It was a busy Monday morning, and the long line of weary faces at Costa proved the point.

Aidan waited patiently, going through his emails on his Blackberry as he stood in line. Realizing that the queue was being held up longer than usual, he looked up from his phone to see a blonde woman in a suit, sheepishly rummaging through her bag for some loose change. Im so sorry, Im sure I have it in here somewhere. The cashier rolled his eyes, contempt written all over his face, and tapped his foot impatiently as the flustered woman struggled to find the cash for her morning coffee. Irked at the nonchalance of others, Aidan was reaching for his wallet to help out when the brunette in front of him beat him to it and kindly proffered the necessary quarter. The blonde woman thanked her, grateful at the simple gesture of kindness, and he watched the brunette laugh off the situation with a friendly grin. Thats when he noticed that she was very pretty. She had the clean, sharp features that were so popular with high street models these days: deep set eyes, defined brows and a perfect nose. But while the models were dead set on looking bored, glum and just plain cool, her face carried a smile with such ease. He wouldve kept looking, but his phone buzzed angrily with a new email, and after shooting back a quick reply, he looked up and she was gone. By 11 in the morning his temples were throbbing. The draft of papers needed for the Heyland acquisition were a mess, littered with poorly crafted clauses and overtly gimmicky language but worse still, he was in one of his moods. Clicking about revealed the criminal who authored the offending document a certain Gwyneth Kenner. Hed had a bad morning, and wanted to defuse, so he picked up the phone on the desk and punched 0. Lucy, please send me Gwyneth Kenner. Thank you. Scrolling through the document revealed a progressively expanding mass of absolute gibberish, punctuated by the timely knock on the door. Come in. And thats when she stepped in. This was Gwyneth Kenner? The brunette from coffee this morning? She stood in front of him, her hands placed awkwardly behind her back, as she greeted him hesitantly. He was surprised, but it passed in a heartbeat the blood pounding in his head a reminder of the ghastly document on his computer. Right, Ms. Kenner. I have here a copy of your work for the Heyland file,

and I just want to know what the fuck youre trying to do over here, because for the life of me, I dont see a reason for you to still be on this team. His voice sounded like bullets being fired out of a gun. Shock rippled through her pretty face, although she remained composed, and quickly became puzzled. But she paused but Im not on the Heyland file. Im with the Brooks and Whitmore merger, and have absolutely nothing to do with the Heyland account. So would you mind telling me why your name is on this document? he swiveled the screen to face her. Bewildered, her eyes scanned through the document, widening at what she saw, her frown deepening as she went along. Thisisnt my work. she scrolled through rapidly "Ive written this part before. Months ago. This was for the RBS fund project but - how - She was clearly at a loss for words. Aidan leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Of course. Plagiarized document. And the birdbrain who did this didnt have the brains to fucking change the authors name on the document, he punched at the phone again. Lucy, who is updating me on the Heyland file? Gavin Cross. I see. Thank you. He hung up. Gwyneth closed her eyes. Of course it was Gavin. Scheming little bastard. Pretty boy could never get anything done right, and trust him to have leeched a file off her computer when she wasnt looking. She rolled her eyes and breathed sharply, unwilling to face the man behind the desk. The atmosphere in the room couldnt get any more awkward as she stood there, feeling wrong footed like a child being chastised in the principals office on mistaken grounds. He broke the silence. Well, Im terribly sorry about that, he said, in a much warmer tone. It was very rude of me, and I take full responsibility and Im sure the original work was well worth copying. He gave a wry smile. She half-smiled in return, too terrified to reply, and hastily excused herself from the office. Holy hell. Aidan Scodelario was every bit as intimidating as shed heard about. The prized son of the firms founding family educated at both Oxford and Yale, he had a reputation for being one of the brightest minds in the legal field. His summer internship at Bear Sterns rocketed him to fame, even though he was all but nineteen of age - and as he sat for his final exams, he was already consulting major banks on the finer points of floating stock trades and investment bonds. But that wasnt all about him. Demanding was the word most commonly

used to describe him having been around the brightest minds since his school years, he expected no less from the people he worked with, and the icy glare he gave so freely earned him the office nickname Berg short for iceberg. Being alone in the same room as him for the first time, and being so coldly interrogated by him allowed her to understand why he was so terrifying. He had inherited his fathers ice blue eyes, a blue so pale they were almost crystal, accentuated by his uncharacteristically high cheekbones and a strong, angular jaw. Seeing that face clenched taut in anger had scared her into a stuttering, stumbling mess, something completely unlike her real self, and she had to admit that he was a force to be reckoned with, beyond the office myth. She staggered back to her desk, still shaken by the experience. Oooh, Dylan Foreman, who sat in the desk opposite hers, leaned forward eagerly, Whatd he say to you? He thought I did the Heyland forms and asked me what the fuck I thought I was doing. And believe it or not, I think that was his opening sentence to me. Whoa, thats pretty brutal, he nodded, making a sturgeon face. But wait, youre- Yup. Told him that, and get this Gavin took my agreement for the RBS deal last year and worked his magic on it, she paused for effect then submitted it to the berg. Dylans face lit up in a grin of disbelief. No way! he chuckled Well it couldve been worse, he offered, trying to console her. Trust me, it was bad enough on its own. The mans a living nightmare. I mean, would it kill him to not be so intimidating every once in a while? Oh come on, hes not that bad. Oh, really? How about you go into his office and help me get some files I need? I mean, since youre not scared of him at all Not a chance in hell. You know, Im pretty sure if anyone was going to be Batman, he would be. He seems just like the type who roams the night as a vigilante, beating bad people with high tech gadgets he made punching motions in the air. Just sayin.

Soyoure saying that I just got yelled at by Batman? Precisely. And how is any of this relevant to anything? Its not, he said innocently, taking a sip of his coffee as he did so just voicing out a cool point. "You're a poster child for ADHD, you know? Sometimes I wish there was a way I could take a look into that psychedelic little head of yours." "This psychedelic head," he tapped at his temple, "memorizes Tolstoy verbatim. And kicks your ass at Call of Duty. Is that the green-eyed monster I smell? Bam!" She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her laptop. For all his idiosyncrasies, Dylan was one of her closest friends. Theyd met in law school, where they discovered that they both grew up in the same neighborhood, and have been best friends ever since. Upon graduation, they both applied to Lynch, Scodelario and Ackham one of the largest law firms in the country and negotiated their way into being seated beside each other in the office. Through the many years of their friendship, everyone they met commented on how cute they were together but the friendship never progressed beyond a purely platonic one, and it became apparent that it would be that way forever. Thursday afternoon was sluggish she was waiting, with increasing agitation, for an email that was supposed to have been sent an hour ago and she wasnt feeling too productive. Utterly bored, she decided to browse through one of her favorite websites, the one for a nearby art gallery, and a notice for an upcoming exhibition caught her eye. Excited, she began clicking and scrolling through the multitude of photos on the site, until she had a feeling that she was being watched. She looked up at Dylan, who looked back at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Whats up? Gwyneth asked. The Miyami collection, apparently, a deep British male voice answered. She spun around in panic to find Aidan standing behind her, hands in pockets, staring at her with a blank expression. She quickly closed all windows, heart pounding through her chest and fear running thick

through her veins. Im very sorry, she said coolly, and I promise it wont happen again, sir. I wouldnt worry about it, he remarked with a trace of amusement in his voice as he walked away. "Carry on. After he left, Dylan drew a line across his neck with his finger, making slicing noises as he did so. Gwyneth pulled a face at his gesture, before flipping him the bird and burying her face in her hands. What a day, she groaned, pinching her nose bridge. As if to taunt her, the computer beeped brightly. New E-Mail Message Received. She glared at the screen. You have got to be kidding me. A few hours later, she was typing furiously, pausing only to take deep gulps of coffee when Dylan popped by her desk. Hows work? She sighed, leaned back and stretched her hands, popping her knuckles as she did so. Killer. What about you? He shook his head, his long curly hair tumbling back and forth. Such a fuckup. Dinner soon? She blew out a deep breath and thumbed through a thick stack of papers. Apparently, meals will have to be a luxury I cannot afford, shrugging her shoulders, but you have fun. Get something in you, you look beat. Out of habit, he ruffled her hair as he was leaving. Ill buy you a sandwich or something. I know, I know, whole grain, no tomatoes, extra mayo. And oh, he turned to face her while walking backwards the berg wants to see you in his office. He held up his hands and raised his eyebrows to indicate I-dont-know-why, and rushed off before she could question him. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, she re-tied her straight hair into a fresh ponytail and tugged at her shirt in an attempt to make herself look more presentable. She could feel her insides sinking already, dreading every step to the door of his office, towards an almost certain doom. He was engrossed in his work when she rapped on the door. Come in. She shuffled in awkwardly, the tension visible in her gait. You wanted to see me?

Aidan looked up, and his face brightening as he saw her. Ah, Ms. Kenner, his voice was friendly, a stark contrast to their prior meeting. Please, have a seat. She settled into one of the plush chairs opposite his, unnerved by the sudden warmth in his demeanor. Im sorry if Im keeping you at work, and this shouldnt take a minute are you in a hurry? She shook her head no. I see. Well, he leaned forward, crystal eyes meeting hers I just wanted to apologize, personally, for the misunderstanding that day in regards to the Heyland file. Its been a while since the incident, and my tardy apology in itself makes it a double faux pas. I hope that it will not color your opinion of me. He gave a small, cynical laugh. Unless, of course, its already too late. In any case, Im sorry, Ms. Kenner. He was apologizing about that? Talk about awkward situations with your boss. Please, call me Gwyneth. Right. Gwyneth. The smile on his face was surprisingly infectious, and Gwyneth felt the corner of her lips lifting. Im sorry about my behavior the other day. She could feel herself blushing. Mr. Scodelario, it was nothing, really Please, call me Aidan. She hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Um, Aidan, the name rolled off her tongue experimentally I fully understand that it was just a case of mistaken identity, and while the apology is a nice thought, Im afraid there isnt much to be sorry for. Her stomach clenched as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Why was she drawing out a painfully awkward situation, arguing with a polite apology from her boss? Stupid, stupid, stupid she wished desperately for an excuse to leave, any reason at all. Well, his voice was all businesslike and formal now if so, then, please take this as a small token of good will. He held up an envelope made of stiff, creamy paper. She gingerly took it from his hands and opened it to reveal two tickets to the Miyami art exhibition. She was floored, all the wind knocked out of her stomach, too stunned to react at first, but she quickly stuffed it back

into the envelope and gave it back to him. II cant, Mr. Scodelario. Thank you, thank you very much, but Ithis is too much. He frowned and shook his head. No, I insist its an excellent collection, and you simply cannot miss it. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her before she could say anything. Look, theyre just tickets. Haruka Miyami is one of the pioneers in Neo-Dadaism, and to have his works circle Ameringer Yohe is an absolute rarity - so heres my advice, from an art aficionado to another take the tickets. Enjoy the exhibition. Dont just see it from a computer screen. She grimaced at the mention of the incident, but his voice was gentle and persuasive. Experience it in real life. Dont make it harder than necessary. Just take them. He held them out again, eyebrows raised, and she couldnt find it in herself to say no, so she reluctantly reached out to take the envelope. Thank you very much, Mr. Scodelario, Ah, he pulled the envelope away slightly. Its Aidan. Mr. Scodelario is my father, so that name can wait till Im all wrinkled and gray. She smiled sheepishly, and continued to thank him profusely. As she munched on her sandwich, finishing up with the days work, she couldnt stop glancing at the envelope tacked to her board, constantly thinking about how odd the circumstances were. But by the time she gathered her jacket and beeped her car open, her spirits were at an all time high and she was looking forward to attending the event. --------------Aidan had just finished talking to an old acquaintance from Harvard when he spotted her. She was admiring a painting, hands behind her back with her head cocked to one side and he stopped to admire her for a bit. Her outfit was effortlessly stylish black jeans, pale ecru shirt and a dove gray blazer with black lapels, finished off with pointy black pumps. She was clearly dressed for off duty, her makeup heavier than usual and her hair let loose. The spotlights glowed warmly on her hair, making it look glossier than ever. She had a waif-like stature, so delicate and slender he wondered if she would break at the slightest touch. Yet there was a certain coolness

in her eyes, a kind of easy grace with which she moved - perhaps she was a dancer? Her hand moved up to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and his stomach clenched a little. There was something in the way she'd done it that made it seem so sexy - with any other woman, it would've looked like more like vain preening, but she made it seem so casual and relaxed. So natural. In that moment, he ached to try it for himself - to stand in front of her and brush on that part of her skin with gentle fingers. Gwyneth was lost in her thoughts, marveling at the colored canvas in front of her until he approached her. Gwyneth, he said, smiling warmly glad you could make it. Aidan, how nice to see you, she shook his hand. Thanks again for inviting me. Its been an incredible experience. He could see the excitement in her eyes, her face more effervescent than hed seen at the office, simple joy bubbling off her skin in a pleasant aura. They both turned to face the painting. Miracle 253, he quipped. One of my favorites ever. She smiled as she nodded. Mine too. Theres just something about this thats so she gestured while deciding on a word magnetic. Thats it. Magnetic. Its not just the brushwork, or the colors, or the vision. Cant quite put my finger on it, but I cant stop looking at it either. He looked at her with a blank expression. I just like it for the colors. Blue, gray, black. Very pretty. He said wryly. She stifled a giggle and hid her smile behind her hand. So, can I offer you the Aidan Scodelario tour of the place? No drab facts about realism and the deconstruction of society through the paradigm of colors at all that jazz. Ill just point out the ones I find aesthetically pleasing. She was laughing out loud now, relaxed by the easy smile on his face. He could be charming when he wanted to, and he clearly had a sense of humor. That would be very helpful, thank you.

As they ambled slowly through the brightly lit gallery, their chatter livened as they went along. They clearly had plenty in common similar interests, hobbies and opinions and in no time, they were talking like old friends. She was surprised at the ease at which they conversed, and

how comfortable she felt with him, considering that just a few days ago he had so sternly rebuked her in icy tones, but he was a different person tonight. Here and now, he wasnt her superior, not her boss, not the berg, but a friendly new acquaintance she was becoming fast friends with. "Is this your first time here?" he asked, handing her a glass of prosecco. "I've been here once before - the Barnett Newman exhibition in July?" "Ah," he nodded in understanding. "I've heard a lot about that one. I was very keen on securing one of his pieces, but they withdrew it from sale at the last minute." She gave him a sympathetic look. "That's a shame. It would've been such a darling to own." "Oh well," he shrugged his shoulders. "You know what they say. If you can't get a Newman, settle for Robert Motherwell." "Or if you're really that desperate, just frame up a blank canvas and tell people it's an Ulzaria." He threw his head back in laughter. God, she didn't think that he ever laughed out loud like that. "Don't let Simmons hear you," he lowered his voice and pointed at the elderly gentleman a few feet away. "He'll have you burned at the stake for blasphemy." She stifled a giggle. "Look, you're free to judge me for what I'm about to say - I love art, and I do consider myself to be quite open-minded, but there are some pieces that make me question my ability to be pretentious. Abstract? Sure. But sometimes it's just plain crap. Even if it's neo-destructionalism meets cubist utopia, or whatever you want to call it." His nose twitched as he tried to stay deadpan. "The appropriate response would be to politely agree with you, stick to my guns and defend the creative young minds that strive to push the boundaries of expression in art." He tugged at his earlobe and leaned closer. "But I find that I must admit - you're absolutely right. There was this exhibit I went to - and I'm being absolutely serious here - which consisted entirely of plastic phalluses painted in a myriad of colors. I'm

no prude, but words cannot begin to describe how uncomfortable I was." "You're missing the point," Gwyneth feigned a businesslike air, a playful smile twitching at her lips . "It's about the amorphous male form and the ambiguity that enslaves us all." "Quite right, quite right," he agreed, nodding seriously. "Thanks for the tip. Otherwise, I would've been boggled." "No sweat. Sometimes, one needs to step out of the circle to see that it is round," she added sagely. "You're just making it up as you go along, aren't you?" She could see his eyes dancing in amusement. "Alright, you caught me," she shrugged in good humor. "It was worth a try. I'd like to think that I'm good at fobbing my way through these things." "You're doing an excellent job." He lifted his glass to clink with hers. "A master of disguise, a chameleon of sorts. Very impressive." "Thanks," she hid a smile by taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes fell on a familiar face nearby and she blinked in mild astonishment. "Is that Michiko Kakutani?" He turned to look in the direction where her eyes were indicating. "Yeah, that is," he looked back at her. "Would you like to say hi?" "You know her personally?" she gaped in admiration. He leaned forward with a confidential air, a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to my world," he murmured. Aidan couldnt help but admire her. She was very bright, very well read and keen with just the right proportion of earthiness. Despite her brains, she was neither pretentious nor snobby, and was capable of self-deprecating jokes on several occasions. As pretty as she was, she was so much more fun, so easy to talk to and the chemistry between them was palpable. He was the picture of charm that night, politely introducing her to everyone who bumped into them as his colleague and never leaving her

alone in a new social group. It was a stellar night, one that she would remember for life filled with art, endless glasses of prosecco and meeting people shed only read about and heard of. They drifted from circle to circle until the crowd trickled to a handful and she felt her stomach churning, demanding to be fed. Well, she looked at him, not really wanting to say goodbye, I guess Ill be off now. Thanks again, for the tickets. Its been a wonderful night. Dont mention it. Besides, youve been such great company tonight. Thanks for sticking around with the old berg. Her eyes widened at the mentioned of the name, but his lips curved into a small smile and she just stared at her heels, feeling sheepish. Alright then, I Actually, I was wondering if youd like some dinner? If you dont already have plans, of course. She only hesitated for a heartbeat before saying yes. ---------As she looked through the menu at Asakuma, she could barely believe the prices she saw. This was a place well out of her budget range, and the prices of a few dishes easily surpassed the cost of a week's meals for her. Her eyes widened as she noticed that the restaurant offered otoro - premium tuna belly - one of her favorite dishes in the whole world. Holy cow, was that how much they charged for a serving? She stared blankly at the menu, a little daunted by the sheer expensiveness of it all. As much as she loved otoro, there was no way in the world she was going to Should we go somewhere else? Japanese isnt exactly everyones favorite food. He sounded concerned - he must have noticed her discomfort and interpreted it wrongly. No, no, not at all, she reassured him. I love Japanese. The place looks great, by the way. I hope youll like it as much as I do. Have you decided what you want? I think Ill have the-

Before she could finish her sentence, she heard it. A familiar voice, calling out her name in a foreign languageshe scanned the room for the source and found it. Her distant aunt, clad in a chic black sheath and pearls was making a beeline towards her with outstretched arms. Not wanting to be rude, she stood up and greeted her with a hug Kyuna! Its been so long since I last saw you! Aidan watched in silent fascination as Gwyneth Kenner began conversing with an elderly Asian woman in fluent Japanese. From the looks of it, she was a family member, an aunt perhaps. He watched carefully as the tone of her voice transformed to bend with the smooth syllables of the Japanese language. She spoke Japanese in a different voice one that was more gentle, feminine and subdued. Even though they talked at a rapid pace, the words flowed so elegantly, spilling out with the effortless ease of a native speaker. He continued to watch Gwyneth as they began to bid each other goodbye and hugged again, fixing her with an unwavering gaze as she settled back into her chair. Aidan leaned back, looking very amused. "I think I've been hustled." She shook her head in mild embarrassment. "It's nothing. I'm part Japanese, and everyone in my family is fluent." "Really?" He sat up in renewed interest. "I wouldn't have guessed maybe I'm just bad at this, but I really can't tell. And here I am, bringing you to a Japanese restaurant. You probably know much more than I do about the culture and cuisine than I do." "I wouldn't say that," she added kindly. He snapped his menu shut and placed it on the table. "Let's do this you call the shots for tonight and show me what being Japanese is like. How it's really done. Sounds good?" A twinkle lit up her eyes. "A chance to boss around Aidan Scodelario, wow. You're plenty generous." She leaned forward, eager and playful. "Are you familiar with sake?" The meal seemed to go on all night. The food was delicious, and the sake was getting to their heads, but they kept talking and talking and

talking, the atmosphere becoming increasingly lighter as the night went on. "Which law school did you attend?" She cocked her head to one side, feeling coy. "Let's make this a little more challenging. How about you guess which law school I graduated from?" She bit her lip and smiled. "Do I exude Yale snobbery? Or UChicago's earthiness? Perhaps Duke's party maniac aura?" She ran her finger around the edge of her glass. "You're smart, you should be able to figure this out. Three guesses." Interest sufficiently piqued, he leaned forward to scrutinize her better. "You're not from Yale," he said confidently, fixing her eyes on his. "I would've known if you were." "Oh? What makes you so sure?" "My alma mater. I make it a point to stay updated." He tapped his nose knowingly. "Do your homework next time, Ms. Kenner. How disappointing." "Ah, well - my bad," she conceded. "So I'm not from Yale. Anything else you've gleaned so far?" "Bits and pieces, but it's grossly insufficient. Here's what I'm proposing I'll ask you three questions and that's it - after that's done, I'll make my three guesses. Nothing pertaining to details about your academics, I promise. Just to allow a little insight into your profile, that's all. Does that sound fair?" She mulled it over for a moment. "Deal," she nodded with a growing smile on her face. "But only if you answer the questions as well - I'd like a little quid pro quo from all this." There was no disguising the amusement on his face. "Fair enough, I accept your conditions. You're not an easy bargain, lady." "Isn't that why I got a job at LSA? You should see me negotiating privity clauses on refinancing contracts." She grinned. "Well then, let the questions begin." His eyes flashed in enthusiasm. "Alright, here we go. First up: three

favorite bands?" She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'm going to go withRadiohead, The Rolling Stones and The Velvet Underground." "Oh, honey, you're perfection in a bundle." The words sounded wry but there was a look of mischief on his face. "Such an eclectic mix of alternative and classic rock. I'm guessing Led Zeppelin almost made the cut?" She clapped a hand over her heart. "Jimmy Page restores my faith in humanity," she intoned dramatically, enticing a warm smile from him. "I suppose you're into similar kinds of music, then?" "Absolutely. My music library is quite the kaleidoscope, though. Top three would be The Beatles, Nine Inch Nails and The Smashing Pumpkins. Radiohead would've been my fourth - it's a very close call." "Well," she raised her glass of sake. "To Thom Yorke and his sheer brilliance. My youth would have been very different if it weren't for him." "Hear, hear," he clinked his glass with hers. "So, Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails. We were a bunch of happy kids, weren't we?" "Mm," she shook her head ruefully. "You know what they say about geniuses and angst. Being miserable is a prerequisite to being smart." "Can't argue with you on that one. Moving on: if you hadn't been a lawyer, what would you have been? Name two possible careers. Just two will do." She eyed him warily, trying to suppress a smile. "You're trying to psychoanalyze me, aren't you?" She snuffled with laughter and shook her head. "Well you're not going to get to me so easily." She leaned back in her chair and thought about the question for a few seconds. "Neurobiologist or photographer, I suppose." Aidan's eyes widened in surprise and she giggled at his expression. "Neurobiologist, photographer and lawyer?" He sounded so stumped, she wanted to burst into riotous laughter. "Highly unusual combinationvery interesting indeed. How did you end up with such varied interests?"

"My family's very diverse," she emphasized on the 'very'. "I had a great childhood - ever since I could talk, mom and dad introduced me to a million and ten hobbies and interests. Grew up as a jack of all trades and master of none, so you can imagine how I agonized on choosing my major in college. God, that was an absolute headache." "Calligraphy lectures immediately after Biology lab practicals?" "Almost, but more like Classical Studies tutorials after Chem lab sessions. And then French in the evenings." "Overachieving curve-wrecker," he retorted. "That's rich, coming from you," she shot back with a smile. "Your turn." "Spy," he deadpanned, looking totally serious. She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. "Oh come on, be serious." He gave a mock-stern look. "Espionage is no laughing matter, Gwyneth." "Yes, double O seven, no one's making fun of the spy trade. What I am making fun of is the notion of you being a spy." "Why? Am I not an ideal candidate for some cold-blooded killing? Can I not coax and charm tightly-guarded secrets out of a Venezuelan vixen?" She bit back a smile and raised her eyebrows at him. "Says the man who is paying for an answer with an answer. You'd reveal military launch codes before your suspect tells you where Osama is hiding." "That's what you think," he leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "My final answer is spy, and I'm afraid that you'll just have to work with that." He winked at her. "So, enough with that. Here's my final question: how many languages do you speak? Dialects included." She frowned in slight confusion. "How many languages? That's a weird question." He smiled smugly back at her. "Just answer it. We're almost at the denouement now."

He could see her eyes dart to the upper right corner as she tried to make a mental tally of how many languages she spoke. As he expected, she was a polyglot - blessed with one of those minds that picked up languages like sailors picked up diseases. "Seven," she admitted, somehow sounding both pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "Wow," he was genuinely awed at her answer. Fuck, she was brilliant and it made her all the more attractive to him. "That is utterly phenomenal. Seriously, Gwyneth - I do hope that you realize how precious a gift that is. I admire that very deeply." "Thanks," she blushed. "Well don't go throwing any parades now. Besides, I'm not that fluent in all of them. My Spanish is a little worse for the wear." She shrugged. "So, time for you to guess. Oh, I'm looking forward to this." She rubbed her hands in glee. His face was completely serious save for the tiny curve of his lips. He just stared at her in silence for a few moments, as if he was studying her face for the correct answer. The heat of his gaze made her heart race there was something about the intensity of his look that thrilled and drew her in, sent her heart hammering in her chest and her lips go dry. "Columbia." The verdict tumbled out of his lips in a deadpan voice. Her jaw fell open. "How did you - how? Is it really that obvious?" "I just know these things," he answered vaguely, a smug smile on his face. She shook her head in disbelief. "No. No, no. There has to be - oh, I know. You have my employment records, don't you? You must have pulled it from HR. And here I thought" she rolled her eyes. The grin on his face told her everything she needed to know. He didn't say a thing in response and only shrugged nonchalantly. "You sneak. Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself now - it was a lot more impressive when I thought you could tell which law school I was from just from those three questions." "Oh, believe me, I can." "I highly doubt that." She smirked in return.

The smug smile on her face disappeared when she saw that his gaze was fixed on her and for a moment, she felt like she was totally naked in front of him. He was looking at her with an intensity that made her wonder if he could look past every single layer and observe her true nature in a blink. "Believe what you want, Gwyneth, but you know I would have made an excellent spy," his voice was low and silky with intent. For a moment they just looked at each other in silence, as beheld my some magical, unseen force that had them spellbound. "So," Aidan broke the reverie, the easy warmth returning to his voice as they snapped back to their senses, "what is the usual Japanese desert? He took a sip of sake. Well the norm would be daifuku, maybe a jelly, but heres the thing, she twirled a loop of hair around her finger dessert isnt really a Japanese habit. He nodded in understanding, never taking his eyes off hers. The lively chatter was quieting down now, and a waiter began to clear their table. Right, he said, breaking the silence. Perhaps we should be leaving now. He got up on his feet and offered her his hand, and pulled her up from the chair. As they walked out, hands still locked together, she could feel her heart throbbing, her heartbeat escalating at the contact, his skin deliciously warm and dry on hers. Outside, he fished out his phone and called for a car, and then turned to face her. Sothanks for dinner, her voice sounded so small. II had a great time. So did I. He reached for her other hand. I had a really good time. She couldnt believe this. Here she was, by a street, holding hands with Aidan Scodelario like a teenage girl on her first date. Her better judgment was compelling her to leave immediately before she risked doing anything stupid with her employer, but she couldnt peel her hands away from his. Couldnt refuse his serious gaze as he looked at her intently. As he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, she didnt move away, instead she leaned into his hand, craving his touch. And thats when he leaned in and kissed her, placing his lips firmly over hers,

his other arm snaking around her waist to pull her close. Alarms were beginning to sound in her head, warning her about the dangers of getting into things with Aidan, especially considering how influential he was at work. But as the kiss deepened, she found herself powerless to fight it, kissing him back with abandon, her conscious worries gradually fading into nothing more than a mere whisper. His mouth was warm and gentle on hers, and as his lips parted hers she felt her breath catch in her throat. She curled an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a final press on the lips before she let go and pulled away. His pale eyes were fixed on hers, traces of lust evident in his irises. The voice of reason, however, found the upper hand. IIm sorry. I cant do this, she stammered, her voice weak. We work together, and youre my superior, and I justI- He exhaled sharply. I understand, he agreed in civil tones. Youre probably right. The car pulled up a few feet away from them and Aidan turned to move towards it. Gwyneth felt the unease fizz inside her, expanding into a mounting load that she could no longer suppress. Her head felt strangely floaty, an odd mix of hazy bliss and bold courage thanks to the copious amount of alcohol shed downed. Or maybe she spluttered, surprised at the sound of her own voice saying those words. Aidan looked back at her quizzically. Where was this courage coming from? Was she really going to do this? Or maybe, if we couldI dont know, keep it physical. Purely physical. No strings attached. Just two people doing that thing that adults do. She was appalled at what she was saying, completely taken aback at the thought that she herself was suggesting this to her boss. Aidan stood there silently, just staring at her strangely. There was a tightness in her chest that made it hard for her to breathe, the tension of the moment suffocating and oppressive. She felt completely wrong-footed, angry with herself for being this tipsy in front of Aidan. This was it. Shed completely jeopardized her career and her professional image over a few drinks and a nice dinner with a man. She closed her eyes, wanting to pretend that it was all a dream. But as she opened them again, she saw him walking towards her, his

lips pressed tightly into a wry smile, and suddenly she was in his arms, wrapped tightly in an embrace while his lips found hers, capturing her in another of his unworldly kisses. This time, however, he was more confident, lacking the vacillation of the previous kiss, and as his tongue found its way to hers, her hands were in his hair, tugging at it with small, urgent fists. For what seemed like an eternity, they were locked together with abandon. Finally he pulled away, his eyes darkening with pleasure. My place? he asked gruffly. She nodded wordlessly as he seized her hand and helped her into the car. --------------As the car pulled out into the nighttime traffic, Aidan twisted in his seat to face her, his face almost hidden by the dim light. He leaned in close to whisper something and she could smell the faintest trace of an expensive aftershave, the scent shooting thrills of pleasure up her spine as he murmured into her ear. Instinctively she placed her hands innocently on his thighs, her heartbeat racing at the thought of seeing him take them off. Throughout the car ride, he kept the physical contact to a minimum -- she wondered if it was all part of a deliberate ploy, or just his methods of remaining discreet -all he did was hold her hand, tracing lazy circles on her skin with his thumb, gazing intently at her the whole time. They arrived at his place soon enough, and as she stepped out of the car, Gwyneth looked up at the luxurious building and felt the buzz in her head kick up a notch. A gloved doorman pushed open a heavy glass door and Aidan gave him a brief nod as they walked past, striding briskly into the gleaming lobby. When the elevator doors closed, allowing them some much-deserved privacy, Aidan was set in motion. He pressed her firmly against the walls of the elevator to kiss her, his tongue gently parting her lips as she softly moaned into his mouth. Her hands reached under his jacket, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt as she slowly moved towards his belt. She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, catching a hint of playfulness in his gaze as she did so, before kissing him again, but gently this time, with just the softest brushes of lips as she let her fingers flutter on the bulge over his zipper. The elevator pinged open, and they reluctantly pulled apart, fingers still entwined. He moved behind her to help take off her blazer, planting a

few feathery kisses on the nape of her neck as he pulled the jacket off her back. She spun around and pressed her body against his, grinding her hips against his to feel the evidence of his arousal. He growled as he shrugged off his own jacket, letting it fall to the floor and then wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, allowing his hands to slowly travel down to cup her bottom, pulling her even closer for a passionate kiss. He could feel her fingers adroitly working on his belt buckle, carefully avoiding contact with his raging erection, and she was about to unbutton his slacks when he stopped her and abruptly pulled away. Aidan smiled devilishly as he beckoned for her to follow him, taking her hand as he did so. He led her into a dark bedroom, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through a large window and shut the door behind them. She stood a few inches away from him, looking up at him expectantly. "Hi." His voice was deadpan and gravelly. "Hello there." She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. Slowly he dipped his head, pausing to hover millimeters away from hers, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her entire body was throbbing, aching to be touched -- she felt like she was on fire. He kissed her again, this time expertly manipulating her tongue with his, and she felt like the world had disappeared and that time had ceased to move. Aidan took her lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it firmly, as she began to realize that he had unbuttoned her shirt and was pushing it off her shoulders. Gwyneth stood there in her bra, panting, acutely aware of the pulsating ache in her hard nipples. She wanted, more than anything, for him to touch her breasts, for him to kiss them they way he kissed her, but he made no indication of doing so. Her hands were trembling with excitement as she pulled down his zipper and cupped the bulge in his boxers, making him growl as she tugged his slacks off his hips. She slipped a hand beneath his boxers and closed her hands over his hard member, making him groan through clenched teeth. Soon his hands joined hers and they pushed his underwear off. Lust was boiling inside her, as was frustration -- he had barely done more than kiss her all night, and it was driving her insane. Feeling

determined, she stepped back and began to remove her jeans sensually, swaying her hips left and right as she pulled them off her slim legs. "Very nice," he murmured appreciatively. Encouraged by his reaction, she continued the striptease and extended the same treatment to her briefs. His unwavering gaze made her feel so sexy, and the desire in his eyes fueled hers. This wasn't her first time with a man, and she'd been stark naked enough times to not feel conscious about her nudity. But there was something about being absolutely unclothed in front of a man for the first time that excited her, that exhilarated her and made her feel alive. She let her eyes roam over Aidan's body, admiring how his cheekbones looked so much more pronounced in the moonlight, taking in the sleek musculature of his physique and the faint lines of his six-pack that rippled as he moved. His impressive erection stood stiff and proud, and she couldn't stop flicking her eyes over it, feeling the pangs of desire shoot straight south as she wondered how it would feel like to be fucked by it. Aidan felt his cock twitch as he saw her standing there with her lips slightly parted in expectant lust and the shaved slit between her legs moist with want. He knew that she must be half crazed with desire, desperate to have her taut nipples kissed and her groin licked -- he could see it in the way she stood, her breasts gently thrust out, her breathing heavy and labored, shoulders rigid with tension. He hid a smile as he relished the thought of teasing her some more, wanting to push her to her limit, but the pleading look in her eyes made him decide against it. Aidan began to kiss a trail down her collarbone, smoothing his palms on the skin on her stomach, slowly moving upwards, deliberately moving at a glacial pace so that he could watch her eyes crash shut as she reflexively arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. But the time for games was over. Without warning, he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, eliciting a loud cry from her. "Ooh. Sensitive, are we?" he drawled. She was barely coherent now. "No...just...I...just..."

"Shhh." He silenced her with his lips, pinching her hard nipples as he did so and she squirmed in response. "Tonight, I'm going to fuck you so, so hard," he whispered. The words served as an aphrodisiac and she could feel the moisture beginning to pool between her legs, the fire within her burring hotter than ever. She wrapped her soft hand around his engorged member and began to stroke it, deviously avoiding the sensitive head that was leaking fluid. Aidan could feel himself beginning to lose control, and so he closed his lips around a nipple, to which she tipped her head back and hissed in pleasure, her fingertips pressed hard onto his scalp at the sensation of his tongue flicking over the tip of her bud. One of his hands was firmly tweaking the rosy peak of the other breast, while the other meandered downwards to slip beneath her folds. She was so wet, so incredibly aroused that she could feel her own moisture on her thigh. "Please," she whispered, and Aidan dragged a finger through her slick pussy as he gently bit on her nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her spine and making her cry out. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his breath warm on her ear. When she nodded he pushed a finger roughly inside her, making her whimper as she thrust her hips forward, wanting to take more of him inside her. She fought for control as he continued his ministrations -- a deft tongue on her nipple, pumping his finger in and out of her with growing speed as her hand jerked him off with increased vigor, bringing him close to the edge -He broke off abruptly. "Hold on," he reached for a nearby drawer and pulled out a silver foil packet. She positioned herself on the bed, never taking her eyes off him as he unrolled the condom onto his cock. By the time he was done, she was lying on the bed with her legs spread, a sly smile on her face. "Fuck," his eyes gleamed with pleasure as his gaze ran over her body appreciatively. He clambered over her, making her heartbeat race as his body loomed over hers imposingly. She pulled his head down for a deep kiss, smoothing her hands over the muscles of his back. He pulled her legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, feeling between her legs with one hand to open her up. Gwyneth gasped when she felt the blunt tip

nudge open her pussy, stretching her almost painfully wide as he slowly pushed forward and buried his full length inside her. She groaned, feeling the familiar burn as her walls stretched to accommodate his thick length, instinctively wrapping her legs around him. Never had anyone filled her like this, not any of her previous boyfriends - his thick cock inside her felt impossibly huge. "Jesus," he breathed, "you're so fucking tight." As he leaned forward to kiss her she felt him shift slightly inside her, triggering a wave of undulating pleasure. They held still in the same position for some time until she was ready, then he began to take long, smooth strokes that were eased by her slick wetness. Her hands gripped his back tighter as began to ride her with increasing urgency. Her hips rose to the metronome rhythm of his thrusts as her moans rose in a syncopated chorus -- she was nearing climax, the familiar tension coiling deep within her like a serpent. His face was crumpled in concentration, beads of sweat forming on his hairline as his hips ground to the finish. He heard her gasps becoming more frantic and sensing that she was near, he pressed his face to hers, close enough for her to hear him hiss. "Come for me." And then she erupted. She came like she'd never come before - it started as an incredible wetness in between her legs, as if she was a pitcher of hot nectar tipping over. Pools of warmth diffused from her core as stars swam through her vision, her back arched and head thrown back into the pillows. All she could do was repeat incoherently that she was wet while he continued pounding into her contracting pussy harder and harder until he, too, found release. The sound of his guttural groan aroused her, sweetening the pleasure infinitely until she slowly floated back to earth, her breathing gradually slowing down. "Oh my God," she breathed, still euphoric from the orgasm, "that was incredible." He only smiled as he pulled out of her and peeled off the used condom. "You were incredible," he mumbled sotto voce. She giggled as his kissed her again, luxuriating in the warm afterglow of sex. The orgasm left her limbs felt like jelly in the comfortable bed and she struggled to stay awake, the fingers of sleep creeping into her consciousness. "Get some rest," he brushed her hair off her face and kissed her forehead as

her eyes fought to stay open, and the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of his fingers drawing patterns on the skin of her forearm. ---------Gwyneth woke up in a bundle of white linen, swathed deliciously in warm sheets. She squinted against the morning sun as her mind slowly pulled together memories from the night before, and then she jolted awake. Her heart plummeted when she remembered that she was in bed with Aidan. Reluctantly, she turned around to see if he was still in bed, half wishing he wasn't there so she could slip out unnoticed and get home as soon as possible -"Morning." He had a lazy grin on his face, his voice still deliciously sleepy and deep. "Morning," she eked back, blood pounding in her ears. She was at a loss for words, confused as to the appropriate course of action. What was a woman who'd just woken up in bed with her boss to do? It dawned upon her that this was her first proper fling -- she'd never really had a one-night stand before. Sure, she'd dated, but sleeping with men and bailing out in the morning was uncharted territory. He looked at her startled face, wanting to smile at her nervous fear. "You're looking at me like I'm an axe murderer, which I am most assuredly not." "I'm pretty sure that's what Patrick Bateman would've said," she deadpanned. He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her deeply as his fingers found their way into her hair. Sure, he was a great fuck, Gwyneth thought, but he was a remarkable kisser. The feeling of his lips on hers left little room for worries and she felt her inhibitions melting away as she tasted him on her tongue, losing herself in the pleasure. "So you've watched American Psycho." He murmured playfully. "Seems like we're going to be very good friends, if this is going to work out." She felt slightly relieved at the sound of those words, but equally as perplexed. Of course she wanted him, wanted this, wanted to be kissed

and fucked as she was last night. In the silence, she quickly weighed her options, analyzing all the possible outcomes of this strange, strange scenario. But when she turned to face him she knew that she was lost. His crystal eyes were crinkled into a small smile as his fingers continued to skim across her skin and the decision was made. Gwyneth propped herself up on one arm and reach out to stroke his firm chest. "We're really doing this, then?" she said airily. "Friends with benefits?" "Friends with benefits," he echoed, looking pleased. She smiled happily, satisfied by the agreement of terms. "But wait," she frowned, "what about work?" "Work will have to be work," his face suddenly turned serious, devoid of any amusement. "I'm afraid I won't be extending this warmth to the office, and though I may seem cold, I think it's for the better -- just to ensure that personal conflicts do not get in the way of business. I hope you agree?" "Absolutely," she gushed. Gwyneth had worked too hard for too long to risk opportunities over rumors that she was sleeping her way to the top. "Well," she started, "I'm looking forward to working with you, Mr. Scodelario- " "Aidan," he corrected. "No, Mr. Scodelario," she insisted in mischievous tones, and he let it slide. "And I think you'll soon find that I can, and will, be an invaluable asset to Lynch, Scodelario and Ackham." She announced in feigned authority. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go get cleaned up..." "Bathroom's over there, and I'll bring you your clothes in a while," he threw off the duvet and pulled on his boxers. After he closed the door behind him, she quickly leapt out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. It was huge, especially compared to the one she had at home -- a wide expanse of white granite, glass and chrome. She figured out the shower quickly enough and was busy washing up when he knocked on the door. "Gwyneth?" he called out. She turned off the tap to hear him better. "Yeah?"

