That night high up among the stars wasn't the last time I used the L-word in Elliot's presence. And every time I did and he wanted to turn or slip away in self-disgust, I would clutch him tightly and anchor him to me. No matter if he didn't think he deserved my love—I knew better. And I would make him see that he was worthy of love if it was the last thing I did!
Just look at the way he treated me after my '"terrorist attack"—never in my life had I been so pampered, so looked after, so cherished by a single individual. Priceless presents, trips to the most beautiful spots of New York State, romantic dances—even not counting the adorable fussing of his grandmother, Elliot's attentiveness was enough to make any girl's heart melt.
The TV reports about the terrorist attack, however, had quite another effect on my heart.
"Good evening. This is Jace Radcliff bringing you breaking news on the terrorist attack at John F. Kennedy Airport last Friday."
My head jerked up. I had been sitting at the kitchen table in Elliot's penthouse, trying to mix myself a bowl of cereal while still only half awake. The words of the newscaster woke me abruptly. Trust me, you're much more interested in breaking news when the breaking news might be that you've been breaking the law and the police would drop by to break your heart at any moment.
"The attack, which cost the lives of five airport employees, is becoming more of a mystery with every passing minute. Confidential sources at the FBI inform us that the pattern of the crime is highly unusual for a terrorist attack. Instead of utilizing explosives, the killer appears to have stabbed three of his victims to death—amazingly, not using a knife in the last case but a common pen. As for the other two victims, one died of strangulation, and the other was bludgeoned to death with some kind of blunt object, that nevertheless seemed to have had one or two sharp spikes. The forensics report states: 'This is ridiculous! If I didn't know better, I'd say the guy was beaten to death with a miniature elephant!'"
The newscaster cleared his throat. "Um, well, so much for the developments in the JFK attack. Now back to Jimmy Dale with the latest sports news."
"Did someone say JFK attack?"
I jumped, and nearly fell off my chair.
"Easy! Easy there!"
Strong arms went around me, holding me steady, and I let myself sink back against him, breathing heavily. "God, Elliot! Don't creep up on me like that! You'll give me a heart attack!"
"Now, that's the last thing I'd want to do." Stroking a gentle finger over my cheek, he hugged me to him from behind. "What are they saying? Have they found the bastard who killed those people yet?"
No. And it's bastardette, by the way. Or is it bastardina? Hm... What exactly is the female form of bastard?
"No, they haven't."
He gestured to the TV, where by now a lot of amply-padded guys were hurling a ball around. "Then what was that all about?"
Oh, nothing really. They just discovered that the people at the airport were massacred with my souvenirs from Mumbai. Nothing major at all.
"Um... I didn't really listen. I just want to forget about it."
Stepping around me, he pulled my head against his chest, sheltering me. "Of course. Of course, Cassidy, I understand. I won't mention it again, and I'll see to it that the police don't bother you."
I nuzzled into his chest, a weight lifting off my shoulders.
"Elliot?"
"Yes?"
"You're the perfect man."
He chuckled. "Let's wait and see if you still think that when you've known me a while longer, all right?"
"Mmm..."
"Cassidy?"
"Yes?"
"I... I hate to ask this, but—"
His voice broke off. Looking up, I saw that there was color in his cheeks—actually red, like an embarrassed schoolboy, not the CEO of a Fortune 500 company who drove luxury limousines and could quote Byron from memory.
I couldn't hold back a grin. "Spit it out."
"Well... I've got one of my guy days coming up. It's been planned for ages. Zack has got his hands on an original Grave Digger Truck he wants to tune, and—"
I held up my hands, laughing. "You lost me at the word 'tune'! Spare me the technical terms, please. Go and play with your little friend."
"If you're sure you don't mind..."
"Of course I don't mind." Standing up on my tiptoes, I placed a seductively light kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Just as long as you're back tonight. I've got plans."
Under my lips, I felt the corner of his mouth turn up. "So have I."
"Then get going! The sooner you'll be gone, the sooner you'll be back with me!"
"Impeccable logic. See you." He slid out of my arms, and in a second was at the glass doors that led out onto the roof. Behind him, I saw something that hadn't been there before: a gleaming black helicopter.
"How did that get there?" I demanded.
"The pilot flew it here during the night."
