy stalker face on. Make sure she
doesn’t catch you,” Oliver said with a chuckle as the doors opened and the
luxurious lobby was revealed.
And so was Vivian.
She stood outside the doors that led to the dining room. The
entire restaurant was locked down for the private event. Her back was to him,
but he would know her anywhere. Her blonde hair was in waves down her back, and
her sweet curves were on display in a dress that hugged her perfectly.
“Shit.” Oliver stopped, staring at the man Vivian was
talking to. “I didn’t think he would be invited.”
The man in question was tall and graceful. Elegant in what
had to be a custom-made suit that cost more than Mal made in a month. He could
see the man. He had perfectly cut sandy blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a
jawline that should put him on a magazine cover. He was as far from
intellectual William as one could get. And as far from Mal, too.
This man never slept out in the open desert hoping his team
survived the next day. He’d never worried about money or status. He’d
definitely never had to worry about whether he could use his prosthetic leg
because he had a sore.
“Who is he?” Mal heard himself saying, hoping he wasn’t
right about the answer.
Oliver leaned in, making sure no one could hear him. “She
dated him for a while. They mysteriously broke up.”
“But you know what happened.”
“Of course,” Oliver agreed. “I know everything. I like to
pretend I don’t care. It’s an excellent way to get people to talk around me. I
know exactly what that fucker did. He was dating her, stringing her along while
he was planning an engagement to the daughter of an earl. He wasn’t planning on
telling her. She overheard it. Vivi and the other woman were in completely
different circles. I think he thought he could keep sleeping with her for a
while before his fiancée found out.”
“Did she punch him?” He wanted to. Right now. He didn’t like
how the man was looking at her. Like he owned her.
“Our Vivi? No. But she did tell him to never speak to her
again.” Oliver turned to him, his voice low. “I’m worried about her. My father
is testing her, and I understand that. What she wants to do is dangerous, and
he cares for her like he would a daughter. He needs to be sure she’s ready to
work a case.”
How had he not thought about this before? Well, likely
because up until his revelation with William, he would have considered what he
was now thinking to be a horrible thing.
“She’ll be fine,” Mal said, something crystalizing inside
him. “I won’t let anything happen to her. I’ll protect her with my life. I
won’t allow your father to appoint any bodyguard but me.”
Oliver frowned. “Uhm, I was thinking you were about to join
the team.”
He’d been thinking that as well. He’d been perfectly ready
to say yes if MI6 offered to hire him. But then he wouldn’t be able to drop
everything to protect Vivian.
Beautiful, sweet, kind Vivian. He didn’t deserve her, but he