Fragile Innocence Read online

  Instead of fear gripping me, I feel a twinge of something I didn’t think I could ever feel. Yearning. Shaking my head, I turn on my heel and hasten my way through the building. As I race farther from the stranger, my body cools and the pull toward him eases, allowing me to breathe.

  As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk, a black cab pulls up. “Need a ride, love?” the driver questions with a thick British accent.

  I offer a smile and nod. ”Please, I’m heading to Knightsbridge.”

  He exits the cab and rounds to where I’m standing. With one hefty tug, he lugs my suitcase off the trolley and hauls it into the trunk.

  “It will be forty quid from here. Is it a hotel you’re going to?” His brogue is thick and I have to really pay attention to understand.

  “I’m heading to this address.” I hand him the piece of paper on which I jotted down my new address. He nods and I question further, “Oh, and the fare is forty pounds?” Feeling like a tourist, I watch his amused expression.

  “Yeah, that’s it. You’ll get used to it in no time,” he responds, speaking a little slower this time for me to catch the words. Nodding, I open the door and slip into the bench seat. My mind flits back to the stranger and I wonder who he is. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I wonder what would happen if I saw him again.

  Would he want to take me to dinner?

  Perhaps a date?

  “You here on holiday then?” the driver questions, distracting me from the unwarranted thoughts.

  “No, I’m here for work actually. It’s a short-term contract.”

  “Then I suppose a welcome is in order. I hope London treats you well.” He offers a kind smile and as tense as I am being alone with him in the car, I nod.

  He turns the key and the engine roars to life. As we pull away from the sidewalk, I glance out of the window to find my hunter watching me as if he knows where I’m headed.

  Would he find me? Or would the city swallow me?

  Unlike Cinderella, I don’t leave a slipper for him to find me.

  Instead, I leave the dark prince in the dust. An excited smile plays on my lips and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

  Do I want to? Yes, perhaps I do.

  Carter

  To say I’m both intrigued and frustrated is an understatement. I watch as her cab pulls away, then head to the town car waiting for me. It’s parked in the pick-up section of the parking lot and I slip into the backseat. I nod at Baines, my driver of ten years. “Follow that cab, Baines. I want to see where she’s headed.”

  He doesn’t question me. Instead, he roars after the quickly disappearing vehicle. We’re only three cars behind her, but I keep my eyes on the road. Swerving through London traffic is never a good idea, but right now, I don’t care.

  I feel like the goddamn prince chasing after a princess.

  If Ben were here, he’d call me a stalker. I disagree. If there’s something you want in life, there’s nothing that can ever stop you from getting it. Why wait when life is so short?

  I retrieve my phone from my pocket and type out a message to my assistant, letting her know I won’t be in the office today. I should be focused on work and the upcoming charity event my father planned, but my mind is still on the woman with the incredibly unique eyes.

  She’s enamored me and I don’t even know who she is.

  “Sir, are you not going directly to see your father?”

  Glancing up at Baines, I shake my head.

  “Not yet,” I respond, watching as we catch up to her. She doesn’t know I’m behind her, so close, yet so far. “I’d like to know where this woman is staying before heading home.”

  “Do you know her?”

  I chuckle. “No, Baines, she’s… I don’t know. I just saw her moments ago at the airport, but she’s incredibly beautiful.”

  He laughs, the sound rich and heavy, smoky even. The man has known me most of my life. When I want something, I tend to get it.

  “We’ll head to the mansion soon. But first I need to collect paperwork from my father’s office. I’m scheduled to meet him later, so we have time.”

  He doesn’t respond as he follows her cab. I notice the closer we get to the city, we’re headed for Knightsbridge.

  Moments later, we’re pulling up to one of the more elite apartment buildings. Strangely enough, I know who owns them. Smiling, I tap call on my phone. It only takes three rings before Bennett answers.

  “What can I do for you, mate?”

