October 2016

MARK

I'd booked the day off far in advance, like I'd done every year for the past decade. This time, though, Zoe has done the same. She'd known what I'd needed back when it happened, then when she'd invited herself to his funeral, and now is no different.

"Do you ever visit him?" Her soft voice drifts up from my lap.

Lying lengthways along my sofa, her eyes are shut, a curtain of blonde spread across my thighs.

"Sometimes." I twist a strand of her hair around my index finger.

"Does it help?"

"Sometimes."

She sighs, then reaches for my hand that's playing with her hair and pulls it down onto her stomach instead, threading our fingers together.

"I think about you on this day every year, you know," she murmurs.

"I know," I say, because I believe her.

"Do you want to talk about him?" Her eyes flutter open and meet mine, gentle and cautious. "We don't have to, if you'd rather not."

I swallow. The anniversary of Ben's murder is probably the one day of the year where she won't begrudge me for not opening up. Where we won't have an argument that results in me shutting down and her storming out.

And the greatest irony is that he's the one thing I like talking about. It keeps his memory alive. That's the least I can do for him.

"He'd have liked you," I say.

A tiny smile lifts the corner of her mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I squeeze her hand. "I used to tell him about you."

The smile develops into a grin, and it soothes some of the aching in my heart.

"I bet they weren't nice things you were saying back then."

"No," I admit. "I said you were annoying. Messy. A people-pleaser."

Chuckling, she closes her eyes again. "Did you have anything nice to say about me?"

"You made great cookies." I can still taste the crunchy oat as I say it. "Ben liked them, too."

"Well, they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach..."

I smile. "Mm. Ben saw straight through me anyway. He had a knack for cutting out the bullshit. We were opposites in so many ways, and yet I couldn't have wished for a better partner."

"In what ways are you opposites?"

My spare hand winds its way into her hair, silky strands slipping between my fingers as I absentmindedly play.

"He always saw the good in people. I'm cynical. He was always positive. I'm negative. He was understanding. I'm stubborn."

Zoe shifts onto her side to look at me, forehead wrinkled, eyes bouncing around my face. "You can be the opposite of a good person without being a bad one. Everyone has different traits."

"Do you disagree with the three I just listed?" I raise an eyebrow, daring her to tell the truth.

"No. I don't. But I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Mark. You're loyal, you're trustworthy, you're dependable, you're selfless."

I stare down at her. My left hand is still clasped in hers, now nestled into her chest as she cradles me closer to her body.

"I don't know if you need to hear this or if it'll annoy you, but you're my person. I love you. And I'm never leaving, okay?"

My throat tightens. Tears threaten to escape from the vault I keep them locked in, like they know this is the one day of the year I allow them out.

She means it as a friend. Every year we spend together, our bond strengthens. And my job protecting Ed intensifies. Her ambition climbs. Like always, the timing is shit.

We've never spoken about taking things further. There's been a few occasions where we've nearly succumbed to the attraction, but one of us has always cooled it off.

"I love you too, Zo. But please don't promise you'll never leave me. One day this friendship might stop working for you, and I'd want you to feel able to walk away if that's the case."

"Fine," she murmurs with a lack of conviction. "Besides, if you keep smashing your job and I keep failing at mine, I'll probably end up bitter and resentful anyway."

I brush my thumb over the narrow bridge of her nose. "You're not failing. You're only thirty-one."

"That Hotel Manager job should've been mine. They hired someone external. I mean, really? They don't know this hotel better than me. Bet they'll leave after a year."

"They'll leave because you're showing them up. Keep doing that, and the job will be yours in no time."

A light huff of frustration fans my wrist. "If I fail next time too, I think it's time for me to move on. I'll be too mortified to stay."

"If that's what you want. Your biggest client will follow you." I pinch her ear, and she scrunches her face, shaking me off.

"Maybe that's what I should tell them in my next interview. If you don't give me the job, I'll walk out of here and take my six-figure client with me."

I smile. She's grown ballsy in the last few years, and I love it. The passion. The ambition. But beneath it all, she's still Zoe. As much as she'd want to threaten them like that, she wouldn't. She'd want to earn this job herself.

"Maybe not like that," I say, "but you should emphasise how much revenue has improved since we started staying there. That's all off your back, too. Your relationship-building."

Her lips twitch at that last sentence, devious eyes coasting over my face. "Mm, I do love flirting with Teddy Stone."

Hot jealousy spikes inside me. She's obviously teasing, but it still gets to me—just like she intended.