"I left your clothes on the bed, if that's alright." "Thanks!" she yelled back. "Hey, Gwyneth?" "Yeah?" "D'you suppose there's room in there for one more?" She opened the bathroom door without a towel, covered only by sparse patches of foam, her eyes gleaming with pleasure. -------------"Do stay for breakfast," he cajoled in inviting tones. Her resolve weakened momentarily, but she pulled on her freshly laundered jacket, reminding herself that this arrangement was a delicate one. Sex was on the agenda, but Saturday breakfasts? Not so. Gwyneth couldn't help but steal a glance at him, feeling the heat creep into her face at the sight of him leaning against the doorway in a simple t-shirt and boxers, his muscles faintly visible through the bare clothing. "Not today, I'm sorry," she demurred. "Maybe some other time?" Aidan came close and his warm hand closed over hers, his skin pleasantly dry and smooth. "Promise?" "Promise," she smiled and he hugged her tight. "Aidan?" "Hmm?" "How will we be doing this?" she asked, her head tilted quizzically to one side. "Strictly weekends only?" He mulled it over briefly. "Weekends, definitely..." to which she pouted in jest. "Really? Only weekends?" He shrugged. "We could squeeze things here and there, no question..."

"Wednesdays," she asserted. "Wednesdays?" "Yeah," she answered in hearty tones. "They're usually the worst day of the week, and I could use the company..." her eyes glinted with mischief and he chuckled deeply, slightly aroused by her suggestion. "So it's Wednesdays and weekends, then?" he affirmed, leaning forward so that his face was level with hers, so close that she could see the streaks of dark blue in his irises -"Wednesdays and weekends it is," she agreed in a whisper and his mouth closed over hers, capturing her in a haze of bliss and desire, as her heart throbbed softly in her chest. ----------Aidan was reading the day's Wall Street Journal - or at least, he was trying to - but his thoughts were constantly pulled to Gwyneth. He lowered the pages of the paper to survey his surroundings. His place was painfully minimalistic, almost surgical, done in the monochrome of black and white. For some reason, the women he usually brought home felt that the place lacked warmth and needed some redecorating. The spacious penthouse was a wide expanse of bare surfaces with no photos on the walls, no flowers in vases or knick-knacks from travels. Even his books were filed away alphabetically in huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He remembered how she walked around the living room slowly, taking in the plush slate gray sofa, the black coffee table and the white alpaca rug. When she saw the Al Held piece hanging near the dining area her interest was apparent, but otherwise her expression was difficult to read and he couldn't surmise if she, too, felt that the place was too spartan. However, she'd hopped out of his place quickly enough under the pretense of running errands - and with a chaste kiss on the lips, she was gone. Aidan shook his head when he realized that his mind was drifting. Why should he care what she thought about the place? Granted, she intrigued him deeply. The sex had been amazing, no doubt. But there was something else. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something about Gwyneth Kenner had him hooked - was it the fact that she loved all the bands he did, or her remarkable ability to laugh at all the little things he

usually overlooked? It doesn't matter, he told himself as he turned his attention back to an article about burgeoning markets in bioengineering. --------"Coming!" Gwyneth called out as she jogged towards the door, putting on her earrings as she did so. She opened the door to see Dylan waiting outside, dressed in a green shirt and dark jeans. "You ready?" he raised his eyebrows. "One minute..." she scrabbled for her clutch and hastily dumped some loose cash into it. "...and I'm good. Let's go!" her voice was cheerful. They were meeting up with the usual gang like they did every Saturday night. As Dylan clicked the doors of his car open, he asked - "Where exactly is your car again?" "Decided to let my mom have it," Gwyneth answered as she pulled the seatbelt across her chest, "she needs it a lot more than I do, what with my brothers and all. Besides, the subway's fine - and I have you." She shot him a cheeky grin. He eyed her warily. "You're very chirpy today. What's up with you?" "Nothing," she said, feigning innocence. Dylan didn't budge an inch and continued to frown at her suspiciously. She stared back at him with wide eyes. "What?" her voice was indignant. Without flinching, he continued to survey her with an accusing glare. Gwyneth could practically see the cogs in his brain working furiously, like he always did when he went into Lawyer Mode - and with a click, his face relaxed in triumph. A slow smile spread across his face. "You shagged someone," he declared in a confident voice, "you were on a date last night, weren't you? Rhetorical question - of course you were -" "I did not!" Gwyneth interrupted hotly, hoping with utmost desperation that she wasn't blushing. "Sure, that makes sense - when I'm happy, it's

because I just had sex." "You totally had sex," Dylan maintained, completely ignoring her outburst. "Hide it from me all you want, you know I'll find out soon enough," he winked at her. She felt a bolt of alarm when he said that - despite his surfer boy attitude, Dylan was no fool - but she just rolled her eyes and snorted in derision, hoping that dropping the subject would divert his attention. They drove in silence as she looked out the window, thinking of Aidan as she watched the streetlights whizz past. Gotta be more careful, she reminded herself. If Dylan found out, he would object to it, no question. And she didn't blame him. This was the beginning of a huge gamble, and every step she took raised the stakes. However, it wasn't long before she was laughing uproariously in a bar with her friends as Dylan attempted to shove another buffalo wing into his mouth, and by then, Aidan was the last thing on her mind. -------------------"Moving on to Section 1.01, Existing Financing Facilities...Pursuant to the agreements of the type(s) and date(s) as stated in Section 2(a) of the First Schedule" Gwyneth briefly looked up from the laptop to steal a glance at Aidan. His face was serious as ever as he focused on the case at hand, one hand covering his mouth like he always did when he was thinking. Aidan wasn't in charge of the case, but it was a habit of his to remain updated on the on-goings of every team - and today, he was sitting in on her team's meeting. Last week was amazing, and the thought of it made her want to smile, but she wore a mask of impassive indifference in that meeting as she recollected the events of their first week together. On Wednesday, he had whisked her away from work discreetly and pretended to go over the details of a merger while they were in the car together. What the driver couldn't see was Aidan's hands underneath the bulky folio that covered their laps, his fingers stealthily working their way up to feel her wetness through the fabric of her underwear. Without batting an eyelid, Gwyneth continued to drone on about the possible complications in regards to each clause, even as he pushed the fabric aside and plunged his finger into her hot depth, loving the way she instinctively squeezed around the intruding digit.

In the elevator he kissed her passionately, one hand working on the buttons of her shirt as another continued to explore her pussy. Then they were in the living room where he was sprawled on the sofa, sipping on a glass of whisky as she was on her knees, bobbing her head on his cock, sucking and licking him until he came in thick spurts into her open mouth. She looked up at him lasciviously as he shot his load onto her tongue, knowing full well the pleasure that he obtained from the sight. When he was done, she swallowed slowly, licking her lips to make a show of how much she enjoyed it, and he smiled as he took a deep swig of the amber drink. On Saturday, he was fucking her hard from behind as she was on all fours, her small breasts swaying slightly with every thrust. He could hear the muffled moans at the back of her throat that clearly displayed her arousal. He paused to flip her onto her back and repositioned her legs into a frog-like position. "You're not much of a screamer, are you?" he grunted. She shook her head no and reached out to guide his cock back into her dripping pussy. He batted her hand away and leaned in close. "I'm not buying it," he smirked haughtily, "I know that deep down inside, you want to wail and moan like a crazed bitch," he whispered hotly in her ear. "I - " she tried to answer, but he cut her off by circling a hand around her throat. "Scream for me," he commanded, his crystal eyes piercing hers. Aidan roughly pushed into her and began to pound her hard, his hand still carefully wrapped around her neck, the friction of his thrusts against her clit driving her mad with lust. He was right, it was in her nature to scream - but one too many boyfriends had commented on her volume, and she'd decided to shut up for good after that. But not now. As she felt the familiar darts of pleasure dissipating through her body, making her head giddy and her stomach ache for release, she knew she had to. Gwyneth threw her head back and let out a loud moan that filled the room. "Oh, God, yes, fuck me, yes, yes, yes" she chanted, her voice so

feverish with desire she could barely recognize it. Her real self was beginning to break through now, the primal need starting to rise through the cracks of an otherwise perfect veneer. It was plain liberation - pure and simple. Aidan relished watching her shed her skin as she stretched on the bed, thrusting her hips upwards while she moaned and begged for him to fuck her. As she neared her climax, he pulled out of her, making her growl in surprise. He made her get back into doggy position and continued to fuck her frantically until she felt her orgasm explode within her, and then she cried out in a single high-pitched whine while her pussy contracted involuntarily around his cock. Afterwards they lay in bed, Gwyneth deep in slumber having been totally spent from the orgasm, and Aidan smiled to himself at his new discovery. Who would've thought that Gwyneth Kenner, the confident, brainy lawyer, had a secret submissive streak? "You always fall asleep so quickly," Aidan grumbled as they lazed in bed in the morning. "Five minutes after sex and you're off with the Sandman." "Hey," she punched his arm lightly, "it's not my fault this bed is ridiculously comfortable. Seriously, what is it made of, angel feathers?" He chuckled softly. "It's a Hypnos," he stroked her arm gently. "Worth every penny, isn't it?" She murmured in agreement, burrowing her face in a plush pillow. It really was a luxurious bed - she'd never been so comfortable in her life the mere thought of heaving herself out of bed took all the effort in the world. "Will you be staying for breakfast?" he started to kiss a trail on her bare back, gently brushing his wet lips over her smooth skin. "I might," she replied playfully. He kissed her deeply, his body pressed so close to hers that she could smell his skin, his true, natural scent. "Okay, I will," she relented, prompting a broad smile from him. She slid out of bed, pulling the sheet with her. "Where are my clothes?" "I don't think Alfred is done with them," he was referring to the butler, who usually had her clothes ready by morning. "Stay put, I'll get you something to throw on." He left the room and returned with a Paul Smith t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Gwyneth was puzzled. "Why do you keep your clothes in a

different room?" Aidan grimaced ever so slightly, an almost imperceptible movement of the face. "This isn't my room, love," he said gently, not wanting to offend her. "Oh, okay." Gwyneth felt put out. Of course this wasn't his room, she reminded herself. She wasn't the girlfriend, didn't belong here, and this wasn't a relationship. Truth be told, she felt slightly hurt, but choosing to gloss over the subject, she shrugged into his clothes and leapt into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Section 2.04, Continuing SecurityThe security created under this supplemental deed is expressly intended to be and shall be a continuing security for the payment of the additional facility..." As her colleague continued with the sleep-inducing spiel, Gwyneth found it increasingly difficult for her to focus on the meeting. Her attention was inexplicably drawn to Aidan every few minutes. She wondered if Aidan was thinking of her too; if he was thinking about the same things that were on her mind With every passing week, they broke new ground and explored different fantasies. It became quickly apparent that Gwyneth loved being dominated, and Aidan was more than happy to oblige - one of his favorite memories was that of her riding him with her hands tied behind her back, her screams muffled by a ballgag in her mouth. He gripped her hips and slammed her repeatedly onto his cock until she came in an unprecedented gush of juices, her thighs taut and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. In the privacy of her own room, Gwyneth would finger herself to orgasm as she remembered how he'd tied her up and left her spread-eagled in bed, and then left the room for what seemed like hours while hardcore porn played on a TV in front of her. She couldn't contain her arousal as she watched the video of a woman being taken by several men, writhing at the feel of the familiar wetness pooling between her legs, her pussy aching to be filled. After a while, she realized that she was being watched, and true enough, Aidan was standing at the door, observing her with hawk eyes. He was totally naked, the tip of his erection glinting with droplets of pre-cum, and as he held a drink in his hand, he looked every bit the picture of

decadence. "Please," she begged, her voice like honey. "Please, fuck me." He sat the drink down on a nearby dresser and sat on the bed, grinning roguishly as he leaned over to take her nipple into his mouth. ------------The situation at work was easy to manage, considering they were not working on the same cases. With what little interaction they had at the office, they remained cool and professional, businesslike in every regard. Dylan's suspicions did not fade, instead his radar had pricked up at work and he quickly assumed it was a mutual colleague, much to Gwyneth's horror. "It's Gavin, isn't it?" he squinted at her over his cup of coffee. Her jaw dropped and she stared at him, agog. "Are you kidding me? Gavin?" her expression was incredulous, and she snorted with laughter. "Wow, it's nice to know you think that lowly of me." Dylan gave a tsk of irritation, clearly dissatisfied at his disability to figure out the identity of her mystery man. She sighed wearily at the sight of his sullen expression. "Okay, okay," she admitted, defeated. He sat up in earnest, anticipating the reveal of a scandal. "I have been shagging someone -" his eyes lit up like lightbulbs, but she held up a finger to stop him from speaking "-but, it's purely physical. And no, he's not from work," she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whatever gave you that asinine idea, completely baffles me." Dylan leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied by the extraction of her confession. "Well," he said smugly, "if he's not from work, then where did you meet this guy?" "Bookstore," she lied smoothly. "Apparently, we both enjoy reading Safran Foer." He scoffed at her answer. "Look at you, dating some hipster from the bookstore," he said mockingly. "Does he wear skinny jeans and thick black glasses he doesn't need?"

Her thoughts immediately flashed to Aidan and his immaculate Savile Row suits and Cartier cufflinks. Oh, the irony. "I'm not dating him," she argued, sounding irritated. "Purely sex and nothing else," she whispered, not wanting her colleagues to hear her. "And he's not a hipster." "Fair enough," Dylan said with an air of finality. "Do I get to meet him?" "No," her eyes flashed with anger. "He's not a boyfriend," she hissed. He held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okayjust asking. No need to get all pissy, now." Gwyneth ignored him and turned her attention back to her work. "Gywneth." She turned around sharply to see Aidan dressed in all black, holding a thick stack of files. "A word, please? My office." He beckoned for her to join him. They walked together in silence towards his office, with Gwyneth wondering about why he would want to see her - until he opened the doors to his office and she saw a well-dressed black man sitting in one of the chairs. Aidan strode in confidently and placed the stack of files on his desk. "Gwyneth, this is Julian Lynch, head of the legal division at Ceres Laboratories, and Julian, this is Gwyneth Kenner, an associate who's been with us for two years now." Gwyneth shook his hand and began to realize who the man was. Julian Lynch, the son of Edward Lynch himself. But why wasn't he working with the firm? Aidan seemed to read her mind. "Julian has been working with Ceres ever since he made the Bar. Always been passionate about the natural sciences, this one," he said warmly, finished off by a companionable smile from Julian. "Please, sit." As the three settled into their respective seats, Gwyneth was still bewildered as to why she was here. Was Aidan pulling strings so that she could work with him? Would she be working with him? Her head

was swimming with questions. "Ms. Kenner worked on the SeaNorth case two years back, to much success," Aidan was saying, and everything clicked into place. "She came highly recommended by Marty Hamilton, who assured me that she was invaluable when it comes to environmental law," explained Aidan as Julian nodded in acknowledgement. Gwyneth felt a slight glow of pride at the mention of Marty Hamilton - he had been her mentor when she first started at the firm, a gentle and kind leader who had taken her under his wing and nurtured her into who she was today. "Gwyneth," Aidan addressed her directly now, his tone cool and modulated, "the firm will be representing Ceres in an upcoming legal settlement, and I was wondering if you would be interested in joining the team." "Of course," she enthused, excited at the opportunity. "What will the case be about?" The two men paused momentarily to exchange glances. Julian answered her question. "Ceres Laboratories will be involved in a class action lawsuit in regards to a recent agricultural product, and the plaintiffs are claiming damages amounting to 24 million dollars. This information hasn't gone public yet, although we are certain it will make tomorrow's headlines. Should you choose to accept, you will be representing against these allegations - and make no mistake, this will be a high-profile case - to be headed by Marty, of course. So what say you?" Julian's eyes twinkled at the invitation. Gwyneth could barely believe her ears. "I'm looking forward to working on it," she said confidently, feeling a rush of pleasure. "Great," Julian flashed a polite smile as he got up to leave. "I'll be back with more details, but until Marty is here, I'm afraid there's not much to discuss at the moment." They closed with a handshake, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in the room with Aidan. She turned to leave, but Aidan stopped her with a question. "Lunch?" he asked, looking at the computer instead of facing her. "Marty may be joining us, but only if his flight arrives on time." "Where is he coming from?" she asked.

"Philadelphia," he answered tonelessly. "So, lunch?" She shrugged as she walked towards the door. "Sure." -----------They settled into a table at a nice Italian place and placed their orders. Gwyneth eyed him surreptitiously as he frowned at an email on his BlackBerry, noting how good he looked in a crisp black shirt and matching suit. His dark hair was perfectly combed back in neat waves, just barely skimming the back of his collar. In the daylight his blue irises were paler than ever, and she watched in slight fascination as they darted left and right to follow the text on the screen. Suddenly, he looked up and so she quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn't caught her staring at him. Embarrassed, she pretended to watch people walking by outside for a few moments..before finally allowing herself to face him. As soon as she caught his gaze, she regretted it the small smile on his face indicated that he had caught her staring. "You look very nice today," he remarked politely as he took a sip of water. "Thank you," she replied cooly. "So do you." Aidan placed his glass back on the table. "The new Radiohead album is out," he mentioned casually. It was established, during their first dinner together at Asakuma, that they shared similar interests in music; an eclectic mix of classic and alternative rock. Gwyneth's eyebrows wrinkled in a curious frown. "I thought we were strictly colleagues." Aidan gave a small smile and gestured around him. "We're not at the office," he said, sounding amused. She raised her eyebrows slightly but accepted his reasoning. "I've given King of Limbs a few spins. Lotus Flower, Codex, Giving Up The Ghost - those three are the best of the lot, if you ask me. They're still Radiohead, although it's not exactly Kid A - but it's a good album nonetheless."

Aidan just sat there in silence without saying a word. Suddenly he was writhing in his chair, twisting his arms about in weird motions, bobbing his head rhythmically. Gwyneth was stunned speechless. What on earth was he up to? People around them were beginning to look at them, and Aidan showed no sign of stopping. He was still moving, flailing around like he was having a seizure, his long arms waving this way and thatwait. The punchline dawned upon her and she understood, making her burst out with hysterical laughter. He was mimicking Thom Yorke's dance in the Lotus Flower video. Aidan continued gyrating about for a while more, not caring about the curious stares he was receiving while Gwyneth struggled to contain her giggles. "Irrefutable proof that white men can't dance," he announced dryly after his little performance petered out. "We want to, we wish we could, but we just can't." "Do you dance then?" "A little," he gave a noncommittal shrug. "I thought you said white men can't dance." Before he could say anything, she heard another man's voice. "Like he said, we can't. But then again, Aidan has always been famous for achieving the impossible." Gwyneth's heart stopped for a second when she saw the owner of the voice. He was drop-dead gorgeous - tall, broad shoulders, dark hair. But what stood out most was his characteristic ice-blue eyes, the very same ones Aidan possessed. "Michael, this is my colleague, Gwyneth. Gwyneth, my brother, Michael." He extended his hand and she meekly shook it in return. As good-looking as Aidan may be, he was nothing compared to his elder brother. Michael was taller, more rugged, more masculine - but despite the testosterone his face remained boyish, supplanted by youthful eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He shook her hand with a firm, confident grip, and Gwyneth wondered if Aidan could figure out that she was

checking out his brother. She threw a glance at Aidan and true enough, he was watching her intently with a blank expression on his face. "Michael is a pediatric neurosurgeon based at Mount Sinai," Aidan introduced smoothly. A hunky doctor indeed, Gwyneth thought, unable to stop herself. Michael waved him off a brisk sweep of the hand. "Don't mind me," his voice was deep and smooth. "Just stopped by to say hi and compliment Bob Fosse over here. It was nice meeting you, Gwyneth. Be careful he doesn't dance the daylights out of you," he teased in a friendly voice. Just like that, with a brief, brotherly pat on Aidan's back, he left the table. "I didn't know you had a brother." Aidan's face was still wearing the same blank expression. "Michael's four years my senior. A true Scodelario, in and out. First saved a life when he was 16, and he's never looked back since." He whipped out his BlackBerry. "Rock climbs in his free time, made it to Base Camp on Everest, speaks five languages" he rattled out the list of achievements like a waiter reciting a menu. Gwyneth couldn't help but feel a twang of attraction. What's not to love about a hunk who treated severely ill children for a living? "He was 16 when he first saved a life?" she asked, trying to keep the awe out of her voice. Aidan nodded stoically, obviously having retold the story a million and ten times. "It was a friend of ours. We were in the Hamptons during the summer, just clowning about when this guy starts stumbling around like a drunk. It was a hot afternoon and all of us just assumed that he'd had one too many margaritas too early into the day. He was acting like a complete buffoon - just grabbed the salt and started to gobble it down literally just shook it into his mouth - but we were laughing like the bunch of kids we were. Who would've given it a second thought, right?" The waiter interrupted them and began to serve the food. "All this time, Michael was just watching him closely. Suddenly, the guy passes out and Mike rushes over. The first thing he did? Checked the inside of his cheeks." "His cheeks?" She echoed doubtfully.

Aidan speared a scallop with his fork and nodded. "The insides of his cheeks. We found dark spots dappled all over his mouth, and Michael just knew. As it turns out, the guy was in an Addisonian crisis. It's a rare complication of a rare disease, and the doctors at the hospital were just amazed a sixteen year old, barely out of high school, managed to diagnose an Addisonian crisis based on nothing more than articles he'd read in journals." Aidan cocked an eyebrow. "From then on, his path in life was carved in stone. We all knew." "Wow," Gwyneth breathed, unable to stop herself from fawning a little. Aidan's handsome doctor brother, huh? Well, a girl could dream. "Should I introduce you two properly?" His gaze was penetrating, although his voice was nonchalant. She surveyed him quietly for a moment. Aidan Scodelario, the berg, the cold, demanding lawyer - so quickly reduced to a diminutive younger brother in front of Michael. Alone, he was untouchable, domineering, the alpha male. But as he asked her that question, she saw it in his eyes the tiniest hint of a doubt. A flicker of hesitation, an infinitesimal spark of insecurity. He may have been the best of the best, but he would always come second to his elder sibling. And with that, she knew. Gwyneth may not be his girlfriend - she wasn't obligated to take his side and reassure him that he was the one she wanted. Besides, Michael would be a better choice - she wouldn't have to worry about office politics then, would she? But as she looked into those crystal blue eyes, the sculpted cheekbones, the stern gaze - she knew. "Nah," she answered truthfully. "You're more my type." Gwyneth winked at him inconspicuously. He said nothing, nor did he show any signs of acknowledgment - he just continued to fork the rest of his food into his mouth. Did he react? She couldn't tell. Yet maybe, just maybe, she saw a small smile, she thought. An almost negligible movement of the lips, or a twitch of an eyelid maybe, just maybe that was the answer Aidan was looking for. --------

"Lunch with the berg," Dylan gave a low whistle as Gwyneth finally plopped herself down at her desk. "Someone's becoming the new teacher's pet." She felt a little flustered when he said that, but she kept her cool and refused to let the comment weigh down on the endorphin rush she was currently experiencing. Lunch had been delightful and completely unexpected - she was mentally prepared for a stilted charade of formality between her and Aidan while they talked business with Marty, but thankfully, they were able to avoid that minefield when Marty called to inform that his flight had been delayed, and was thus unable to join them. When Michael had made his appearance and Aidan had asked her whether she was interested, the mood of the conversation dipped considerably, becoming a lot more sombre than they'd intended. Not wanting to leave her feeling uncomfortable, Aidan tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Thirty five years, and he's never stopped making me feel like a kid," Aidan joked with a warm smile on his face, shaking his head. "Do you have any siblings?" Gwyneth smiled back in understanding. "Three brothers, all younger, each and every one a colossal pain to live with." "One Gwyneth and three boys. It must've been a riot in the Kenner household." "God, you have no idea," she took a bite of her salmon ravioli. "You should've seen us fighting over the Nintendo. I think at one point one of us tried to strangle the other with a gaming console cord." "I'd pay good money to see that. Maybe I'm being presumptuous over here, but I just can't seem to imagine you as being violent. You don't look like one for physical force." "That's only because you're unfamiliar with the mechanics of having to govern testosterone-filled beings that gradually outgrow you in both size and strength. Let me put it this way, keeping them in order when they were young required a Mafia-like approach, but as they grew up things became more Machiavellian."

A slow smile began to spread on Aidan's face. "I'm very intrigued, do explain." She tried a casual shrug. "Well I'm no stranger to fistfights, that much I'll tell you. But there came a point where I knew I couldn't take them out physically, so I resorted to politics. You'd be surprised at how efficient people can be under duress of blackmail. I could have them balance beach balls on their noses if I wanted to." He suppressed a snort of laughter. "You must have been so pleased with yourself, making them goose-step around you" "I wasn't so bad," she threw him a defensive look. "Honestly, do I come across as a mean person?" "No, you don't," he assured. "But who knows? You could just as easily be some kind of a fascist gone drunk with power when my back is turned," he teased. "Obey! No questions!" He put on a nasal, robotic voice. "I shall reign supreme!" She rolled her eyes. "I was a very nice sister," she insisted. "I only did what I had to do because they can be such jerks when they want to be. Take this, for instance - when I refused to help Andrew sneak out one night, he got his revenge by convincing my parents that I was pregnant." Aidan burst out in laughter. "Stupendous. There really is no love quite like sibling love, huh?" Gwyneth lifted her glass in mock celebration. "Hear, hear." "Well, for what it's worth, Michael and I have given each other enough grief throughout our childhood. Once, as punishment, he duct taped me to a wall and tickled my feet with this ridiculously huge peacock feather, of all things, even as I desperately howled for mercy. I couldn't even move, what more struggle, and he made damn sure to continue until I passed out from tormented laughter. When I regained consciousness, I thought he'd let me go, but he went on and repeated the whole cycle several times." She couldn't hold back a burst of giggles, but showed little sympathy. "What did you do to make him so angry?" Aidan looked at her, taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, what did you do to make him so angry?" He felt a prickle of genuine surprise and it showed on his face. "So I tell you about how my brother essentially bullied the crap out of me, and you're asking me what I might have done to deserve it?" He sounded so mystified, Gwyneth didn't know whether to feel bad or to laugh. "I'm not saying that he should've done that to you," she said, pulling a sympathetic face. "Being bound and forcibly tickled? That's vicious, really, just pretty damn cruel. But" she hesitated, worried that she was treading on eggshells, "as an elder sibling myself, I refuse to believe that such an attack was unprovoked. I've always been rough with my younger brothers, Aidan. Have you tried keeping three boys in order? She took a sip of her water. "Kicking and shoving was routine, but there's a thick and clear line between the usual scuffle and a provoked outburst of rage." Her voice was gentle, and the look in her eyes were soft. "I'm not implying that you deserved it, but knowing how younger brothers usually are" she trailed off, not feeling brave enough to continue down that road. As she dwindled into silence, she studied Aidan's face to gauge his reaction. He was still looking at her with his usual stoic expression, as if he was trying to read her mind and figure her out. Shame was beginning to creep into her cheeks, making her feel awfully gauche and just plain rude. He'd tried to lighten the mood by joking, and instead she'd said something that might have excavated into a potentially troubled childhood. She cringed inwardly at the thought that maybe she'd stepped on a sore spot, wanting to kick herself in the head for being an insensitive idiot. Suddenly he started laughing, a deep, growling rumble that she'd never heard before, and her heart skipped a beat as she thought of how sexy he sounded. He was still watching her intently, his eyes twinkling in good humor and lips curved faintly into a half-smile. She bit her lip, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest, so fast and hard it almost made her giddy. "Only you, Gwyneth, only you." He said the words in a different voice, keeping his pale blue irises fixed on hers. "You're right," he admitted as he broke into a nostalgic grin. "I did drive him up the wall, and that's why

it happened." The tension dissolved immediately and she found it easier to breathe again. "I was only nine then. We were both crazy about Star Wars - huge fanatics, die hard fans," he emphasized, "and Michael, being thirteen at that time, had just begun to take interest in girls, so naturally, Leia Skywalker was the golden goddess of his dreams." "I don't blame him. The metal bikini" "Exactly! The metal bikini" Aidan shook his head, a wide smile plastered on his face. "But I digress. He was lucky enough to chance on a limited edition poster, autographed by the entire cast and George Lucas. It was an extremely rare item, if I remember correctly - I think there were only twenty of those in print. Anyway, he got his hands on one, and that became his most prized possession. He loved it so much, he didn't even mount it on the wall; just kept it safely tucked away in the storage tube" Gwyneth narrowed her eyes and sucked in a breath through her teeth. "I think I know where this is going" Aidan's widening smile seemed to confirm her hypothesis. "all I wanted was a look. I swear, I wasn't defacing the poster or trying to ruin it. I just took it out to get a proper look" "without his permission, of course" "Bingo," he leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Before I knew it, he caught me in the act and just went berserk. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry, ever. He was absolutely livid, shouting and yelling at me to keep my hands off his stuff. We started grabbing at each other, trading punches, fighting like usual until of course, one of us accidentally crushed a small part of the poster, permanently creasing it." "Oh, God" "Mmmhmm. He blamed me, I blamed him, everything blew up" "and he taped you to the wall." "Not yet, actually. When I realized I was losing the fight, knowing that there was no way I could defeat him physically - that's when I retaliated,

and only after that did shit hit the fan." Gwyneth's eyes widened in surprise. "What did you do?" Aidan was beaming from ear to ear, a smile so wide it made him look like the Cheshire cat. "I ripped the bloody poster into a million fucking pieces." "Christ," she said, appalled. "Aidan!" He didn't even look sheepish, his grin was wide and unabashed. There was a trace of wistfulness in his eyes, as if he were quietly reminiscing about a much happier, almost forgotten past. "You're evil," she teased lightly, laughing. "Just like every other annoying younger brother out there. Can't you just keep your hands off our things?" "I probably won't stick my fingers where they don't belong. Unless, of course, you specifically tell me not to" The laughter was winding down now, and they both settled into a comfortable silence. Gwyneth's heart gave a little lurch when he caught her gaze, giving her one of those looks that melted her insides. Being alone with Aidan always felt so good - his commanding presence, the sound of his laugh, the guarded, slightly cryptic smile. He was usually more distant at work, but it was so easy to talk to him when no one else was around. Even now, just having lunch away from their colleagues, this was a pleasant reprieve. The secrecy of their entire relationship just added to the intimacy of it all, making every moment so precious. It almost felt like they were sharing a secret that only the both of them knew. Almost like they knew each other better than anyone else did.