  “Who’s the new woman you’ve got moving into the building in Knightsbridge?” I question my best friend. Bennett Ainsworth. Our friendship has moved from school, to college, and now that we both run successful companies of our own, not much has changed.

  Even though Bennett’s been involved in some shady deals when he worked for a security company, I’d trust him with my life.

  Baines takes the road that winds toward the Hamilton Estate, while I ask my best friend for the information I need on my runaway princess.

  “I’ve just followed her from the airport to your apartment building in Knightsbridge.”

  “You’re such a fucking stalker, Cart,” he responds with amusement clear in his tone at my psychotic tendencies. Perhaps it was over the top following her, but the look she offered when she slid into the back seat of the cab was a challenge. Find me if you can.

  “I’ll have to check the log of new tenants. I have three new people arriving today.”

  “Get back to me later,” I tell him. “After my meeting with my dad, I’ll need some good news.”

  He sighs, knowing my relationship with my father is strained at the best of times. “I’ll call you tonight. I’m heading into a meeting now.”

  I hang up before he says goodbye, knowing he’ll curse me later for it.

  I sit back, still annoyed at the pointless trip I made to the airport to collect my sister who wasn’t even on the flight. She didn’t even have the decency to let me know she missed it. The whimsical girl drives me insane. Sometimes I wonder if we’re even related.

  I’m about to put my phone away when it rings. Swiping the screen, I answer. “Hello, father.”

  “Carter, I’m running late. Meet me at four. Also, I spoke to your mother and told her I’m getting the private plane to fly your sister home because she needs to be here for the charity auction.”

  “I’ll be there. I’m stopping at home to collect the documentation you asked for. I’m sure Kat will be back for the event. She knows how much it means to the family.”

  My family owns a chain of boutique hotels. We’ve had celebrities and royalty stay at our hotels and I’m about to take over the acquisition of new properties in different countries to expand the chain worldwide. My sister will take over the marketing, but if she doesn’t behave herself, I have a feeling there may be a problem with her finally taking over from my mother.

  “Well, let’s hope she comes to her senses, because her immaturity has me wondering if she’s ready to have this responsibility on her shoulders.”

  Nodding, I can’t stop the heavy sigh that falls from my mouth, over the line to my dad.

  “Yes, Father. I have to go. We’ve reached the house, I’ll see you later.”

  “Yes.” He never says goodbye, merely huffs and hangs up on me.

  Baines pulls up to the high wrought iron gates and as they slide open gracefully, he heads up the driveway that will take us to the three-story mansion. It’s a masterpiece of architecture and sometimes I still look at it in awe. It’s ridiculously large and since I don’t live here anymore, I hardly see it. When I turned twenty, I moved out and got my own apartment in the city, partly to get away from prying eyes, but also, I needed to have a space that was my own. Something I worked for and not something my parents gave me.

  Climbing out of the car, I button my suit jacket and head toward the main door. Before I can knock, it slides open with ease and grace and I come face-to-face with my mother.

  “Carter, come in. It’s good to
see you, darling.”

  “Mom. How are you?” I step inside the enormous foyer, then lean in and give my mother a kiss on the cheek. I get along better with her than I do with my father. As much as I love them both, she’s always been more like me in most respects. Also, I look just like her with the Italian heritage strong in my blood, which has gifted me dark hair and my blue eyes.

  “Are you staying for lunch?” She smiles with a hopeful expression on her perfect, unwrinkled face. She’s in her mid-fifties, but you wouldn’t say she is, not looking a day older than forty.

  “No, I need to collect Dad’s paperwork and then I’m meeting him at Marcus’ in Knightsbridge,” I inform her, but I have a feeling she already knew that.

  She walks along with me down the long hallway to the office and I know she’s going to be fishing for information about a girl, so I wait for it.

  “I hear Kat didn’t make the flight?” Her question has my mind wandering back to the airport and the beautiful woman who captured my attention. It’s as if she’s ensnared me in a net. I know Bennett will get me her name and all the contact information I ask for.