Not for long, though. She trickles her fingertips over my stomach, light and gentle, tracing absentminded patterns. Considering her head is resting on my dick, I have to try really hard to keep my brain occupied with matters other than her hands on my body.

"When are you next seeing your parents?" I ask.

She scoffs. "When are you next seeing my parents?"

It's a rhetorical question, but I must give something away because her eyes widen and she shuffles to sit upright. Legs folded beneath her on the middle seat of the sofa, she arches an eyebrow.

"Seriously? When?"

I shrug to downplay it. "Ed's playing in Exeter. I said I'd pop in."

Thoughtfulness glazes over her eyes. Her fingers play with the seam of a cushion.

"I'd invite you to the concert," I say, "but I won't be much fun. It's going to be a huge operation. Our biggest yet."

"You say that like you otherwise would be fun at a concert." Playful amusement tugs at her mouth.

"Good point."

Smiling, she repositions to lie down in the opposite direction this time, her feet landing in my lap. I drape my hands over her bare calves. Goosebumps pucker her smooth skin as my thumbs rub soft circles.

"Nervous?" she asks me. "About the operation?"

"No. Apprehensive, obviously. But I trust the team and I trust the procedures we'll be putting in place."

Comfortable silence settles between us. Her eyes close, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Just when I think she's fallen asleep, her sleepy voice filters through the air.

"I know it's not my place to say, but I'm sure Ben would be proud of you."

My fingers tighten around her shins. Would he? Ben saw the best in everyone. He'd be proud even if I didn't deserve it. So far I've not been properly tested with Ed. We've had a couple of minor incidents, but nothing that would have ever developed into something serious. That's partly because our security system is so strong, preventing the threats rather than fixing them. Ed is sensible, thank fuck, and knows how to follow instructions.

"Do you want me to stay tonight?" Zoe offers.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine."

This friendship is difficult enough. If she stays over while I'm grieving Ben, I'll end up doing something I can't take back.

*

Ed's tapping his foot against the carpeted floor of the SUV. In my peripheral vision, his knee bounces like a jackhammer.

"Tapper," I growl under my breath.

His leg stops. "I didn't think that nickname would stick."

"If you went to your therapy sessions, you'd be able to get more of a handle on this anxiety."

"Therapy is a long-term commitment and I don't have the luxury of regular free time."

It's an excuse but not a lie. His life is non-stop at the moment. Nothing is enough for him, and nobody can get enough of him. He's climbing to those heights he dreamed of four years ago.

"Glove box," I tell him. "There's chewing gum. It's supposed to reduce anxiety levels."

He tugs open the compartment and plucks out a packet. On the whole he's sensible with managing his anxiety. Ever since that incident early on in his career where he had a panic attack before getting on stage, he's mindful of warning signs. But I still want him to take it more seriously. To prioritise it over his career. Not sure that would ever happen so the least I can do is draw attention to it.

As he chews beside me, I flick on the indicator and pull into his street. Immediately I brake.

"Fuck," I grit out.

Ed's face pales. He stares out of the windscreen at the crowd of girls and journalists swarming the door to his townhouse.

"How did they find this one?" he whispers.

"No idea. What do you want to do?"

He scrubs a weary hand over his jaw. "I can't deal with this right now. Can we go to the hotel?"

"We're not booked in."

"Zoe would sort it, right?"

I can't ask her to do that. It's not fair. Besides, I always arrange a security assessment beforehand and do not have time to do that.

"Let's just go to mine," I say.

He perks up. "Really? You're okay with that?"

"Yes, as long as you don't touch anything."

I'm only half-joking, but it's distracted him from whatever worries had been brewing in his head.

"Maybe I can just move in with you for bit."

Now it's his time to joke. And I think he's only half-joking too.

"Helen will find you another place now that one's public knowledge."

He groans. "What's the point? That was the third house. They always find them."

"Further out of London might be better."

A click of his tongue signals his disapproval of that suggestion. "Maybe we can come to a longer-term arrangement with Zoe."

"Maybe."

It's not a bad idea, but I'm not sure how she'd feel. We're good clients. Her best clients. Does that stop being the case if we begin to monopolise?

And could our friendship survive it?

My job—protecting Ed—is important to me. So is Zoe. I don't want to ever find myself in a position where I have to choose between them. 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

Can you believe we're already a decade into the story? You might be noticing some themes from Heart of Stone creeping in... How do you think Mark will solve Ed's housing problem?

If you want to binge read the rest of the book, it's available via any of my Ream tiers!