"How come I didn't hear it land?"
"Oh, I don't know..." His eyes twinkled devilishly. "Maybe you were to, ehem, busy to notice."
I picked up a sofa cushion and hurled it at him. But before it could hit its mark, he had ducked out of the door and closed it behind himself. The cushion slammed against the glass and slid down to the floor. Elliot shrugged, grinning, as if to say 'Bad luck. Maybe you'll get me next time.'—then he turned and strode towards the waiting helicopter. The door opened, and he jumped inside, turning his head one last time to look at me. For one brief moment I thought I saw guilt and pain in his eyes.
It touched me at my core. Even when he was going to spend time with his best friend, he was still thinking of me, still wishing he could be with me. If that wasn't true love, what was?
That's a philosophical problem for another day, Cassy, I told myself. Get back to your breakfast, and then get your lazy but moving! You have a lot of work to catch up on.
It was very true. Having a gorgeous billionaire with midnight-blue eyes for a boyfriend, a billionaire who had a tendency to whisk you away on dates beyond the wildest dream of any girl, tends to have a serious impact on your work ethic. A really, really bad impact. So paperwork from Darren's Dog Hutch had accumulated over the entire week, and no matter how agonizing a day apart from Elliot would be, it would be immensely helpful in my keeping my job.
There was no help for it. I made myself a cup of coffee, opened a bag of gummy bears and sat myself down to work through a week's worth of boring bits of paper. An hour later, I was still at it. It was really impressive how much paperwork a baboon's digestive problems could produce. I was just about to restock on gummy bears, when the telephone rang.
Curious, I went over to the phone. Who would be calling this early in the morning? And why on the landline? Everyone who ever called Elliot called him on his cellphone. Picking up the receiver, I raised it to my ear.
"Hello, who—"
"Elliot? Elliot, listen! If you've got any appointments for tonight, cancel them! Joseph has made a breakthrough on the Greenwood deal. They're going to close it tonight, and you're the only one who knows all the ERP figures. How quick can you—"
"Um, Mrs. Winslow?" I dared to venture. "Elliot isn't here."
"Who—oh, Cassy! Is that you, dear?"
"Yes."
"I'm so sorry, dear! I should have realized right when you picked up. Things are rather hectic here, at the moment."
I tried to hide a grin, but then realized it didn't matter. She couldn't see me through the telephone, after all. "I gathered that."
"It's making me feel a bit frazzled, I'm afraid, my dear. May I ask, is Elliot there?"
"No. He's out right now."
"What a confounded nuisance!"
That was the closest I had ever heard Granny Winslow come to cursing. Something must be really wrong.
"Is something up? Are you and Mr. Winslow all right?"
"Oh, we're perfectly all right, my dear! So sweet of you to worry, but everything is just peachy with us. No, it's this dinner we've got coming up. A business dinner with a Mister—"
"—Greenwood. Yes, I heard. If I may ask..."
"Yes?"
"What's ERP? It sounds like a really painful hospital procedure."
Mrs. Winslow laughed. "Enterprise Resource Planning, dear."
"Oh. I see." Apparently, poodle-like little Mrs. Winslow was more of a businesswoman than I had given her credit for.
"And Elliot is the one who is responsible for that. We didn't expect the deal with Greenwood to come through until Wednesday, and now he has to go back to the UK suddenly and changed our appointment to this evening. Joseph is insisting on Elliot's being there. We'd love to see you there, too, Cassy, if you don't think you'd be too bored."
Bored out of my skull. But I'd never admit that to dear, sweet, Mrs. Winslow.
"Oh no, Mrs. Winslow! I'd love to come!"
"I told you," she said in a warm, but admonishing voice, "to call me Amelia, Cassy. You're part of the family! You can't go around calling me by my last name."
I smiled. "All right—Amelia."
"And you'll really come?"
"Of course I will."
"Wonderful, dear! Joseph will be so happy! He'd never admit it, but he's missed you, the grouchy old bear."
"I've missed both of you, too," I said, with feeling.
"So you'll be there. And you'll tell Elliot to be there, too?"
"Um..." Suddenly, I hesitated. "I'm not sure if I can. Like I said, he's not here at the moment."
"Yes, but he'll be back soon, surely?"
"I don't know whether he will. He's at the race track with Zack."