  Perhaps if he sees her, he’d be up for a session with us both indulging in her delicious curves.

  “No, she didn’t even bother to message me. It’s ridiculous that I had to stand there for two hours.” I stroll into the study that my father converted into an office. It’s dark and dreary, like you’d imagine an old aristocrat’s office to be, with a heavy cherry wood desk and bookshelves along two walls filled with old hardcover copies of classics and encyclopedias, even atlases from every continent. Most are first editions and are worth more than a night in one of our five-star hotels.

  “Did you take out that lovely girl we met at the polo match last week? She’s a friend—” And there it is. Subtlety is not my mother’s strong suit and when she starts with this, it doesn’t stop until I’m walking out the door again.

  “Mom, I know you mean well, but I’m not taking out any of your friends’ daughters. Didn’t we have this conversation? I want a woman who isn’t privileged, someone who doesn’t think the world revolves around her.”

  She steps forward and her hand on my arm stops me from rifling through my father’s cabinet. When I turn to her, I find those familiar blue eyes on me.

  We’re so alike, whereas my sister is the spitting image of my father. My mother moved to London when she was a student, a young Italian girl attending Cambridge.

  When she met my father, they didn’t fall in love and live happily ever after. Their story is not your average romance. My grandfather, my mother’s father, is a strict Catholic, and my father’s family is Anglican. I don’t really understand it, since I didn’t grow up going to church, but apparently when my parents were younger it was important to marry someone of the same beliefs. It took my grandparents years to accept the relationship.

  My mother has always been headstrong, stubborn, and adamant in what she wants. The saying goes that a boy’s mother is the epitome of the woman he will seek once he’s ready to marry. And that’s true. Most of the girls my mother tries to set me up with are too pristine and entitled.

  I don’t want that.

  I want someone who’s going to challenge me and make me crawl on my knees to get into her pretty lace knickers, but once I’m there, she’ll need to relinquish them to me because I’ll own her. She’ll allow me to take her where I want, when I want. Most women who are part of my family’s social circle are dolls. They don’t like their hair being messed, and they certainly don’t enjoy me telling them what to do. And let’s not talk about blindfolds, cuffs, or any sort of toys.

  I want someone who likes it the way I do—rough, hard, and dirty. Who’s going to take everything I give her and give back in return. And who, indeed, wouldn’t mind a threesome with my best friend. Bennett and I have shared many women in our past. It’s what we’ve always enjoyed. Most women are there for the experience and bragging rights to say they’ve had a threesome.

  It’s different for us, because I know deep down, if we found the right woman, Bennett and I would both claim and keep her as ours.

  “I know, Carter, but I worry about you, darling. You’re thirty-five and you’re still single.”

  It’s always the same conversation, every time I visit. My mother can’t understand why I’m still alone, but what she doesn’t realize is, I choose to be alone and would rather focus on work.

  The princesses I’ve been around all my life are hard work, which I don’t need to deal with. They’re clingy and needy, and the only time I want a woman needy is when my fingers are in her hot, wet pussy.

  I prefer a strong woman who can hold her own. Who can take me as I am and not give in when they find out what an arsehole I am. Yes, I’m an arsehole, but not the pompous kind. I’m the kind that will rip your fucking knickers off and ram myself so deep inside you that you’d feel me for days, or weeks after and I’ll do it wherever the fuck I please.

  “Mother, I met someone, so if you stop pressuring me maybe I can focus on her.” The lie slips from me so easily. Too easily. I grab the files from the drawer and turn to find my shocked mother staring at me like I’d just told her she’s going to be a grandmother.

  “You didn’t tell me, Carter? How can you not tell your mother? This is news and I’m so happy. My boy makes me so happy.” She grabs my face in her hands and plants a kiss on each cheek. At least she’s happy. Now all I need to do is find the girl from the airport and make her mine.

  I know where she lives. At least, I think she lives there. And tonight, I’ll know for sure.