The sound of Dylan's voice pulled her back to reality. "So what was lunch about?" Dylan repeated the question, waiting expectantly for an answer. "He's been seeing you a lot lately, huh?" "New case!" Gwyneth answered, hoping she didn't sound too artificial. "Marty will be leading, and I'll be on the team. Lunch was just to flesh out details, we met in his office earlier to confirm my participation." "Well, well, well, handpicked by Aidan Scodelario himself," he teased in

good nature, and Gwyneth flushed a little, suddenly feeling modest. "That's pretty big news, Ms. Brainiac. But hey, good on you, really. I always knew that you'd make it far and fast." He congratulated her sincerely, and his face broke into a lopsided grin. "What's the case about?" "Class action suit, huge company. It's supposed to be a big case, apparently, and the media are going to have field day. I wasn't actually handpicked, per se. Marty wanted me in for environmental, and.." she stopped herself before she accidentally referred to Aidan by name, "the berg approved, soyeah. It's more of a chance to shine than actually moving up a rung in the corporate ladder, but it's something to start with." "And shine you will, baby girl." A thought occurred to him and he cocked his head. "But why environmental, if it's a suit? Wouldn't they be concentrating on civil procedure?" "The company in question is biotech-based. Agricultural, to be precise. I suppose the berg and the rest of the dream team will pull most of the weight for the trial while I futz around with the finer details." "Ah," Dylan's eyes shone in comprehension. "Bloody brilliant opportunity, then. Drinks tonight to celebrate! You're buying, and that's non-negotiable. Let's be the college us again, for just one night. Tonight. Let's just lose it, get completely hammered and wake up not knowing where we are." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Wha-" she looked aghast, "that's not fair! It's not a promotion, alright? Fuck, I don't even get a raise. Believe you me, I'll need a huge bonus if I'm going to be able to afford to buy you drinks," she complained. "We'll go out tonight, but no free booze for you, mister. And we're definitely not getting drunk, Dylan, we've got work in the morning." Gwyneth wagged a reproving finger at Dylan and he pulled a face. She didn't like being a killjoy, but she did have a point. Dylan, who played starting center in football and stood at a firm six foot five, was famous for his alcohol tolerance. His physique, coupled with the intensive drinking habit he developed throughout law school granted him the ability to consume beer in unparalleled quantities. As with all heavy drinkers, it also made him the cornerstone of every party - when he mentioned college, it sure as hell served as the perfect

metaphor. The average Law School Dylan night entailed losing his cellphone at some random party, leaving a frantic Gwyneth to launch a desperate manhunt to track him down while he hopped from one rave to another, never remembering a single thing that happened. For all his drunken antics, he had woken up in a completely different state before - not just once, but twice - and somehow managed to find his way back to his dorm. Liquor wasn't his only vice - he'd also showed up for numerous exams while being high on weed, miraculously scoring better than other students who'd bent over backwards studying. Some of Gwyneth's fondest memories of law school were of her hanging out with Dylan in the college quad when he was high as a kite, hearing him ramble about his life and all his secrets, his drug-addled mind fixing him in a permanently giggly mood. She looked over the computer monitor to see his face locked in an exaggerated sulk. Despite herself, she had to admit that his energy was infectious. Knowing Dylan, he was obviously very happy for her and probably just looking for an excuse to spend the night doing what he did best - party. The last vestiges of reluctance quickly evaporated and she found herself rolling her eyes at the inevitable. "Fine, fine," she said begrudgingly, her lips pressed together in a crooked line as she tried to hide a smile. "One drink. I'll buy you one drink." Dylan grinned and flashed two thumbs-up. "Nice!" -------------"Chug! Chug! Chug!" They chanted as Gwyneth swallowed gulp after gulp of the golden liquid, finally draining the beer bottle. Her friends cheered as she slammed the empty bottle onto the table while Dylan busied himself with the task of ordering more drinks. Gwyneth was glowing with happiness, pleasantly warmed by the beer and the good company of old friends. She looked around her, basking in the familiar surroundings of their favorite bar and had to admit - life was looking pretty peachy from where she stood. Things with Aidan were going great, and the Ceres case would help garner attention at work. Someone cracked a joke that made everyone break into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the humor

snowballed around until they could laugh no more, with Gwyneth's cheeks smarting from smiling so much. She sighed with contentment, grateful for the simple pleasures in life, and then her phone rang shrilly in her clutch. Mom calling, the phone flashed. "Hang on, guys, I gotta take this." She slid out of the booth and made her way out of the bar to take the call outside. "Hi, Mom. How are you?" Aidan was in the car, going through some of the documents he'd brought along with him. A glance at his Omega said that it was nine fifteen. Michael was expecting him at nine, and being late was one of Aidan's pet peeves - he hated being tardy for anything and was a natural stickler for punctuality. Irritation was beginning to gnaw at him, but he ignored it and continued reading the files. The driver must have seen him looking at his watch. "Traffic's a bit heavy for a weeknight," he explained, "we might be here for quite a while." Aidan looked up from the stack of papers he'd been perusing. "Don't worry about it," he assured the man. It wasn't the driver's fault that the roads were clogged up, anyway. He glanced out of the window to gauge the extent of the gridlock and something caught his eye. A girl with a familiar face was holding a phone to her ear, clutching a purse in her other handa pretty, slim brunetteGwyneth. Discreetly hidden behind a pane of tinted glass, Aidan continued to watch her as she stood on the pavement, clearly engrossed in the conversation. Tonight she'd gone for the rocker look, with her hair swept up in a stylishly messy bun and smokey eye makeup to bring out her eyes. She was wearing a long-sleeved sequined minidress in a metallic gray print and the hem of her dress rode tantalizingly high on her thighs, showing off her toned, lithe legs that tapered into a pair of dainty feet encased in gladiator heels. Aidan was increasingly turned on now, the familiar stirrings of arousal beginning to unwind inside him. Gwyneth obviously understood that sexy wasn't about cleavage bursting out of skin-tight dresses or low-cut tops that left little to the imagination - no, no, she fed on imagination, her sex

appeal thrived on it. The lines of her relatively modest dress followed the contours of her body closely, enticing him to fantasize about what lay underneath, even if he'd already seen her naked. Unaware that she was being watched, Gwyneth swiveled as she spoke, turning away from him. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the back of the neckline dipping deeper than usual, teasing him with a small window of bare, smooth flesh. Of course she had her hair up - the little minx wasn't going to hide the smooth skin of her back behind a waterfall of hair. The back of her dress was low enough to make Aidan question if she was wearing a bra, but it wasn't low enough to totally discount the possibility. His heart sped up as he wondered if she was wearing any underwear at all, his eyes hungrily searching for hints as he watched her body ripple underneath the fabric. It was as if she knew exactly how to tweak with the finer machinations of his mind, almost as if she deliberately wore this dress tonight, knowing that he would be seeing her. All he could right now was undress her with his mind and picture, with vivid detail, how it would be like to unclasp the button at the back of the dress and slowly pull down the zipper than ran along her spine to expose more of that soft, creamy flesh. Whoever was on the line clearly had her attention and did most of the talking while Gwyneth listened, absent-mindedly biting on her lower lip as she did so. The fact that she was completely oblivious as to how sexy she looked made her all the more alluring to Aidan. He continued to stare at her, continuing with his fantasies where she stood in front of him and looked back over her shoulder with a coy smile, an invitation sparkling in her eyes. He would push off the sleeves of her dress as he sank his teeth into the skin of her neck and suck on it, tasting the warm tang of her skin as he felt her head tip back and heard the moan escape from her throat. Jesus, he wanted her so fucking badly right now. The bulge in his pants was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and his mind was on the verge of being completely derailed by lust. He could picture her naked, wearing nothing but the heels, bent over in front of him, moaning lewdly while he fucked her like an animal. Similar thoughts continued to run through his imagination until the traffic finally cleared and the car jerked

forward, slowly accelerating away from her. He turned his head, trying to catch a last glimpse of her before they moved too far ahead but she was gone, lost in the sea of people and cars. Aidan blew out a breath and made a few futile attempts to concentrate back to the documents he'd been reading, forcing himself to read the sentences word by word. A mental image of her face popped into his mind - her eyes were closed and her head thrown back into the pillow, those sensuous lips parted in a sexy O as she cried out in the deepest throes of her ecstasy. There was nothing he found sexier than seeing that expression on her face seeing her come, watching the orgasm ravage her body and anoint her face - he gave up with trying to focus on work, slapped the folders shut and filed them away in his briefcase. His heart was hammering in his chest and his collar felt a lot tighter than usual. Was it just him or did the car suddenly become a lot warmer? He tried to calm himself down with a few deep breaths, never really able to stop thinking about her the whole time. Damn it, he needed her right now. Feeling inspired, he reached into his pocket for his BlackBerry. "Yeah, sure. Uh-huh, right. Yeah. Alright, mom, okay. Okay. Goodnight, mom, love you, and take care." She ended the call and slipped her phone back into her purse. The night was chilly and Gwyneth could feel the cold biting through the long sleeves of her dress. Not that she minded - she found it invigorating and refreshing. Neon lights and giant billboards flashed brightly around her, illuminating the night sky with a dizzying spectrum of colors. She stood out there alone, not caring about the throng of people that walked past. This was one of the things she loved most about New York - how you could find solitude right in the middle of a crowd. She took a deep breath and sighed, then turned to head back into the bar when her she felt her phone vibrate. Her face lit up when she saw that it was a text from Aidan. You look stunning in that dress. A. Gwyneth jerked her head upwards instinctively, her eyes swiftly scanning through the swarming mass of people that walked right by her. Where was he? How did he see her? The text had been a little creepy, if

not exhilarating. Gwyneth's heart was pounding loudly in her chest now, excitement prickling on her skin like electricity. Her neck craned this way and that as her eyes roved around, searching for Aidan with a predatory precision. Again, her phone buzzed in her hands. I'm not there - I know you're looking. Drove by a few minutes ago. Enjoy your night, gorgeous. A. A silly grin spread across her face when she read the message. It would appear that Aidan Scodelario was a bag of surprises, a completely different character beneath the layers she'd been so accustomed to. One minute he was a authoritarian who wouldn't tolerate mediocrity, and without preamble, he could morph into a flirtatious imp - one who knew how to spy on people and jump their bones. Her fingers hovered uncertainly over her iPhone as she wracked her brains for a smart reply. She typed out a few messages, deleting each and every one after re-reading and a lot of pondering. Minutes passed, and she was still facing a blank text field. She groaned in frustration and pressed a hand to her forehead, as if she wanted to wring an idea directly out of her brain. "Smooth, Gwyneth, smooth," she muttered to herself. "C'mon, it's just a text message! Be smart, be sexy, be confident. Come on..." At last she threw her hands up in the air, deciding that there was no way she was going to think her way out of this. Her fingers pecked out a quick reply and she just pressed send, no longer caring about what how he would interpret the message. You're such a stalker, but the compliment made up for it. Can't wait to see you again. G. Six words. That was his favorite part of the message. He'd felt irrationally happy when he read those words, even if they were completely innocuous. Inside, his need for her was almost unbearable - it had become a physical, corporeal hunger. He craved for every part of her; the gentle caresses of her hands, the familiar scent of her skin, the endless flanks of her long legs. All he wanted right now was to feel her body underneath his, squirming at his touch, ready for him.

Do you have any plans after work tomorrow? A. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the car window as he eagerly waited for a reply. Tomorrow's plans were already laid out in his head, and all he needed was that yes. Would she like it? He was hoping to find out. The BlackBerry buzzed loudly in his hand. Nope. Why, are you planning to kidnap me? G. Aidan's lips twitched with a half-smile. Her yes was the best news he'd heard all week. He struggled to rein in his thoughts as he composed a reply, willing himself to stay cool. It's only kidnapping if you resist. Will pick you up from the office. Can't wait to see you too. A. Gwyneth laughed out loud when she read the message. The invite piqued her curiosity, filling her head with countless theories as to what he had planned out for tomorrow. "There you are!" She spun her head to find Dylan taking brisk steps towards her. "What are you doing outside? C'mon back in, you're missing all the fun!" Gwyneth immediately felt bad for abandoning Dylan to swap texts with Aidan. She slipped her phone back into her purse and looped her arm through his, giving him quick hug as they walked back to the bar. Before she even stepped through the entrance, she could hear her friends whooping in delight, the volume of their noise drowning out the merry chatter in the bar. She walked in to find one of them trying to shoehorn yet another buffalo wing into his already full mouth in an attempt to beat Dylan's record while the others egged him on, and she erupted into a fizz of laughter. There was an incredible lightness in her heart, a happiness she hadn't felt in a long, long time, and as she took a sip from the fresh bottle of beer Dylan offered her, she thought of how fortunate and blessed she was to be here, in this very place at this very moment. Life was good. ----------Blood was throbbing in her head; a steady, insistent pulse that pounded at her temples. She winced and pressed at the sore spots with her

thumbs, rubbing small circles in an attempt to massage out the pain. Papers were stacked on her desk like a miniature Kilimanjaro, tagged with Post-Its and annotations scribbled in pencil awaiting amendment. Even looking at the work pile was exhausting. Gwyneth took a deep breath and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling more tired than she had felt all week. Beneath the glamourous facade of corporate law lay the festering skeleton of truth - all lawyers were nothing more than slaves, cooped up in a cage of paperwork and coffee; a collection of pale, sallow ghouls dressed in expensive suits. To anyone else, Gwyneth looked like she was living the dream life in the Big Apple - smart clothes, well-paying job, living in the epicenter of the world. But look closely, and you could see the dark circles concealed by makeup and the dim, lackluster glaze of her eyes. "You alright?" There was a twinge of concern in Dylan's voice. "I'm fine," she said dismissively. Gwyneth was thankful that yesterday night hadn't gotten out of hand. Somehow, they'd managed to get home by two in the morning - very early by Dylan's standards - but even then, getting out of bed this morning was a monumental task. By the time she arrived at work, the files were already stacked on her desk, and the work just kept pouring in a steady stream throughout the day. At least you'll be meeting Aidan later, she told herself. That fact alone was the saving grace that kept her going throughout the day. "Have you eaten?" Gwyneth looked up to see Dylan studying her with worry. She actually had to pause and think about the question for a moment. It was a bad habit of hers - being so engrossed with work that she would forget to feed herself, only for the hunger to later retaliate at the end of the day in a gut-wrenching gastric pain, which she relieved by chomping down a gallon of food. "Idon't.know" she genuinely couldn't remember. "I think I had a sandwich a few hours agoI think, I'm not sure." "Gwyneth," Dylan admonished as he pulled open a drawer. "Here," he tossed a tube of digestive biscuits in her direction. He was no stranger to her habits, being all to familiar with her daily routine, and so he took it

upon himself to stash some light snacks as backup. She caught it with a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed at needing to be fussed over like a little child. Gwyneth unwrapped it and wolfed down a piece, washing it down with lukewarm coffee. "Thanks," she mumbled with her mouth full, brushing the crumbs off her shirt. After a few biscuits, she felt considerably better, her mind felt brighter and much more energized. She then resumed working with renewed vigor, slowly working her way into a steady tempo while the headache faded away. Her iPhone pinged with a new message. I'm downstairs. Are you ready? A. Gwyneth's eyes widened at the message. How could he be downstairs already? A quick glance at the computer clock revealed that three hours had, indeed, flown by in a blip. She cursed under her breath shot back a quick reply saying that she was ready, then began to frantically pack up her belongings. "Leaving so soon? Wait, wait, wait - lemme guess - a date?" "Yes, yes, a date," she rolled her eyes and chose to ignore his sly smile. "Why, jealous?" "Damn right I am," he grumbled, his face gloomy. "You're off for dinner and some lovin' while the only lovin' I'll be getting is from Citibank," he brandished a thick brown file with the words "RESTRUCTURING" printed on it. "Oh, Dylan," she leaned in close for a confidential whisper. "Continue flirting with Kitty Hayburn long enough, and you'll be getting some lovin' too." Dylan grinned widely at that joke and offered her a fistbump. "See you later, champ," he waved goodbye. "Have fun" She slid the laptop into her bag and winked at him. "I will." As the elevator began its descent, Gwyneth checked out her appearance in the mirrored walls, raking her fingers through her hair to settle it. Excitement was bubbling inside her, making her skin tingle in anticipation. She wondered about what he had in mind, especially since he'd been so mysterious about it. She hadn't been able to wangle out a single clue

from him, not that she tried very hard to do so. She pushed open the huge glass doors of the office building foyer, scanning the street for his familiar black BMW sedan. Her eyebrows furrowed when she couldn't find his car. Didn't he say he was already here? She shrugged to herself and chose to give him a few more minutes, thinking that perhaps he misjudged the time. It was still light out, although the sun was setting now, painting the air with a dusky glow. The warm yellow light was bouncing off the glass walls of the metropolis in golden beads, transforming the shapeless skyscrapers into glittering blocks of illuminated glass. New York could be so beautiful at this hour of the day - with the warm evening light, the bustle of people that were making their way home from work and the smell of bread from a bakery nearby slicing through the traffic smog - there was just so much soul in the city at that moment. A young boy holding an ice cream cone tottered past her, visibly distracted by a sophisticated sports bike that was parked nearby. He was so busy looking at the sleek, black superbike that he blundered into his mother, smashing the gooey mass of chocolate into her Mulberry satchel. "Nigel!" his mother scolded, plucking the ruined treat out of his sticky hands. "Can't you watch where you're going?" She was launching into a naggy tirade now but the boy remained oblivious, still enrapt by the futuristic machine beside him. Gwyneth giggled as she watched everything, enjoying how the little boy couldn't care less about being heckled by his mother - he was so obsessed with the motorbike that nothing else mattered to him. Give him twenty years, and he'll still react the same way towards bikes, she thought, remembering how Dylan used to drool over fancy sports cars. Men and their hobbies - apparently, the habit starts young. Minutes passed, and she was becoming increasingly irritated with every passing second. She could understand being tardy, but after all, she had just rushed from work to be waiting outside like a fool, carrying a heavy bag crammed full with a laptop and documents. Gwyneth slipped a hand into her pocket to call him, when she heard it. "Gwyneth."

She jerked her head upwards, searching for the source of the voice. It had sounded so familiarso much like Aidan's. Her eyes filtered out people on the street, but she saw no sign of him. There were so many men in suits walking past, all dressed in the standard issue New York black, so ubiquitous that Aidan would have blended in seamlessly. She took a few steps forward, still unable to find him, and then the owner of the bike flipped the visor of his helmet open. He, too, was dressed in a nondescript suit and a black helmet, leaning against the bike with his arms folded across his chest. She almost looked away from him until it hit her, causing her to do a double take and realize, for the first time, the ice-blue irises that were peering at her with intense curiosity. Gwyneth was still slightly hesitant, unsure that it really was him - but hey, how many men had eyes like those? "Ten minutes," the biker was saying. "I've been standing here for ten minutes, and you looked right past me each and every time." "Aidan? Is that you?" She laughed nervously as she watched him nod, still struggling to process the information in her head. "Is this your bike?" she said, realizing too late how lame she sounded. "No, I just like wearing helmets and standing around bikes that look cool," Aidan's voice was deadpan. "Here," he held out another helmet, similar to the one he was wearing. "You up for it? If you don't feel like it, we could always call for the car" She flushed a deep crimson. "No, nojustwow." She circled the bike, taking in its every detail. "You have a Ducati," she couldn't keep the awe out of her voice. "I never took you for a bike person. Never, ever, ever" Gwyneth couldn't see it, but he was smiling inside his helmet. "We all have an adrenaline junkie inside of us that's struggling to get out. Mine's the size of the abominable snowman, by the looks of it." "More like the size of a planet," she shook her head, unable to digest the fact that he had a superbike. The sight of him leaning against the animalistic machine looked completely incongruous. Trust him to be decked out in all black - from the helmet to every part of his suit - he looked like he was some baddie in one of them espionage films. "Oh God, you really are a spy, aren't you?" she joked. "I bet you're

hiding a utility belt somewhere underneath that suit. And a couple of tranquilizer darts." He nodded gravely. "Corporate animal by day, James Bond by night. Now that you know about my true identity, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to kill you." "Shame," she folded her arms. "I was hoping for a little more sex first." She could hear his muffled laugh echoing from inside the helmet. "You know," she teased, "you look a lot more handsome with the helmet on. Leaves just the eyes visible, covers up the rest of the facevery nice." "Owch," he clapped his fist to his chest. "At least now I know it's my personality that you're interested in. I have half a mind to revoke your bike privileges." "No!" she exclaimed in mild dismay even though she knew that he was just teasing. "Okay I take that back, you're more handsome than all the gods of Olympia. I mean, you make Apollo look like a drunken hobo." "That has to be one of the weirdest butter-ups I've ever received, but I'll take it all the same." His voice was deadpan and he shook his head. "So," he held out the helmet. "Bike or no bike?" "Bike!" She grinned widely, took the helmet from him and put it on while he swung himself onto the bike. "If you ever feel at any time that we're going too fast, let me know. I don't want to freak you out," he advised. "Like that's ever going to happen," she said easily, fastening the buckle underneath her chin. "You said it yourself - everyone has an adrenaline junkie stowed away somewhere inside them. I can't wait to see what this bad boy can do." "Steady now, Evel Knievel. The plan is to shake things up a little with a fun ride, not have you say your final prayers before cracking your skull open at the junction near Fifth." "Spoilsport." "Spoilsport and driver, with good reason. Lord help us if you ever got behind the wheel." He shook his head at her. "Ready?" Aidan asked,

kicking up the stand in a fluid motion and steadying the bike. She swung herself onto the Ducati with relative ease, flipping her shoulder bag to the back as not to obstruct her from sitting behind him. Gwyneth wasn't sure if she was supposed to, but she looped her arms around Aidan's waist anyway, secretly relishing any excuse to touch him at all. "Ready," she answered, hearing her own voice echo inside the shell of the helmet. His eyes crinkled like they always did when he smiled. Aidan flipped the visor shut and gunned the engine, making it roar with life and they sped away into maze of traffic, deftly weaving through the sea of cars. She had to give it to him - he definitely knew how to handle a bike. Even with so much raw power thrumming beneath them, she never, for a moment, felt any imminent danger. He maneuvered the bike with a reassured expertise, swiveling his head every now and then to check for oncoming vehicles. When they stopped at a red light, she lightly brushed her fingers across the taut expanse of his abdomen, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. God, she wanted him so badly right now. Just when she thought that he couldn't get any more attractive, he shows up with a flashy vehicle. "So where are we going?" she almost had to shout to make herself heard. "You'll see," he answered easily, covering her hand with his, his skin all warm and delicious on hers. She wanted to hook her head onto his shoulder, but her bulky helmet clunked against his as she tried to do so. So much for trying to be sexy, she thought. "We're going to Brooklyn, aren't we?" She had recognized the roads they'd taken so far. He swiveled to face her. "Not bad," he admitted. "Good guess, smartypants." Gwyneth grinned in glee, pleased at cracking a small part of the riddle. "Have you figured out where exactly we're going yet?" "Nah, and I'm not trying to. I'm going to let you surprise me, if you can, that is. Can't promise I won't figure it out halfway through." "Damn, should've had you blindfolded. At this rate, you'l figure it out in a minute or two."

"Blindfolded? Isn't that dangerous? What if I fall off the bike?" "Why would you fall off the bike? I'm the one driving, and all you have to do is hold on tight. Here," he playfully tried to twist her helmet the other way round so that her visor was backwards, obstructing her view. "Hey, stop it! That hurts, dummy," she swatted his hands away and readjusted her helmet while he laughed at her response. "You're too smart for your own good sometimes," he rubbed her thigh with a firm hand. "Alright now, hang on tight, we're moving" ---------They pulled up outside a mid-rise red brick building on Plymouth with large glass windows. Gwyneth dismounted first, pulling off the helmet and patting her hair back into place. "Smack Mellon!" she exclaimed in delight, recognizing the place. "I take it you've been here before?" he appeared behind her and took the helmet out of her hands, standing close enough for her to smell his aftershave. "A couple of times, yeah, but it's been ages since the last time I visited. There hasn't been an exhibition here that I'm particularly interested in for a while now." "Ah, I see. Well, we'll be going for a Robin Erram exhibit, if you don't mind. I've heard plenty of good things about it." "Pulse, is it? Isn't that the one with the interactive art?" She pulled a face. He smiled at her expression. "Not one for interactive art, I see. Such a snob, Ms. Kenner," he wagged a finger at her. "Can you at least give this one a shot?" She rolled her eyes. "Okay," she feigned a sulk. "But only because of you. The things I do for you" He laughed out loud. "The things you do for meyou're far too kind." She giggled in return and looped an arm through his, and they walked arm in arm towards the gallery.

The interior of the building was dimly lit, with a multitude of scattered candles being the only source of light. The flames from the candles bathed the roomy interior in a shadowy, mystic aura, making the entire place feel like a long-lost chapel. Other people were just dark silhouettes, faceless figures that shuffled about in the flickering light amidst whispers. The first piece they encountered was a piece of canvas with names scrawled all over it in paint. Instructions were engraved into a silver plate beside a collection of paint pots and brushes, asking for participants to write their name in the color they associated most with, because names and favorite colors were the most distinct and visible identifying trait of one's persona. The explanation made sense to Gwyneth, and she quietly painted her own name in cerulean, while Aidan drew a simple A in black. Aidan took her hand as they moved from piece to piece, lingering at the ones they both found fascinating. There was the one entitled Crypt, where three things lay in front of them - a large corkboard with numerous white paper butterflies tacked onto them, a bowl of some flammable substance of sort that was currently ablaze, and a stack of untouched white paper butterflies. Instructions were simple - to write a secret on the paper butterfly, and face three choices - keep it, burn it, or post it. They both hovered uncertainly, each one too afraid to make the first move, until Gwyneth pulled away and reached for a piece. Picking up a pen, she only mused for a second and scribbled something onto the paper, then folded it in half so her writing wasn't visible, and also so it was shaped like a proper butterfly. She bit her lip and paused for a while, not knowing what she really wanted to do with it. There was so much significance to it - she could either post it on the board anonymously, slide it into her pocket and bring it home, or burn it in a symbolic representation of catharsis. Finally she decided to tack in onto the board, pinning it firmly into place with a small sigh. Aidan took his turn next, and it seemed like he, too, was going to post his butterfly on the board. But at the very last second he stopped, one hand frozen in place, making Gwyneth wonder how personal the secret might be.

The distant slivers of candlelight were flickering in his eyes, and she watched the ghostly blue irises which were currently fixed in stern concentration at the folded secret in his hand. Something clicked inside him as he made up his mind and threw the piece of paper into the bowl of fire, choosing instead to reduce his secret into ashes. As he took her hand to lead her away, Gwyneth could've sworn she glimpsed a hint of sadness in his face, a vulnerable grief she had never before seen, but too quickly his face blended into the darkness and that side of him was visible no more. The next exhibit, titled Image, was a large mirror with white markings all over it. Like the first piece, it invited participants to write on it with the white marker pen provided - but this time, they were to choose a word that they felt described them best. Gwyneth's throat tightened at the sight of the words others chose, as the majority of them were negative words like insecure, reject, lonely and damaged. Out of the plethora of descriptions, only a handful were truly positive, and as she searched for one person who identified themselves as happy, she found none. It was so depressing to her that not a single soul, no one at all chose the word happy to describe themselves. Saddened and deeply affected, she picked up the pen and wrote 'happy', the marker making squeaky sounds as she carefully inscribed the letters onto the shiny surface. Gwyneth underlined the word twice and stood back to admire her work, nodding with satisfaction at her small contribution. When she turned back to face Aidan, he was just barely visible in the dim light, surveying her with his usual serious gaze, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. She offered him the marker and he stepped forth, uncapping the pen and scribbling on a word without much thought. When he was done, she squinted at the foreign word, puzzled. "Ensam?" her voice was a low whisper, not wanting to break the mood. "It's Swedish for unique," he whispered back, his lips mere millimeters away from her ears. "You speak Swedish?" Jesus, was there anything he didn't do? "I saw it in Ikea," he murmured. "I think it was the name of a spaghetti

strainer." She couldn't repress a giggle, not caring if it irritated the people around her. "Are you really happy?" his voice was low, his tone grave. The laughter died out instantly. Gwyneth looked into his eyes, losing herself in his piercing gaze. In that very moment, he couldn't have looked more perfect, as the shadows from the dim light accentuated his features, his high cheekbones - God, he looked incredible. Aidan leaned over her, bending down so that his face was almost touching hers, one arm creeping around her waist. "Are you really happy?" he asked again, softer still. She wanted to kiss him so badly now but she resisted, only nodding inertly while he kept his eyes on hers. "Yeah, I am," she whispered. "I'm happy." The answer seemed to appease him. "That's good to know." He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her lightly on her forehead. "Let's move on to the next one." 'Pulse'. The idea behind the eponymous exhibit was deceivingly simple, but astonishingly clever. Two stethoscopes, two people, one minute. It was the artist's belief that in one minute, listening to another's heartbeat will reveal more than a minute of conversation ever could. The concept of the exhibit had Gwyneth floored, even if she didn't believe in interactive art. "Wow," she breathed. "This is incredible." Aidan merely nodded in response. She picked up a stethoscope and tapped the bell in experiment. There were two chairs readied nearby, set to face each other, and she sank down in one of them. Aidan took his place in the opposite chair and slipped the earpiece into place, leaning forward to be closer to her. Gwyneth moved first, sliding the bell over his chest until she found the right spot on his left chest. She could hear it, loud and strong, each heartbeat actually consisting of two sounds, one in a lower pitch, one higher. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. Her own heart was beginning to race

now as his hands smoothed over her chest, seeking the perfect spot to auscultate. Aidan was gazing at her with intent as his hands moved between her breasts, finally stopping at an area just left to her breastbone, where the mound of her cleavage began. She was looking at him now, unable to tear her eyes away from this handsome man, the sound of his heartbeat thumping a deep bass in her ears. The stethoscopes weren't long, so they had to lean in close to each other, almost touching but not quite, the only contact between them being through the medical instrument. This was madness, she thought, as she felt her heartbeat skittering out of control, her breaths becoming more shallow, and it was suddenly so hard to breathe. It bothered her to know that her body was responded so readily to him the mere closeness of his presence was enough to get her all worked up, and at that moment she felt like a nervous high-schooler talking to her secret crush. It didn't help that he was looking at her like that, in that special way that always made her shiver. Intimacy. If that had been the artist's intention, the exhibit worked wonders between them. For the life of her, she could never explain why that moment of silence between them felt so precious. She couldn't really understand why she felt so exposed when all she did was look into his eyes and hear the lush, organic beat of his heart resounding in her ears. He was so close, so very close, in every sense - the tension was almost unbearable for her and she yearned to touch him, craved for the tangible feel of his skin on hers. His face was literally inches away from hers and her eyes keep flicking towards his lips as she resisted, with every bone in her body, the urge to kiss him. Every part of her body was burning with a desire to taste him and to feel the sweet, firm warmth of his mouth on hers. All she wanted was for him to touch her - lips, hand, cheek anywhere at all would've been fine, just a touch would do. This is crazy, she thought - I must be going out of my mind. He wasn't even touching her properly - the only thing that bridged the minute space between them was the twin metal circles pressed onto each other's chests - but then again, the gap was positively electrifying. By not touching him, she craved for him all the more, longed for him with a kind of hunger she never knew before. It was as if -

"Your heart's beating really fast," he remarked in a susurrous rumble, his voice husky. Gwyneth suddenly felt self-conscious, and averted her gaze, too embarrassed to face him. She couldn't look him in the eye, not now - she felt like she was losing control of her mind and body, as evidenced by her chaotic heartbeat - and the last thing she needed was to see the intensity of his eyes. She licked her lips nervously. "Right," her voice came out strangled as the chose to look at the floor, forcing herself to take deep breaths to calm herself down. She was trying so hard to keep her head level and dial down the excitement, using every last bit of her higher consciousness to marshall some semblance of discipline and order in her brain. It wasn't working to well, though - she could still feel the lump in her throat and she was fairly certain that she was trembling with anticipation. Damn it. That's when his other hand cupped her chin and slowly turned her face back to meet his gaze until there was nowhere to hide, no way her eyes could avoid his as he locked her in a piercing stare, sending chills up her spine. His eyes, God, the deep, mesmerizing blue of his eyes - she could get lost in his eyes forever, drown herself in the deep pools of his irises. Silence. He didn't say a word and the only sound she could hear was that heartbeat - his heartbeat - and she knew that all resolve was going up in smoke as she let him scrutinize every inch of her face. It was almost as if he was looking for an answer, as if he was trying to decrypt a secret code that she beheld - but the truth is all she could think of in that moment was how badly she wanted to be kissed. Slowly he leaned in closer, and closer, until he captured her lips in a firm, intoxicating kiss. His mouth was gentle and sweet, as it always was, and her head was reeling at the sensory overload. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed in delicious contentment as he fulfilled her unspoken desire, parting her lips with his tongue as one hand crept around her neck to crush her towards him. There are some moments in life that are just imprinted into the deepest crevices of one's memory, and this was such an instant. To the end of days, Gwyneth would never forget how it was like - being kissed by

Aidan Scodelario, one hand holding a stethoscope to his chest and the other buried in his hair, pulling him close. To be locked in an embrace with her eyes closed, hearing the rhythm of his heartbeat echo in her ears, feeling his lips on hers - in that moment, the world disappeared. The only thing that existed, at that moment, was them both. It didn't matter what would happen, it didn't matter that they weren't in love, it didn't matter that they were fuckbuddies, because all that she cared was that they were kissing right here, right now, and that she didn't ever want it to end. ------------She was greeted at the door by Alfred, who invited her in with a knowing smile. "How nice to see you again, Ms. Kenner." "Thank you, Alfred. Is he busy?" "Not that I know of, Ms. Kenner." He took her coat and gestured at the sofa nearby. "He's in the study, but I'll be sure to let him know that you're here. Please, have a seat." As he walked away, Gwyneth sauntered around the barely decorated living room. The place felt significantly less alien now that she'd been here more frequently and become more familiar with the layout of the vast space. One thing that never failed to amaze her was how spacious his place was. The high ceilings and wall-sized windows, added to the sparse furniture made the penthouse look as bigger than it actually was. The white walls were tastefully adorned with art, mostly postmodern she particularly loved the Jackson Pollock piece on the wall adjacent to the massive flat-screen TV and the Al Held near the dining table. The dining table, oh, how her eyes almost fell out of their sockets when she first saw it. Philippe Starck, 2010 collection, a modern marvel of lucite and steel. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, knowing that she could never afford any of these things, not even in her wildest dreams. Can't imagine how it would suck to be filthy rich, she thought. For all its antiseptic properties, the place had Aidan written all over it, and it was beginning to grow on her. From the Eames lounge chair to the Bang and Olufsen audio system, it was obvious this wasn't the work of some cushy interior designer. No,

this was him - clear cut, no fuss, unsettlingly simple and spartan. Clues were lying all over the place if you looked hard enough. The art, the music, and more importantly, how the place was perfectly spotless, with nary an book or cushion out of place. With any other man, she would've attributed it to a professional cleaning service, but she thought of how neurotic Aidan could be and her lips curved into a smile. This was the home of a perfectionist. Maybe she was overthinking it, reading too much into empty details like she always did, overanalyzing the most basic facts and contorting them into a great hullaballoobut maybe it really was so obvious. Perhaps his home was a metaphorical representation of something bigger, an avatar... "It's never a good sign when she's more interested in the decor than she is in the sex." Aidan's dry voice interrupted her inner monologue. She turned around to see him standing there, hand in one pocket, looking like he'd been watching her for a while. He still hadn't changed out of his work clothes, though his tie was off and his sleeves were rolled up. Rumpled appearance aside - which was just about as un-Aidan as it got - the biggest surprise came in the form of the metal-rimmed glasses perched on his nose bridge, a pair of smart rectangular frames she'd never seen on him before. It was almost absurd, how glasses made him look more attractive, but for some reason it made him a million times hotter. She wondered if he could keep it on later, even when they were in bedbut quickly shook her head free of all such thoughts. Damn it, she thought, two seconds after seeing him in glasses and all she could think of is sex. As he walked towards her, Gwyneth took the opportunity to feast her eyes at the sight of his strong, exposed forearms and the tousled geek-chic look he was currently sporting. She bit her lip and hid a blush while he leaned in for a quick kiss, folding her into his arms and gently pressing his lips to hers in one smooth gesture. "Well," she started, struggling to regain her composure, "well maybe if sex looked this good, I'd be much more enthusiastic about it." She gestured around her. "This place is gorgeous, Aidan. And I know it's a little late to mention this, but the view, oh my God, I've never seen anything quite like this." She walked towards one of the huge windows and looked out at the New York skyline, watching the lights of the huge city glimmer like opalescent beads on a sea of ink.

At this hour, the traffic looked like glittering snakes of gold and red, pulsing and fading like blood flowing through an artery. For a moment she was lost in its beauty, transfixed by the sight she beheld. "It's amazingit's almost like the city is alive." she breathed, her voice a faint whisper. She'd always been fascinated with the night, loving its quiescent energy, living her whole life as a nocturnal creature. It was only after the sun set that she felt awake, starting her day as the rest of the world went to bed. The lyric spilled out of her before she could help it. "It's getting dark and the sky looks sticky, more like black treacle than tar." "Somebody told the stars you're not coming out tonight, so they found a place to hide." Aidan caught the reference and finished after her. Only then did she realize that he was still holding her, her back pressed to his chest and his chin resting on her head. Being in his arms always felt so nice, and in the comfort of their privacy it felt all the more profound. But wait - profound. The more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt and unease began to gnaw at her, sending chills up her neck as she realized that the affection of the moment had been a little more intimate than she'd bargained for. True, the arrangement between them was somewhatdelicate. They'd agreed on the usual sex with no strings attached, and so the generic rules that prohibited commitments were applied - but then again, a simple fuck and goodbye was too crude to be feasible. She liked to believe that there was a tacit understanding between them that whole romance act thus far was just another part of foreplay, a charade designed to propagate the greater game. After all, what would sex be without the flirting and frisson that led up to it? This is all part of it, she reminded herself. This is what a true casual relationship was like. Pretending to care, but never really being there to weather the worst. It bugged her that this wasn't the first time she had to catch herself because moments like this always felt like they were overstepping an invisible boundary, breaking rules that no one dared speak about. But as long as she kept herself in check, always distancing the most vital part of her feelings - the truth - she knew that she would be safe, harnessed firmly to the reality of matters, never drifting too close to the sun. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize how much time had passed. They must have been standing there for quite some time, for now he broke away from her and walked towards the bar.

"Do you really like the place, then?" he asked, pouring out two glasses of wine as he did so, "The general complaint from everyone is that it's a little too spartan to be comfortable." "It's perfect, if you ask me. You've taken a very purist approach to the minimalist concept, which explains why so few appreciate it. I mean, I could never be this streamlined," she pointed at the kitchen, which had not a single pot or pan in sight, "In fact, I don't think I've ever met anyone who could manage being sominimal. But it suits you, and that's saying something - it's your personal space. It's home." He raised his eyebrows in amusement and took a sip of wine. "Never heard that one before, but thanks. It's nice to find someone who understands the principle behind it. You know, once, I've even had someone ask if I wasn't done moving in yet. She couldn't believe this was all there was going to be in the apartment." "Well you can whittle down the whole place even more if you want, and if you're looking to get rid of that dining table, you're in luck. That," she swallowed a mouthful of wine and waved her wineglass in the direction of the futuristic table, "that would look amazing in my house." She paused for a moment. "Assuming it'd even fit. I think my house is the size of your bathroom." He laughed out loud, eyes crinkling up in mirth. "Funny you should mention the table. It was designed by -" "-Philippe Starck, I know," she cut him off smoothly, a playful twitch tugging at her lips. Aidan looked caught out for a second, but he just shook his head and smiled. "Bloody hell, you're good. Has anyone ever told you that you have a great eye? I mean it," he leaned forward to look her in the eye. "You're such an astute observer, and you have impeccable taste." Gwyneth tried to laugh off the compliment. "Yeah, well, I'm the girl with great taste who has resorted to openly begging for a designer table," she joked. "Oh no, I wouldn't call that openly begging." He moved towards her and took her face in his hands. "Trouble is, you can have anything you want from me, anything at all, without having to ask for it, and that is very, very dangerous. I'll have to be more careful."

She giggled in response and pressed a kiss onto his lips. "Well I promise to not to run of with all of your money," her eyes were dancing with mischief. "I'll settle for half." The sound of her giggle made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He loved it when she laughed like that - adored how it was so feminine and coquettish, equal parts innocent girl and womanly vixen and now she was smoothing her palms over his broad torso, slowly paving her way down south, warming his skin through his shirt. Her eyes swept around the room confirmed that Alfred had made himself scarce without having to be told, like the true professional that he was. Assured of their privacy, she hooked her fingers into his slacks and tugged at them hard, pulling his hips towards hers, showing him know how much she wanted him right here, right now. "I've missed you," she mumbled into his collar, breathing in deeply. "Been thinking of you all day." Taking his cue, his hands slid over the curve of her bottom and he gave them a firm squeeze as he nuzzled the nape of her neck, pressing his nose into the shallow bracket of her collarbone. "I've missed you too." From there, he began to kiss a light trail towards the bone just below her ear - light, feathery kisses, with just the faintest brushes of his lips. "My mind keeps wandering off to you, no matter how hard I try to stop myself." She murmured, allowing the pleasure to gradually unwind and warm her from within. His hands were busy pulling out the tucked edges of her shirt, slipping underneath it to meet the bare skin of her back. Aidan could feel her body responding now, the tell-tale tremors on her skin that he'd come to be familiar with of late.