"Oh, bother! So that's why I haven't been able to get him on his cellphone. He always switches it off when he goes there. And he simply has to know about this today. Did he drive there? Can I call Nelson's cellphone?"
"No, Nelson and the car are still here. He flew over with a helicopter."
"Confounded nuisance!"
I hesitated again. "Would you like me to drive over and tell him, Mrs. Winslow? I don't think it's far."
"Oh, would you, honey? You're such a dear!"
"It's not a big deal."
She chuckled. "Trust me, it is. I've read the contract with Greenwood."
A grin spread over my face. "Okay. Maybe it is a really, really big deal. I'll go anyway."
"Thank you, dear! You know, I'm so glad that Elliot has found you. He's a lucky man."
Warmth spread through my heart at her words. Even through the telephone, I could feel every iota of sincerity behind them. "And I'm a lucky girl."
"And I'm luckier than both of you—because I have both you and Elliot. I can't wait to see you, dear. Until tonight."
"Bye, Mrs Wi—"
"Mm-mm!"
"I mean, Amelia."
"That's better."
"Well, as I was saying, good bye. Say hello to the Dagger GT from me, will you?"
She laughed. "I will. And you give that boy a kiss from his old grandma."
"Trust me—he'll get more than one."
The call ended, and I pressed a button beside the phone. Only a few moments later, Nelson came marching into the apartment, eyes alert.
"You called, Miss? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing is wrong. Elliot's grandmother called, that's all. Do you know where he went?"
"Mr. Winslow? Yes, I sometimes drive him there myself. Why—"
"I have to speak with him. It's rather urgent." Grabbing my jacket off the coat hanger, I strode towards the door. "Let's go."
Nelson's eyes widened. "Y-you? Go there?"
Pausing, I raised an eyebrow. "Well, it wouldn't do much good for me to go in the opposite direction, would it?"
"N-no, Miss."
"So, are we going?"
He bit his lip. "Um... yes, Miss. Of course, Miss."
And he hurried out into the corridor. I looked after him for a moment, wondering what that had all been about. Maybe he thought monster trucks were more than I could handle. Shrugging, I threw on my jacket and followed him outside.
❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤
The drive to the race track was a bit longer than I had expected. After half an hour, I began to wish I had taken my paperwork on baboons' digestion with me.
Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a honk. Looking around, I saw that a long tail of cars had gathered behind us. Because they were speedsters ready to race? Hardly! Because we were crawling along like slugs!
"What are we going so slow for?" I demanded.
Nelson shifted, uncomfortably. "Well, Miss, I thought... for safety reasons..."
I glanced at the speedometer. "I think even safety reasons will allow us to go faster than thirty miles per hour, don't you?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Well, then? Step on it!"
He did. The honking stopped, and we left New York City behind, rolling out into the country. After only a short while, a muddy-brown streak in the distance announced the proximity of the race track. There weren't any stands around it. No actual races took place here. It was the playground of two boys who had too much money than was probably good for them—as attested by the monstrous metal beasts resting beside the race-track on wheels higher than a human being.
Nelson slid into a free parking space between a gigantic red vehicle and a sleek black racing car, and quickly started to get out of the limousine.
"There's no need for you to get your shoes dirty, Miss. I'll go and tell Mr. Winslow that you're here, all right?"
"No need. I came prepared." And, grinning, I showed him the black combat boots that I had chosen as footwear for my foray onto the race track.
Nelson sagged back onto the seat, closing his eyes. "Oh, how wonderful."
For some reason, though, he didn't sound as if he thought it was wonderful at all.
"Cheer up, Nelson. I'll find my way all right."
"I don't doubt it," he almost groaned. I stared at him. This wasn't normal behavior for the always punctual, always civil chauffeur. Well... maybe he just had a bad day. Shrugging it off, I turned and started in the direction of the only building within miles: a vast monument of concrete, with the living space divided at the ratio usually thought appropriate by car enthusiasts: 90% for cars, 5% for motorcycles and 5% for humans. These last five percent, in this case, were located right at the top of the gigantic garage. A mud-spattered metal staircase led up the side of the building to a door at the very top, the only entrance that wasn't large enough for a T-Rex.