  Ella

  The apartment they rented for me is immaculate. In the middle of town—close to restaurants and stores—and furnished to perfection. I prefer simplicity to extravagance, and I would’ve never asked for something like this, but if they’re paying, I might as well enjoy the luxury while I have it.

  As soon as the cab dropped me off and I walked into my new home, I kicked off my shoes and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Now as I step into the kitchen, I open the refrigerator and find it fully stocked. A buzzing sound distracts me from the amount of food I have and I turn to find a small white intercom on the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. Everything is open plan, but there’s a counter that serves to cut off the living room from the rest of the area.

  Pushing the white button, I lean in. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Carmel, welcome to the building. I’m the security and doorman. If you need anything, just call me on the intercom. I’ll be heading upstairs shortly to check in, but I wanted to let you know if you have any problems, let me know.”

  “Thank you and what do I call you?”

  A deep chuckle crackles through the box on the wall. “My name is Alastair, but you can call me Al.”

  Biting my lip to keep from giggling at the reminder of a song, I nod.

  “Okay, Al. Thank you.” Hanging up, I turn to face the kitchen again and open the fridge. Grabbing a container of yogurt, I open the drawers, looking for cutlery. Once I’ve found a spoon, I make my way through to the living room.

  The whole place is furnished in silver and steel and the sofa is plush black suede. There’s a large fireplace on one wall with a flat screen above it. The rest of the walls are filled with bookshelves that have the classics, including one of my favorites. Jane Austen.

  There’s a small terrace off the living room, and as soon as I slide the door open the noise of the city assaults me, which I prefer because the silence sends fear rushing through me.

  I take in the building design. It’s shaped in a U with a park and swimming pool in the center. I remember seeing a sign for a gym and from my seventh-floor apartment I can see it down below. I love the architecture of the city. The historic buildings with the face brick or white washed walls intrigue me.

  Tomorrow is my first day at work and I’m looking forward to it. Since I was a child I loved exploring homes and buildings with my father, who was an archite
ct. I used to tag along with him to work and it’s those times I remember with a smile and the ache in my chest doesn’t hurt as much.

  I was twelve when he died and my mother remarried the monster who haunts me to this day. Shaking my head of the thought, I watch the kids playing in the swimming pool below.

  The sun is low in the sky and the jet lag hits me with full force. I yawn as sleepiness overtakes me. Since I stepped off the plane exhaustion has held me hostage. Thoughts of the airport assault me, as if I were being hunted by the predator. His blue eyes and sinful lips fill my mind, and I can’t help clenching my thighs remembering the hunger they held.

  Images of his perfectly tousled hair has my fingers itching to touch it. Desire heats my blood.

  The feeling is foreign to me—to want a man. To crave his touch or kiss.

  But with my hunter, I do. Even though I know I should erase him from my mind, the tug deep inside ignites the fire, warming me from the inside out. It seeps through my veins, making it feel as if my body is alight.

  He would be the death of me. Luckily, I’ll never see him again. The city is too big for a coincidence like that.

  Spooning the last bit of fruity yogurt into my mouth, I lick my lips, but it’s not the taste of the fruity flavor I’m relishing, it’s the taste of his full lips I’m imagining.

  Back in the kitchen, I dump the container and make my way into the bedroom. It’s opulent and far too big for me. Pretty much the size of my old New York apartment.

  The king-sized bed has midnight blue silk sheets and the carpet is an ash gray. A walk-in closet greets me on the right of the entrance, complete with four shoe racks, which I’m not sure how I’m going to fill since I don’t own much.

  Perhaps I can finally settle here, put down roots and have a normal life. The thought makes me laugh because I know I can never have that.

  There’s an en-suite bathroom, which has a shower big enough for two, or three, and a Jacuzzi bathtub that has some wicked thoughts running rampant through my mind. I picture my hunter undressing, dropping that immaculate white dress shirt on the tiles of my bathroom floor. His perfect muscles tense and tighten. I’m sure his shoulders are cut in the way women love.