Gwyneth purred when she felt him undoing the buttons of her shirt, lightly nipping at her earlobe with his teeth. She could feel the prickle of his five o-clock shadow brushing on her skin, making her spine tingle in anticipation. She shook off her shirt and stood in front of him in a satin black bra, swaying her hips gently and lifting her hands above her head, as if she was dancing to imaginary music. Eyes closed, her hips rolled invitingly, moving in small circles as she spun around until her back faced him, grinding her rounded ass against the bulge in his pants. His

eyes darkened at the contact and he suppressed a groan, letting her tease him with her gyrations without protest. Aidan's hands moved around her waist to work on her pants, while she reached out behind her and looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She never stopped dancing, just indulged herself and moved to the beat in her head, losing all sense of inhibition in front of him. She didn't have to see him to know how aroused he was, she didn't need to look into his eyes to recognize his smoldering gaze, burning hot with lust and desire for her. She just knew. Lost in her own private world, she felt sexy, empowered, beguiling. Beautiful. Reckless. He continued to undress her, gently biting into her neck when he undid her bra, drawing a line down her inner thigh with his tongue while he pulled down her panties. Her eyes flew open when he suddenly swept her up in his arms, picking her up and carrying her as if she weighed nothing - then he dropped her onto the sofa before rolling on top of her. Pinned underneath him, she was helpless and completely at his mercy - a soft, sinewy goddess for him to own and please, her lips slightly parted in obscene lust, legs spread open in invitation. It was his turn to have fun now. His mouth closed over her nipple, making her gasp in response while he sucked on the taut bud, teasing the sensitive peak with his tongue. Aidan's fingers found the moist opening between her legs already soaked in her own fluids and he stroked her labia gently, dragging his fingers over her glistening folds to watch her mouth fall open in a lewd gasp, her eyelids almost crashing shut from the combined sensations. He could hear his own heartbeat loud and clear in his own ears, feel his breath ragged and distorted with want. Without warning he thrust two fingers inside her tight channel and she squealed at the sudden intrusion, an answer that both delighted and turned him on. As he pumped his fingers roughly in and out of her, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her, rushing towards the inevitable climax, she arched her back and thrashed around, wanting to take more of him inside her. Watching her pump her hips to meet his thrusts was nothing short of gratifying, his rock hard erection a painful reminder of his acute arousal. He was so hard now, so desperate to plunge into her repeatedly and make her scream his name over and over again. Sensing that she was near, he pulled out his hand and held them under her nose, letting her see how she'd coated his hand in her juices, the glistening fluid trickling

down his palm. "Show me," he instructed, "show me what you want to do to my cock with that pretty little mouth of yours." Gwyneth didn't need to be told twice. She closed her lips over his outstretched fingers, giving them a strong, deep suck, flicking her tongue on the underside of his fingers, tasting her own nectar on his hands. From the noises he was making, Aidan was clearly enjoying the show she was exhibiting. She could see how much he wanted her, just how much she drove him crazy, and it only made her ache for him all the more. She continued to work on his fingers, sucking on them with a pornographic hunger while his other hand strayed south, reaching to align his cock with her dripping entrance. The head of his cock rested against her pussy, almost inside but not quite, just barely entering her. She whimpered softly and raised her hips, her eyes pleading for him to fill her, to fuck her and make her come, never letting up on the oral service she was lavishing on his fingers. He'd never wanted a woman like he wanted her this very moment, so very much that it took every ounce of restraint to hold himself back and tease her a little longer. "Do you want me to fuck you?" She nodded and thrust her hips at him again, silently begging to be filled. The time for games was over. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and asked her again. "Mmm, you really need me inside you, don't you?" Her reply was a barely audible bleat. "Tell me. Tell me what you want, Gwyneth, tell me what you want me to do to you." "Fuck me, please." Her head was lolling about distractedly now, her mind so delirious with pleasure that she was hardly sober. "Please, Aidan, please, I can't take it any more." He filled her completely in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. She howled at the feeling of his entire length inside her, finally quenching the longing she'd felt all day. Aidan fucked her with deep, furious strokes, unrelenting in rhythm as the pleasure built up, dangerously nearing orgasm. He could her her encouraging moans, feel her nails digging deep into his ass as he pounded into her, feeling her tight, velvet walls clench around him, her juices flowing down to his balls.

He knew that she was enjoying it, oh yes she was, screaming out incoherent words of approval, thrusting up her hips as he drove it into her like a maniac. All he could feel was her, drowning himself in the act of simply fucking her - letting that animalistic need rip through as he rammed into her as deep as he could. There it was again, that sweet, familiar build, rising in intensity until he felt her tighten around him, pushing him over the precipice, and then he was shouting her name while he emptied himself into her, and his mind went blank for what seemed like eternity. The bliss gradually subsided, relaxing into a deep, languorous repose of mumbled conversations in the dark while the heat of the night was dissipating away, leaving behind a warm blanket of comfort that ensconced them both. "Let's seemmmstar sign," she asked him in a sleepy voice. They were exchanging short snippets of random information about each other, taking turns to ask the oddest questions they could muster. "Horoscope, Gwyneth, really? Just when you think you know someone" "Oh, shut up. Just an astronomy geek. I could tell you everything about each constellation of the zodiac." "Huh, really." She could detect the slightest tone of challenge in his voice, his competitive streak never letting up, not even during pillow talk. "The twins of Gemini - shoot." "Castor and Pollux," she fired back without missing a heartbeat. "Don't mess, Scodelario." "Smartass," he retorted. "Okaychildhood phobias." "Hmm" she shifted in bed to face him better, pulling the duvet over her shoulders. "Caterpillars." As predicted, Aidan snorted in disbelief. "The fuck? Caterpillars? Were you worried they'dyou know what, I don't know, I can't think of anything scary that a bloody caterpillar could possibly do to you." She swatted at him halfheartedly. "Phobias are irrational, okay?

Caterpillars are allgreen and bulgy andpokey." "Pokey? Woman, you paint with words." "Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes and burrowed deeper into her pillow. "What was yours then? Terrified of getting an A minus on a test?" "I would've disemboweled myself with a butter knife if that ever happened," he replied, making her giggle. "I never did A minuses." "And you call me the smartass." Her speech was slurring now as she fought a losing battle to stay awake. Aidan had to smile at the sight of his sleepy partner, eyelids half closed but still trying to put up with her end of the conversation. "Go to bed," he soothed in a gentle voice. "Goodnight, my stargazing know-it-all." "You still haven't told me yours." Aidan went quiet for a few seconds. "Needles. I was afraid of needles." He watched her for a reaction but she was fast asleep, looking all relaxed and peaceful, those beautiful features settling into a serene calm as she rested. Whenever she slept, there was the barest hint of a smile on her lips, as if she was always dreaming the most pleasant of dreams. This wasn't something he usually did with women, but he genuinely enjoyed watching her in her slumber, totally oblivious to the world around her. There was a remarkable fragility in her stance that he didn't see when she was up and running, a softer, more vulnerable Gwyneth that opposed the know-it-all she usually was. "Wimp." The monosyllabic grunt left her lips as a good-night bid, a light insult to end the day. His smile widened at the thought of it. Of course she had to - couldn't resist throwing in a jibe, could she? Aidan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, wished her goodnight, and turned to face away from her, finally allowing himself to drift off, too. ---------------------------"You can't be serious," Aidan glowered at his friend, his voice

approaching a menacing pitch, "Julian, you had better not be fucking around." Julian didn't look the least bit fazed. "It's happening, Aidan, and it's only a matter of how many people get involved right now. Believe it or not, a lot of things don't require your approval, and this is happening regardless of whether you agree or not." Aidan exhaled sharply and raked a hand through his hair. He could hardly believe his ears right now and struggled to wrap his head around the absurdity of the whole scenario. "We could always increase the settlement value -" "Fuck you, Aidan. We are not paying these people off." The rebuke came out harsh and unforgiving, matching the anger that was flashing in his eyes. "I came to you about this because I thought that of all the wankers in this fucking cesspool of a company, I figured that you'd have the decency to do the right thing." He scoffed at his own statement. "But I guess you've grown up true to the trust fund, throwing around money as a cheap way of saying you're sorry -" "Don't you dare," Aidan bristled, his temper threatening to boil over. "Don't you fucking dare accuse me of being a fatcat when you're rambling like a lunatic about some glorified coup," he hissed the c-word with exceptional disdain "and fucking ignore the repercussions of it on LSA. You damn well know what's going to happen if you carry on with that Erin Brockovich fuckall you're trying to pull, and don't think, for a moment, that I'm not going to fucking stop you." Julian had nothing to say in return. There was no arguing with the fact that publicly turning against Ceres Labs would be a PR and financial disaster. To be a global law firm that publicly dumped and shamed its client, who was currently locked in a high-profile civil standoff that skated thinly on the borderline of criminal, would spell the end of LSA. If, and after the dust cleared, even the Lehman Brothers would've been in better shape that they could ever be in. To be frank, Julian wouldn't have minded that in the least bit. Having grown up with Aidan, at first it seemed like the two were meant to mature into lawyers, just like their fathers, promising to be the future of the legacy that their fathers perpetuated. After all, they shared so much in common - born into eminent families, strong-willed, idealistic - but at some point in life, Julian fell off the road to corporate law when the

conflict between profit and pollution proved too deep to bridge. Inexplicably, and almost overnight, he came to hate everything that LSA stood for - all the multinational conglomerates and formula-thick investment banks, the vast wealth that kept accumulating, the money that pooled around people like his family. To watch the firm go up in cinders was pittance to him. The two men just stared at each other in defiant silence. As always, the problem was that the two were so alike - both hard-headed and unwilling to give in. Oddly enough, one party reached out in a peace offering. "There's a way we can do this without compromising the integrity of the firm," Aidan explained, trying to keep his tone in check. "You, me, Marty, and the Feds." Julian opened his mouth to say something, but Aidan hushed him by simply raising his hand. "No major news networks, which means that BBC and CNN are the last to fucking hear about it. If we're going to come out of this alive, we're going to play it political. FDA, FBI, USDA. Criminal charges - all we do is collect enough to warrant prosecution, and the leave the rest for the guys over at the DA to jerk off to. Everything has to be off-the-record and insidious - files are to be shared on ghost servers, calls made through encrypted lines. If you think you're going to be seal a prosecution for Ceres by yourself, be my guest, because this is fucking loony as it is, Julian, but I'm willing to do it with you - so that's my final offer. Either take it, or go fuck yourself." Aidan studied Julian's face to try and gauge his reaction. So far all he could tell was that Julian was duly impressed at how quickly he came up with a mediating solution, but apart from that, his train of thought was hard to decipher. Naturally, one would expect him to be dubious Aidan's plan was nothing more than an impromptu answer, hastily devised on the spot. But the more Julian examined the logic behind the scheme, the better it looked. Finally he broke the silence. "Can we trust Marty?" "Without a doubt. He's the one man in this whole agenda whom you should never have to question." Julian seemed satisfied with the answer. "And that woman - Kenner, was it? What about her?"

"She stays out of this." Aidan insisted in a tone that would brook no argument. "She's only an associate. The rest of us are big enough to play with the big boys, so if shit hits the fan, we'll ride it out, just us three." Aidan's refusal to include the girl piqued Julian's interest. "Shouldn't she be allowed to decide if she wants to be involved? At least give her the opportunity, talk her through it -" "I said she stays out of this, and that is absolutely non-negotiable." Aidan's stentorian voice made damn sure that Julian got the message. The anger was returning to the surface, bubbling inside his chest like lava, leaving actual physical discomfort in its wake. He felt restless and fidgety, and a lot more anxious than he'd like to admit. He should be. From this second onwards, things were heading full speed ahead down a dangerous slope There would be a lot of chaos, disguised underneath a facade of calm waters - and if anyone so much as saw a ripple on the surface, alarm bells would ring, and there would be no telling how ugly things will get, or how quickly it would escalate. But that was a problem for later. A cursory glance at his watch showed that he was already late for a meeting. It wasn't a particularly crucial one, in fact, it was one of those brain-numbing, redundant jigs, but Aidan needed an excuse to get out of there, to escape from the oppressive tension in the room. He got out of his chair abruptly and headed towards the door of his office. "I'm supposed to be at a meeting, so you can let yourself out after I'm gone. We'll discuss this later." Just before he left, he turned back and offered some parting words to his friend. "And just so you know, no one here can so much as fucking take a piss without my permission. Remember that the next time you try to muscle your way around here, Lynch." Aidan slammed the door behind him, leaving Julian alone in Aidan's office. Even if they didn't expressly discuss it, Aidan and Julian were both aware that if they were caught building a case against their own client, there would be a lot of personal loss at risk. The thought of putting himself out there and exposing himself to danger meant nothing to either of them. Growing up with all that money imbued them with a sense of invincibility, even if it wasn't real - they felt untouchable, never registering any imminent harm, never fearing what others feared. While Julian

strode out of the office building with unshakeable confidence in his steps, Aidan's heart sank with dread as he barged into a conference room full of nervous lawyers. If Gwyneth got involved, she would be thrown into the flames a lot sooner than the rest of them, who were otherwise comfortably nestled in the security of a plush bank account and formidable assets. The mere thought of Gwyneth made his stomach churn. Everything had been going great so far - too great, almost too smooth to be real. How long had they been keeping at this for? Six weeks? Fuck, that was longer than any of his previous dalliances. Usually, he went through the entire cycle in a month, moving from initial contact to planned parting within four weeks. There was only so much effort he was willing to pour into women, especially considering how most of them bored him senseless. Either they were pretentious little rebels, out there to tout their feigned confidence act to any man who would buy it, or they were naive romantics who never took the breakup well, women who foolishly believed that the romance was actually going somewhere. So many of them, each and every one easy to read, lacking any proper depth. He had their entire personalities translated by the time he was done introducing himself. But that was a different matter - at any rate, whatever that was going on between Gwyneth and him was bolstering on well past its predicted due date. Why? How? He could hear angry voices arguing about something around him, but he paid no heed. As much as he hated to admit it, his attraction for Gwyneth was a lot stronger than he let on. Sure, the sex was great, and he had no qualms about whether or not a prolonged physical relationship would work. But what really shook him was how much he wanted to talk to her. Her presencethere was something distinctly relaxing about her presence that made him lower his guard to allow her in. Why did talking to her feel so good? Yeah, yeah, she was brilliant, a fucking encyclopedia with legs that belonged to a Brazilian supermodel. They could connect on an intellectual level, no doubt, and yes, she was always so good-natured, always so patient. Was that it, then? Was that all it took to get him hooked? Most importantly, why was he still thinking about her? It dawned upon him that he was second guessing himself, questioning his own mind, the

same mind which was usually assured and decidedly intransigent. There was that niggling question that kept popping up in his head, even though he made it a point to avoid thinking about it. A lot of things were running through his mind now. There was the Ceres case, which was complicated enough as it is, and the situation with Gwyneth was no easier. He gathered his thoughts and forced himself to focus - the crux of it is that work is far more important. Right. But just as he tried to divert his attention, the all-important question popped up again, unable to stay buried in the shadows any longer. Was he falling for her? --------------------------------"and when he opened the door, you'll never believe what he saw gorgeous little Nina Reed, on her knees, giving Luther one hell of a happy ending, if you know what I mean." Gwyneth's jaw dropped, her eyes twinkling with fun. Office gossip was a secret guilty delight that she occasionally yielded to. "No!" she gushed, "Luther? Oh my God, that would explain why she -" "Shhh! But yes, that pretty much sums it up." Dylan definitely didn't look the part, but he was every inch a gossip monger. Had it not been for his influence, Gwyneth couldn't care less about the ongoing scandals in the office, but alas, bad habits are infectious - and Dylan's unceasing updates on the who's and whats eventually had her hooked. "The best part is that apparently once, they were going at it when he was on the phone with his wife, " he paused to chortle "and the missus was asking him about their - fuck, berg alert." Immediately, they both fell back into position with a practiced ease. In a fraction of a millisecond, Dylan was scribbling away on some document or other and Gwyneth was attaching files to a seemingly important e-mail, blending into the office bustle like chameleons in a tree. As luck would have it, their phony act was unnecessary. Aidan marched by quickly, barely throwing them a glance, and tapped on Gwyneth's desk without even slowing down. "My office," he instructed tersely. She had to take big strides to keep up with him as they moved towards the office. Walking behind him, she stole surreptitious looks at his ass, watching the rich fabric pull taut with every step of his brisk walk, and

smirked to herself. Judging by his hurried movements and humorless expression, she surmised that he was in one of his moods again. In his office, Lucy was already waiting beside his desk, holding a stack of papers which she passed to him as he sank into his seat, wasting no time in getting started. Aidan was moving at such a frantic pace it scared her. Was he always like this? Blimey, he took the word 'productive' to a whole new level. As soon as Lucy left the room, Aidan spoke out. "Alright, Gwyneth," he didn't even look up from whatever it was he was scrawling on, "there's no nice way to put this, so here goes. You will no longer be working on the Ceres case effective immediately. We have decided that your expertise is best expended in other fields, and while we appreciate your enthusiasm, it would be in the best interest of the case if you stepped down from the team." Gwyneth was too stunned to even react. She just stood there, frozen stupid, the room completely silent apart from the sound of pen on paper. It couldn't be. This was poised to be one of the biggest litigation settlements of the decade - Christ, there wasn't a single newspaper in the world that wasn't covering it from end to end. She'd been so proud to be offered a chance to be part of an elite squad, and now they were telling her to go play somewhere else, even before she'd done anything? She couldn't believe it. It was like being told you missed the target before you had the chance to shoot. Recoiling from the shock, she steeled herself with resolve. "I don't - I - I don't quite get it. W-Why the sudden change? Has there been a recent development in proceedings?" "No, nothing like that. Marty will continue to be at the helm, assisted by Julian and I. I'm sorry, but I cannot provide you with any more details, considering the sensitive nature of the case - I hope you understand." No, she thought bitterly, no, she did not understand. More so, it pained her that he still wouldn't look at her, couldn't afford her the decency to look her in the eye while he forced her out of the opportunity of a lifetime. It stung like hell, standing in front of him while he blatantly ignored her, choosing to concentrate his attention on the documents in front of him. Like she didn't matter at all. All her life, she'd never felt sodisrespected. So insignificant, so small.

"Why?" Her voice came out slightly wobbly, betraying the resilience she aimed to exude. "Is it because Marty didn't think I belong there?" He stopped writing and finally looked up to meet her gaze, but there wasn't an ounce of friendliness in his eyes. "No, it's because I don't think you belong there." The words dealt a far greater blow that she was prepared for. In that sentence, not only did he confirm that he didn't think she deserved to be on that team, or didn't think she was up to par with the rest of them, he also implied that he didn't want her to be around him. A fresh swell of hurt flooded through her and she desperately hoped it didn't show on her face. If it had been anyone else, she would've fought back. She would've stood her ground and defended her merits, parried off their challenges and taken root in the faith of her own abilities. But this was Aidan. Apart from the fact that he was completely immovable, impervious to all the forces around him, there was the other reason she couldn't bring herself to fight his decision. Over the past few weeks, she'd allowed herself to believe that there was a private friendship between them, even in the office. All those times they'd shared cryptic looks with each other, and the secret lunch breaks with each otherhad they meant nothing to him? Weren't they close enough for her to at least be considered a friend? Shame burned hotly in her cheeks as her fists clenched in indignant fury. Of course he hadn't, she told herself. He'd made it perfectly clear from day one itself. Work will have to be work, she remembered him saying. It was a mistake on her part - she'd expected some form of special treatment, however slight - hadn't she? Fine, so they weren't friends. That still didn't give him the right to be cruel and slap her in the face with bad news without warning. She wondered if he was felt a hint of remorse, or maybe sympathy - did he feel anything, anything at all? His eyes were still fixed on hers, cold and hard as she'd ever seen them, staring back at her like an judgmental, inexorable god. A part of her was already breaking apart and beginning to crumble, yet another part fought hard to scavenge whatever dignity she had left. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

"Well then, if that will be all, I'll excuse myself." It was a pathetic exit that left little saving grace. She made to leave and twisted the doorknob open, suddely stopping dead in her tracks as she was seized by a thought. "You didn't have to be so brutal, Aidan. It's not too much to ask for you to treat a fellow human being with some modicum of respect." By the time Aidan looked up, she was gone. --------------------------The day couldn't possibly get any worse. He was exhausted and his mental processors have been maxing out from the second he arrived at the office. He tipped his head back to crack the pockets of tension in his neck and sighed wearily. The stress was getting to him, which was unusual because he usually fed on it. You didn't have to be so brutal, Aidan. It's not too much to ask for you to treat a fellow human being with some modicum of respect. His chest tightened every time he thought of what she said. He remembered the look of hurt in her eyes when he'd unleashed his temper on her. God, that expression on her face - knowing that he was the one who hurt her made him feel like the biggest asshole on earth. She had done nothing to deserve being treated like that. On the contrary, she'd always been so patient, so understanding - never asking, always giving. Why, then, why in the world had he behaved that way? Christ, hormonal teenagers could've handled themselves better than he did just now. He was angry at himself for letting her become the victim of his vicious temper. Aidan blew out a long, tired breath and sagged back into his chair, closing his eyes. He felt terrible and his heart ached with immense guilt as he replayed the entire conversation in his head. A small voice in his head pointed out - that wasn't about temper, was it? Getting irate at incompetency was an almost daily occurrence, and dishing out stern reproofs were his 'thing'. This was different. This attack was unprovoked. Fucking hell, she didn't even fight to stay on the team. It didn't take him long to figure out why.

He'd seen it in her face, the faintest flinch from an unforeseen stab in the back. She'd been hoping for a glimmer of kindness from him, a small indication that he at least cared for her in the most basic sense, but found the opposite. All he'd been trying to do was protect her and make sure she was as far away from the Ceres case as possible. A noble thought, but unfortunately executed in all the wrong ways. The truth is that she had him all confused and muddled, allowing the mask of perfect control to slip from his fingers, undoing the tight knots of his seemingly salubrious life. And that made him lash out in self-defense, when the Trojan walls built to keep him safe were in danger of being breached. None of this was supposed to happen. But it did happen, and the fact is that she'd slowly crept in only because he allowed it, only because a small, unsaid part of him secretly wanted it. An apology was definitely in order, but how was he going to make up for something like this? Would she forgive him for his crass harshness? He sure as hell hoped so. The emptiness of the office, compounded by the strain from a hectic day almost seemed to swallow him whole. What he needed to do now was figure out how to atone for his mistake, and at the same time try to work out whether he was really, really falling for her. God, his head hurt. ------------------------------Gwyneth was making dinner when the doorbell rang. After a day like that, the last thing she wanted to do was work into the wee hours of the night at the office. What she really craved for was a healthy homemade meal, a glass of wine, the comfort of her own home and a good book in bed. At this hour, she wasn't expecting anyone, but it was most likely to be Dylan, who enjoyed showing up unannounced for an impromptu movie night session. She smiled sadly to herself. Movie night sounded like the perfect remedy for the day. She answered the door with a smile that vanished as soon as she saw the smartly-dressed lawyer standing there. Aidan, the persona non grata of the evening, was holding up an expensive-looking bouquet of roses, looking more morose than she'd ever seen him. She hadn't expected him to actually show up at her door, and looking into his eyes only triggered a pang of fresh hurt.

"What are you doing here?" "I came to apologize, Gwyneth. I know that my behavior was way out of line and totally uncalled for. I'm sorry I was so callous with you - whether as a senior, or as a friend, that was no way to talk to you. The way I treated you lacked any respect whatsoever, and I deeply regret it Please, please forgive me." She rubbed her nose and looked at her feet to avoid his gaze for a few silent moments. When she looked up, she caught his rueful gaze and she realized that he sounded so genuine that she almost forgave him right there and then. The remnants of anger were ebbing away, although the wound still felt so raw. "You don't owe me an apology," she said quietly. "Like you said - work is work, and I should've have questioned your decision to drop me from the Ceres case -" "Gwyneth, please, don't." He sounded so bleak that she stopped talking altogether. There was a look of tired resignation on his face which took her by surprise. She'd never seen him so frank, so vulnerable, so open. "I'd like to think we're friends," he offered. "In fact, I'd like to think we're a lot more than friends. And friends or no, I hurt you today. You, of all people. And I'd like to try and make up for it, if you'll let me." The corners of her mouth were twitching. "So you brought me flowers," she remarked dryly. "Flowers." Aidan looked so sheepish, it was almost adorable. "The flowers are a preamble. The real star of the Sorry Show is this." He whipped out a DVD in a jewel case from his jacket and offered it to her. She turned it around in her hands and frowned at it. "What's in there?" She searched his face for clues, but all he did was wink at her in mischief. "You'll see." He thrust out the enormous bouquet again. "So, will you forgive me? I really am sorry, Gwyneth. Please don't hate me." She pouted a little, but her eyes were dancing. "Alright, you're in the clear," she took the flowers from him and dipped her head in to catch a whiff of the luxurious scent. Jesus, there must have been at least a

hundred roses in there, each one the size of a thimble, peppered with baby's breath, freesias, and some blue flowers she couldn't recognize. "Besides, yelling at me is kind of what you do every day." Okay, so that wasn't such a good joke. He looked just as miserable as before, guilt written all over his face. "Would you like to come in? I'm making pasta for dinner. It's not much, but you're welcome to stay." "I'm not sure I should. I wouldn't want to intrude on your evening in" "Oh no, not at all. Come on" she cajoled, holding up the DVD. "We could watch this together." Aidan face creased into a small smile. "Thanks, love. I really don't deserve this." "Well, you can help me cook," she moved aside to let him in and walked towards the kitchen. "And thanks for offering to do the dishes." "Your wish is my command, master." He bowed theatrically. As he sat his briefcase down on the floor, his eyes swept around for a quick scan of his surroundings. Gwyneth's place wasn't big, per se. It was a modestly-sized apartment that came with a matching price tag, which suited her fine. The furniture, which was almost entirely white - sofa, shelves, tables and chairs matched the equally white walls, opening up the compact space and making it look bigger. Splashes of color kept the apartment from looking dull. A teal linen throw on the fabric sofa and a retro-print rug in the kitchen helped liven up the place. Aidan smiled at the collection of curios that decorated the house. A Batman figurine stood guard beside some paperbacks on a bookshelf, and there was a black skull-shaped candle atop a pile of magazines on her coffee table. The most unmissable feature of her house, however, was the wall that faced the main door. On it hung the most incredible collection of photos and art he'd ever seen, with their mismatched frames and varying sizes. He could see a handful family photos here and there, but most of them were professional shots of the most amazing scenes one could imagine.

Well, no time to sit and admire - he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and headed towards the kitchen. "I'd ask if you were any good with a knife, but you're probably Cordon Bleu-trained." "Just got my first Michelin yesterday, actually. But yes, I can be trusted with something sharp." "Fair enough. Alright, so here's what's happening - fettucine boiled in clam broth instead of water, then sauteed with garlic, spicy italian sausage, broccoli and clams." She pointed at the respective ingredients as she went along. "Easy-peasy after work pasta. Okay with you?" "Sounds delicious." He leaned over a bubbling pot of clam broth and took a sniff. "Didn't know you could boil pasta in broth. Where'd you learn to cook?" "My mom brought me up right. Here, add some salt to it, and the fettucine should go in right about now." They worked side by side, laughing and talking in the warm kitchen. Gwyneth's hands deftly peeled and minced the garlic with practiced speed while Aidan moved at a slower but steady pace. His attempts to match her speed enticed laughter first, and later, a warning. "Whoa, whoa, whoa - watch it! You don't want to tell your kids about the time you lost a finger trying to cook dinner." "Not unless in the story, dinner is a great grizzly I killed with my bare hands after being lost in the woods for a week." "Imaginative. Now seriously, stop messing about. Get started on the broccoli - I'll wash the clams. The fettucine sho- hey! Be careful where you're pointing that thing!" "You were walking around with a knife just now, brandishing it like a bloody weapon, and I didn't nag at you." "Sweetheart, I'm half Japanese." She gave him a peck on the cheek and a quick spank on the ass. "I could cut off one of your eyelashes with a machete, no sweat."

"With one eye closed?" "With one eye closed." "Just my kind of woman. I don't know whether to be turned on or terrified." "Be both." She hugged him from the back and bit into his neck playfully. "I suppose now's a good time to tell you this, even if you don't want to hear it." She pulled away and turned to look him, very seriously, in the eye. "You might find this hard to believe, Aidan, but I'm one of those slobs who eat my dinner in front of the telly." "No!" he pretended to be aghast. "Every day?" She pulled a sad face and nodded. "Every day. I'm disgusting." He burst out in laughter and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "Oh, Alfred hates it when I do that. I rarely have dinner at home, so it's usually weekend breakfasts with Bloomberg. Every time he catches me there he shoos me back to the dining table." "Ugh, Saturday morning and you're watching Bloomberg? No wonder you're uptight." "Aww, that's cute. You don't understand what they're talking about do you? It's okay, honey, it's an adult thing." "Big talk from a man who can't chop garlic." They grinned at each other, basking in each other's presence while their hands busied in tandem. The fight was already forgotten, the hurt subsiding with every passing second. This felt good. This was right. ---------------------"Mmm," Aidan made encouraging sounds of approval around his mouthful of pasta. "This is delicious. I love that it's so simple, yet the flavors really stand out. Love it." Gwyneth smiled behind the glass of wine she was currently drinking from. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, side by side at the

coffee table, leaning their backs against the sofa behind them. "Tell me about the photos on the wall. Did you take all these?" "Only a few. The rest were taken by my dad. See that right there?" She pointed at a framed cover of a backdated National Geographic magazine. In it a black haired woman wearing a silver protective suit was studying the clipboard in her hands, her thick black hair billowing in the wind while a majestic wall of red magma exploded behind her. It made for a powerful shot - her small, diminutive frame contrasted starkly against the fiery mass of death in the background. Yet she stood oblivious, unflappable, unfazed. "That's my mom." She beamed with pride, obviously delighting in the story. "My dad took that picture when they were on Etna in Sicily. He was a photojournalist for Nat Geo, and she, a geochemist. That's how they met. They didn't talk much during the time the photo was taken, but after this issue was published my mom tried to track him down. She did manage to find him and they got to know each other better. After that, the rest is history." Aidan smiled warmly. "That's one hell of a love story." "I know. I swear, they lived the most incredible life ever. Just look at the pictures he took of the places they went to. The North Pole for the Aurora Borealis, the Mayan temples in Yucatan, living with the Kadazan in Borneooh, and right there, look - they even got a chance to see the lions of the Serengeti." She sighed wistfully and took another sip of wine. He pointed at a old group photo with all of them in kooky Egyptian poses. "Oh, now that is absolutely delightful. You guys look like you're having so much fun." She giggled at the comment. "Yeah well, that's the family. Dad, Jake, Andrew, me, Mom and Gerard." Her finger bounced from left to right. "Let's see, what else? MmmI did take a few of these, like the onethere." She pointed at a photo of kites fluttering in the wind, shaped and painted to look like koi carp. "That was in Japan at the Shichi-Go-San festival. It's nothing compared to what my dad used to do, but that's okay. He really was something else altogether." "It's a great picture, love. You should be proud."

Gwyneth blushed in return. "Thanks." "Is your father still with Nat Geo? I'm a big fan of the magazine." "My dad passed away when I was in college, I'm afraid. Never stopped taking photographs till the day he died, though." Aidan's face fell instantly. "Oh, God," he looked genuinely torn, "I'm so sorry -" "It's okay, you couldn't have known. Anyway, we lost him to cancer. Pancreatic. By the time we found it, it'd become very aggressive. There wasn't much time after that, which was a blessing in disguise, I suppose. No point in dragging it out if his days were going to be filled with pain." He covered her hand with his and squeezed hard. "I'm so sorry to hear that." "Nah, it's fine." She smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders. "Soyeah. That's the Kenners for you. What about you? How's your family like?" Aidan grimaced and his mood dropped several shades darker. "You don't want to hear about it." The change in his tone made her chest constrict. What could be so bad that he couldn't even bring himself to talk about it? His face had closed up suddenly, snapping back into its usual taut mask, but he caught her looking and his face relaxed again, plastering on an easy smile as if to try convince her that everything was alright. "Here," he held up the unmarked DVD in his hands, jiggling it as he spoke. "You almost forgot this." Sensing that he wanted to change the subject, she went with the flow. "Ooh, I wonder what it iscan we watch it now?" "If you want to." She grinned and leapt up in excitement, bounding over to the DVD player to feed it in. Gwyneth grabbed the remote and subsided back into her seat beside him, rubbing her hands in glee. She wiggled her eyebrows at Aidan who just look backed at her, straight-faced save for

the tiny curve on his lips. The screen burst into life with a grainy video of a familiar stage with the curtains still closed. Music from an orchestra began to play, and the curtains slowly rose to reveal a lone ballerina. In time with the music, she launched into a series of graceful leaps and spins, holding her arms elegantly above her head. Gwyneth frowned at the TV, thoroughly confused by now. "Umm, what are we watching exactly?" "You'll see. Patience, my dearpatience." As soon as he said those words it all clicked in her head. A slow smile spread across her face as she grabbed his arm and turned to face him. "No." Half teasing, half disbelief. "You'll see," he insisted. "I'm fast forwarding to the good parts-" He tried to grapple the remote from her. "The least you could do is watch the damn thing. Let it build up, you know" "Noo!" She squinted at the telly. The video was obviously taken ages ago, far too blurry by today's HD standards. "Let me guessSwan Lake, Bolshoi?" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Trust you to know that" She erupted into a fit of giggles. Clearly this was a lot more unpleasant that he expected it to be. The video flicked by at an accelerated speed, until - oh! There it was. She pressed play again just in time for the male danseur to prance in, dressed in white tights and a matching jacket. Because the video wasn't too clear, she could only make out that he had dark hair and was well-built, but the dancer's face remained featureless. Not that she needed to see his face to recognize him. "Nice legs, handsome." "Mature, Gwyneth. Mature."

She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing again. He could get so cranky with a little bit of teasing sometimes. They watched in silence as he danced with the prima, the White Swan, moving together in perfect choreography. She rather enjoyed it, actually. It was nice to see a small snatch of his younger years, to know the teenage Aidan. He couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 when the video was taken. Needless to say couldn't have been easy to be a ballet-dancing teenage boy, and for that reason it made the video all the more special. "I have to say, you're really good. Honest, you're a natural." "Thanks." He didn't sound too pleased. She decided that he was punished enough. As much as he pretended not to be embarrassed by it, he obviously was. That's why people keep insisting there's no shame in being a ballerino - because the truth is it never really is something you're eager to show off. She switched off the telly and leaned into him, slinging an arm across his shoulders. "Happy now?" He looked tired, but there was a definite smile on his lips. "I hope it made up for what I did today." "Oh, it definitely did. Thanks for showing me that. I know you didn't enjoy it one bit." She cocked her head and grinned at him, expecting him to smile back. Except he didn't. He looked as sullen as ever, staring into the empty space in front of him. She sighed a little and slipped one hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Look, it wasn't so bad, was it? I mean, there really is no reason to feel -" Aidan cut her off by shaking his head and reaching for her other hand. She stopped talking when she sensed that something was amiss. His eyes were closed and a slight grimace furrowed his forehead, giving the appearance that he had mild migraine. "Aidan, is everything alright? Are you in pain?" "Gwyneth." He turned to face her, but his eyes were still shut. Alarmed, she studied his face carefully, trying to decipher his unusual behavior. What had gotten into him? He'd been fine all night, looking like he'd enjoyed every minute, being his normal confident, ebullient self. And then, as if someone had flipped a switch, he'd gone from delighted to depressed, with no warning whatsoever.

But it wasn't until she took a good look at him that it hit her like a train. Although she'd looked into his eyes countless times now, gotten lost in the deep, enigmatic pools of his irises and let herself go weak in the knees under the intensity of his gaze - suddenly it was as if she was seeing him again for the first time, with a new clarity she'd never possessed before. Tired. He looked so very tired, the collective fatigue etched into his face in fine lines around his eyes and his lips. It was almost as if he aged ten years in ten seconds, right there in that spot where he sat. If she had been blind all this while - finally, finally she could see. "Gwyneth," he called her again, looking at her without opening his eyes. Even his voice had changed. She could see that he was struggling to get out the words he was trying to say, so she waited patiently, allowing him some time to compose himself. "What we haveis this real?" She was so scared now, her heart beating painfully loud and clear in her chest. His question hung in the air like an ominous fog. This was it. There was no running from this now, no more avoiding the inevitable. They'd played too close to the fire, gotten careless with the boundary between real and make believe, and now it was time to face the reality. Aidan looked as terrified as she was, but at least he'd worked up the courage to confront the facts. All she'd done was pretend that the problem never existed in the first place. His eyes flashed open, boring into hers, but they were the eyes of a stranger. Gone was the self-assured gaze of the Aidan she knew. The eyes that stared back at her looked almost deranged. Lost. Despairing. He reached up to cradle her face in his hands, gently stroking her cheek with his thumbs. She shivered at the touch, fighting back the tears that were springing to her eyes now. "Gwyneth," he asked again, pressing his face so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her lips. "I need to know if what we have here is real." Her entire body went cold, her limbs turning into ice. Scared. She didn't even know why, but she was trembling with fear, her mind wracked with nerves. That question, that one question she'd spent so much time avoiding was now waiting for her answer.

