Three and a Half Weeks(192)

But peace was elusive. At first, he tried to banish her from his mind. It didn’t work. Then, he thought he should return to the UK and beg her forgiveness, bring her flowers and chocolate. Or fine wine and sincere apologies. Expensive shoes and jewels, for God’s sake. Whatever it would take.

But he knew he’d fail. And the one thing above all else that Ian Blackmon couldn’t tolerate was failure—he’d almost rather die. Days passed, then weeks, months, eventually accumulating into a tortured year, a celibate year, a year during which he worked longer hours, and made ever more money, and spent his redirected sexual energy on self-improvement, working out constantly to create a tireless machine out of his body. Going without sex conserved quite a bit of energy, he learned, which was why professional boxers weren’t supposed to have sex for weeks before a bout.

Another lesson that came his way was that the idea of taking a whip to a woman no longer appealed to him. If anything, it had the opposite effect. A broken heart can change all of one’s priorities in a flash. The anniversary of their split was fast approaching and he still was nowhere near over her but he recognized he had to move on, and made plans to go to the club to meet new women and even considered attending one of his sister Zoe’s exhausting parties that were always teeming with debutantes.

That was when providence smiled upon him and during lunch with his sister, he learned about Ella’s bestselling book… and he knew he’d come across a way to lure her back into his life.



“Answer me, Ian, you followed me to the UK?”

Ella’s voice pulled him back from the past, into the conversation they were having in New York. “Yes,” he concedes, “I followed you to the UK.”

Her pulse began to race as she realized the implications of his admission. He must have loved her… even then… as she loved him. “Why didn’t you contact me? I was waiting for you.”

“You were? I thought for sure you would reject me, that you despised me.”

“Well, I did. But I also loved you and missed you so much. I would have been thrilled to see you, Ian.” She’s wringing her hands. “When were you there?”

He told her and she squeezed her eyes closed. If only he’d visited her, let her know he was there, they might have avoided so much pain and loneliness. “Oh, I would have been so happy to stay with you instead of in my drafty dorm room. I missed you with every part of me… but the next move had to come from you.”

“It did,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, right. Suing me for breach of contract a year later. Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“It sort of worked, didn’t it?”

“So you filed the suit to get me back? Not because of the book?”

“Yes to the first question, no to the second.”

It’s her turn to smirk; she climbs onto his lap and begins to kiss him, every part of him that’s accessible. “A normal man would send flowers or jewelry with a heartfelt apology.”

“I’ve never been accused of being normal.”

“You wasted time, Mr. Blackmon, precious time. All those months we could have been together. Now it’s up to you to make it up to me. But first tell me what’s bothering you about Natasha’s situation.”

“I think she texted me for help,” he admits, feeling anew a stab of horror. He tells Ella about the interrupted message.

“Ian,” she says after a while, “let’s commit to planning and enjoying our wedding. After our honeymoon, we’ll investigate Natasha’s new life to see if we need to intervene. I think that will make both of us feel better, don’t you?”

He nods.

“She doesn’t deserve any mercy from us but as a woman, I’m horrified to think of anyone being consigned to a life of sexual slavery. It would be better to die, I think. So maybe we can get someone we trust to do some reconnaissance. Who knows? Perhaps the man will fall in love with her and treat her well. Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.”

His fingers reach out to comb her hair behind her ear and caress her face. “I love you, Ella.”

Rather than answer him with words, she answers him with her lips in a different way. A better way. And suddenly, sitting on his lap isn’t so comfortable anymore, as things harden and shift beneath her. He smiles wickedly as she squirms.

“I know where we can stow it in a nice, warm place where it won’t interfere with your sitting on my lap in comfort.”

“Really? Well, then…”

He pulls up her short skirt—God, but he loves short skirts—and yanking her panties out of the way, he unzips and impales her in one fluid motion. Her head tilts back and a low moan vibrates in her throat.