Chapter 7 Erryn
ERRYN
My hip was screaming at me as I stretched, cooling down slowly.
I had pushed it a little too hard, enjoying the still mind the workout was giving me, even if the pain from the old bullet wound was beginning to win.
I wondered how long I could manage it before I admitted defeat and started taking the pain medication that had been staring at me from my side table for months.
I noticed Rossi glance at me as I leaned to stretch out the dull ache that never gave me a moment’s reprieve, making sure none of the discomfort showed on my face as I did.
Nor my jealousy at the fact that her younger body had just run on a StairMaster for an hour with barely more than a glow to her skin.
Fuck aging. I had tried everything to ignore that it was my forty-fifth birthday, and it was intent on slapping me in the face at every opportunity.
It was a silent trip back up to the penthouse, which was a rare blessing as I was in no mood to do anything other than sit in the hottest bath I could manage.
I slipped away to do just that the second the door dinged open, only stopping to cast an eye over the packages Matilda had left on the foyer table before retreating to the quiet solitude of my bedroom.
I stripped as the huge tub in my ensuite slowly filled, eyeing myself in the mirror as I turned from side to side, assessing another year of wear.
I had a few scars dotted across my body, the only outward sign of the life I had lived.
A shallow scar across my right forearm from blocking a stab aimed at my neck.
A few across my torso from crawling over barbed wire during a reconnaissance contract.
My left ankle caught at random intervals from a few rough sprains, and my left knee was always slightly puffier than its counterpart, courtesy of being kicked by an irritated camel in Saudi Arabia.
It was the bullet wound that gave me the worst trouble, and it had been a stupid mistake.
I hadn’t confirmed a kill, and the mark had shot me twice in the back.
My Kevlar vest absorbed the first shot, one that would have gone straight through my heart.
The second was lower. It had hit the bone and sent shards of metal and bone into my sciatic nerve, shredding it in multiple places that never fully healed.
I ran my hands up my slightly too-thin frame to cup my breasts, trying to remember the last time I had been touched by another person. Good god, had it really been nearly a year?
Tragic.
This was one of the reasons for a package waiting out in the foyer, a little birthday gift to myself. It had been entirely too long since a decent orgasm. And since every other part of life was fucking me currently, I may as well show it how it’s done properly.
I soaked until the water began to cool, the heat slowly easing the tension from my muscles before I reluctantly got out, my skin pink from the heat, and hastily threw on a lounge set before heading toward the dining room in search of dinner.
It was set out in my spot in an otherwise empty dining room, and I sank into my seat, allowing a small sigh of happiness at the quiet room and the still steaming bowl of soup in front of me.
I didn’t even look at my phone as I dipped crusty chunks of garlic bread into the rich tomato soup, my favorite comfort food, closed my eyes and let the day’s exhaustion slowly seep in.
“Any dessert, love?”
I jumped slightly, realizing I had started to drift off in my seat, nodding to Claire that I was finished when she reached for my half-finished soup with an unimpressed look at the amount I had eaten.
“No, thank you,” I murmured. “Did you send a meal down to Rossi?”
She looked affronted and huffed. “You think I would let someone in this house go hungry, Erryn?” She huffed again. “She has already been and gone and had a piece of the birthday cheesecake I made. Nice to feed someone who enjoys the hard work I put into your menu for a change.”
I ignored the dig. “Could you make me a tea to take to bed? And then go home. You know you can just leave my meals out if I am running late for dinner.”
That earned me a snort, and something muttered under her breath, but it was a look of affection that she threw at me before bustling back to the kitchen again.
I got up, pocketing one of the small fruit knives from the side table as I made my way to the foyer, the soft automatic lights following my progress down the hall.
Picking up the first parcel waiting for me, I sliced the box open, quickly checked the contents, then left it open on the counter for Matilda in the morning.
I almost missed the soft footfall by the time I’d reached the third box, my body moving with years of reflex as I flipped the knife and turned, my blade coming to a halt against Helena’s neck.
She swore, her hand clamping onto my wrist and twisting out from under it with the same reflex. A second later, I had countered, pulling her back flush to my chest and pressing the knife to her neck again.
“Good to see your skills are still just as sharp,” she murmured, releasing her grip on me.
“What the fuck are you doing sneaking up on me?” I snapped, shoving her forward. “I could have killed you.”
“I was going to bed!” she said, sounding mildly offended and waving a hand at the neatly folded blanket with a pillow sitting on top that I had missed in the dim light.
“Your…bed.” I frowned at the blanket, and then at her. “What?”
She gestured toward the door that led further into my house.
“Until it gets a deadbolt system”—she pointed at the elevator—“that is a fucking problem. And I can’t hear shit downstairs.”
“You are being ridiculous,” I snapped, snatching my package and belatedly realizing the little box was loose inside and not wrapped discreetly like my last one had been.
Helena’s eyes dropped to the box in my hand and then came snapping back up to mine with a look of surprise flashing across her face before a slow grin slid into place, the points of those ridiculous veneers peeking out from behind her full lips.
“A little frustrated, Lox? That explains a lot.”
The name was the final straw, and my hand wrapped around her throat before I realized what I was doing.
“That is enough,” I said, my voice dropping low.