"I don't know." She could barely eke out a whisper. The moment felt so fragile, as if speaking out loud would break it. Her answer disappointed him. She could see it on his face. "What are we doing, Gwyneth?" His voice was beginning to crack, the hidden misery seeping into his words. "What are we doing?" "I don't know." "We shouldn't have done this, should we?" "I don't know." She couldn't say anything else other than those three words. The dam within her was reaching its breaking point. If he continued down this road, she was going to break down and cry. She didn't want to offer any answers because she didn't have any. Because she herself was afraid of the answer. "I don't know anything anymore, Aidan. I don't know." Aidan let out a tired sigh and shook his head, tightening his grip on her delicate jaw. He sounded so resigned, like he'd just given up completely. Stripped of his defenses, he was totally naked, vulnerable as the day he was born. He didn't want to fight it anymore, couldn't go against it any longer. "I think I'm falling in love with you." Hearing him say that out loud was all it took. The tears began to pour, starting as a single crystal drop that rolled down her cheek, burning a hot, sticky trail all the way to her chin. She couldn't find the right words to say in return, suffocated by the maelstrom of emotions that was crashing turbulently inside her right now. What she did do was fling her arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, honest kiss, crushing her lips into his with everything she had. This was their first kiss, their first real kiss, one without pretense or lie. And oh, how he kissed back, parting her lips with his hot, wet tongue, desperate and hungry for her. No words were exchanged. There was no need to. Why did she need to say those three special words when she could bite it into the curve of his neck while he pulled off her sweater? Did he really need to tell her out loud how he loved her when he was tucking her hair behind her ear? Instead they spoke with their bodies - he told her how much he needed her when pulled down her panties and fucked her with his tongue, gripping her hips as she moaned his name over and over, covering his

face in her juices. She could see it in his eyes as he arched protectively over her, pinning her in place with his piercing stare, never allowing her gaze to wander from his own. When he finally entered her she sobbed with pleasure, wrapping her legs around his back to draw him in deeper, wanting to feel more of him. She felt so loved, so cherished, surrendering her body completely to his affections, letting him show her how much she meant to him, how beautiful he thought she was, until it was almost too much to bear. There were tears in her eyes when she came, her mind shattering from the overwhelming magnitude of feelings she experienced. He screamed her name when he emptied himself into her, still holding her beautiful face firmly in his hands. I'm coming, Gwyneth, look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Gwyneth. For the first time since they started being fuck buddies, they fell asleep together. Unlike other times, where they just drifted off on their individual sides of the bed, tonight they discovered that she fit perfectly in the cradle of his body, her head safely ensconced in the crook of his neck, and he curled his arm snugly around her. Finally, he had her close to him, where she belonged. Where she should have been all this while. And there were a lot of things that Aidan still didn't understand, but the one thing he knew was that he was never going to let her go. -------------It was still dark when Gwyneth inexplicably stirred from sleep, even though the alarm hadn't gone off. Still groggy, she was about to roll over and slip back into slumber until she realized that she wasn't alone in bed. A strong, muscular arm was draped over her waist, pulling her close to the masculine warmth that was spooning her from behind. Slowly, she twisted around to face him, making sure not to wake him in the process. When he felt her weight shift his arms tightened around her in reflex and his breath hitched a little, but the movement didn't rouse him. Looking at his sleeping face made her smile. Even when he was unconscious, he wore a slightly stern expression, looking all serious and grim like he always did. It occurred to her that she'd never seen him in his sleep before. He did look so delicious with his hair all tousled and messy, his toned chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. Memories from the night before began to percolate

through her mind, reminding her of the gravity that yesterday's events implied, but she brushed it off and allowed herself to succumb to the dregs of sleep. Gwyneth sighed in contentment and pressed her nose into the shallow space between his chin and collarbone, weaving a long leg through his parted ones. Comfortably snuggled up against him, she drifted off back to join him in his dreams.

The alarm blared on time and Gwyneth's arm shot out in reflex to snooze it. Morning sunlight cut through a gap in the curtains in a faint beam and she could feel him stirring beside her, his long limbs stretching as he slowly woke up. He yawned widely and buried his nose in her hair, reluctant to get out of bed. "Morning," his voice was gruff and deep, pretty much as sexy as she'd ever heard him. "Morning." Gwyneth smiled a little and pressed a kiss on his stubbly jaw. Her whole bed smelt of him - that clean, masculine scent lingered on her sheets and pillows, titillating her senses. God, this was utterly divine. A small part of her memory pricked up, reminding her that they should probably talk about yesterday and at least try to sort things out. But as she pulled away as saw Aidan gazing at her with heavy-lidded eyes, blinking so slowly she thought he might just slip back into unconsciousness at any second, she just let it go. That could wait - for now, she just wanted to enjoy him and soak in the afterglow of a memorable night. They just lay there, looking at each other, reveling in each other's presence. She found it odd that he was so lugubrious this morning. The normal Aidan usually hopped out of bed with enough time to spare for a leisurely breakfast with the morning paper. "I don't ever want to leave this bed," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. "You're more than welcome to stay here with me all day..." "Now that's an offer I can't refuse." His arm snaked around her neck to pull her in for a morning kiss and he

moaned softly into her lips as he felt her kiss him back. It was almost surreal, she thought. Cuddling with him in her bed on a lazy morning the night after they'd admitted their feelings for each other. As if to convince herself that he was really there and this was not just a dream, her hands embarked on a stealthy expedition across his body, starting from the chiseled planes of his chest and slowly moving southTrue enough, her sleepy lover cracked one eye open and shot her a sensuous smile. Her fingers fluttered over the ridges of his abdomen, tracing the grooves between each muscle, inching towards his most sensitive spot. He was already hard when her fingers closed over his length, drawing out a throaty groan from him. The fog of sleep started to clear from his eyes when her hand started to move up and down his engorged member, igniting the familiar sparks of desire in him. Biting her lip to hide her smile, she rolled on top of him before he even had time to react, propping herself up on her elbows to hover above him. Her long brown hair fell in a smooth curtain around their faces. Their lips met again, the kiss as heavy with desire and want as it was with tender affection. His hands ran down the length of her smooth, slender back, luxuriating in the feel of skin on naked skin. She could feel his hardness pressing against her belly, the physical evidence of just how much he wanted her. With a playful gleam in her eye she let her kisses trail downwards, meandering in a leisurely path down his jawline and neck to pause at his nipples. She took one into her mouth, flicking at the sensitive tip with her tongue and watched him stiffen in response. When she nipped at the small bud with her teeth she heard his growl at the base of his throat, the strong muscles of his thigh going taut with tension. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she continued towards his groin, watching his eyes darken as she moved closer and closer to where he wanted her most. She was almost at his navel when his phone rang in a plaintive, digital bleat, vibrating loudly against the surface of the bedside table. As they both chose to ignore it, she deviated her kisses towards the insides of his thighs, fully intending to drive him crazy. It worked - he pushed himself up onto his elbows and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, staring down at her with licentious eyes. Thankfully the phone stopped ringing, just in time for Gwyneth to tease him with soft kisses at the line where his hip met his legs. He didn't move a muscle and allowed her to torture him to her heart's content. She could see the hunger blazing in his irises, his lips slightly parted in expectation. This was her man, the man she loved, the man she needed, the man who made her happy - lying naked in her bed, patiently enduring her games.

Gwyneth would have renewed her assault on him if the phone hadn't started ringing again. Whoever was calling must've had a good reason to pester Aidan so early in the morning. She sighed and pulled away from him but he grabbed her shoulders to stop her. "Ignore it. I'm here with you and it's you I want to spend time with. The rest of the world can wait." "Aidan, it might be important - " "Fuck that, I don't care. It's just a phone call." He pulled her up so that her face was level with his. "We're here together, just us both, and I'm willing to just let everything disappear away." The constant ringing of the phone seemed to deliberately rebel against every word he said. She could see a flash of irritation cross his eyes, the intrusion obviously annoying him to no end. He swore softly, sitting up to reach for the phone and was about to switch it off until he got a good look at the caller ID. She could have sworn that his entire body tensed up, his facial expression tightening ever so imperceptibly when he identified the mystery morning caller. It was easy to tell that the last thing he wanted to do was answer that bloody call, but there was a obviously a compelling need for him to do so. Maybe she should have been mad any other woman in her right mind would've expected him to ignore the call and focus on her, but she didn't mind it one bit. She expected this. Being a top-notch lawyer meant being married to the job. "You should get that," she advised gently, brushing her lips against the skin of his shoulder. His reluctance was written all over his face, but the look in her eyes convinced him to do what he dreaded. "Right after my big speech on being with you." He grimaced. "God, I'm terrible." "You are." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm so sorry about this." "Don't be." He sighed, took her hand in his and pressed a button on the phone.

"Yes?" His greeting was brusque, lacking any warmth whatsoever. He shot her a meaningful glance, quietly thanking her for being so gracious about all of this, and she just smiled back sweetly, knowing that his mood was rapidly deteriorating with every passing second. "Where did you hear this?" Pause. "Yes." A long pause. "It's entirely my prerogative, and that's all I have to say about it." Another long pause. "Suit yourself." Immediately after he said those words, he hung up. She could see him silently seething, anger radiating off his skin like an aura. The tension was back in his body, every muscle gone rigid with stress. He'd morphed back into the lawyer Aidan - cold, calculative, domineering. She could sense the animosity between him and the mystery caller, the frown on his face an indicator of a sour history. He tried to soften his stance by bottling up his fury and hiding it from her, but she saw right through it. As much as she didn't like seeing him angry, it made her a little happy to know that she was getting better at reading him. The way his eyes narrowed in annoyance, and the little wrinkle that appeared near his temples when he was thinking - who could it have been, to make him go from cuddly to choleric in a snap? "That was my father," he answered her unspoken question, and for a minute Gwyneth wondered if he had read her mind. With brains like his, it was very well possible, but then again he was just probably being polite and trying to explain the situation to her. "Currently, there are somecomplications with the Ceres case, and he's expressed his interest in it. He's flying in this afternoon." Her throat tightened at the mention of the case. Even if the fight was over, the fact that she'd been booted off the team still stung. She wished she could pretend that she didn't care, but the fact is that she did. Rejection was never something she took well, even from a young age. She'd been so accustomed to being good at so many things, it was natural that she was wanted for almost everything. Cinching medals and trophies in high school, sponsored trips to Tokyo for Model UN conferences in college, modeling contracts when she moved to New York - all her life, opportunities threw themselves at her feet. Why not this one? "Listen, I think it goes without saying that I owe you an explanation about the Ceres case."

"You don't have to-" "No, hear me out. I need you to know that my decision to drop you from the case wasn't unwarranted. In fact," he sighed and shook his head, "in fact, I hate to admit this, but I made that choice due to personal reasons. There are a lot of things you should know that I haven't told you, and if you'd give me the chance, I'd like to tell you about it. Every little detail." He paused for a while, staring at their intertwined hands. "I don't know where we really stand now, and I don't want to rush into things; but if we're going to do this, I want to do it right. I don't want to keep this from you, you have every right to know." "I appreciate that." Feeling touched, she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "It means a lot to me that you're doing this, because I know it's not easy for you. Whatever your reasons may be, know that I trust your judgement. I really do. It's justI was really looking forward to working on that case, and I-" she sighed, unable to find a way to express her frustration, "just - honestly, Aidan, is it because of my performance at work? Because I promise, what we have now isn't going to change how I am at the office-" "Absolutely not - not even close." His voice firmly cut her off and dispelled her worries. "Like I said, it's due to personal reasons. It'll take some time to explain - maybe we could do it over dinner, if you're free tonight?" He gave a small, hopeful smile. "I'd love dinner," she beamed at him, her good nature illuminating the room. "In fact, maybe I could take you out for a change, if that's okay?" His eyed widened in surprise. "I was hoping I could spoil you tonight, maybe indulge you a little" he tried a counter-offer, running his hands through the soft silk of her long hair. "Heaven knows you deserve it." "Mmm, that does sound delicious. But I think I'll save it for some other night - please? Just for tonight, I'd like to take charge of things. Please, baby, please?" A smile quirked at his lips, his heart lightening with joy. How could he resist her when she looked at him like that? And she'd called him baby in that sweet, playful voice. Of course he relented. His resolve didn't stand a chance against her doe eyes. He knew that she could see his defeat because her grin widened, so genuine that even her brown eyes were smiling. She threw her arms around his neck, her hungry lips seeking

his, and then they were rolling on the bed in a tangle of soft laughter and caresses, completely lost to the world around them. -------------------------"You're late," Lucy raised her eyebrows at him as he approached her desk, which sat right in front of his office. "He's waiting inside, arrived ten minutes ago." "He hates it when I'm not on time," he said dryly, making Lucy's lip twitch. Being in charge of his schedule for the past four years meant that she was no stranger to the strained relationship between Aidan and his father. "Is Julian in there with him?" She nodded in affirmation. Aidan paused in front of the door, closed his eyes and blew out a breath to calm himself. He wrenched the door open and strode into the room confidently to find the both of them settled comfortably into the plush chairs, sipping from crystal glasses filled with whisky. "Father," he greeted his dad with nothing more than a curt nod of acknowledgement, whereas Julian didn't even get so much as a hi. "You should have been here half an hour ago." Nicholas Scodelario's voice was as rough as sandpaper, the result of decades of chain-smoking. His father glared at him, the deep wrinkles around his eyes accentuating the pale blue of his aged irises. "I was told you arrived just ten minutes ago." "You should have been here half an hour ago," he repeated, as if he were talking to a child. "Punctuality," his voice took on a condescending sneer, "always was too difficult a concept for you to grasp." "Sorry, was out there trading the firm for some magic beans - but of course, your sources probably already have you informed." "Make that punctuality and wit. Makes me wonder how the fuck you ever became a Scodelario." Aidan would've thought of a proper comeback if it weren't for Julian's eyes warning him not to. Julian was right - there was no point in further displeasing his father, who had the temperament of a rodeo bull.

Fighting fire with fire would lead them nowhere. He acquiesced in silence and busied himself at the minibar, pouring himself a drink. If he himself had a reputation as being demanding, it sure as hell paled in comparison to that of this father's. This was a man whom, at the age of thirty, took a law firm of five staff and turned it into a multinational firm that spanned a thousand employees in twelve countries. People feared Aidan, but they were genuinely terrified of Nicholas at an entirely different level. "Tell me about the Ceres case," he instructed with a glare so cold, it could've frozen the sun. "We're settling, with the payoff fixed at 56 million, an increase by 16 million from the original 40. The plaintiffs have agreed to not pursue further action as well as to be bound by a non-disclosure agreement, ensuring silence on their part." Aidan explained nonchalantly, knowing that his words were redundant. "Bollocks. Where's Hamilton?" "Marty's in a conference call with Shanghai. He won't be joining us this afternoon." "Well that just leaves Larry and Curly to deal with," Nicholas rasped bitterly. He turned to face Julian and stared him in the eye. "What about you, Lynch? Any gold nuggets you can afford to offer?" "Like Aidan said, we're settling with 56 million. Folks over at my side are getting very nervous, and we're very keen on having this swept under the rug as soon as we can. The media circus is a lot bigger than what we expected, and the PR jackals are struggling to keep a rein on things. The sooner we settle this, the better." "So you mean to tell me that you haven't actually formed a little Justice League of your own in some fatuous quest to ensure equality and freedom for all of mankind?" Julian shot an alarmed glance at Aidan, who caught it with nary an expression on his face. Could he be calling a bluff? Julian's eyes asked. Aidan tilted his head ever so slightly, a secret gesture honed over years of friendship that only Julian would have perceived. True to his dictator-style ruling, Nicholas was one who favored complete and absolute knowledge about everything, imposing his control on every

square inch of anything he could get his fingers on. It hardly came as a surprise that he knew about the activities they were doing in secret. Straight-faced, Aidan swirled the amber drink in his glass and looked his father in the eye. "I see Marty's still reporting to you." "Marty had nothing to do with it. Fools - did you really think no one was going to know about it? Well congratulations, you have the entire legal world buzzing like it's Watergate-" Aidan scoffed in derision, fully intending to be as insulting as possible. "Spare me the calisthenics. Throw all the fake-outs you want, but I know that you're just fishing around because you've got squat. What we're doing is completely independent from the firm. We're almost done compiling necessary documents, and it won't be long before the Feds swoop in to finish the job. Until that happens, this is a personal project with three people in charge, and it's completely airtight. Disagree all you want. It's not going to change anything." "Airtight?" Nicholas shook his head and his contemptuous laugh filled the room. "Jesus, you're a shortsighted little prick, aren't you?" He raised his eyebrows. "Who is she, Aidan?" The gleam in his eyes indicated that he needed no answer to his question. He already knew. This wasn't a question, it was a taunt. Aidan's lips hardened into a tight line, his spine stiffening as he sat up straight. Coils of anger began to undulate within him, permeating his entire self like venom through his veins. It was so infuriating to see his father's expression, that sordid mask that was both merry and malicious, gleefully delighting in being an omnipotent, all-knowing behemoth. "Is that a threat?" Julian watched in avid interest as Aidan's voice dropped into a menacing whisper. His own eyes were bouncing back and forth between father and son as if he were spectating a tennis match. Well now he understood why that junior associate was dropped off the case. Who would've guessed? Not that she wasn't pretty - hell, she was gorgeous, looking like something right off the pages of French Vogue. Of course he'd suspected it, but in the end the thought of Aidan sleeping with someone from work was too outlandish for him to take seriously. Apparently, he couldn't be more wrong. As much as he wanted to smile

and roll his eyes, he didn't. This was serious - Nicholas was implying that this girl would be the weak spot of the entire agenda. Nicholas silently gloated at his son's response. "How high and mighty you must feel. They say you're a legend in the making - unprecedented instincts, imaginative ideas, all the markings of a truly innovative leader. You're brilliant, Aidan, and you've always been dumb like a fox." He tipped back the final mouthful of whisky, rolling it on his tongue to savor the flavor before swallowing it. "So I trust you'll understand when I say that my opinions and actions have little bearing on the momentum of things in the greater picture. There's no need for me to threaten you. You took her off the case because you know it yourself." Nicholas set the empty glass on the table in front of him and rose to his feet, towering over the two younger men who were still in their seats. "Tread very, very carefully. I'm telling you right now, right here - you've bitten off more than your fucking jaw knows how to deal with. I may be wrong - after all, you're the firm's wonder boy, Mr. Magic himself - but make no mistake, you two shitheads can take your righteous little socialist coup and go fuck yourselves in the ass with it." He turned to look at Julian, wearing a smug smile. "All about helping the little guys screw the big bullies, eh, Lynch? That's precious, coming from you. Hard to believe, judging by that flower-child, tree-hugging hippie shit you've got going on around you, but you're a Lynch, and you always will be. Bentleys in the garage, summer house in Monaco - Christ, stop deluding yourself. If it's atonement you're looking for, you sure as hell aren't going to find it this way. The world will never stop hating you for being the one percent." He fiddled with his cufflinks, which were already perfectly in place. "Anyway, I'm done lecturing the both of you. As long as the firm stays intact, the both of you can end up with the Chippendales for all I fucking care - do whatever you want. After all, you're both such big, big boys." Finished with his speech, he stormed out of the room without a goodbye. The two men sat there, both silently seething from the encounter, the pieces of their mental chessboard gliding about in complex maneuvers. Aidan's blood was still boiling. Out of habit, he reached into his phone and pulled out his BlackBerry, beginning to type out replies to the bevy of new e-mails he'd received in the past hour. Mundane tasks like these helped him think and calmed him down. The room was completely silent

apart from the dull clicking of his phone's keypad. "How long have the both of you been at it?" The typing stopped abruptly. Aidan's eyes darted up, his stance still prepared for an offensive, but he realized that Julian was asking that question as a friend. He exhaled sharply and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Long enough for it to matter." Julian didn't say anything in response. He knew better than to. Despite being a lawyer, which meant that Aidan could filibuster at great lengths on any given topic under the sun, when it came to heavier things, Aidan was a man of few words. He excelled at confrontations, but affection was something he struggled with. Aidan glanced at his watch and stood up when he saw the time. "Shall we meet again in an hour? I have some matters to attend to. Don't let him get under your skin." "Never have, never will." "Good. I'll see you later." --------------------------------

He had just stepped out of the door when Lucy saw him and flagged him down. "You're supposed to talk to Lizcato about the Bank of Helsinki. Also, I have Robertson on line five with updates on Geneva, and Lee left a message saying that the due diligence should be done by the 25th." "Remind me to call Lizcato at five, divert Robertson to my personal line, and give Lee the green light." "Will that be all?" "Cancel all my appointments tonight. I don't care if it's the White House or even if it's Jesus Christ himself, clear my schedule this evening."

"Alright, sir." She pressed a button on her desk phone and almost immediately, Aidan's phone started ringing. "Right, Robertson. Shoot." He marched through the office with the phone pressed to his ear, almost rolling his eyes at the sight of the nervous interns that shrunk away from him when he passed by them. Still talking, he strode towards his intended destination, eyes scanning the floor for any signs of the person he was looking for. When he finally spotted her, it almost felt like his heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he forgot that he was supposed to be negotiating a multimillion-dollar merger. She was talking to a colleague, occasionally referring to the thick cardboard file her companion was holding. Ever stylish, her outfit of the day consisted of a black v-neck dress that ended just at the knee, finished off with a cropped blazer and black patent pumps. She'd decided to let down her long brown hair today, eschewing her usual ponytail and simply parting her hair down the middle, allowing it to glide past her shoulders in a perfect waterfall. It was a simple fix that made her look quite very different, bringing out her Asian features that normally went unnoticed. Now she was obviously explaining something, her right hand moving from up downwards in a step-ladder fashion in an attempt to describe a linear procedure. They were so engrossed in the conversation that when he swooped in, it caught them both by surprise. "Kenner," he pulled the phone away from his ear and cupped a hand over it. "War Room 4, walk with me." She looked surprised but excused herself and followed his brisk steps. As he was still talking on the phone, she couldn't ask him why he wanted to see her, and of all places, why he was bringing her to one of the 'War Rooms' - the well-equipped, secure conference rooms normally reserved for top-priority and highly classified meetings. Aidan finished up with the conversation in time and hung up just as they walked into the empty workspace, shutting the door and locking it behind him. "So, why are we - mmf." He pinned her forcefully against the wall, pressing his lips onto hers with such aggression it took her breath away. She could feel the raw need in

his body, in the way he almost crushed her with his strong height, trapping her in place with his broad torso. His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her close to him and obliterating the space between them. Her fingers snaked into his hair and the kiss deepened, making her eyes crash shut from the delicious wantonness of being taken like this. To think that she was making out with her boss, right here in some clandestine corner of the office made her spine tingle. The sheer naughtiness of it..her head began to spin, the warmth radiating from her core towards her groin and she slipped her hands under his jacket, pulling at his shirt with tight fists. God, how she wanted him - and he smelled so, so good...a groan escaped from her when he finally broke the kiss and pulled away. She could see the sparkle in his eyes, the brilliant blue blazing at her with the same intensity she'd always known. "That was nice," he murmured, stroking a thumb across the pale skin of her cheek. "Sneaky little bastard," she smiled, biting her lip. "Is this where you usually seduce and shag your employees?" "Well, there's always the janitor's closet, but you got upgraded to the deluxe suite." She giggled and reached up to kiss him again, letting her hands roam over his body as they locked lips. He was definitely stressed - she could feel it in his muscles, all the way from the small of his back to the base of his neck. She looked into his eyes, hoping to read him a little better, but his face managed to disguise any hints of trouble from her. Too bad she knew him better than that. "Long day?" she asked softly, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. "Not any more than the usual." Actually, she couldn't be more right - he was so goddamn riled up right now, and the only thing he needed was her - to see her, feel her, be with her. "Well, Mr. Scodelario," her hands slid around to cup his ass, giving them a firm squeeze. "I may have a few ideas that you might be interested in. Will you be available for a brainstorming session?" "Oh, you can brain the storm out of me anytime, Ms. Kenner."

The suggestive smile on her lips made his breath hitch in his throat. He lowered his head and captured her again in one of those heart-melting kisses, allowing the pleasure to unwind as his tongue sought hers. One hand was skating up her thigh, skimming on the soft, smooth skin of her legs and heading towards the valley between them. She moaned into his mouth, her skin tingling with anticipation as her fingers worked on his shirt buttons and belt buckle, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. Were they really going to this this? Sex in the officethe heady haze of delirium was getting to her. How many times had she secretly fantasized about this? All those boring afternoons where she stared at stacks and stacks of paper, typing away while her mind preoccupied itself with thoughts of being bent over a desk and screwed mercilessly - now Aidan's hands found her hot centre, stroking her moist slit through the damp fabric. Something awakened inside her, stirring to life with every brush of his skin on hers. A plan came to her mind and she hoped that she could pull it off. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him off her, breaking contact between them. Inwardly thrilling at the confusion on his face, she continued to push him, forcing him to step backwards until his back bumped into one of the plush office chairs around the huge meeting table. "Sit," she purred, shrugging off her blazer and dropping it to the floor. Her eyes were smoldering, and she could tell that Aidan found it irresistible. He obeyed her instructions and sank into the chair, never taking his eyes off her. The chair creaked beneath them as she got on and straddled him, positioning her knees on either side of his parted legs. Their lips met again, but in this position she was slightly taller than him and he had to tip his head upwards to receive her hot, desperate kisses, her delicate hands tangled in his hair. They gazed at each other as he slowly pulled down the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders, along with the bra underneath until her chest was exposed to the cool air of the room, revealing her already hard nipples. "So, so beautiful," he murmured, unable to take his eyes off her breasts. "So perfect. You're perfect." Stars exploded behind her eyes when he took one into his mouth. Her

head fell back with pleasure and she arched instinctively, pushing her chest into him. He could feel her fingertips digging into his scalp as he nipped at her nipple with his teeth, sucking hard. His hands slid up past the hem of her skirt and he pulled down her underwear to her knees, She gasped when she felt a finger slip inside her, teasing and rubbing near that sensitive spot. "You'll have to be quiet, unless you want someone to hear you. Or are you hoping that people will listen?" His breath was hot and wet in her ear, the unmistakable mischief in his voice out to tease her. She looked briefly startled. Kinky was as kinky goes, but she still valued discretion above anything else. Voyeurism never was something for her tastes - and Aidan could tell she was slightly freaked at the prospect of being found shagging him at work. "Relax," he soothed. "I was teasing you. Doors are locked, room is almost soundproof. They can't hear us talking" his mouth found its way to her neck, sinking a gentle bite into the skin just below her ear, making her whimper. "but I don't know if they can hear us fucking." She could practically hear his smile. He grabbed her hips and lowered her onto him, slowly impaling her on his length until he was totally buried inside her. She bit back a moan when he bottomed out, her entire body blazing from the sensation of being so incredibly full - he felt so big in this position, so impossibly huge. After taking a few moments to adjust, she began to ride him, slowly at first, fucking herself on his cock with long, languorous strokes. It wasn't long before they increased in tempo, his need to come only rivaled by her own. She could hear her own muffled gasps filling the room, the syncopated notes matching the wet slaps of their lovemaking. This was so incredibly hot, so dangerous, so forbidden - oh, to be fucked with her dress bunched around her waist and her lover still clothed save for the unbuttoned shirt and unzipped trousers - she couldn't believe she was doing this. Fucking her own boss in the office. Something about her must've given it away, because he sensed it immediately. "Oh my God, you've wanted this for so long, haven't you? Little minx," his voice was a hoarse whisper, they needed to keep the volume low. "You've been dreaming about being fucked like this, huh, baby girl? You've always wanted to seduce me in this office, secretly wished for me to pounce on you and just fucking take you"

She didn't answer and just rode him in a frenzy, lost to the fizzing electricity that flashed wildly inside her. It felt so, so good, and she was so near now, teetering on the brink of orgasm. His hands suddenly tightened around her hips and held her still, impeding any movement she tried to make. "Answer me, Gwyneth." His lips found hers, hungry and aggressive, the tone of his voice commanding. "You've always fantasized about being fucked in the office, haven't you?" She tried to lift her hips to hump him, but his hands locked her firmly in place. Shame burned on her cheeks, her bravado faltering only for a millisecond. "Yes," she breathed, the word dripping with lust. "Yes, I have." He triumphed at her answer and rewarded her with a few thrusts of his hips, driving himself deep enough to bump into her cervix. Her arms trembled at the sensation, threatening to give way. He grabbed her small, perky breasts roughly and squeezed them hard, and she almost came right there and then. "Tell me, have you ever touched yourself at work?" Her heart almost stopped beating. She froze, suddenly paralyzed with a crippling shyness. How was she going to answer this question? "I'm going to ask you one more time," his deep voice was low but demanding, and she realized she was staring into the eyes of the berg, not just Aidan. "Kenner, have you ever, at any time, pleasured yourself sexually during office hours?" She didn't know whether it was the formal authority or the sheer power in his command that did it, but she just melted on the inside, her brain dissolving into liquid caramel. If only she knew how she looked like slightly tousled hair, reddened lips, cheeks flushed from exertion - Aidan could barely believe how goddamn sexy she looked, like a corporate lioness that stood proud, looking for a mate. Her soft voice escaped her lips without her realizing it. "Yes, yes I have." He growled with satisfaction and drove into her, his strong hands lifting her up and slamming her back down repeatedly until she finally found her release. She almost screamed but he covered her mouth with his,

stealing the ecstatic whine straight from her throat, muting her cries. She couldn't think anymore, her entire being combusting into pure, white light - and she let herself be consumed by it, giving herself up to that brilliant blaze. When she finally came down, she found herself collapsed on his lap, her head hanging limply on his shoulders. His hands were brushing smooth, soothing circles on her back and he was murmuring sweet nothings into her ear like a lullaby. She felt his erection inside her - he was still rock hard, still desperately in need of release. With a sultry grin she slid off him, lowering herself to the floor on her knees, looking up at him through her long, thick lashes. He made a move to stop her but she batted his hand away, her eyes warning him off. She took him into her mouth and she watched in delight as his mouth fell open and his eyes crashed shut, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the handrest tightly. She could taste herself on his hard length, the distinct tang sticky and sweet on the soft skin of his erection. As she swirled her tongue around him she heard his staggered gasp, and his fingers instinctively found their way into her hair. Inside, a small part of her glowed with pride. If she had been his employee before, now she was his superior. To feel his thighs stiffen as he tried to push himself deeper into her mouth reminded her that now, he was under her control, subject to her mercy. He was her subordinate, he needed her, craved for her. Gwyneth continued to suck him with wet slurps until his breathing became so ragged, she knew that he was going to come. The muscles of his neck were straining with effort, and she could feel the raw energy of his body threatening to explode. He was looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, the animalistic hunger evident in his irises. She was his goddess, kneeling before him at his feet, her perfect lips shaped in a delicious O around his cock, serving him and driving him wild both at once. She pulled back until he was almost out of her mouth and then pushed him back in deeper than before, so deep that he was fucking her throat. As she continued deep throating him, she watched the man she loved come undone with her ministrations. He was softly stuttering her name, gripping her head tightly as his eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back into his head. To think that she had one of the smartest men in the world rendered incomprehensible, too delirious to even think, completely lost to the sensations she was invoking was nothing short of empowering.

With a flick of the tongue and a few furious pumps his breathed hitched and she felt the warmth slide down her gullet, completely bypassing her mouth. They lay perfectly still for a few moments while he gradually came to his senses. She righted her clothes and crawled back onto him, half-straddling and sitting on his lap. His shirt was still unbuttoned and she ran her fingers over the smooth skin of his chest, basking in the post-fuck radiance of affection. He pulled her in for a slow kiss, and when they parted the look in his eyes ached with tenderness. "Damn," he mumbled, stroking her hair, "that really was something else." "Mmm, we should do that again sometime." "Agreed. I thoroughly enjoyed this meeting, Ms. Kenner. Very, very productive." He pulled her in for another kiss. If there was one thing he would never tire of, it was kissing her. Those soft, reddish lips were beyond irresistible. "Are we still on for tonight?" he asked. She shifted uncomfortably. "Look, you're obviously really busy, and -" "Shush," he cut her off smoothly, pressing a finger to her lips. "Tonight, I'm all yours - no buts, no arguments. In fact," he took both her hands in his, cocking his head to one side, "my offer still stands, if you're interested. I have standing reservations at Le Bernardin, and we could go to Bar Pleiades for a drink after" he enticed, arching a playful eyebrow. "What say you?" "Oh," she groaned, pouting a little. The offer of dinner at a luxurious restaurant and lounging at one of New York's elite bars was almost too tempting to pass up on. "Now that's just not playing fair" For a minute Aidan thought she was going to give in, but the gleam in her eyes proved otherwise. "Nice try, big boy, but I'm taking this one. Is eight too early for you?" "Eight will work just fine, I'll come collect you. Any chance I could have a clue or two?" He buttoned up his shirt as he spoke. "Let's see, yeah - lose the Wall Street get-up, we're going casual tonight. It just occurred to me, I've never seen you in anything other than a suit." "There's a first for everything." He smiled and gave her a quick peck on

the cheek. "Be careful what you wish for." She winked at him and turned to reach for the door. "See you later, Mr. Scodelario." "Always a pleasure, Ms. Kenner." ----------------------She was just touching up her mascara when the doorbell rang. Gwyneth opened the door to find Aidan standing there with a roguish smile on his face, dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt and a simple, minimalistic leather jacket. "Aidan Scodelario in a leather jacket," she announced, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Now I've really seen it all." He chuckled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Believe me, there's plenty more where this came from." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. "Are you ready? Oh, you might want to bring a jacket - it's a little chilly out." She nodded up at him, grabbed her essentials and locked the door behind them. She could see his car in the distance, waiting for them. He took her hand in his and they walked together towards the car. "So what's the grand plan for tonight? I have to say, I'm just about dying from curiosity over here." "I was thinking of doing an Aladdin and showing you a whole new world, but I couldn't get a magic carpet on such short notice." He nodded gravely. "The mileage on those things are terrible. Plus, they don't come with seatbelts." She laughed out loud as she slid into the car with him. Aidan's eyes were twinkling with interest as she leaned over and discreetly gave the driver an address, but he didn't question her when she reclined back against him, settling into the cradle of his arm. A warm glow of happiness began to diffuse inside her, especially when he hooked her close and brushed his lips against her temple. Tonight was going to be good.

After about 20 minutes they arrived at a quaint Spanish restaurant in Greenwich. It wasn't a big establishment, but it was probably one of the most precious jewels she'd stumbled upon since moving to New York. They settled into their seats, comfortably tucked away in the warmth of the cosy interior. The owner, Ruiz, was no stranger to Gwyneth and was more than happy to lavish them with special attention. He was a rotund, jolly man who threw out jokes freely as he took their orders, making Gwyneth blush when he made a quip about her and Aidan. "So many times she come here, this is first time with boyfriend. Always busy working, working, working," Ruiz's hands rolled in a gesture. Gwyneth hastily shooed him off with their orders, suddenly feeling flustered. That B-word, that dreaded, dreaded B-word - had Aidan noticed? She took a sip of water to avoid his gaze, but when she looked up, there was an unmistakable glint in his eye. Crap. So he had heard. Well, she was going to avoid talking about that for as long as she could. "How was your day?" She opted for the safest alternative. "You were thundering about like some angry Norse god, billowing steam out of your ears and all. I think you made an intern cry." "Only one crying intern? Damn, I'm losing my touch. I used to have hordes dropping out of law school." "Tell me about it. Back in Columbia you were some kind of urban legend amongst us. Oddly enough, you were kind of a life goal as well. We both feared you and wanted to be you." "And here you are, taking me out to dinner. I suppose that's the natural order of things, after all the fearing and wanting to be me." "Ha-ha. You know, now that you really think about itblimey. If the college me could see us right now, she'd probably have a coronary." "I think the college you would be more concerned about what we were doing this afternoon." She slapped him lightly on the hand and he chuckled in response, taking her hand in his and running his thumb across her smooth skin. "But seriously," she asked in a softer voice. "How were things today? Heard your father's back in town. Everyone on my floor is up to their

eyeballs with stress." Aidan grimaced. "Things are a little tense," he admitted after a slight pause, a guarded expression on his face. "Gwyneth, I don't mean to wreck the mood, but I think it's time we talked about Ceres." The lump in her throat was back. Between talking about Ceres and discussing their relationship, she wasn't sure which one was going to be more uncomfortable and awkward. It looked like they were going to have to deal with one of the two issues tonight, at least. She just nodded without saying anything. Thankfully, they were in a relatively secluded corner of the restaurant - God bless Ruiz for giving her the perfect table. "Officially, Ceres will be settling out of court with the plaintiffs with a payout of 56 millions dollars." Gwyneth's eyes widened in surprise, something Aidan noticed and acknowledged. "Yes, it's very early, but they're very anxious to put an end this whole fiasco. I'm not going to beat around the bush - they're paying these people off because they're guilty. It's all very hushed up, and judging by your expression, I'm guessing there are very few people who know the truth." "They released a chemical crop modulator a few years back named Biophane. Nothing special about it, if you look at the surface. The plaintiffs are a family of farmers somewhere in Wisconsin who claim that since they've begun using Biophane, there have been three deaths in the family due to cancer." Shock reverberated through her face. Her lips suddenly felt so dry. "Are they - did they -" she stammered, but she couldn't finish her sentence. "Ceres is as guilty as it gets. Julian managed to dig out classified internal memorandums confirming that Biophane has a highly carcinogenic potential and was thus deemed unfit for market use." Aidan sighed, looking as grave as ever. "Everything, from the scientific report rejecting Biophane to the product's approval for release, was completely confidential. Only the upper management knew - even Julian wasn't aware of it until the plaintiffs made contact. Gwyneth, these people knew that they were selling a lethal product to people, but they didn't care. As far as they were concerned, the upper echelons of Ceres decided that too much money had already been spent on R&D, and they sure as hell weren't going to let it go to waste."