Smiling at the crumbling mud under my feet, I had to admit I was curious to see the side of Elliot that was revealed here. The multi-billionaire, always separated from the world by a sleek black suit and secret smile, didn't quite fit into this place. Through a window, I glanced a row of shining black motorcycles, and a delicious shiver went down my spine, imagining Elliot's powerful body sitting astride one of these, encased not in a suit, but in a leather jacket, and wearing a grin that was altogether more devious and free than the half-smile he usually allowed himself.
Oh yes, I was definitely curious.
The door at the end of the staircase stood ajar. Pushing it open all the way, I entered a long, dimly lit-room that was the complete opposite of Elliot's penthouse. Everything was in chaos: the tools on the floor, the furniture, various unidentifiable metal parts—I even saw two pairs of pants carelessly thrown onto the floor.
"Must be Zack's influence," I murmured, bent to pick up the trousers, folded them into an orderly pile and deposited on a relatively clean chair. But where were he and Elliot? I heard a creaking noise from behind a door at the end of the room—probably some screw being turned or engine dismantled. Grinning more broadly, I tiptoed towards the door.
Let's see what the boys are up to, shall we?
Cautiously, I turned the doorknob, and peeked inside. And I did see. Oh boy, did I see!
"What the fuck—!"
And, believe me, in this case, it wasn't meant as a curse. You can take my words quite literally.
I saw flesh. Yards and yards of sweaty, muscular flesh. And I noticed one thing right away, one thing that made this little experience wildly different from any of my previous experiences: all of it was male!
"Oh. Hi, Cassy." Zack waved at me, smiling. In the act of waving, the blanket which had been covering part of his body slid off, revealing a smooth expanse of muscle.
Elliot, for his part, didn't say anything. He was frozen in the air, hovering above Zack, held up by his muscular arms, gaping at me. Zack slapped his shoulder from below.
"Don't just hover there like a gawping goldfish, Elliot! Say hello to your girlfriend!"
Elliot wet his lips, opened his mouth to speak—and closed it again.
Zack turned to me. "I apologize for his behavior. He really must learn to act like a gentleman."
I raised an eyebrow at Zack. "Some might say you could do with a few lessons in that direction, yourself."
He cocked his head, thoughtfully. "True, they might. But then, I don't tend to listen to other people's opinions very much."
And he winked at me. He actually had the audacity to wink at me! Strangely, it didn't make me feel an immediate compulsion to sever his devious head from his body.
"Y-you...?" Elliot seemed at last to have found his voice. I raised my eyes from Zack to him, where he was still hovering, supported on his muscular arms. I wondered what exactly he had been about to do when I came in. And then I wondered why I didn't want to vomit or kill something at the thought.
"Yes?" I took a step forward.
"Y-you're here."
"How observant of you."
"You're here! Here! W-why...?"
"Your mother sent me to tell you have an important business dinner tonight." I looked from him to Zack, and back. "Shall I tell her you're too busy to attend?"
"Oh no, don't worry," Zack assured me, lightly, starting to squirm out from underneath Elliot. "I wouldn't dream of keeping him from work."
His shoulder hit Elliot's arm, and coated in fresh sweat as he was, Elliot's hand slipped and he fell, slamming down on Zack with a resounding slap. They lay there, entangled, as tightly pressed together as two human beings possibly could be.
And I? What did I do?
I felt my mouth go dry.
What's wrong with you, Cassy? Why aren't you massacring them? Why aren't you turning them into mincemeat and squashing the remains with a monster truck?
A valid question. Maybe today was my merciful day.
Or maybe it has something to do with the way it makes you feel when you look at the two of them.
"Get off me, you asshead," Zack shoved at Elliot's shoulder. Elliot just rolled off him and ended up sprawled on the bed, looking up at me. All energy seemed to have left him.
"Hm." I looked down at him. "You know... I had this theory, that you didn't confess your love to me because you thought you were unworthy and were so emotionally scarred by some terrible event in your past that it kept you from forming attachments."
He looked slightly confused by this. "Um... you did?"
"Yes. Let me take a wild guess here—I was wrong."
"Err... yes."
"You were in love with Zack all along?"
"Yes."
"You're gay?"
Zack snorted. "He's not that good of an actor." His eyes twinkled. "Trust me, he enjoyed his times with you all right. Our good friend here—like myself, incidentally—is a proud member of Club Bi."
