Chapter 2 - Business

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James' POV

"Bloody hell, James! Would it have killed you to be a bit more polite?" Tom asks.

"I was polite," I respond, looking out the window as Tom drives.

"Right. I guess you were as polite as you can be nowadays," Tom replies with a bit of sarcasm. My ire always rises whenever Tom acts this way.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Thomas. Did I affront your Cambridge education? Perhaps I should have turned on the charm you use when you're attempting to get a woman into bed."

Tom looks at me sideways before returning his eyes to the road, then he chuckles. "She is beautiful, isn't she?" he says, waggling his eyebrows. This only further fuels my anger, but I don't know why. I choose to look out the window again rather than respond. Tom knows me like the back of his hand. Unfortunately, he usually uses this knowledge to goad me.

"She was a fine specimen indeed. With her luscious lips and legs that seemed to go all the way up."

"Enough, Tom," I growl, still looking out the window.

"Yes, I bet she is talented at many things besides painting. Perhaps I should give her a ring in a day or two," Tom says.

I decide to play him with his own tricks. "I don't think Mum would appreciate you talking about a lady in such a manner." Bingo! Got him, I think as Tom rubs the back of his neck.

"You're right. She does seem lovely. I shouldn't have spoken of her in such a manner."

Tom drops me in front of my offices, still looking sheepish for his comments. I hate making him feel this way; he is my brother, after all.

"Hey, mate. How about we grab a pint tomorrow evening," I say. Tom brightens at my suggestion.

"Sounds great! Why don't we invite Emma so we can discuss plans for Mum's party?"

I maintain my smile, though I don't really want to invite Emma. She is my sister and I love her, but I know she'll grill me about my personal life.

"Sounds good. Let me know where and when, and I'll be there," I say.

I wave before heading into the building. As I walk toward the door, I change my demeanor from loving brother to I'd-just-as-soon-kick-your-arse-as-look-at-you boss.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hiddleston," my assistant, Barbara, says with a small smile. "Good afternoon," I respond with no smile. She quickly busies herself with the paperwork on her desk.

As soon as I close my office door, I pick up the phone. "Robert. Yes, I need you in my office immediately," I say, not waiting for his response. Robert is my second in command and one of my mates from the Marines. I trusted him with my life in Afghanistan and other parts of the world, the operations in said parts still classified. Now that we're both civilians, I still trust him with my life as well as my business.

There's a quick rap on the door before Robert enters.

"You needed to see me?"

"What's going on with the shipment?" I ask.

Robert scratches the back of his head before responding. "Well, it seems our Chechen friends are not too keen on giving us their support."

I sigh before slumping in my chair. "And exactly what do you think it will take to change their minds?" I ask, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Maybe a bit of sugar, maybe vinegar," he says with a shrug.

"Perhaps you can make it your business to find out which it will be?" I ask, though it's not a request as much as an order.

"Yes sir, Colour Sergeant." I look at Robert with a smirk.

"Robert, how many years have we been out of the Royals?"

"Going on 10, I guess," he says. "Why?"

"Will you ever stop referring to me as Colour Sergeant? Just call me James or, hell, even Boss."

"Yes sir, Colour Sergeant," he replies, with a smirk reflecting my own. I laugh at his response.

"Get out of here, you hooligan!" I say. As he starts to close the door, I stop him.

"Robert?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"We need our friends to understand the gravity of the situation." Robert stares at me before responding. "I'll make sure they do," he says.

After he closes the door, I take out my cell phone. I see that I have a missed call and text from Emma. I ignore the voicemail she's left and read the text instead.

Tom tells me we're to meet to discuss you know what. When are you available?

I quickly type a response.

I have no idea to what you're referring. That ought to get her riled. Though Tom may have been the one who could tease her endlessly, I could always get Emma going with a few words or lack thereof.

I love my family, and it's at times like this that I forget how different my life is than theirs. Well, almost forget. There are the ever-present reminders of the differences such as bodyguards, bulletproof glass and vests, and untraceable phones and Internet connections that make my life different, not to mention the tightrope I walk everyday between lawful and unlawful business activities. It's not so much that I see my activities as nefarious. No, far from it. I see it more as balancing the weight of the world with just a pinch more weight for those who I consider friends, if only in the most transient of terms.

My phone buzzes with an incoming message.

I'm in no mood for your games. Please meet us at the Foxhound in Covent Garden at 6:00 pm tomorrow.

I sigh, thinking how wonderful it would be to only be concerned with Mum's party.

I'll be there, I respond.

I open my laptop to begin checking emails, but my mind wanders to the day's earlier activities.

Tom was right. Cory Mayer is a beautiful woman. With her long brown hair spun with a bit of gold as if the sun gave it some of its own glow, and her hazel eyes that look sweet yet mischievous, she definitely awoke something in me that I thought was long dormant. If things were different, I'd ring her myself and ask her on a date. Or maybe just shag her senseless. Or both. Who knows how dating works these days.

It's best I put these thoughts out of my head. After all, a man in my situation cannot even consider a relationship. Too many entanglements, which would lead to worry about her and her safety. Hell, it's tough enough to find good bodyguards for my family that are both effective but also able to stay out of sight so that Mum and the others don't know they're around. After all, the discovery of their presence would uncover my whole operation to my family, and that is something I absolutely cannot allow to happen.

Still, my thoughts drift again to Cory. I shake my head in an effort to banish them.

You know what you need, Mate? I think to myself. You need to get laid.

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