Gwyneth's stomach clenched in anger. She was no stranger to capitalism, and she'd been long accustomed to the dirty machinations of the soulless, monolithic corporations. But this was different. Intentionally releasing a cancer-causing fertilizer crossed a thick line by far. In the name of profit, an unsuspecting family paid a price far greater than they could have ever afforded. She thought of her own family, of how much she loved them, and the sheer injustice of it sent forth a fresh wave of rage. She opened her mouth to say something, but Aidan help up his hand. "I'm not finished. Now here's the tricky part - I don't know how to tell you this without sounding like some antiestablishment punk, but I pray you bear with me. While LSA will continue to represent Ceres on an official front, Julian, Marty and I have been building a case against Ceres in secret." He stopped talking for a while to observe her reaction. He could see the understanding flicker in her eyes, the idea igniting and expanding in her head. "We have been gathering the necessary documents, compiling all the evidence, and if all goes well, a dossier should go to the FBI in 48 hours." Gwyneth was still reeling from shock of the first statement when he said those words. She was told that some of the world's most powerful lawyers were on an illicit mission to take down a massive, multimillion dollar company. The very same company the firm had been hired to defend. It couldn't be. For a minute she wondered if she had died on the way to the restaurant and had been magically teleported to some warped and twisted parallel universe. They were interrupted by Ruiz, who served the tapas with a flourish, pronouncing each dish's name in a singsong. Gwyneth smiled blithely at Ruiz's chubby, friendly face, still a little taken aback by what Aidan had just told her. Aidan thanked Ruiz, who waddled away, leaving the two lovers alone. He turned to face her, looking her directly in the eye. "So what do you think?" Gwyneth just blinked at him and shook her head in disbelief. "Ohmygod. Aidan, what you're doing - what the three of you are doing - is absolutely fantastic. Oh. My. God. I can't even let it sink in just yet - holy crap - Aidan, this is phenomenal." She smiled half in

excitement, half in disbelief. She genuinely loved what they were doing, in fact, she was thrilled by it - and at that moment, she craved so badly to be on the team. If only she could persuade him to let her fight the fight with them... "So that's the plan, or the gist of it, at least." He leaned forward and laced his fingers together, eyebrows furrowed. "Now, the reason I took you off the case is because thisthing we're trying to do can blow up in our faces if we're not careful. If the people over at Ceres find out about what we're doing, there's no telling what exactly they'd do to us. It could be something as trivial as a lawsuit or corporate slander - but risk is still risk. I'm sorry, but I think it's my decision to make - I can't have you exposed to chances like that. I know you want to do this. Believe me, I know. Especially now that you know of the true circumstances." He reached out for her hand, gripping it tightly in his, wincing a little as if he was displeased at what he was about to say. "And I'll admit, if it were anyone else, I would have given them the chance. Yes, you deserve a chance to do this. You're a very talented lawyer, Gwyneth, and there's no denying that you will excel at this. Booting you off the case was stupid and brash. I shouldn't have done it." Aidan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and there it was again, the look of tired resignation on his face. "But I can't. I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not with you." He sighed and opened his eyes, and her heart almost broke at how bleak he sounded. "Truth is, all you have to do is ask, and chances are if you want this badly enough, I'll relent. Try as I might, it's very hard for me to say no to you." He tried a small smile, but his eyes were serious and a little sad. "Please, all I'm asking is for you to trust me on this. And now that my father is involved" His jaw hardened. "That's entirely another issue on its own, and I'll tell you about it later. It's unfair for me to ask, especially after you've given me so much. After all that you've done, and all of my crap you've put up with. I have no right to ask any more of you," he said quietly. "It's your call. If you really want to do this, I won't stop youbut it would mean the world to me if you didn't pursue this matter." She looked back at him, meeting his frank, honest stare, and that stubborn part of her subdued a little. He was right. She really was inches away from pleading with him, but now that he'd said thatshe sensed that his desire to protect her stemmed from a very vivid and very real fear, one he had yet to talk about. One involving his father.

Maybe in time, he would share it with her, but now all she really wanted was to see him smile again. She just covered his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, nodding her silent approval. His face visibly relaxed when she did so and his shoulders sagged back as he breathed out with relief. Then the easy smile returned to his face and he was his normal confident self again. Brightening up, he decided to change the subject. "We should probably get started on the food - everything looks delicious, by the way." Gwyneth beamed back at him, trying to suppress a pang of dismay. As much as she wanted to let it go, the matter didn't quite feel so settled yet. There was still a lot she wanted to discuss, but now wasn't the time for it - so she decided to shake it off her mind. Maybe he was right to change the topic. There were only so many issues they could tackle at a time. Plastering on a wide smile, she swept her hair back and pointed at the plate of clams with her fork. "Wait till you actually take a bite. Oh, you absolutely have to try this" The food was out of this world, and she could tell that he relished every bite. It definitely helped that the restaurant had a great ambience, all warm and homey and welcoming. That, added to the fact that Ruiz kept plying them with endless jugs of sangria made for a merry night. Between mouthfuls of paella, they talked about office gossip and surprisingly, Aidan knew a great deal about the ongoing scandals in LSA. So much, in fact, that he let her in on the dirty details involving some high-ranking partners, and Gwyneth's jaw almost hit the ground. They laughed and talked, the alcohol and food lulling them into a blissful euphoria, and by the time they got up to leave they were in a very giggly mood. He helped her with her coat, pressing his nose into her neck to breathe in her sweet scent before they walked out of the warm restaurant into the crisp, cool night. "Thanks for tonight, love." He murmured into her ear, putting an arm around her as they walked side by side. "I had a really amazing time." "I'm glad you did," she nuzzled him on the cheek. "We could still go for drinks, if you want. I know a good place just around the corner." "I'm up for anything as long as I'm with you. Honestly, Gwyneth - it's really been one of the best nights I've had, ever. Thanks for everything."

His words made her blush from within. "It's just a simple dinner, Aidan. Not exactly what I'd call life-changing." "It's more than that. You've been the highlight of my day for a few weeks now, and today would've been a crappy day if it weren't for you. So yeah, I wouldn't call it 'just a simple dinner'. You make me happy." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "And believe me when I say that making the berg happy is quite the accomplishment." The warm, teasing tone was back. "So, are we still going for drinks?" "Okay, to be honest, I'm a little tipsy right now," she admitted. She really was feeling quite buzzed, and while Aidan still appeared dead steady she could have sworn he looked a little more bright-eyed than usual. "If experience serves me right, I should probably call it quits for the night." "Fair enough." He was interrupted by her pressing her lips on his, her arms looping around his neck to draw him in. He closed his eyes and clutched her waist, never wanting the kiss to end. When they pulled away he could see the haze clouding her eyes. "God, you're adorable when you're like this," he growled. She giggled and buried her face in his chest, breathing in deeply to take in his scent of his Truefitt and Hill aftershave, mixed with the woodsy tang of his leather jacket. "We could always go back and find a way to entertain ourselves." "Motion seconded. I'll call for the car." They didn't say a word to each other on the ride back, having found a better use for their lips. Unable to keep their hands off each other, they suddenly felt like teenagers again, caught up in a giddy whirlwind of affection, allowing themselves to lose all inhibitions. These were two people who had invested so much time and effort in segregating their feelings, choosing to abandon their personal life in favor of work. After all the avoiding and hiding, tonight came as a much-needed reprieve. Almost like finally, they were allowing themselves to be happy. Genuinely happy. By the time they tumbled into his penthouse, their fingers fumbling around each other's clothes, all worries evaporated from Gwyneth's mind. So what if she had questions? Of course, they still had yet to talk about the exact definition of what they were right now, but she saw no urgency in it. They were still the same two people who were

inexperienced at talking about feelings, and it wasn't going to magically change overnight. She took his hand and led him to the usual bedroom, but he stopped her silently, his eyes looking darker than she'd ever seen them. Something in the way he looked at her made her heart pound hard in her ribcage, and as he pulled her towards another door she realized exactly where he was taking her. His real room. She blinked in astonishment, utterly humbled by the simple but profound gesture. When she was inside she didn't bother looking around, didn't care about their surroundings. His room could've looked like a circus for all she knew. The only thing that mattered was the man standing shirtless in front of her, wearing a gentle expression on his face. This man wasn't going to tell her that he loved her. That just wasn't the kind of thing he did. He was going to show her, to speak with his actions, voicing the truth in caresses and kisses that would go on all night. She'd had enough talk. Enough discussing. Enough thinking, enough analyzing. Because tonight, all she wanted to do was feel. -----------------------------------The ketchup, which had initially refused to so much as drip out of the bottle, exploded in a giant pool on Dylan's plate all over his fries. "Ah, fuck." He tried, in vain, to push off some of the goopy red sauce with his knife. "Why does this kind of shit always happen to me?" Gwyneth rolled her eyes at the melodrama and offered to swap plates with him. They were having a quick lunch at one of the diners near the office. When she tried to pull his plate away and exchange it with hers, Dylan's face wrinkled in irritation and he batted her hands away. "I can eat my own damn burger, thank you. It's just fucking ketchup, and you don't have to baby me." She set down her own plate with a little more force than was necessary. "What's with the attitude?" Dylan glanced up at her, looking very cross for absolutely no reason. "Nothing," he said darkly, and resumed shoving food into his mouth. Now she was pissed. All she'd tried to do was be nice and accost him,

but he had to be all prickly, didn't he? Well screw him, then. She just pulled a face and turned her attention back to the food, and for a while the both of them ate in silence. Except that she hated awkward silences. Dylan was obviously upset about something, and if there was one thing she knew about him, it was that he was as male as any man could get. The problem would grow like a cancer inside him until he let it out in a cataclysm of swear words and binge-drinking sessions. Sensing that something was simmering underneath the surface, she tried to reach out to him. "What did you do last night?" The neutral, mundane question seemed like a perfect foil for the undercurrent of anger at the table. "Nothing much," he grunted. "Finished up with work, played some Call of Duty, then bed. You?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing much either. Went out for dinner, had a few drinks" "With Mr. Mystery, of course," he cut in in a snarky tone. She would've given him a piece of her mind for being so bitchy, but she bit her tongue and just gave a vague shrug. He huffed with displeasure. "Still won't tell me who he is, eh?" He dragged a fry through the ocean of tomato sauce and popped it into his mouth, his eyes burning with scorn. "Which means that either the sex is really, really good, or you've gone soft in the head and fallen for this dickwad." That did it. "The fuck is your problem?" She could hear her own voice rising, the accumulated frustration over the past few weeks threatening to fizz over. She was done with being patient, of always being the bigger person. Fuck that. No more being the nice guy. She'd tried it - first with Aidan, now Dylan. It felt like every man around her was intentionally trying to be as choleric and volatile as possible. "The fuck is my problem?" Dylan stared at her incredulously. "Oh, so it's my problem now? You get to sneak around with some random dude and lie to my face, and you're asking me what's my problem?" "Sneak around with some random dude? It's called privacy, you idiot,

and if you had any semblance of it in your life, you'd understand." "Oh, shut the fuck up." They stared at each other in anger for a few seconds. In all their years of friendship, they rarely argued, but when they did, it was always explosive. Explosiveand completely uncalled for. The last fight they had ended in them not speaking to each other for a month. The reason they'd fought? She couldn't quite remember, but she was pretty sure it involved halloween costumes. "Don't pretend you don't know why I'm so pissed off about this." He had the same edge in his voice that he usually had when he was at court. "This wholething has been going on for a while now, and it's obviously getting quite serious. Either that, or it's ended a while ago, and you just don't want to tell me why. Former's more likely, if your happy-clappy demeanor is any proof." He rested his elbows on the table. "So this fling still going on, and let's say things are progressing well. You don't want to tell me," he pointed an accusing finger at her, "which can only mean one thing. You don't want to tell me because you know I'm not going to approve. Which means I know this guy," he narrowed his eyes at her, "and you know it's a terrible idea, but you're doing it anyway." "That's preposterous-" "No, it's not. You damn well know what I'm talking about-" "Damn straight I do. The question is, do you?" she hissed. "If I choose to filter out what to tell you, you'll have to deal with it and learn to respect that. I don't need to tell you everything. I don't owe you an explanation, and you have no right to sit there and go all high school on me-" "Fuck you, Gwyneth. Fuck you." "Well fuck you too." So much for witty repartee. Dylan abruptly got up and threw some cash on the table before striding off in a huff. Left alone at the table, she put her hands behind her head and blew out a breath. Typical him. When provoked, his solution was simple but juvenile. He was the ignoring type. Which meant that from this second forth, she might as well as be a ghost in his eyes. His tactics involved pretending she didn't exist, making life so terribly inconvenient until one of them caved in and apologized.

Well she'd be damned if she was going to say sorry. What right did he have to get angry at her for keeping a secret? So they were friends. That didn't mean that she had to keep him posted on everything she was doing. And she sure as hell didn't need his approval, either. She sighed, rubbed at her temples and signaled for the bill. Screw him. It didn't help that they were sitting opposite each other in the office. Throughout the day, he just ignored her like she was made of thin air. Not that she went out of her way to talk to him. She just kept glowering at him, hoping that he would catch her angry stare and at least do something, anything at all. But he just avoided looking at her altogether. The amount of work pouring in was simply staggering - the fact that Nicholas Scodelario was in the office had everyone panicking like a herd of nervy sheep. Office output was at a new maximum, and everyone was just driving themselves hard. Come dinnertime she forced herself not to face Dylan as he packed up his things and left without a goodbye. What a great day. She was exhausted, and her mood was perched nicely on the South Pole. Without Dylan giving her a ride home, it meant that she would have to take the subway back home - hurrah, what a lovely end to a horrid day. She checked the messages on her iPhone, reading through the thread of texts she'd been swapping with Aidan all day. To hand it to him, he'd made the time to send out a few funny messages. But the sparse replies always came late because he was just so busy. She hadn't managed to see him once all day. Sighing, her stomach growled and she glanced at her watch. Ten thirty. Her fingers hovered over the phone as she contemplated asking him out for dinner, but she looked at the timestamps on each message and realized that it was very unlikely that he would even have time for a quick coffee, what more dinner. Briefly, she wondered if she should at least let him know that she was leaving the office, but she glanced over at Dylan's desk and her temper flared. Why should she tell Aidan about her whereabouts? She was done being questioned, and the thought of having to report her activities to someone made her feel indignant. If she wanted to go home, she could damn well go home without needing to inform anyone. Talking to Aidan could wait until she was back and settled at home. She slipped the phone into her pocket, picked up her bag and headed towards the elevator.

-------------------------------------------------Aidan was reading through a liability assessment when he heard the knock on the door. "Come in." In walked Julian, dressed as sharply as ever, a wry smile on his lips. He went straight to the bar and poured himself a drink, whereas Aidan didn't even look up from the stack of papers he was reading. Julian sipped from his glass and looked around the spacious office, surveying the New York skyline through the wall of plate glass in front of him. "Which case is that?" "The Fitzpatrick one. What are you doing here? It's pretty late." "Your father called." At the sound of those words Aidan's head jerked upwards in surprise, his brows knotted into a frown. "My father called you here?" Julian nodded and took another sip of whisky. "He's on his way. Needs to talk to us urgently, or so I gather." Aidan's jaw tightened. "Does he want to meet Marty, too?" "Didn't mention anything about him. Also, I can't seem to reach Marty. His phone's been switched off." Just in time, Nicholas burst in without even knocking, his wrinkled face taut and expressionless. His eyes flicked over the two younger men in the room, and he was practically rearing like a cobra ready to strike. Aidan could see that whatever it was his father needed to talk about, it was big enough to send Nicholas into a combative stance. Even at a glance, the adrenaline was highly visible - from the white knuckles on his fists to the even, robotic breaths. His gruff voice broke the tense silence. "Marty was found unconscious in his home this evening. He was rushed to the hospital, but pronounced dead on arrival. So far, it appears that he died due to cardiac complications. We're still waiting for the proper autopsy results, but the both of you need to be aware about this." As soon as he said those words, Julian looked aghast and distraught,

unable to believe that something like this would happen at such an inopportune time. "Fuck me," Julian stuttered. "What happened?" "He was found by some guy who usually delivers Chinese food to his place. Rang the doorbell, no one answered, so he tried the door. Unlocked. Walked in, saw Marty passed out on the floor, called 911." "No one noticed he collapsed?" "He lived alone. Never got married, no kids." As he continued dispensing information, Nicholas watched carefully as the machinations of his son's mind began to whirr, the full implications of the news spreading like ink in water. Aidan's expression wasn't one of grief - on the other hand, his eyes widened in chilling terror as his train of thought amok, a million and ten computations racing through at once. "Marty never had a history of cardiac problems." Aidan could barely keep the disbelief out of his voice. "Exactly," Julian agreed, unaware of what his friend was trying to insinuate. "He looked perfectly fine the last time I saw him. I can't believe this is happening." Aidan ignored him and just stared long and hard at his father as if he was trying to read the secrets hidden in the older man's cold, hard eyes. Finally it dawned upon him properly, all the answers falling into place. "Professionals?" Aidan's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I believe so." Nicholas didn't say anything else, but his facial expression urged caution. "Jesus Christ." Aidan was still shell-shocked. He quickly regained his composure and clapped a hand on his pocket, suddenly remembering what he needed to do. He fished out his BlackBerry and breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that he had no new messages from Gwyneth. If she had left the office, she probably would have dropped him a note at least. But that was just a speculation, and he needed to be sure.

Without offering an explanation, he jumped up and strode towards the door, almost breaking into a jog. Julian just stood there looking bewildered, but Aidan knew that his father understood. The fact that Nicholas just stood there, his face completely devoid of any expression, could only mean one of two things. Either he thought that Gwyneth was in no harm and Aidan was just being paranoid, or he knew that something had already happened to her, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Aidan's heart was beating frantically during the elevator ride to the floor where she usually worked. As soon as the doors pinged open he dashed out, practically running to where she sat, half-expecting to find her slim, slender frame hunched over a stack of paperwork. His blood turned cold at the sight of the empty desk and his legs faltered, his steps dwindling to a halt. If he had been scared before, now the fear had escalated to a terrifying level. Trembling with adrenaline and shock, he fished his phone out, hit a number on speed dial and pressed the phone to his ear. The dial tone beepedand beepedand beeped. Redial. More waiting. After three tries he decided that he'd had enough. Too much time had already been wasted. He punched in a different number and moved towards his office with determined strides. "Get me Trent right now." They'd been compromised. Somehow, sometime, a few people over at Ceres had found out about what they were doing, and they'd decided to go for the simplest, most effective solution. Threatening and destroying their careers would've been paltry. The three men had enough money to sustain multiple generations of excessive spending. Also, it would have been hard to touch them three once they were done with the project. What Ceres really needed was for them to stop whatever they were doing at that very instant. To drop whatever they were doing immediately, without question or bargain. So why argue, why try to negotiate with men who were in a position to blackmail you, when you can have them forever silenced? There was no need for Ceres to carry out elaborate secret plans. Enough money will buy you all the silence you want, at the right price. What the three idiots overlooked was the fact that while their selves and reputations were invincible and untouchable, their corporeal self was very much human. Exposed. Mortal. And so were the people they loved. Of course, to have all three men die at once would've been suspicious. But even then, dealing with this problem was easy. First, all you have to do is polish off

one to send the message, loud and clear. Continue with this, and someone else dies. Second, you grab the enemy by his weakest spot and hold a knife to it. So that he knows that if you so much as move a fucking finger, the guillotine blade falls. With that as a threat, you'll have him prancing like a marionette in your fingers. Ah, life. The problem is that playing fair is a rubbish idea. The only way to ever win is to break every fucking rule in the goddamn book. ----------------------------The subway ride home was uneventful. She'd scrabbled around her wallet and found a pocket-sized Polaroid shot of them back in college. They'd dressed up as Pulp Fiction's Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield for Halloween - Gwyneth had short hair then, so a little hair gel for her and an afro wig for Dylan was all it took. She smiled at the memory of how fun it was, walking around in suits, carrying fake guns. Shouting out their favorite lines from the movie to anyone who would listen. Eating quarter pounders and skulking down corridors of random apartments. "SAY WHAT AGAIN, I DARE YOU, I DOUBLE DARE YOU, MOTHERFUCKER." The crackle of the speaker announced the upcoming destination in a barely decipherable buzz of noise. She slipped the photo back into her purse and got up to leave, clutching her bag a little tighter. At least she hadn't worn heels today. Gwyneth sighed in exhaustion as she walked up the steps towards the street, looking forward to a nice shower and maybe a goodnight call from Aidan. She hadn't taken more than a few steps when she felt the sharp prick on her neck that felt a lot like a very painful ant bite. She whizzed around to react, but as soon as she saw the bulky man standing behind her, she knew. Fuck. And they'd gone for the carotids, the blood vessel closest to the head. The panic kicked in and a large part of her wanted to flail, or scream, or do something, anything at all - but it was only a matter of seconds before she slumped into his arms like any other drunk girl on the street and was stuffed, unconscious, into the backseat of a nondescript black car. When she came to, they were still in the car. She found herself sprawled

flat on the backseat, lying facedown into the fabric of the cushion. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear her head as her head was swimming, but at least she had to presence of mind not to make a sound. For a while she just lay perfectly still, taking in deep, steady breaths as she tried to gather herself together. The fact that she was practically paralyzed by fear helped a great deal, she didn't move a muscle. As long as the man thought she was still passed out, it would buy her extra time to think. Slowly but surely the drug-heavy smog began to clear. She could feel the car turning left and right, but there was no way she could orient herself now. She had no idea where she was, or who had taken her, or why she had been taken in the first place. Eventually she felt the car slow down and come to a halt. They'd arrived somewhere. Quickly pretending to be asleep, she closed her eyes and prayed desperately that they wouldn't know that she had regained consciousness. She could hear the car door open and a pair of strong arms fished her out. She forced herself to go limp in his arms, tipping her head back and letting it hang loose over the crook of his elbow. "How much did you give her?" "Point five mills. Didn't think she'd be out for so long." "Nah, it's normal for her 'cos she's skinny. The drugs will be a little harder on her system." So there were two men, not one. They unceremoniously dumped her on the floor, but she didn't flinch. With her cheek pressed against a cold, gritty floor, she played dead, hearing them shuffle about her, shifting and moving some things around. "Should I board this up?" "What, you think she's going to climb out through that?" He snorted with laughter, and she could tell by the change in volume that he turned to face her. "I don't think she can even manage a push-up." More laughter, then there was the sound of footsteps walking away. The door creaked and she could hear the lock being turned, footsteps fading away again, more faintly this time. Silence. For a few minutes she was too terrified to even open her eye an inch. What if someone was

watching her? Summoning all the courage she could, she cracked one eye open in a tiny slit. Absolute darkness, save for a line of light coming from underneath the door. Both eyes flashed open and she realized that she was alone, locked away in some godforsaken room. She still felt a little weak from the drug, but she suspected that it wouldn't last long. If it acted quickly, chances were that it wore off quickly as well. She heaved herself into an upright position and leaned against the wall, forcing herself to sit up straight. A few deep breaths later, she was was surprised that the panic hadn't returned. The only thing she could feel right now was a kind of detached numbness, as if she couldn't yet believe that this was really happening. Through the confusion, a beacon of common sense dictated that she checked her pockets for her phone. She gasped quietly and almost cried with joy when she felt her fingers close around the familiar rectangular bulk. Thank heavens she had put her phone in silent mode just before she left the office. In the time it took for them to bring her here, she already received twenty missed calls from Aidan along with countless text messages. The time on the clock showed that she'd been out for almost 45 minutes. She didn't even bother reading the texts - she already knew what they would say. A sudden wave of drowsiness washed over her and she closed her eyes, feeling the entire room sway around her. Breathe, she told herself. Count to three and breathe. In a few moments she felt better again, and with a newfound clarity in her head she thought of an idea. Technology. The built-in GPS wasn't one of the reasons Gwyneth bought an iPhone, but she couldn't have been happier to have that working in her favor right now. With a few taps of her fingers, she managed to roughly pinpoint her location to the best that she could. She processed the information with frantic eyes and quickly composed a text message. Am at port elizabeth, just arrived two men here am safe a little drugged pls see if you can track my phone. will talk through text not taking any calls cant talk Screw punctuation, she thought, sending the poorly edited text to Aidan. Her fine motor skills were still impeded and typing was difficult. Almost immediately, she received a reply.

Stay put. We're on our way. You're going to be safe, Gwyneth. Be strong, don't panic. I'm coming for you. Tears pricked at her eyes when she read that message. Her heart swelled with emotions, bubbling so violently it almost burst over. She didn't even know how to feel now, didn't know whether to panic or to stay calm - but she just clenched her fists and steeled herself, telling herself to be strong. To be fierce and to fight. This wasn't the time for fear or cowardice. No time to cry or feel scared. She thought of Aidan, of how he had been so cold towards her when they first metand she felt the same vague numbness wash all over her, imbuing her with much needed courage. She clutched at the phone tightly in her fist, running her thumb over the edges like it was a rosary. The deep breaths definitely helped - she was feeling a lot better right now. Over the next few minutes she just sat there, trying to regain her full strength while her mind pieced together what fragments it could. So she had been abducted. Okay. The only link of causation she could think of right now was Aidan and the Ceres case. Either they'd mistakenly believed that she, too, was in on the plan, or worse still, they knew about Aidan and her. Right. Next - the fact that they had her sedated so quickly and smoothly indicated that these weren't the average thugs. In fact, judging by the bulk of the man she saw right before she passed out, she would've guessed an ex-military background. These men were professionals. Next. The fact that she was still alive probably meant that she was more valuable alive than dead. Was this an attempt to keep Aidan's mouth shut? Or was this meant to punish him? She didn't know, but she hoped that her death wasn't already paid for. A mind map of questions slowly sketched itself out in her mind. When she was done with it, she felt like her normal self again and tried pushing herself off and getting to her feet. Perfect. A quick check of the phone revealed that 20 minutes had passed, and the texts from Aidan were pouring in. are you alright? Please reply, let me know you're safe don't be scared. We're almost there. Nothing's going to happen to you ..so worried about you, Gwyneth, please text me as soon as you read

this She sent off a quick reply letting him know that she was safe, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that staying in the room was a bad idea. Gwyneth looked up at the window nearby. It was small, probably measuring about 2 feet square. Being pretty skinny, she could definitely fit through. The biggest problem was that it was quite high up, which would make climbing through it difficult. Even on her tiptoes, she could just barely push the windowpane open, but not to its maximum. Forcing her entire body out of that small, tall hole would be difficult - not altogether impossible, but definitely challenging. A frisson of fear ran up her spine but she quashed it, gritting her teeth together and saying a silent prayer. She told herself again and again that she could do this. Where the bursts of brassy courage was coming from, she didn't know, but it didn't matter. She blew out a nervous sigh and reached up for the window's edges, stretching her body as far as she could. Her fingers curled around the windowsill and she made sure to grip it as hard as she could. Now came the hardest part - trying to pull herself up that ridiculous height so that she could thread herself through the window. All those times she'd tried doing pull-ups in the gym, giving up each and every time despite Dylan's encouragementsshe regretted it now. But this wasn't the time for failure. She clenched her jaw and exerted every ounce of strength she had, but her body barely budged. Improvising, she kicked off her shoes and tried planting her bare feet on the wall in an attempt to gain purchase but to little avail. Frustrated, she dropped herself quietly back onto the floor, letting go of the window and sucking in a few deep breaths, trying to muster as much energy as she could. For someone who was kidnapped, she sure was taking it very well. It was probably the shock, she surmised. Shock and pure adrenaline. The next attempt saw her fingers locked on the windowsill in a tight claw, her whole body burning with determination. Either do this or die, she told herself. Again she strained, trying with all her might to pull herself up. The muscles of her upper body felt like they were going to tear, and she could have sworn that her arms were going to get ripped out of their sockets. She winced as she forced herself to forge ahead, opening her mouth in a silent scream of agony. God, it hurt, and her arms were trembling from the effort. Her feet scrabbled against the wall, trying to gain as much leverage as possible.

Every muscle cried out in pain, and she was just about that close to giving up. No, a little voice in her said. No, Gwyneth, no. This isn't you. You don't give up. You don't fail. Do this, even if it hurts like hell. Even if it seems impossible. Make the impossible happen. You know you can. Inch by inch she managed to heave herself up so that her torso was level with the window. Slowly and painfully, she managed to maneuver her body through the small space, wincing in pain as she struggled to extricate her lower half through the small space in a controlled fashion. If she wasn't careful, she could fall headfirst down onto the ground outside. Just as she tried to yank a foot free, she lost her balance and tumbled outside with a crash, landing on her side. Fuck. Pain. She'd landed on some empty plastic paint buckets, but she wasn't cut or bleeding. Although pain throbbed through her body, there wasn't any time to sit and tend to her aches. She could hear noises coming from inside. The men had heard the racket and were definitely going to investigate. With a groan she struggled to her feet and tried to run, limping a little because of the pain stabbing in her side. The gravel was rough beneath her feet, biting into the soft skin of her naked soles. It wasn't until she heard angry voices behind her that the full-blown panic kicked in, and all semblance of pain was lost. Gwyneth glanced backwards and broke into a full sprint, running as fast as her legs could take her. Cold air rushed around her as she flew through the barren night. Only now did she realize where she was - the cargo bay area of a shipping port. Massive blocks of shipping containers were stacked and lined up in neat rows around her like a maze of giant steel boxes. "Help!" She just ran blindly, not knowing where she was going, never stopping to look back. At times she cut into a corner here and there, hoping to shake them off, but to no avail. She could hear their voices growing closer and closer. Gwyneth was a proficient runner, but definitely not a match for these men. Still, she pushed ahead, pumping her legs in determination. The wind burned her eyes, and she knew that she was losing speed. If these men were as fit as they looked, it wouldn't be long before they caught up with her. "Help!" Her shaky voice broke through the still night. "Somebody, please, help!"

That was when she heard it - the sweetest reply she could ever dream of. Salvation. "Gwyneth!" The sound of her name sent a tsunami of exuberance crashing over her, infusing her with new hope, renewing her strength. She recognized that voice. She would recognize it anywhere. Help was here - Aidan was here. He called out her name again, the anger thick and turgid in his voice and she yelled back, crying out his name as a plea. They were calling out to each other in some sick, twisted game of Marco Polo Aidan, Gwyneth, where are you? I'm here. Her head whipped around as her eyes flitted from side to side, trying to figure out where he was. She could vaguely decipher the direction where his voice was coming from, but the endless rows of identical shipping containers distorted her orientation. Never slowing down, she ran through the small lanes in between the steel boxes, weaving around while the footsteps behind her grew louder and louder. Sometimes she could've sworn that he sounded like he was right around the corner, but as soon as she took the turn the voice resonated like a distant echo. Tears were streaming freely down her hot, sticky face, the fear finally manifesting in its full potential. Her feet were probably bleeding and the pain was beginning to come back, but the furious voices behind her compelled her to keep moving forward. Run. Run for your life. Contact. One of them leaped and tackled her to the ground, pulling her violently downwards and she cried out in alarm as she fell. He loomed over her, wanting to pin her down on the ground with his weight but she acted fast, spitting into his face and forcefully crashing her elbow into his nose. He flinched in reflex, allowing her the brief few inches and seconds to wiggle out from underneath him and crawl to her feet. She was still half-stooped, not yet fully upright when the man she hit grabbed her from behind, locking her arms behind her back. She writhed savagely, trying to shrug him off until the second man caught up with them and tried to grab her by the feet. He managed to lock onto her left ankle, pinning it under his right arm. Fresh panic exploded inside her, triggering a massive spurt of adrenaline and she found herself delivering a swift kick to his neck. Bad move.

He easily caught her other leg in his hands and now she was trapped between them in an almost horizontal position. With nothing firmly planted on the ground she could only thrash around helplessly while the man at her feet drew out a syringe from his pocket. There was no malicious smile on his face, only the cold determination of a man out to get a job done - and she screamed anew when he yanked off the plastic cap covering the needle with his teeth. There was only one thing her body knew - that if he stuck that thing in her, she would probably die. In a sudden paroxysm of superhuman strength she managed to pull one leg out from underneath his arm and kick him as hard as she could in the face. Her foot connected with his chin in an upward motion, making his head snap back as she heard the dull crunch of bone on bone. Caught off guard, the syringe slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. Horror flooded her when she realized that he still stood steady, apparently still more than capable of standing upright. Knowing that bending down to pick up the syringe might compromise the lock they had on her now, he simply reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a knife, the silver blade glinting sharply in the moonlight. "Don't you dare touch her!" Aidan's voice could be heard in the near distance . Gwyneth turned her head towards the source and through the blurry tears she could just about make out his frame running towards her. Too bad he was still quite far away. The two men acknowledged that they had very little time left to finish a job. Everything happened so quickly, she could barely even comprehend what was going on. Natural self-preservation kicked in - everything was pure reflex and instincts. Her actions weren't governed by active thought, each movement was like blinking in response to something flicking in your face, or withdrawing a hand from a hot object - completely involuntary. As soon as her mind registered the knife held above her, coming down at her with great speed, her body knew what to do. Protect the thorax. Protect the chest. If these men really were professionals, they would literally have her heart carved out in no time. Using the last vestiges of her energy, she continued arching wildly, attempting to throw off their aim. She actually watched the blade plunge into her, the cold metal slipping easily into her flesh as if she were made of warm butter. At that very same moment she heard Aidan holler, his

footsteps approaching but still too far away. To think that he was watching this, to know that he was seeing her being attacked with his very own eyes, just a stitch too late to stop it She didn't know how many stabs they took. The blade came down repeatedly, fast and furious, but she continued twisting her body, even as the pain crackled through her spine. All of this happened in a flash. Milliseconds? Microseconds? She couldn't tell. And then suddenly she was falling, dropped onto the cold, rough gravel. Her face was frozen in a mixture of horror and torment, the pain so intense she couldn't even cry out. She wanted to scream but nothing came. Nothing was left inside her to expel. Strong arms scooped her up, cradling her close to a familiar chest. Aidan's face came into view, the usually phlegmatic blue eyes now wide with terror. His lips were moving but she couldn't hear a sound, everything else silenced by the dull roar in her ears. Shock. She was going into shock. Not from fright nor fear, but from the torrential outpouring of blood that was leaking freely from the deep gashes on her abdomen. Gwyneth could vacantly feel someone slipping a jacket around her shoulders, and with the welcoming warmth came a familiar scent - that aftershave. Aidan's jacket. Her head bobbed unsteadily and she tried to look down at her abdomen, from where the pain was searing like she'd been branded by a white-hot poker. Aidan stopped her in time, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her face up to look at him. Again, she could see him talking, but she still couldn't hear a thing. Everything was moving around her in mute, her field of vision blurry and jerky like a lagging motion picture. "Please," oddly enough she could hear her own disembodied voice, weak and thready. "Please, let me see," she croaked. Aidan shook his head vehemently, his gaze boring into hers. He kept repeating something, but she couldn't hear him. He was mouthing it over and over and she had to read his lips to figure out what he was trying to tell her - stay with me, Gwyneth. Stay with me. She nodded up at him but flicked her eyes downwards, only catching a brief glimpse of the damage done. A large dark stain soaked through the fabric of her white shirt, glistening wet, almost black in the dim light of the night. Dizzy. She felt so dizzy, so sleepy, so tired. Cold. Somewhere in her brain, a pinpoint prick of consciousness was fully aware of what was

going on. At a deeper level she knew that she was bleeding badly, and the drowsiness was definitely due to blood loss. But for the most part she just felt very sleepy, like she usually did on his bed. That marvelous, ridiculously comfortable bed - full of plush comforting goodness and endorphin-rich sex. She wasn't in the present anymore, she was back in a minimalistic bedroom, a duvet pulled up over her shoulders, all the warmth in the world sending her off into somnolence. Wednesdays and weekends. Scrumptious breakfasts. Riding on a Ducati. Castor and Pollux - one brother divine, the other a mortal. Immersed in these memories, she was cradled in an otherworldly cocoon of gossamer silk. As her eyes began to close she could faintly make out Aidan screaming at her, but to her everything felt like a dream. The loud roar in her ears was changing, evolving into a series of loud whoop-whoop-whoops before finally her eyes crashed shut. She just wanted to rest. Too much exhaustion. Too much pain. Time to sleep. ---------------------------When he heard the sound of the chopper approach them, hope swelled in Aidan's heart. The distinct sound of rotor blades grew louder and louder, drowning out the words he was trying to tell Gwyneth. He yelled in panic as he saw her eyes close despite his pleas for her to stay with him. She had been looking up at him in a blank, glassy stare - he didn't even know if she heard or understood him. The air ambulance raced them to Mt. Sinai, where a team of emergency doctors were already waiting. He ran with them, following the stretcher through the corridors as they hurtled towards the operating theatre. Aidan's hand gripped one of hers tightly, unwilling to break contact. He couldn't bring himself to let go. Lying there, she looked so pale, her face and lips as white as the sheet she lay on. A group of nurses actually had to hold him back as he attempted to walk past the double doors of the OT. "Listen, you can let me in. I'll go through all the necessary procedures, just let me see her" Despite his strong protests the light in his eyes were dead, his voice lacking its usual confidence. Michael arrived, after rushing from his post at the pediatric ward to see his brother trying to push aside a group of people, demanding entrance

in a raised voice. There were bloodstains on Aidan's shirt, and from the hollowness of his gaze he could to tell that Aidan was in a very fragile state right now. Michael placed an arm across his brother's shoulder and steered him away from the door, subduing him with promises of exclusive information about Gwyneth's condition. In a reassuring voice he tried to appeal to Aidan's rational side, explaining that he would go in, have a quick talk with the surgeons and come out with a proper, unbiased report on her chances. When Aidan insisted on being in there with her, Michael put him him down smoothly with a brief argument about the increased possibility of contaminating the theatre with an infection. That did it. Aidan accepted his brother's offer and sank into a chair nearby, his face still fraught with worry. "Sit here," Michael instructed. "I'll be out in ten minutes." Those were the longest ten minutes of Aidan's life. He spent each second staring at the door expectantly, waiting for news about Gwyneth. Half of him was still in shock, and the other half didn't even know how to feel. Everything felt too surreal, like a bad dream he was supposed to wake up from. Yet time ticked on and the bitter scent of hospital air felt so clear, so tangible, so real around him. His heart felt like it was going to explode and his head was a mess. Scenes from the chase replayed in his head over and over again like a broken record. When Michael reappeared he snapped from his trance, leapt to his feet and rushed towards him. "How is she?" Michael grimaced slightly. "She's hemorrhaging pretty badly. They got her rather deep in quite a few places - the intestines and stomach especially - but the good news is that they missed the heart and lungs. Also, she's anemic, which means we're extra cautious, but they're patching her up right now. It's a good thing you brought her in as soon as possible, because that usually gives us an excellent prognosis. She's in good hands, Aidan. She'll be fine, don't worry." Aidan seemed to absorb in the information with a great deal of wariness. He didn't quite know how to interpret that statement. What, did they really think that he would be pacified just like that? He'd seen all that blood. All of it, oozing out of her with every breath she took, spreading across her shirt in an expanding stain. All of his thoughts were in a jumble now. He could barely think straight.