"And you didn't tell anyone because...?"
Zack raised an eyebrow. "You've met old Mr. Winslow, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"What do you think would his reaction be to finding out his only grandchild is ambisextrous?"
We all, together, took a moment to imagine Mr. Winslow's reaction. I had to swallow.
"Okay. I suppose I see why you didn't tell anyone."
"Plus, the old gargoyle still controls the majority shares in Winslow Industries. If Elliot had been outed, he would have been out in the cold faster than you can say 'discrimination'. And Granny Winslow? She would have a heart attack!"
"True." My eyes narrowed. "But you apparently weren't very concerned about giving me one. I nearly dropped dead when I just came in!"
He cleared his throat. "Well... your coming in wasn't exactly planned for."
Elliot gave a choked noise. Maybe it was supposed to be a dry laugh. I looked at him.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
He looked back at me, straight, without blinking. "I told you not to believe in me. I told you I would hurt you."
And it was true. He had.
"So when you said 'I need you, Cassidy, I need you desperately!' You didn't mean you need me because you love me desperately. You meant you need me as a front while you do the beast with two backs with your best buddy Zack."
"Um... pretty much, yes."
"That is..."
"Devious?" Zack suggested, helpfully. "Evil? Villainous? Genius?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
"I'm sorry, Cassidy." Elliot still couldn't seem to look away from me. His midnight-blue eyes burned with sincerity. "I'm terribly sorry. I knew I had to find someone as a front, but I didn't want it to be you! I liked you right from the start. I didn't want to use you, and warned you off, again and again, but... then I just couldn't resist. My grandmother loved you, and you were so eager, and... it all just slid into place. I'm so sorry." His jaw tightened. "But I never lied to you! I never told you I loved you."
That was true. He hadn't. Only there was one teensy–weensy problem with his oh-so-logical explanation...
"And how were you planning to keep this up in the future?" I demanded. "Were you going to buy an extra-long piece of nylon, perfect for stringing me along?"
"Um..."
He had the grace to lower his eyes at that.
"You're damn lucky we aren't married yet!"
He winced. "You mean that would have been worse than this?"
"Oh, trust me, you have no idea."
For a moment, I wondered whether I shouldn't kill them anyway. But it was true what Elliot had said: he never had promised me anything. In fact, he had warned me off at every turn. Considering that I was a staunch supporter of "Gay Is Good," maybe I should let this one slide. I wasn't really in the mood for violent slaughter today. Besides, they looked really cute together.
Raising his gaze, Elliot met my eyes again. "I'm so sorry," he told me. "I never meant to hurt you."
Reflexively, my hand jerked to the handle of the knife concealed under my jacket.
Control, I told myself. Try to control your instincts! All those vampires and werewolves in the books Lisa likes to read manage to refrain from devouring harmless little humans through great nobility and self-control—surely you can manage not to cut a single man's head off! Breathe deeply, Cassy! Fight against it!
"Just a little piece of advice," I breathed, lowering my hand from the knife handle. "Next time you cheat on a girl—don't tell her that. It doesn't really help."
"Oh. Okay. But..." He bit his lip. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, you would tell me, wouldn't you?" His deep, dark, midnight-blue eyes looked at me imploringly. "I may not love you, Cassy, but I really care about you. I'd do anything to make it right. Isn't there anything I could do for you?"
For a moment I wanted to laugh—the audacity!
But then I considered his words seriously, just for a moment. My eyes started to wander over the two gorgeous, sweaty, muscular guys tangled together on the bed right in front of me. I suddenly realized that, other than with my past experiences in this direction, a part of me wasn't really horrified at what I had found up here.
Why? Why aren't you raging like a wild rhinoceros?
Well... Because I had expected to come up here to find one hot guy—and instead, I had found two. Somehow, I didn't mind that. Not at all.
Suddenly, my lips twitched.
"Yeah, there is something you can do for me, actually," I told him, and stepped forward, shrugging my jacket off. "You can let me join in."
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Well, my dear homicidal maniacs? Did any of you expect that to happen? ;) I thought just killing her boyfriend/husband off every time would get a little bit boring, and it's time for a nice variation!
I hope you approve? ;)
Cheers
Sir Rob