Helena stilled beneath my grip, her pulse fluttering under my thumb, yet she made no move to dislodge my hand.
“I’ve been far too lenient with you, and it stops now,” I said coolly. “When I say sit, you sit. If I say jump, you ask me how high. If you want something, you can ask me, like the good little agent I expect you to be. Am I fucking clear, Rossi?”
I expected fire from her, but there was nothing. Just the feel of her neck moving under my palm as she swallowed once, before answering me.
“Yes.”
That one word was barely audible, her voice husky, but those green eyes never moved from mine as the air around us turned charged.
“Good girl,” I murmured, pressing my thumb a little harder against her pulse, my own body responding to the way she went pliant under my grip.
Sweet Jesus, it had been far too long since I had touched someone.
Her skin was warm and so soft, the darker tones so strikingly beautiful against the pale of mine, and my eyes lingered on her mouth a moment too long, wondering what her lips would feel like against mine.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it, realizing she was watching me with the same intensity.
“It’s been a long day,” I said, my voice rough. “Go to your room, Helena. And try not to let your thoughts run away with you.”
Her pupils blew wide as I said her name, her entire being a live wire beneath my hand, and I let my thumb run slightly down the line of her pulse before I let go and stepped back.
She went without a single argument. And I realized in that moment I had completely and utterly fucked up. Because I had just found what made Helena Rossi tick. An invisible leash on an otherwise wild creature.
And that was entirely too addictive.
I woke to a dark grey sky and rain sluicing against my windows, my body still pleasantly relaxed as I slipped out from beneath my bedsheets and padded to my bathroom.
The second of the two orgasms I had given myself the night before had hit me like a freight train as the image of my hand around Helena’s throat had flashed unbidden through my mind, and I had barely been able to stay silent as the tremors of it took my breath away.
It had been far too long. It was the only reasonable explanation I would allow myself for the lapse in judgment. That was a line I could not cross. Not after Theo. It absolutely could not happen again.
My mind was still in full revolt as I showered, dressed, and finally headed to find my coffee.
Outwardly, I looked as composed as I always did.
It was a lie, though. Especially as Helena appeared with a plate of food a few minutes after I had settled into my chair and set it down next to me before perching on the arm of one of the leather chairs across the low coffee table, sipping her own coffee.
I eyed her briefly, but she looked the same as every other time I had seen her, though maybe slightly tired.
“Are you playing waitress and bodyguard now?” I asked dryly, only giving the croissant a cursory look, then glaring as she made to hook her heel into the edge of the armchair. “Rossi, that is a bespoke George Smith suite. If you put your foot anywhere near it, I’ll break it.”
“You never eat breakfast,” Helena said, her voice rough as she repositioned herself with both feet firmly on the floor.
I didn’t think I had gripped her that tight.
“I don’t see you eating either.” Christ. Why was I entertaining this conversation? Had I lost my edge so badly that every god damn person I came across felt they could question me?
“I already ate,” she said simply. “Will you eat if I ask like a good little agent?”
My gaze cut to her, and she had a slight gleam in her eyes as my mind scrambled to decide what the fuck to say.
Maybe it was the lingering effects of a damn good orgasm, or maybe it was that I was still relatively caffeinated and the tumble into territory I was comfortable with was too enticing, but I heard the words slip from my lips before I could stop myself.
“I’ll consider it if you impress me enough.”
What the fuck, Erryn?
She hummed softly to herself, studying her coffee for a long moment before draining it in one long tilt of her head, then slipping from her perch, picking up the plate at my side, and kneeling on the floor at my feet.
“Please eat, Lox,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve seen your schedule, and you have back-to-back meetings until late afternoon.”
My phone chimed, breaking the tension as I glanced at it, then frowned, picking it up and opening the email.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, these god damned men,” I muttered, skimming the email that had come directly from the Head.
I hit Ben’s number, and the phone only rang twice before he answered.
“Good morning, Loxley.”
“I need you to get me on the first flight to Paris and clear any meetings that cannot be done remotely for the next three days.”
“Uh—yes. Of course. For just yourself?”
“And Rossi,” I answered, picking up the croissant and taking a bite.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed the way her gaze fell to my mouth, nor the utter stillness of her as she remained kneeling at my feet, holding the plate.
I have to remember the half-wild agent has more strikes to her name than completed contracts.
“I will need the passports sent as well.”
“I’ll have your driver bring them and collect you both once I have secured a time.”
“Excellent.” I hung up, taking a second bite of the croissant before placing it down and wiping a crumb from the edge of my lips with my thumb, Helena closely tracking the movement.
“Has there been another breach?” she asked, though she seemed more interested in my mouth than the question.
“Boucher requires medical care, and the idiot hasn’t filed an official second.” I shook my head. “Honestly, I couldn’t make up the ineptitude at this point.”
“There is a slight problem with this,” she said, breaking herself out of her trance. “I don’t have a passport.”
“Oh, you do,” I replied. “Multiple, actually. All of my agents have them for international contracts.”
She blinked at me. “Are you telling me I could have been taking my holidays somewhere tropical all this time?”
“You would need to stop paying a king’s ransom in strikes to afford to,” I said dryly, ignoring the outraged look she threw me. “Go pack, Rossi. It’s going to be a long day.”