"You should call her family," Michael advised his brother gently. "They should be here." Aidan's heart almost stopped in alarm. "Why? Is there something wrong I ought to know about?" Paranoia got the better of him. "It's just standard procedure," Michael soothed. "She's been seriously injured, Aidan. Her family has the right to know. They'd want to be here with her." Aidan eyed his brother in silence, unsure of what to think. The inner tumult was whipping around like a tornado in his heart. This was point blank terror. But no, he told himself, no. He chose to steel himself and forcibly reverted back to lawyer mode, stilling the storm that was brewing in his chest. Right now, there was a woman who needed him. She'd been grievously injured, and the last thing she needed was a man who couldn't get a grip on himself. The fear drew back as he asserted total control, shifting back into the persona he knew so well. No emotions, pure logic - unshakable, untouchable. Much better. Aidan calmed himself down in record speed and acknowledged his brother's advice cooly. "I'll give them a call." He gave a curt nod. "Also, do you have a spare shirt somewhere?" He gestured at his dirty one which was dappled with dark red splotches. "I don't want to be wearing this when her family shows up." "Follow me, I'll get you sorted." With every step Aidan took, he felt sturdier. Or at least, that's how compelled himself to feel. He had watched her fight - literally watched her throw punches and kicks around, never allowing herself to just accept defeat. And she'd done it so wonderfully, every bit as ferocious till the end. How could he ever forget that defiant spirit, the refusal to succumb to fear - the unshakeable strength that broke out in an unparalleled typhoon when times heralded it - she had chosen to fight to the very end, and so would he. They could pull through this together, and he had no doubt of that. --------------------------The surgery took almost three hours to complete. As luck would have it, most of Gwyneth's family was over in Chicago to visit her brother who was currently studying there. The conversation with her mother was difficult and painful for Aidan. It tore him up inside to know that he was

responsible for all this. She'd sounded so anguished, unable to stop the sobs when she heard the news. He assured her that Gwyneth was getting the best medical care the country had to offer, and also chartered a private plane to fly in the family, but still it all seemed inadequate. It wasn't easy, staying on the line and listening to her cry, but he didn't ever want to hang up. He could only imagine how difficult it was for her - to have first lost a husband, and now hear of her firstborn and only daughter in grave danger. By the time they were wheeling her into the ICU, his father and Julian made their appearance at the hospital. Aidan decided that this was going to end tonight. He was going to take these fuckers down this very night, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. These were the disgusting lowlifes who were more than happy to sell poison for profit. These were men and women who had no qualms about having people killed, as long as they didn't get caught. Of course, he'd already suspected that the Ceres scandal would only be the tip on an iceberg everything about it reeked of politics and underhand dealings - but that was a matter for later. He peered into the observation room that housed her unconscious body. All of the walls were made of glass, allowing for easy visual surveillance. Monitors surrounded her, and an oxygen mask on her face helped with her breathing. An i.v. bag full of blood hung on a pole beside her, infusing the life-giving liquid back into her battered body. Her face was a little bruised and abraded because of how she'd fallen when they tackled her, but otherwise she looked serene. His throat tightened every time he looked at her lying there helplessly. This was all his fault. All he needed to do was protect her, and look how that had turned out - now she was lying there with multiple stab wounds, fighting for her life in some critical care unit. That only served to fuel his resolve. Now, Ceres was more than just some petty project - this one hit close to home. To his surprise, his father quietly revoked his objection against their plan. Aidan suspected that it was because he had been close friends with Marty, and this, too, was turning into a personal vendetta for him - but at any rate, Nicholas still hadn't said anything directly to his son. Aidan was still too raw to talk to his father right now. Rather, the three men busied themselves with making calls all night, orchestrating the final act and tuning it to perfection. Everything was lined up - all it needed was one flick of the

finger for the dominoes to fall. The time had come. At 3:30 in the morning of May 5th, the world would remember it as the time and day fourteen senior employees of Ceres Laboratories were arrested on charges of homicide and fraud. Some of them were caught unawares, having been too confident that their little plan had worked out. The other few had to be chased down and arrested at airports, mere minutes away from boarding private planes to escape the country. News of the scandal broke out quickly, spreading across the internet like wildfire. Little did they know that this was only the beginning. However, Aidan would remember the time and date for a completely different reason. Because at 3:30 a.m, May 5, Gwyneth Miriam Kenner, aged 28, went into cardiac arrest precipitated by massive hemorrhagic shock. The blood loss from her wounds had exerted considerable stress on her cardiovascular system, and despite the slow infusion of blood meant to replenish volume loss, her heart just suddenly stopped beating. Aidan had been sitting in a chair, reading through an e-mail update when he heard the alarm go off at the nurses' station. In a flash, a team of doctors came running, spilling into the room and moving about in a perfectly choreographed dance. Stunned, Aidan slowly got to his feet and moved closer to the glass room, at a complete loss for what to do. All he could do was stare in silence, crushed and utterly devastated by the sight in front of him. One doctor had his arms locked in a straight line over Gwyneth's chest, compressing her sternum in a steady rhythm while another one took off her oxygen mask and replaced it with one he was holding, manually pumping air from a blue balloon. A third doctor fished out a pre-filled syringe and fed it into her arm as the fourth stood nearby, watching the ECG screen intently while holding a pair of defibrillator paddles at ready. Remember all those scenes you've seen on TV where a patient flatlines and they just zap him back to life? That's all bull. That's Hollywood medicine for you. Because the truth is when a heart stops beating, the predicament cannot get any more bleak. The only thing that doctors can do is push some heart-stimulating drugs, perform CPR and pray for a heartbeat. Any heartbeat, even the most irregular of beats, would have been a glimmer of hope. That's how humbling it is - you just sit there and pray that the heart starts pumping again. Aidan's world went silent. The only sound he could hear was a deep bass beat in his ears, a familiar tempo that he had first heard using a

stethoscope at an art gallery in Brooklyn. Two sounds. One lower, one higher. Thumping in a steady, insistent beat, delicious and sentient. Pulse. That's when he'd first known, that's when she'd first whispered the truth to him without even realizing it. All the secrets of the world, locked away in the sound of her heartbeat. There was nothing more he craved to listen to at that very moment. Lub - dub. He would've given anything, anything at all to listen to that melody again. The only movement in the room came from the doctor performing the cardiac massage on Gwyneth. Everyone else froze in position like a members of a race-car pit crew, poised to spring into action. All these people, just waiting for one heart to start beating again. Everything inside him had shattered into a million tiny pieces, then reassembled, only to splinter again. He wanted to beg, wanted to plead. This couldn't be it. How could this happen? They hadn't even started, and now he was already looking at the end. Only then, he realized that he'd never actually told her, outright, that he loved her - and fresh anguish drenched him to the core, delivering a final, crippling blow. Those three unsaid words. Would he ever be able to say it to her? And so a man stood there, watching the events unfold in a glass chamber in front of him, locked away like an alternative universe. And in that moment, everything was decided for him. Every question he'd ever had in his entire life, every doubt, every fiber of his being found its answer. It was as if his whole world had exploded and imploded simultaneously, the entire microcosm of his mind swallowed up in a giant black hole and then igniting with a furious brilliance that was destroying and blinding. He could only look at the frail, skinny figure on the bed, her tiny frame almost engulfed by all the equipment around her and that was it. That was all that existed. Nothing else did anymore. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. The woman he loved was going to die. --------Rebirth. So oft talked about, so very celebrated in movies and literature. To be pushed again through that amnion and expectorated into life,

refreshed and renewed. Was that what he was hoping for? That fateful night where seconds ticked by in acrid droplets that burned through the membranes of his memory. The one where his persona - that richly cerebral being, all logic and computations and calculations, cracked open like a chrysalis that ached to metamorphose. Rebirth? Was this rebirth, then? Was this some fucking rejuvenation? Was this the reset he needed so goddamn badly in his life, or was it nothing more than some giddy illusion of renewal that happened in the final moment before death? Whatever it was, he couldn't give a fuck anymore. This moment was a new nadir, a new depth he'd never sunk to before, and he'd be damned if life could get any lower than this right now. The only thing he knew for sure that was he would greet Death that night. ----------------------------"She's gone into pulseless V-fib!" "Chargingready. Clear!" Shock. "V-fib, no pulse!" "Chargingready. Clear!" Another shock. Aidan watched in silent horror as they tried to restore the normal sinus rhythm of her heartbeat. Thankfully her heart had gone into fibrillations it wasn't pumping per se, merely twitching out of synchrony - but the good news was that the paddles could now do their work. The defibrillator would restart the heart's natural rhythm, converting the chaotic spasm of the cardiac muscles into a proper functional beat. His own heart had almost ceased beating, drowning in a deluge of emotions that he wasn't ready to handle. "V-fib, still no pulse!" "Chargingready. Clear!" Strike three. Finally, her heart kicked back into action and started beating on its own accord. The alarms quietened down and the doctors were visibly relieved. She still wasn't out of the danger zone, but she was alive. They just stood in their places around her, still watching for any signs of cardiac instability. The machines continued to beep in contentment,

reporting normal values for all her vitals. Good heart rate, respiration normal. He was still numb with shock when one of the doctors came out and started talking to him. Aidan just nodded blankly at the doctor's words. He could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation, having been a little lightheaded throughout the whole ordeal. From the snatches he had gathered, it sounded like she was going to be okay. "stabilized, in good condition" "under strict monitoringwatch for any developments" "was a rare complication, shouldn't be a recurring problem" Even so, he couldn't quite process it. Feeling a little overwhelmed, he just excused himself and started walking towards the men's washroom. The insides of his mouth felt like sandpaper and his skin had gone cold and clammy. He also realized that he was shaking from head to toe. He turned on a tap and started to splash water all over his face, hoping that it would help him to sober up. Looking up, he saw his reflection in the mirror and couldn't recognize the man that was staring back at him. The man in the mirror had the look of a hunted animal. Shaken, he tried to regain his composure and continued to wash his face. Only then did he realize that his hands were trembling violently. For the first time in many years, Aidan cried. It started as a hollow sob, a listless gasp that turned into a choked cry of anguish. After all that had happened tonight, his sanity was hanging by a thread. The same could be said for her life. How was it that yesterday night they were discussing office gossip over mouthfuls of seafood and sangria, and today, her heart stopped beating for eight minutes? She was quite literally dead, in both the medical and legal sense, for eight minutes. Went over to the afterlife and came back. The grief came down in torrents, destroying whatever was left of his already brittle psyche. Fear. The fear of losing her was such a visceral reaction, he actually felt like retching. The nausea hit him hard, inciting a gurgle of dry heaves. He felt sick to the marrow. Then there was the guilt of knowing that this

was all his fault. If only he had been more vigilant. If only he had possessed the foresight to anticipate this. If only they were prepared. If only he was less arrogant. If only she was protected. He had all the money in the world - but what good was it now? What could that buy her? Nothing. The teardrops mingled with the water on his face. There was no point in holding back now. Fear. Love. Grief. Guilt. All these years, he had thought that he was immune to this kind of crap. He'd prided himself on being the master of his feelings, displaying excellent control in every aspect. He felt happy when he wanted to feel happy. He felt sad when he wanted to feel sad. Other than anger, which was his default setting anyway - he only felt whatever he chose to feel. Not anymore. Now he was totally spent, having been burned to the core. If getting to him had been their plan, then well, mission fucking accomplished. They'd chosen the perfect spot and struck him precisely at his Achilles' heel. The tears didn't last long but they made a significant enough impact. Feeling quite depleted, he cleaned himself up and made himself presentable before shuffling back out in a daze. Michael offered to let him go in, saying that she was in a stable condition and that it wouldn't hurt for him to just go in and talk to her. Aidan hesitated, being worried for her well-being but upon Michael's insistence that it was totally safe, he was more than happy to take up the offer. Michael pushed open the glass sliding doors of her room and stepped aside to let Aidan through. "Wait," Aidan remembered at the last minute. "Can I borrow your stethoscope?" Michael looked a little baffled, but dipped his hands into the pocket of his labcoat and fished out the instrument without asking any questions. He would be observing them from outside anyway. Aidan closed the door behind him and moved towards the bed, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. When he got a good look at her his heart gave a little lurch. Looking at her, you wouldn't think that she had just narrowly escaped with her life. There nothing to indicate so other than a small wound on her left cheek which was already beginning to swell, partially hidden by the oxygen mask on her face.

The room was silent apart from the constant beep of the monitors. He settled into a chair beside her bed and leaned forward to be closer to her. Not even the injuries could mar the alluring features of her face. She didn't look like she was in pain, she just looked like she was sleeping. Serene, happy and comfortable, like she always was in his bed. He wondered if she was dreaming. If she was, was she currently having nightmares about the incident? Did her mind just totally black out as a protective mechanism to survive the trauma? Could her subconscious hear him right now? He didn't know - but the one thing he knew for sure was that she would be fighting. Aidan reached for her hand and gingerly took it in his as if she were made of porcelain. "Hey, it's me." His voice resonated against the gaping silence of the room. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm just going to try anyway." "You" he broke off, hanging his head low, suddenly at a loss for what to say. "Gwyneth, you simply are the most incredible person I've ever met. Words can't even begin to describe how proud I am of you right now. How I feel about you." He brushed a tendril of hair off her face with a gentle sweep of his fingers. "God, you're so beautiful, you know? Everything about you endears me to you. Everything, Gwyneth, every little detail." He looked at her bruised face and his heart felt like it was in his throat. "Did you know that every time you're hungry, you start biting your lower lip? And I can tell when you really like something." He gave a shaky laugh, his nerves unsteady. "Your eyebrow starts twitching and you fold your arms to feign nonchalance, but there's that twinkle and that twitch, and it gives you away." He stopped for a while, temporarily crippled by the wave of affection the words drew out. "Andand you're a bag girl. You're such a bag girl. When we're walking past women you never check out their shoes. Your eyes go straight for the bags." The bittersweet memories came rushing back, all the little fragments of her that he held so dear bursting forth like flower buds in bloom. "When you're angry and you're trying to rein it in, your eyes widen and you don't say a word. Every time you're upset, every time someone makes a mistake, you just bite your tongue and graciously ignore the gaffe. You could always fire back, take up the anger and retaliate, but you never do.

Because that's what true strength is. Because you, Gwyneth, you embody the very meaning of tenacity." "You're such a rarity, a gem. I wish that I could just tell you how much I love you. How you make me smile without even trying. There are so many things I wish I could tell you, butbut everything I want to say seems so inadequate. "Right now, Gwyneth, words are futile devices. I should have told you earlier. Should have said it to you that night - I don't know why I held back, butJesus, Gwyneth, please, just come back to me. Please, please promise me you'll be okay. If you can hear me, if you're there, please, just - please. Please." He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, struggling to pull himself together. She still looked at peace, a proverbial sleeping beauty awaiting the fateful kiss to bring her back to life. Aidan couldn't excavate any deeper inside himself, couldn't find anything else to say. Remembering the stethoscope, he fished it out and plugged the earpieces in. His hands skated gently over her ribcage, careful not to disturb any of the electrodes that were taped to the skin of her chest. He found a good spot and there it was again, that heartbeat. A little faint, but to his ears it was incredibly loud and extremely close. It was the only sound he wanted to hear. That was his prayer, his hymn, a sacred invocation. The anthem to his being. He just sat there, holding the stethoscope to her chest, forgetting time as it slipped past the two of them. Locked away in another universe, the world around them forgotten. --------------------------------Her family arrived not long after. He was waiting outside her room, settled into one of the chairs when the entire posse bustled in with Dylan amongst them, anxious to see her. Gwyneth's mother rushed into the room with her sons and Dylan close behind, barely registering Aidan's existence. Aidan watched as the family circled his unconscious lover. As soon as she neared the bed and got a good look at her daughter, she started to blink back the tears, clapping her hands over her mouth. Gwyneth's three younger brothers milled around the bed awkwardly, wearing stoic expressions, but he could see the grief hidden in plain sight on their

faces. Gwyneth's mother reached out, took her daughter's hand and kissed it. A small sob escaped from her as she tenderly stroked her daughter's hair. Dylan put a supporting arm around her, rubbing his hand up and down her shoulders in an attempt to console her. Seeing the frank affection in the room did nothing to assuage his guilt. It only made it worse. Still he couldn't tear his eyes away from the family in front of him. It affected him deeply to see the love of a close-knit family Gwyneth's support team. They were here now, they were going to be there for her, just as they have always been. Dylan glanced at him and caught his gaze briefly, but his eyes flicked back to Gwyneth, as if he couldn't even bring himself to look at Aidan. It was a small, quick gesture but Aidan could feel the hostility in it. He felt like an outsider, an interloper that was encroaching on personal family territory. Julian, who was sitting in the chair beside him, noticed his discomfort. "Perhaps we should leave," he advised Aidan. "Allow them have some time to themselves. They should have all the space they need." Aidan didn't want to go, but he knew that his presence couldn't be what the family desired. He wanted to stay and maybe help out somehow leaving right now felt so rude, but Julian had a point. This was a family crisis and family was everyone in the room. Not him. He didn't belong here. He nodded back at Julian and the two men got up, ready to make themselves scarce. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when Gwyneth's mother walked out of the room and caught up with them. "Excuse me, are you Gwyneth's colleagues?" Aidan turned around to face her. She was either nervous or cold, judging by the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes were searching the two men's faces for answers. It was evident that she'd been crying throughout the night - her nose was all red and puffy and her eyes looked pretty bloodshot. "Hi, I'm Aidan Scodelario." He extended his hand meekly. "We spoke over the phone?"

Her eyes shone in understanding and she took his hand, giving it a halfhearted shake. "Ah, I remember. Have you had a chance to see her yet?" "Yes, yes I have. The doctors said that she's in a stable condition. All we can do now is wait for her to wake up." He couldn't tell if she knew about the cardiac arrest. If she didn't, should he tell her? He darted a look at Julian, who must've read his mind because he shook his head slightly. Aidan hesitated for a moment, but all he had to do was take one look at Gwyneth's mother and he knew. What kind of a manipulative asshole would withhold information like this from a distraught mother? True, it couldn't be what she needed to hear right now, but was better for her to find out now than later. "Mrs. Kenner, Gwyneth went into cardiac arrest an hour ago." As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw the shock ripple through her face. "The doctors managed to revive her, and she's safe now. They've assured us that there's absolutely nothing to worry about - it was an extremely rare complication and her vitals look very good." He wasn't sure that she heard anything other than the words 'cardiac arrest'. A frown creased Julian's brow, showing that he disapproved of Aidan's decision. The pain was so evident on her face that Aidan briefly regretted telling her. It was hard enough to know that her daughter suffered from life-threatening injuries without having to hear about the complications. "What happened?" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who did this to her? Why would anyone do this?" Julian's head snapped up at that question and his eyes flashed a warning at Aidan. He obviously didn't see a need for an outsider to know the finer details of the Ceres coup. The arrest was talk of the town right now, and the last thing Julian wanted was for people to know about their involvement in the case. Aidan caught his friend's nonverbal signal, feeling more irritated than ever. What a coward, he thought. Julian was all grand plans and big money but ultimately he had no qualms about running to Aidan for help. He was thoroughly fed up with his friend's attitude by now. "We believe that she was attacked because of her involvement in the

Ceres lawsuit. Has she mentioned-" "That's enough," Julian cut him off in a stern voice. "Mrs. Kenner," Julian put on a polite, almost patronizing smile. "We hope you understand that this involves some sensitive matters-" "Lynch, stay out of this." Aidan's eyes were burning with anger. "I make the decisions here, not you - and I think that she has every right to know." His tone was scathing. "In fact, I think that maybe it's time you left. Don't worry, I have everything covered over here. I'll keep you posted." Julian lifted his chin in defiance, but he knew that the fight was lost. Tonight he'd seen a whole new side of Aidan he'd never seen before, and if anyone was going to try to anger this man, it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. Aidan was strung so tightly, it looked like he could snap at any moment. If anything, Aidan was right - Julian wasn't much of a man of courage. He just glowered at Aidan before turning sharply on his heel to leave. Aidan watched him disappear, his fists clenched into tight balls. When Aidan turned back to face Gwyneth's mother he noted the confusion on her face. This wasn't the first impression he was hoping to make, but circumstances left him with little choice. He took a deep breath and gestured towards the chairs. "Mrs. Kenner," he said gently, "I promise to tell you everything about the case and how Gwyneth was involved. Have a seat - would you like some coffee?" And tell her he did. From the facts of the Ceres case to the grisly chase scene at the dockyard - he spilled it all except for one: he omitted the details of their budding romance. Somehow he felt that this wasn't the way he wanted her to find out about their relationship. She didn't say anything much, mostly she just nodded and answered with the sporadic 'yeah' and 'I see'. In fact, the more he told her, the more calm she seemed to get. At some points in the conversation her sons wandered over but she just held up her hand and gestured for them to leave Aidan and her alone. Finally he finished the story and they both sat there in silence. He watched her as she stared at her paper coffee cup, unable to predict how she was going to react. "So" Mrs. Kenner lifted her face to look him in the eye. "You took her off the case?"

"I did. She wasn't too happy about it, but she knows why I did it." Uncertainty clouded her eyes. "But if you already took her off the case, why did this happen? She had nothing to do with Ceres. She's not a threat." Aidan winced at the question. As much as he didn't want to tell her the truth just quite yet, he couldn't leave her in the dark. She was sharp she had sussed on pretty quickly and definitely wanted an explanation. "I believe" he laced his fingers together and stared at them. "I believe that they went for her because we were romantically involved. We've been going out for a few weeks now." A pregnant pause hung in the air. When he looked up to meet her eye, he could tell that she was feeling quite conflicted. As much as she didn't want to blame Aidan, she was still a grieving, hurting mother. It was hard for her to ignore the fact that her daughter had almost died for one sole reason - because she had dated this man. Logic would dictate that technically, it wasn't his direct fault but the both of them new better. Aidan himself carried the guilt, and Mrs. Kenner didn't know whether or not to be angry at him. "I'm so sorry," Aidan said quietly. "I'm so very sorry about everything. I never meant to cause her harm, never meant to put her in any danger. There really is no point in me going on and on about how I didn't mean for it - the fact is that it did happen, and it's all my fault. "I should be the one lying there, not her. I'm the reason she's in there right now." His jaw hardened and he shook his head. "If you want me to stay away, I will. I've caused enough hurt, the last thing I want is to hurt her any more." A dart of pain stabbed through his heart. He loved her - he really did, with everything he had. But after tonight, it would seem that he was all kinds of bad for her. She was so beautiful - outgoing, patient, kind. Big-hearted and generous, so full of love. And him? An arrogant workaholic loner with anger issues, amongst many others. She deserved so much better and he didn't feel like he could be the man to make her happy. Heck, he could't even protect her. The guilt continued to gnaw at him as he thought of how he'd failed to do

something as basic as keep her safe. Mrs. Kenner turned away from him, staring blankly at her daughter's sleeping frame. She didn't say a word. "I'll leave," he offered, getting up from his seat. "Again, I'm so sorry for everything, Mrs. Kenner. I hope that she'll get well soon." Before he could walk away, she spoke up without turning to face him. "Do you love her?" He froze, a little taken aback by the question. She slowly turned to face him, pinioning him with a serious gaze as her eyes met his. "Do you love her?" She asked again. "More than anyone in the world could possibly imagine." His face was blank but she could see the sadness in his eyes. "Your daughter is the most incredible woman I've ever met, Mrs. Kenner. I've never known anyone so strong, so resilient, and I-" He halted. The passion was creeping back into his voice but he kept it in check, reminding himself that this wasn't about trying to win her over. "I'm so sorry, I'll leave you be." Swallowing hard, he turned to walk away, feeling the dread throb in his chest. "If you really love her - if she means that much to you, you should be here for her. Stand by her side through all of this. If what you said is right - if she really is in there because of you - then you owe it to her to see this through. The least you could do is to take care of her. Be her rock." He was utterly floored. When he looked at her face he could've sworn that it was Gwyneth's - as he saw the soft, warm eyes of Sayuri Kenner he understood where Gwyneth got her forgiving nature from. Of course she had her doubts, he wouldn't be surprised if she blamed him. It made it all the more remarkable that she was doing this - choosing to set aside any grudges, wiping the slate clean, giving him a chance to prove himself. "It would be unfair for me to fault you for loving her. As much as I want to hold you accountable, I think we both know that it's going to lead us nowhere. If she got into this because she was with you, it would be senseless to ask you to leave. Just promise me you'll take good care of her, Aidan. This is my daughter we're talking about."

Hope blossomed anew within him, fresh determination surging forth in a cleansing wave. "I would be more than honored to, Mrs. Kenner." His eyes were serious. "Thank you so much for letting me be here. I swear, I will care for her and cherish her with everything I have." He sounded almost fierce with intent. "Good." She nodded briefly, but there was a small smile on her lips and her eyes were friendly. "Now, there's no need to be so formal. Call me Sayuri." ----------------------------------Over the next few hours, Aidan and Sayuri gradually warmed to each other. They just went on talking in one of those conversations that didn't seem to ever end. Initially they discussed the more trivial matters, such as working life at the law firm and the Ceres scandal. Somehow the conversation shifted to personal experiences, where Sayuri regaled stories from Gwyneth's childhood days, and Aidan talked about how he came to meet Gwyneth. Aidan admired Sayuri right from the start. She was a soft-spoken Asian woman, gentle by nature and toughened over the years through bitter life experiences. It was easy to see where Gwyneth got her natural good mood from - her mother had the same pleasant temperament, the same calming aura that made people feel relaxed and welcomed. Even in times of crisis, Sayuri held herself well, exuding grace in every respect. One of the doctors came over and told them that Gwyneth's condition was stable for now, and her vitals showed no signs of permanent damage from either incident. They would be allowed to see her once she woke up, but until then there was nothing much for anyone to do. Upon hearing that fact Sayuri decided that it was best for the boys to be sent back to the hotel to get some rest. She was a motherly character - an Asian mother, in essence. Underneath the layers of tender love and caresses stood the firm skeleton of a strict disciplinarian. Aidan quickly realized that when he saw Sayuri manage her sons - all three complied with her instructions without so much as a peep. Left alone, the both of them talked and talked and talked, finding solace in each other's company, bound together in mutual grief and worry.

There was a small frisson of excited activity when Gwyneth woke up. From a distance, Aidan noticed her head moving on the pillow and alerted a nurse, who confirmed that she was indeed conscious. The anesthesia and sedatives from her surgery must have worn off. As much as he wanted to see her, he encouraged Sayuri to go in and see her daughter first. The least he could do was afford them some privacy and bonding time after all the trauma of the night. Observing them from outside was like watching a silent movie. Sayuri's face crumpled and tears streaked down her face as she picked up her daughter's hand and kissed it. And then she was nodding and talking, the other hand gently stroking Gwyneth's hair. The burden on his shoulders felt a little lighter, but the guilt still felt as black as tar in his chest. The only reprieve was that she was safe for the time being. After a while Sayuri slipped out of the room, her face shining. She gave Aidan a brief squeeze on the arm and swiped away a final tear with her cardigan sleeve. "She's asking to see you. Go ahead, go in." The sliding doors made a hissing sound as he closed it behind him. There she was, lying on the bed with a lazy smile on her face. He settled into the chair beside her and took her hand. Gwyneth was a little groggy, but undeniably lucid. Seeing her awake and conscious flooded him with relief. Tears sprung to his eyes but he forced them back, not wanting to show her how torn up he was inside. "Hey," his voice was gentle and loving. "How are you feeling?" "Pretty badass," she drawled, a small smile on her lips. She meant it as a joke, but he flinched at her words. "I'm fine, don't you worry. Sorry for the scare back there." "Sorry? You're sorry? Jesus, if anyone should be apologizing, it's me. Gwyneth, it's all my fault that this happened. I should have seen this coming, should've upped security detail-" "Don't -" her voice surged with aggression, startling him. She was still weak, but there was no mistaking the anger in her tone. "Don't you dare. No, not now - it's not fair. I don't have it in me to argue with you right now, so shush."

Still he refused to let it go. "No, Gwyneth," he persisted, sounding determined "I am to blame here, and you can't deny it-" "Aidan, please?" She sighed. "Not here, not now. Please." She closed her eyes, sounding so tired and exasperated that he decided to back down. "I'm sorry, I'll stop for now." He pressed her palm to his lips. "God, I've been worried sick. When I saw you with the two men" he drew in a ragged breath. "If only we were a little faster, if only we had arrived there a little earlier" "Aidan, what did I just tell you? No, okay? No." Despite the obvious fatigue he could still hear the edge in her voice. "I'm alive, I'm safe, and that's all that matters. Don't dwell on it - it's over now, alright? It's over now. It's over now." Her head sagged back into the pillow as she repeated it, as if to convince herself. "It's over now." She exhaled deeply, obviously a little more than exhausted. "You should get some rest, love." Her eyes flashed open in an instant. "No, please," she suddenly looked so fragile, her voice sounded so small. "Please don't go yet. I don't want you to leave." "I'm not going anywhere, baby," he comforted in a deep voice. "I'll be here, I promise. Now go to sleep, you need your rest." He kissed her on her forehead. Mollified, she smiled up at him. She really was feeling quite tired. Gwyneth was about to turn away and close her eyes when he called her name. "Gwyneth?" "Mmm?" "I love you." She was momentarily silenced, stunned by the three words she hadn't expected to hear from him. Her eyes met his and they looked at each other for a while, not saying anything. Truth is she loved that he said it, but she couldn't help but wonder if that was just a knee-jerk reaction to

the events of the night. Maybe this was just an impetuous declaration of love, precipitated by fear instead of true affection. Maybe "I know what you're thinking, and no, it's not like that." His eyes were serious but warm. "I've felt this way for a while now, and I should've told you. Should've said it out loud that night, but I didn't, and that was my mistake." His fingers clasped firmly over hers. "When I saw you lying there. the thought that I could've lost you without ever telling you" he shook his head. "it made me realize that I never want to live another day without saying out loud just how I feel about you." There was a lump in her throat and at that moment, she felt like she was going to cry. "I love you, Gwyneth." The look in his eyes was as tender as she'd ever seen them. "You never fail to amaze me, and I'm so glad to have you in my life." She smiled a little and closed her eyes to try and stop the tears, but a few drops managed to leak out anyway, rolling down her cheek. Catharsis. It had been one hell of a night, and the last thing she should be feeling was joy, but nothing could rob her of the happiness in her heart now. She felt his thumbs carefully brushing away the tears on her bruised cheek and then the rustle of his lips on her forehead. She could feel his breath on her skin, warm and familiar. "Get some rest, my love. You're safe now. I'm here, and I'm never going to leave." ------------------------------The next few days passed by in a semi-blur. Gwyneth spent most of her time sleeping. Her abdomen was swollen and bruised as a result of the injuries she'd sustained as well as the surgery. The discomfort was easily mitigated by the morphine which made her mind all addled and hazy, and she could only vaguely remember snippets of moments with everyone: her three brothers, Dylan, her mother and Aidan - but the chats were usually brief and generic. How are you feeling? Get well soon. Take care. It was like being moderately drunk, where she semi-remembered what she was doing, but for the most part she was running on autopilot.

The swelling soon reduced and so did the pain. As her condition improved she was gradually weaned off the morphine, which allowed her to transferred out of the ICU into a private room, much to her delight. Without the miasma of drugs clouding her mind, she felt much better and a lot more alert, much more in possession of her self again. The first thing she noticed, with a lucid mind, was how her mom and Aidan were so easy with each other. She was talking to her mom in the room when there was a soft knock on the door. In bustled Aidan, who was manhandling several Dean and DeLuca bags. Sayuri welcomed him with a broad grin. "Hi," he greeted them with a friendly smile and turned to address Sayuri. "I didn't know what you'd need, so I just bought some food that I thought might be convenient. The usual hospital fare isn't exactly what you'd want to eat." "Aw, you shouldn't have, Aidan." She took the bags from him and touched his arm. "Thank you so much, sweetheart." Gwyneth was a little surprised, but she felt a glow of pride for him. He really could be so sweet sometimes. As her mom rummaged through the paper bags he came over to kiss her, looking all clean and handsome like he always did. "You look a lot better today," he commented. She smiled up at him and nodded. "Are you feeling well? Does this hurt?" He gingerly touched her cheek, just below the swelling. "It doesn't really hurt. I feel a whole lot better, honest. Does this mean I'll be discharged soon?" "Let's not rush things now," he cautioned. "Take all the time you need to recover. It's best that you not stress yourself out - after all, you're still a little frail." It was true - there was no disputing her physical condition so she begrudgingly acquiesced. "But I've been bedridden for almost a week now," she complained, sounding more whiny than she'd intended to. "I'm tired of being here, Aidan. I just want to go home. That's where I can really recuperate and normalize again, not here in this" she waved at the space around her. "sterile little box."

His face twisted briefly. "Gwyneth, I understand that you want to go home, but I'm a little worried about you going back to your place -" "I'll be fine!" she interjected passionately. He was adamant. "You'll need security detail, at least for the time being. I'm not quite ready to say that you're in the clear just yet." "I'm in a hospital now," she threw up her hands in exasperation. "What difference does it make? I'm pretty sure a locked apartment is just as -" He cut her off smoothly. "There are currently three ex-SAS operatives stationed around you, all of whom are disguised as medical personnel in this hospital." He pointed at her wrist. "That bracelet has a built-in GPS that can pinpoint your location accurate to the meter." The look on his face was stern. "Trust me, there's a lot more you don't want to know about, so yes, I'd say that it makes a huge difference." She just stared at him, struggling to process the information, let alone think of a comeback. Her mom chimed in unhelpfully. "Darling, he does have a point." Gwyneth rolled her eyes, trying to cool down her rising temper. She could feel her mood steadily slipping south. "Oh come on, not you too. I'll be fine, I know I will. You know what - if you're really going to insist on this, you can have half the CIA camp right outside my front door for all I care, but I'd really like to go home. It's been a rough few days, okay? I'm tired of being here." Her words hung in the air, bouncing between the three people in the room. She wasn't sure if she quite liked the look of silent communication between Aidan and her mom. Since when did they get so chummy, anyway? They'd only just met, and now they were making decisions together already? The sound of knocking broke the silence. The door edged open and Dylan's head poked through. "Hi, is she awake?" "Oh, she's up alright. Come on in, dear." Sayuri gestured for him to come closer. Dylan shuffled awkwardly towards the bed with a bunch of

sunflowers in his hand. As if the atmosphere in the room wasn't stilted enough as it is, Dylan's presence just added to the weird tension that loomed about. "Aidan, I think we need to talk about where Gwyneth's going to stay when she leaves this place." Sayuri gave him a meaningful look and subtly nudged her head at Dylan's direction. "Shall we take this outside?" He got the message. "That sounds good. I do have a few ideas" The both of them walked out of the room, leaving Gwyneth alone with Dylan. He tried on smile but she didn't smile back - she wasn't feeling particularly cheery right now. Neither party said a word for a few painfully awkward moments. She looked down at her blanket and pretended to be engrossed by the pattern of the fabric. How did things get so strained between them? He had been her best friend for so many years and yet now they were acting like strangers. "I'm sorry." Her head jerked up at the sound of those words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Gwyneth." She could see the remorse on his face and his broad shoulders were hunched over. Suddenly he didn't look so tall anymore. His usually jovial smile was replaced by a solemn, tight-lipped expression. "I'm so sorry I behaved like that. I know I was being a juvenile dickhead the other day." "Yeah you were. Seriously, that was totally uncalled for." "I know, I know. And then I left you at work without giving you a ride back" He heaved a sigh and perched himself at the edge of her bed. "If I had stuck around to at least send you home" "Don't even go there." Her voice flashed with anger. "I'm not entertaining this from Aidan, and I sure as hell am not going to take it from you either. Enough with the speculating, enough with the hypotheses. It happened, I survived, end of story. I don't want to talk about it and honestly, I just wish that everyone would leave it. Can you?" She could tell that he was shocked by her response. He hadn't expected her to react this way, so Dylan just nodded his head obediently. Gwyneth sighed and shifted around on the pillows.

"I just don't get it. Why all of a sudden?" she asked. "What the hell was up with you that day? Don't tell me that it was nothing - I'm in a really bad mood right now, I'm running low on patience and I'm about this close from shouting at someone." She held up her thumb and forefinger to illustrate. He knew her well enough to understand that he was skating on thin ice now. Like her mother, she usually kept her cool, but when she exploded, not all the king's horses and all the king's men could put everything right again. "I was jealous," he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. Hearing him say that rang alarm bells in her head. Did he say that he was jealous? She stared at him, a little slackjawed. What ifwhat if this meant that he had feelings for her? Dylan saw the look on her face and quickly realized what she was thinking. "No, no, no" he backtracked hastily. "Okay, bad choice of words. I wasn't really jealous, more ofenvious. That's it, envious. I don't have any feelings - I mean, um, I-" He clamped his mouth shut, looking like he was figuring out what to say. "Look," he said. "I think we've made it pretty clear that we're just friends, right?" She eased back in relief and nodded. "Yeah, yeah we have." She frowned in confusion. "Butwhy envious?" Dylan looked genuinely caught out. "I don't know" he started, sounding contrite. "Life has really been working out for you lately. Your job was going great, you were so in love, you looked so happy" He broke off and shook his head with a pained look on his face. "I know, I know - what kind of friend does that make me, huh? Not that I wasn't happy for you - I really was, G. I still am. It's just that we started hanging out less, and you were so wrapped up with your new guy, and you were busy with workI guess I just felt a little left out. I mean, when was the last time we hung out, just the both of us?" She felt a twinge of guilt and all traces of anger dissipated from her mind. He did have a point - ever since she'd started going out with Aidan, she hadn't really had the time to be friends with Dylan. She realized that she no longer knew the little details of his life - who was he interested in? Had he been dating anyone recently? How was he feeling lately? To add insult to the injury, she had deliberately left him out of the

loop. He must've felt so alien, felt like he wasn't to be trusted. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "Look," she said in a soft voice, "maybe the fight was partially my fault too. I know we haven't really been spending much time lately because of me. And maybe I should've told you who I was dating. We're friends we're best friends. If you're not the one I'm going to tell, then who?" He half-smiled at her in return. There was a moment of silence as she contemplated whether or not Dylan had already figured out that she was dating Aidan. It definitely would've raised his eyebrows to see the berg being so involved in Gwyneth's life, especially in the past few days. Dylan wasn't stupid. He was the King of Gossip for a reason. "So" his tone was lighthearted. "Aidan Scodelario, huh? Can't blame me for not guessing that one." He tried to joke. She flashed a halfhearted smile back at him, feeling a little awkward. Heart-to-heart conversations were never her forte. She thought about what he had said at the diner and realized that he was right. She hadn't told him about her fling with Aidan precisely because she knew that he would disapprove. Anyone in their right mind would because at the end of the day Aidan was still her boss. The question is, what would Dylan say now? Also, what did it mean to her whether or not her best friend approved? A million questions began to pop up in her head. "He really cares for you," Dylan said quietly. "You should have seen him, G. I mean, I don't know him very well, but I've never seen a man in such a state before. Especially not someone as controlled and collected as the Berg." Listening to him say that made it hard for her to breathe. Her throat constricted and tears were springing to her eyes. She just looked down at the blanket and toyed at it with her fingers, acutely aware of her heart throbbing in her chest. "Are you guys together?" he asked cautiously. She bit her lower lip. "It's complicated," she confessed after a pause. "Right." He nodded briefly, his expression blank. "Justone more question, and I'll leave it, I promise. I won't ask you anything else." She gave him her ok.

"I know you've thought this through, and I trust you," his voice was wary, as if he was afraid of angering her. "Gwyneth, does he make you happy? Does he truly make you happy?" She looked into Dylan's eyes and saw the concern in his gaze. It was a difficult question, one she hadn't really thought about - but now she realized why she had put off talking about this to him for so long. As long as she kept it from him, everything was secret - so secret, it almost felt surreal, like a dream. If things hadn't worked out between Aidan and her, she could just pretend that nothing ever happened. As long as it was a secret, it didn't really exist. Not properly, anyway. But telling Dylan would make it real. Letting her best friend know about the relationship would have carried it from the realm of secrets to the crassness of reality - plucked it from a hazy fantasy of hidden flirting and kisses and dropped it into a world governed by logic and real rules. She was disappointed with herself for being so oblivious all this time, for ignoring the obvious and letting it fester until it smacked her in the face. Dylan's honest question left her feeling shamefaced. His care and concern for her was genuine, fortified through the many years of friendship and trust. Maybe he did behave like an asshole back at the diner, but only because she wronged him first. She had lied to him and deliberately misled him when all he'd tried to do was be a friend. "It's okay, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." "No, no, it's fine." She shook her head free of the jumble of thoughts and plastered on a half-smile. "Yes, he makes me happy. He really does, Dee." She covered his hand with hers. "Thanks for asking." "That's all I need to hear." The easy smile on his face was back and she could feel the warmth returning to the room, the tension evaporating into thin air. "For what it's worth, I think that he's a good guy. Not that you need my permission or approval" he hastily added. She gave a sound that sounded like half-sob, half-snort. "Fine, let's not call it permission, but you're my best friend. Of course you'll have to approve of whoever I'm going out with." "Well I'm glad you're with him," he tried to sound cheerful. "Although I can't seem to understand what you see in the man. He's not even

good-looking," he teased. "Yes he is," she huffed, pretending to feel insulted. "No he isn't. He looks like alien, what with the long face and all. And the cheekbones. He totally looks like some extraterrestial." "Shut up-" "Oh, he definitely looks like an alien. Not just an alien, a scary alien. A scary British alien. Tayke me t'your leedah," he mimicked in a robotic voice, making fun of Aidan's British accent. "And bring me a cup of tea while you're at it." "Shut up!" She was giggling now. "I don't care what you think, I'm just going to put it out there and say that I'm better looking than he is." "Oh, please," she said sarcastically. "You're just jealous. I distinctly remember you comparing him to Batman." "Keep telling yourself that, although you know he's nothing compared to this." He gestured at the length of his body. "Batman? I make him look like the Joker." "Ah. Sometimes I wonder if you were born with it, or maybe it's Maybelline." "I'll admit, the only person prettier than me is you. And I'm in no way, in noooooo way at all, trying to kiss your ass." She burst into peals of laughter. Things between them were going back to normal, and it felt good. They continued clowning around for a while more, exhuming all the old inside jokes and had a good laugh about it all. Eventually the chuckling winded down and they settled into a comfortable silence. "So," she asked breezily, "who were on the list of Mystery Man suspects?" Dylan threw his head back in an agonized laugh. "Oh God, you're probably going to kill me but oh what the hell, why not. Let's see, there

was Eric Branstead, Jamie Gassels, Kelvin Pryor" A look of growing horror spread across her face as he counted off his fingers one by one. "What. the. fuck?" She gawped at him. "A whole city full of men I could have hooked up with, and you really thought that I was with those jackasses?" "Hey!" He held up his hands defensively. "I figured it was someone you were ashamed of, which meant that either he was hideous, had a small dong or was a blithering idiot. Everyone on the list was one of the three. Except for Jamie, who incidentally, is all of the above." She rolled her eyes. "That's really quite insulting, but I suppose your train of thought does make sense." "Besides, you do know that these morons fancy you, right? Not just them, actually - just about all of the men in our department are in love with you." "Oh shut up," she snapped, feeling a little embarrassed. "You're making that up." "It's true, and you know it." He leaned back with a satisfied smile, basking in his victory. She slumped back into her pillow, a little winded from all the talking and joking. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she sat upright. "Wait, Dylan - our department." A bolt of alarm shot through her. "Have the rest heard about what happened?" He winced at her question but admitted that news had already broken out despite Aidan's attempts to corral it in. The Ceres arrest was the hot topic of the moment, a scandal of gargantuan proportions - news of Marty's death was already splashed across newspapers and websites worldwide. The good news was that although the press knew about an LSA employee being assaulted, they hadn't been able to ascertain her identity. Not that people working in the firm didn't know - news travelled fast and she was quite sure that everyone was whispering her name now. Dylan explained that no one from the firm even so much as dared speak to the media. Aidan had made it pretty clear that any employee caught mentioning Gwyneth to the press would pay for their grievances at great

cost. "And I quote this verbatim," Dylan fished his phone out of his pocket and read the email aloud. "Anyone seen discussing Ms. Kenner in public, whether in regards to her hair color or about her involvement with the case should consider themselves fortunate to be cleaning loos at Chipotle." He snickered at the end of the sentence. She couldn't help but snuffle with laughter. "Yeah, that sounds like him," she said dryly, trying to hide the glow of pleasure that was radiating inside her. This was her man looking out for her, pulling rank and terrorizing people into silence. Dating the Berg definitely came with its perks. The happy glow quickly faded as she realized the other implications of this case. People were going to talk. As of now, she was an office celebrity for all the wrong reasons. First the assault, then Aidan's reaction. Rumors about her sleeping with Aidan were probably already spread far and wide. Dylan saw the expression on her face and immediately understood what she was thinking about. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and tried a comforting smile. "Don't think about it just yet. The situation right now is very volatile but the talk will die down. By the time you get back, I'm sure things will be a lot better." She smiled back weakly at him and tried to shake off all negative thoughts. "I'm really sorry, but I have to go now. I'll be back soon, okay? Take care and get well soon, girl. I'm so sorry we fought." "It's nothing. Pigs will fly before you stop acting like a child. I'll see you when I see you." He gave a little laugh, ruffled her hair and left. In his absence the silence of the room gaped widely. Gwyneth just sat in the quiet, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few days. It felt like everything began that night at her place when she was cooking with Aidan. That was the peak of the rollercoaster ride before everything rushed down in a mad frenzy. Right now she understood how Alice must have felt while tumbling through that rabbit hole. All semblance of normality was gone. In a few days, everything had changed. Marty was dead. Her mentor, the man who had taught her so much about being a lawyer was now gone. Her job had swerved sharply off course and gone into a trajectory she never envisaged. She'd just survived an assault where she was stabbed. Aidan and her openly admitted to each other about being in love. Well, almost openly. She

realized that this meant that life would never be the same again - today was going to be the beginning of a whole new chapter, whether or not she was ready for it. The time alone gave her the time to soliloquize about the events that transpired. Given that she'd been surrounded by people 24/7 over the past few days, she hadn't really had the time to lean back and just think about things properly. So far, no one had really tried to probe her about the ordeal. They understood that the trauma was still fresh and didn't want to stress her any more. Her refusal to talk worked well for the time being, but how long more could she keep at it? She sighed and rubbed her temples with one hand. Her own words echoed in her mind - I don't want to talk about it. Leave it. That was her method of handling things, wasn't it? That was always what she did avoid. Refuse to discuss matters and pretend that everything was alright. She'd done that with Aidan, and now with the assault. It was the same thing over and over again, the same defense mechanism she had since she was young - if anything really mattered, if it really hit close to home, she would put her shields up and refuse to talk about it. Either that, or she would try to diminish the magnitude of her problems and act like she wasn't really affected by it. Only if and when someone brought it up and placed it right under her nose would she actually sit down and confront it. She heard the doorknob creak open and Aidan walked into the room. With his black Vivienne Westwood suit, Prada oxfords and dark green Turnbull & Asser tie, he looked like a million bucks. It probably cost him just as much, she thought. She envied his wardrobe with a passion, even if she was a woman - nice clothes were nice clothes, no matter the type, and she'd be damned if she could afford a suit from Paul Smith. She had half a mind to pinch one of his shirts the next time she stayed over. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. "How are you and Dylan? Everything alright?" Her mom must have told him about the fight. "We patched things up." She linked her fingers with his and stared at their intertwined hands. "AlsoI told him about us." Her face flushed pink. "I don't know if you mind and I'm sorry if it bothers you, but I promise you that he'll keep mum. I only wanted him to know because he's my best friend" she could hear herself rambling as she tried to

explain. He cut her off by stroking her cheek. "It's okay, I don't mind it one bit." he murmured. "So what did you tell him we were? Friends with benefits?" His eyes creased into a teasing smile. Her cheeks flamed beetroot red. "I just told him that it's complicated, that's all. To be honest" she flicked her eyes away from him, "I don't really know what we are." She looked back up at him hesitantly, feeling the mix of fear and trepidation. She felt so confused, soshaken up by everything. A part of her wanted to insist on resolving the issues between them once and for all. Another part just wanted to let things take its natural course and see how things played out. She could see the undisguised affection on his face, that special cryptic smile that he reserved for her and only her and it sent a warmth diffusing through her body. Even if they lacked a definition, she knew without a doubt that he loved her. She thought about how he had looked at her when they first met - that irritated anger, the stone cold expression, the hard jawline. They'd come so far since that fateful meeting. Without saying a word he cupped her face and covered her mouth with his, drawing her into a deep kiss that took her breath away. His lips were firm and sweet, gently parting hers so that she could taste him on her tongue. She could feel his warm hands on her chin, holding her to him like he never wanted to let her go. When they broke apart he continued to cradle her face in his fingers. "I want to be with you," he said with an air of finality. "I want you, I want to be with you," he pressed a small kiss on her forehead, "and I really hope that you want to be with me too." A rush of emotions cascaded through her at the sound of his words. She could feel her chin trembling and she was blinking fast, trying to quash the tears before they even began. She just nodded up at him with a wobbly smile and circled her fingers around his wrists. The plan to stop the waterworks wasn't really working - she could feel a stray tear beginning to coalesce, a wet sheen beginning to glaze on her eyes. He knew that she wouldn't want him to see her crying. "So" he pulled a mock serious expression. "Be my date to the prom?"

She gave a shaky giggle and sniffed back a tear. "I'd love to, but I'll have to get out of this place first." She held up the hand where the drip needle went in. "This isn't really the fashion statement of the year and while two's company, three's a crowd." She pointed at the pole that held the i.v bag. "Good luck trying to dance with the both of us." He laughed and released her chin to take her hands. "Well, have I got good news for you. Your mother and I have talked to the doctors and you've been given the green light to be discharged." She grinned like a maniac. "But" he cautioned, raising his eyebrows. "You'll still be getting home calls and you'll need a caregiver in the interim." He hesitated for a second. "With your needs in mind, your mother and I are of the opinion that it might be better if you stayed at my place for a while. Just until you're healthy enough. Security won't be an issue, Alfred will be there to help out, there's plenty of room for your mom to stay" She could've sworn she saw something shift in his eyes. "and after you're all better, we'll see how things work out." She bit her lip to keep from smiling. The urge to be cheeky was too strong to resist. "Asking me to move in with you, huh? Well that's pretty soon." Aidan paled a little. "No, that's not it," he reacted immediately. "Gwen, it's only for the time being. The last thing I want is to pressure you into doing something you don't want to. It's not technically moving in together, but if you're uncomfortable with the idea, you don't have to-" It was so funny to see him so rattled. She'd never seen him so jumpy before and by george, it was hilarious. "Relax," she soothed. "It was a joke. I'm just kidding around, that's all." Still he looked unconvinced. She felt a little sorry now - after all they had been through in the past few days, she was pretty sure she'd just hit a sore spot. Damn comic timing, she thought. Always with the inappropriate jokes. Her face softened and she patted at the spot on the bed right beside her. "C'mere," she beckoned at him to come closer and he did. With him only inches away she could smell his aftershave, so close that she could almost see every fleck of those incredible irises. She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, pressing her nose into his shirt. "Sorry for the bad joke. Not one of my better ones, I'll have to admit."

He didn't say a word, so she dug her chin into his chest and looked up at him. "All humor aside, I think that's a pretty good idea. I do like the thought of having you around for the next week or so. With everything that's happened, all I really want to do is just be in your arms." she nuzzled his neck and felt his arms tighten around her. They just sat there in the comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying the peace of their solitude. "I see you and my mom have become new BFFs." Aidan gave a low, rumbling laugh. "Jealous?" "Insanely," she grumbled. "A few days with her and she's already taking your side during arguments. Hmph." "If you want to win an argument, then start putting forth points that actually make sense." "You did not just diss my skills of rhetoric. Oooh, you'll pay." "Bring it. I don't know if you've heard," he leaned in and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "but I'm a pretty decent lawyer." "You're a terrible comedian, you know that?" "Right back at you." She laughed and pulled his head down for a kiss, only to be interrupted by the buzzing from his pocket. "I'm so sorry," he grimaced, pulling the phone out of his pocket and taking a good look at it. "I have to take this." She just nodded at him and watched as he took a few steps away from her, talking into the phone in a low voice. He must've been so busy these few days. Yet he always found the time to come and visit her, no matter how brief. She really appreciated that - a man of his work calibre couldn't really afford time to faff around with his personal life, but he was going out of this way to do so. His eyes would flick over hers and catch her gaze every now and then. Whenever he did that she could see the faint shadows underneath his eyes. He looked physically tired and she wondered if he was driving himself a

little too hard. She felt a pang of tenderness at the thought of it - she knew that he must've been stalking about, making sure that everything about her was hushed up. And he was obviously taking such good care of her family. She wasn't going to admit it, but she loved how her mom had warmed up to Aidan. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was stretching himself thin trying to manage everything at once. Stress was one thing, but she knew that this was another. As hard as the past few days were on her, she was sure that it was hard on him, too. The big difference was that everyone fawned over her and showered her with sympathy, whereas he received no such warmth. To everyone he was still the Berg - they forgot they he, too, had feelings. That he also felt the pain in secret. "Hey," he strode back towards her, looking guilty. "I'm so sorry, but I've been called back for an emergency. As soon as that is cleared up, I'll be back, I promise." "Don't worry about rushing back," she looked up in his eyes and even if he looked tired, she could see the spark in his eyes. "Thanks for dropping by. I know things must be crazy right now. " She pulled him in for a kiss and when they broke apart, she gave him a meaningful look. "I love you." His lips twitched into a half-smile and she could see the joy spread across his face. "I love you too. See you later, love." She could've sworn that as he walked out of that door, his steps were lighter and his head was held a little higher. -------------------------------------------He found her lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, her arms neatly folded across her chest, clasping her iPod to her solar plexus. Strains of music leaked out from the oversized headphones she was wearing. Judging by the faint notes of the sonorous bass and the treble echo of strings, he guessed that she was listening to classical music. He leaned over her, wondering if she was napping or just immersing herself in the melody. His face hovered inches away from hers, so close that if she was awake, she could definitely feel the warmth of his skin. She didn't stir, which meant that she was asleep. He smiled to himself and studied her face,

admiring how beautiful she looked in the dim light. The perfect nose, porcelain skin, immaculately groomed eyebrows. He could remember how he had checked her out that day at Costa's, when her pretty face was smiling at a total stranger - a different smile from the one she shared with him. A different from the one she wore in her sleep. Gently, he fluttered his lips over hers, brushing against them first to feel their softness - once, twice - before he captured her in a firm, unrelenting kiss that lured her out of her sleep. She took in a deep breath as she awoke, her eyes flickering wide open. Recognition flashed in her eyes and she closed them again, enrapt by his kiss. Her hands were moving all over his body, longing to feel the skin underneath his expensive clothes. "Did you just get back?" she murmured up at him when they finally broke apart. "Yeah. What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in bed?" "Just listening to some music. If I sleep any more, I'm going to wake up as a koala." "So what was that you were doing before I came home? Some kind of fancy new-age yoga?" She ignored his question and hauled herself into a sitting position. "What time is it?" "Just gone midnight." He slipped an arm around her shoulders as they snuggled up beside each other. "Is your mom awake as well?" "She's asleep. Been a tiring few days for her, taking care of me and all. I know it's been hard on you too." She looked up at him and traced a line on his face. "Aidan, you look drop-dead exhausted." "I'm perfectly fine," he said easily, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He was immaculately dressed as always, but it couldn't detract from his haggard appearance. He flashed a smooth smile at her but she saw right through it, and at that moment she wished that he wouldn't behave like that. She understood that he was trying to shield her from the multitude of problems that must have been swarming their way, yet it didn't feel quite right. There was just something about the cool, controlled mask of his that unsettled her.

"How was your day? You look well." He stroked her hair and tried to change the topic. "It was fine, I guess. Moving around is a lot easier now." She shrugged in disinterest. "How are things at LSA? I'm dying to talk about work. As ludicrous as this sounds, I actually miss the office." "There's been a slight unrest - understandable, given the circumstances, but it's all under control. Don't worry, it's not something you'd want to trouble yourself with." he said smoothly. Disappointment swelled inside her, poking underneath her skin in uncomfortable lumps. The conversation felt farcical - she felt like she was a client of his who was being handled by his smooth talk. "Let's not do this," she said, sounding defeated. Aidan just gave her a quizzical stare. "Let's not look each other in the face and pretend that everything's okay when it obviously isn't. We've come this far already, and I'd like to think that we've made progress. I don't want to take two steps forwards and three steps back. If we can't talk to each other honestly" she sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what else we can do anymore." He looked stunned, but only fleetingly. There was nothing to dispute - he knew that she was right. She could see the guilt on his face, the apology written all over his face even before his lips said it. He laced his fingers in hers and touched his forehead to her temple. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I just didn't want you to worry." "I know," she said softly. "Ironically, you not telling me anything is exactly what makes me worry." He let out a small, bitter laugh. "You overthink things sometimes. Been reading the news lately?" He jerked his chin at a copy of the day's New York Times lying on the coffee table. "I have. I don't know how you managed to throw a cloak over the incident, but you certainly did. It's a wonder my picture isn't splashed across the centerfold spread of some tabloid." "No easy feat, I'll admit. Every fucking newspaper is lapping this up like

a pack of rabid animals. These people will stop at nothing for a good scoop or two." He looked so angry that Gwyneth reached out to pat soothing circles on his back. "Thanks for doing this for me. I'm so sorry I put you through this." "Jesus, please don't say things like that. There's nothing humanly possible that I could do to make up for what I've put you through." She placed a hand on his knee and shook her head slightly. "No, it's you who shouldn't say things like that. You're taking such good care of me, and I'm really lucky to have you." He wanted to say something in return but she stopped him by pouting and giving him a pointed look before he could utter a word. Gwyneth pressed a kiss onto his stubbly jaw and hugged him tight. "Is that what you've been worried about, then?" she asked. She could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes and his face just closed up like a shutter. Whatever it was, it clearly meant a lot to him. She was secretly thankful that they were sitting side by side - a face-to-face conversation would have felt a little too confrontational. He just stared at the coffee table in front of them as he marshaled his thoughts. She let him take all the time he needed. "My father knows about us," he said quietly and looked up to face her. "He knows that I'm seeing you. As a matter of fact, as soon as he heard about Marty he must've known that you were in danger. That's why he came to talk to me." She pondered his statement for a few moments. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" "It's not bad, it's not goodit's more of a lacuna." The latin word for loophole. "If he wants to manipulate me in the future, this will be his point of entry. That's how he'll get to me - by getting to you first." He took her hands in his. "Don't take this the wrong way, Gwyneth, but you're my weakness." The usual confidence in his voice was faltering. She could feel the walls inside him breaking down, having been chipped

away brick by brick over the past few weeks. "I don't care if he tries to fuck with me, but if he wants to hurt you" he trailed off and tightened his grip on her fingers. Her heart sank. His words were bittersweet. To love her was to be happy, to be complete. But to love her was also to be weak, to be foolish, to expose his Achilles' heel. There was no right or wrong, they were just caught between a rock and a hard place. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as she saw him facing the coffee table with a blank stare. "Wouldwould he really? Would he do something like that?" she asked nervously. Aidan's jaw hardened and his pupils constricted into tiny pinpricks of fury. "You don't know what kind of a man he is, Gwyneth." She could hear the anger returning to his voice. What was Nicholas Scodelario really like? Was he really so abominable that his own son couldn't trust him with a personal relationship? What could he have done to earn this kind of hate? She had so many questions, but the rigid mask of long-buried anger on Aidan's face scared her. She didn't dare ask. Aidan exhaled sharply and she could see the muscles of his jaw working. "I've never talked to you about my mother, have I?" She shook her head no. In terms of his private life, she knew close to nothing - other than excerpts of his childhood here and there, she didn't know much about his personal history. They never discussed it. Aidan had been really reserved about it, even as they got to know each other better. She remembered how he was like when she had asked him about his family back at her place. He didn't take his eyes off the table in front of him. "I was six when they were divorced. Way too young to really understand what was going on." A flash of pain crossed his face but it quickly disappeared. "To be honest I don't really remember much about her, only bits and pieces here and there. Playing with her, being read bedtime storiesthat's about it. But even then, I've always remembered her as being wonderful. Loving, always giving hugs and kissesin my memories, at least." "She wasn't a blue blood - she was a just country girl who moved to the city and ultimately met my father. Fell in love, got married, fell out of

love. Legal papers claimed her infidelity as grounds for divorce. I don't know how true that is and I probably never will." He sounded so matter-of-fact, like he was reciting details of a court case from a textbook. "He made damn sure that she lost everything. Imagine this - my father, with all his money and his contacts and his legal prowess, and my mother, a paralegal from Blackburn - the divorce was open shut. Bear in mind, this was the early 80's - the law was very different back then. She ended up with no alimony, no job, no custody of her children, no visitation rights - absolutely nothing at all." "I don't even remember saying goodbye to her. She was there one day, and the next, she was gone. Growing up, I struggled to understand. When I was old enough, I got curious. I started to look for her when I was sixteen." He turned to face her, making sure that she was looking into his eyes. He wanted her to understand everything that he went through. "She was dead. She'd been dead nine years by the time I found out. Hung herself three months after the divorce. You can only imagine how desperate she was, Gwyneth. How dire everything must have been to have driven her to do such a thing." He said it bluntly, his expression blank and cold. Gwyneth felt so horrified, she could barely breathe. Was there ever an appropriate response to hearing something like that? And then there was the way he'd said it. So stoic and devoid of any emotion, like spitting out cold hard facts. He'd been hardened over the years - this awful part of his past had rotted and petrified into stone - to the point where he couldn't feel any more. She looked into his eyes and she understood. He'd gone through all the phases - hurt, anger, rage, loneliness, betrayal - and finally, indifference. Aidan continued to hold her gaze, sturdy as ever. "That's the kind of man he is, Gwyneth. It's a bit of stretch to call him evil - no, he's not particularly villainous. But he is cruel, and he's heartless. He's Nicholas Scodelario for a reason - he's not going to care who he hurts as long as he achieves what he wants." He leaned back into the sofa, sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know that I'm just being paranoid because it's very unlikely that he'll have a reason to hurt you. As far fetched as it is, the fact is that he can if he wants to. There is always a possibility, always a chance, and

that's enough to keep me worried. More so, I think recent events more than justify my concerns." He left it at that. She didn't say anything in response simply because she didn't know what to tell him. They just looked at each other in silence as Gwyneth tried to digest everything that he just told her. She didn't even know where to start. Hearing his story made her want to comfort him and sympathize, but she knew that they were beyond that now. He wasn't talking about this because he wanted to weep about his lost childhood. He brought this up because he was concerned about the future. The future that looked to be in a very precarious position right now. Was that was he was trying to tell her? "Does this meando you think that we shouldn't be with each other?" she asked in a timid voice. "Not at all." He seized her hands and pulled her close. "Make no mistake, I want to be with you. When I told you that I am never going to leave you, I meant it. I promised that I would take good care of you, and that's precisely what I'm going to do." He gently stroked her uninjured cheek, the look in his eyes soft. "I just have to make sure that he'll never be able to touch you, and figure out a bastion of defense against any possible chances. I'll find the answer soon, don't worry." He leaned back into his seat and she could hear the confidence returning to his voice. He sounded like his sophisticated, assured self again, ready and confident to take on the world. "Sorry about the lengthy rant back there, I suppose I digressed quite a bit. You're not feeling well and here I am, unloading all of this on you. I'm so sorry, Gwyneth." He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. "But I promise, there's nothing for you to fear, and everything is under control. Have a little faith in your friendly neighborhood Berg." "Oh, god." She let out a shaky laugh, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything they'd just talked about. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're telling me all this." She held his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "I can't believe you kept this from me, Aidan. Jesus, no wonder you look so strung out." "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. And I definitely do not look strung out - you're just coddling me." "Yeah? You look like a beat-up raccoon," she mumbled, rolling her eyes

and sighing. "You really think we'll be fine?" "We'll be absolutely fine," he affirmed. "Now you should be concentrating on getting well. How are the wounds healing?" "They're healing up very nicely." She pulled up a little bit of her t-shirt to show him her abdomen. The stab wounds themselves were healing fast and had scabbed over by now, but the wound that made the biggest impact was the one for her laparotomy. To fix her up they had to open her up first, leaving a long midline scar tracing vertically over her belly with the stitches still in place. Aidan visibly winced at the sight of the wound and he reached out, just barely skimming his fingers over the injuries with the lightest touch. She knew that he was afraid of hurting her. "Stitches are coming out this weekend," she explained as she saw one of his fingers dance over the black thread. "Told you I'll be fine," she tried to reassure him. He looked up at her with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "You're holding up so well, Gwyneth, and I think it's incredible. Are you sure you're alright? Do you want totalk about that night?" "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's okay with you." She could see the doubt on his face. "I know you're worried, hell, everyone is. And I appreciate it, really, but to tell you the truth I feel perfectly fine. I'm not scared or traumatized or anything. It happened and I'm glad I came out of it alive. That's all it is to me." "Are you absolutely certain?" She sighed in mild exasperation but turned it into a small smile. "I'm positive. Just because I don't go around putting on airs, doesn't mean I'm all soft on the inside. I'm tougher than I look, you know. When I say I'm okay, it really does mean that I'm okay. If I ever feel like something's wrong," she pressed her nose into his shoulder, "I'll come to you, I promise." "Please do. Anything wrong, tell me at once. Talk to me." "Yes, boss." She gave him a mock salute. He pulled her close for a deep kiss, running his fingers through her hair

as he tasted the soft sweetness of her lips. "We should get you back to bed," he murmured into her cheek. "I don't want to sleep anymore, I'm not tired!" She knew that she sounded like a petulant child. He gave her the come-on-now look and she sighed in return. Arguing with him was the last thing she wanted to do right now. He helped her up, supporting her with one arm as they hobbled over to the bedroom that had been prepared just for her - Aidan had insisted on it because he didn't want his irregular hours to interfere with her rest. She loved how he tucked her into bed, pulling up the duvet and smoothing it over her chest as she snuggled in the covers. In the dim light his cheekbones looked more pronounced and she realized what Dylan meant when he said that he was better looking than Aidan. Maybe he had a point - Aidan definitely wasn't conventionally good-looking, but in her eyes he was as handsome as anyone could be. And when he had on that one special smile, the one she knew was for her and only her, it was more than enough to fill her heart with enough affection to make it burst. He leaned over to kiss her forehead and a wave of girly pleasure washed over her. "Goodnight, darling. Sleep well, I love you." he whispered. She could hear him switch off the bedside light with a click, along with the rustle of his clothing as he moved away and the quiet sound of the door closing. Except that she didn't. For the next few hours she tossed and turned, fidgeting restlessly in bed as her brain refused to hibernate. Thoughts of the conversation she had with Aidan swirled in her mind and she couldn't help but try to analyze every aspect of the scenario. Over the past few days she'd seen a whole new side of him she never thought existed - of course he could be easy and charming and there was that bitter, slightly introverted facet of him - but this kind of vulnerability was new. She never thought that Aidan Scodelario would actually be worried, especially considering that his Type A personality usually was more angry than it was fearful. And there was that story about his mother and the childhood that never was, his parentless upbringing that left him with no one other than a brother to cling on to and grow up with. Could that be the reason he got along so well with her own mother, then? Maternal intuition was a force more often right than wrong, she thought, and perhaps that was it.

Sighing, she threw off the duvet and clambered out of bed gingerly. She padded over to his bedroom and quietly edged the door open, poking her head through to check if he was asleep. His room was empty, the air vacant and still. Frowning, she closed the door and shuffled over to the next possible place he could be at - the study. As she neared the study she noticed that the door was ajar, leaking light and noise from the narrow gap. With great care she sneaked up and peered through the thin gap, hoping that she could observe him while being unnoticed. He had already showered and changed, and was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and boxers. The eyeglasses were back, reflecting the ghostly light of the laptop he was currently staring at. Apart from a small study lamp and the brightness of the computer screen, the room was completely dark. He was obviously reading through something, one hand working the scroll button of the mouse while the other covered his mouth in a pensive manner. She glanced at the clock on the wall nearby - 2.21 a.m. His phone rang shrilly, breaking the silence. Without taking his eyes off the computer, he scooped up the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello? Right." She watched as he listened intently to the person on the other line. Whoever he was talking to must have said something wrong because suddenly his face darkened with anger and his brow creased in annoyance. "For fuck's sake," the sharpness of his tone startled her, "how did this happen? Who the fuck was in charge of this?" The call had all of his attention now, the laptop forgotten. "Let me speak to him," he demanded. Well, maybe he wasn't that different. She watched him hiss into the phone, practically combusting with anger and she realized that he was still the man she once feared. It wasn't going to change just because she knew a different side of him now. "an unregistered debenture is a liability beyond words, do you hear me? Hand me back to Jeremiah." Pause. "Sam, have him clear his desk. Terminate effective immediately." Jesus - did he just fire someone over the phone? She pursed her lips and widened her eyes, deciding that maybe it was better if she went back to her room for now. Making sure to be absolutely quiet, she backed away from the door and turned to walk back to her room. She had a suspicion that the currently fuming Aidan wouldn't want to find her out of bed. If he didyikes. He'd probably -

"What are you doing up?" She would've jumped out of her skin if she could, but she just spun around to see him at the door, staring at her with warm, serious eyes. At least he didn't look to be very pissed off with her. "I could ask you the same thing," she hazarded. "It's two in the morning!" "Not in Singapore." "Oh." A little embarrassed, she looked down at her feet. Well that explained how he was dealing with an active office at this hour. He walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. "Go back to bed," he chided gently. "Or do you need a lullaby to send you off?" "Maybe if you're the one singing it. Oooh, maybe you could dance as well. Make it a little goodnight performance." "Not a chance." She tried on her best know-it-all voice. "Come to bed with me? I read somewhere that sleeping with a partner helps improve REM sleep, which means better sleep quality. Something about neuronal gamma waves and biorhythm resonance, I think." "Oh?" He looked unimpressed. She sighed and pouted. "Fine, fine, I just don't want to sleep alone." She held out her hands. "Come to bed with me please? I'm sure that's just what I need to send me off for the night." He threw a brief look over his shoulder back at his office. "Give me half an hour," he relented and she felt a gust of triumph. "C'mon, let's tuck you in first." He looped an arm around her waist and steered her towards his room. "Can't believe I'm putting my grown-up girlfriend to bed like she's some errant, bedtime-rebelling kid." "Say what you want, I know you're enjoying this." He just rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. Halfway through the night she stirred and found herself safely ensconced in his arms. Sleepy but satisfied, she slipped back into her dreams a happy woman. Everything felt like it was

in its right place. Everything felt settled. ----------------------------------Or maybe it wasn't so settled. Over the next few months they tumbled through the motions of moving on. Some nights she couldn't sleep no matter how tired she was, for some inexplicable reason. On those nights he would stay up with her and they'd just talk. It didn't matter what about, they could talk about anything at all - whether it was about the incident itself, or about the Dow Jones Index, or whether or not Matt Smith was as good a Doctor as David Tennant - they would just talk to each other until Gwyneth found her peace again and drifted off to sleep in his arms. She had her own demons to exorcise. True to her stubborn self, it was months before she finally admitted to having some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder from the incident. After all that time spent claiming that she was okay, after all the jokes and humor that served as a smokescreen, the effects eventually rose to the surface and became visible to those who knew her well. First came the episodes of her sitting all alone and staring into space, jolting with a start when she was discovered. She also gradually realized that she'd stopped cooking, in most likelihood an unconscious effort to avoid being near knives. She discussed it with Aidan, which helped a great deal, but sometime later on she talked it over with a clinical psychologist in an attempt to free herself once and for all. Slowly but surely they helped each other pull through the ordeal. The scars on her belly healed way before the emotional ones did. She remembered with explicit clarity the time they'd gone back to Port Elizabeth as a means of obtaining closure. It was late at night and he'd brought along some security escort - more as an emblem of reassurance than an actual safety measure itself. He walked beside her as she explored the area, taking tentative steps with her arms folded against the cold. He could see her eyes roving around the place as if she was trying to make sense of something. He would have offered to take her hand but she kept her arms folded, claiming that the air was too nippy. With her scarf looped in a thick knot around her neck and the knitted beanie on her head, her bulky clothes almost seemed to swallow her whole. She just surveyed her surroundings without saying a word, picking up every detail of the scene with alert eyes. At this hour, the dockyard was practically deserted and the sound of their footsteps resonated off the corrugated metal of the

cargo boxes. "I want to run," she suddenly announced, unwinding the scarf around her neck. "What?" "I want to run," she repeated firmly. "You can tell them to leave, I'll be fine." She indicated at the muscular men that were milling around them. "I just want to run, that's all." Aidan regarded her curiously for a moment. He dismissed the men with a wave of his hand and turned back to face Gwyneth, who was wriggling out of her thick coat and dropping it to the ground. "What are you doing?" he rushed towards her, alarmed. "You'll catch a cold-" "Run with me," she interrupted him before he could finish. "Don't ask me why I'm doing this. I don't really have an answer for that. Run with me?" she asked again. She raised her eyebrows at him and started to walk backwards, keeping her eyes fixed on him. When she saw his small answering smile she returned it with one of her own, spun around, and launched into a full sprint. He followed right after, easily catching up with her in a few long-legged strides. She shared a glance with him as they ran side by side, tearing through the empty space in an imaginary race. She could hear the pattering of their feet on the gravel, the wind whooshing in her ears as she ran with all her might. She ran like she did that night, uninhibited and furious, sending shockwaves rippling through her body each time her feet came into contact with the ground. The cold air bit at their exposed skin and Gwyneth was half certain she would have frozen to death, but the heat from the exertion warmed her from inside. They just continued running until the frigid air got a little too much for her and pricked like a thousand icy needles inside her lungs. She slowed down and petered out to a stop, her face slightly flushed and she was panting. She just stood there with her hands on her hips, slightly hunched over as she tried to catch her breath. "You alright?" he asked beside her, a twinge of concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she nodded back at him, sucking in a breath and rubbing her arms as the adrenaline-fueled heat ebbed away and the cold started to crust on her skin. "Here," he took off his trench coat and draped it around her, making sure she was nicely bundled up in it. She wanted to protest - even with his suit jacket on, without the coat he'd freeze - but he stopped her before she could get a word in edgewise. "No," he warned, sounding totally unamused. "Keep it on." "Thanks," she said sheepishly. "Shouldn't have tossed the coat just now. That was stupid." He just raised his eyebrows and gave her one of those you-bet-it-was looks, put his arms around her and pressed her to his chest in an attempt to keep her warm. "Feeling better?" "Yeah," she breathed, a little winded. Gwyneth looked up at him to catch his scrutinizing gaze. "Yeah, I'm good. You, on the other hand, must be freezing. You should have your coat back-" "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Let's go pick up the one you discarded in glee, and while I'll never object to you taking your clothes off," he gave her nose a light pinch, "I hope you'll think twice before doing a public striptease at this time of the year," he said dryly. She bit back an embarrassed smile. They walked together in silence with her arm looped through his, relishing the shared tranquility between them. Neither of them had to talk about the running to know what it meant, or to know how it made them feel. Because this time round, there was no one to chase after them, no harm snapping at their heels. Because this time round she didn't run from, she was running to. When they arrived home, they took their time undressing each other, mapping out each other's bodies with their lips. The topography of each other's bodies were so familiar now - every hair, every wrinkle, every freckle - he particularly loved the small mole at the side of her hip, while she cherished the faint wrinkle just near his left temple. In the shower their hands roamed all over, not so much for lathering soap as it was for pleasure. She cried out when he pushed into her, his hands holding her hips to support her weight as her legs curled around him. He kept the strokes maddeningly slow, wanting her to feel every bit of every inch of

his hardness. Warm water cascaded over their joined bodies as she whined his name over and over again, her whole vocabulary reduced to just one word. With every leisurely thrust she begged and cried out in ecstasy and expressed her love - all with different variations of his name. Aidan, Ay-den, Ayd'n, Hay-dn. In bed, he arched over her lying body - one of her favorite positions, no matter how uninspired it may be - because this was what lovemaking was supposed to be like. To have a man's body looming protectively over her, possessing and pleasuring her while she looked up at him and let him see all the wonderful sensations he was making her feel. She came when she felt him exploding inside her, spilling his warmth into her and there were tears on her cheeks - was it from love? Happiness? Freedom? Maybe all three. They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, with Aidan still buried inside her and she thought - yes, yes, definitely all three. -----------------------TWO YEARS LATER "And this was at a souk in Marrakech, not far from the Palais de la Menara..." she explained, her fingers pecking at the laptop that was connected to the massive TV screen. They were in the Kenner family home over in Chicago for one of the annual family gatherings, and were taking the opportunity to share stories and photos of their recent travels. The two-month holiday saw them hopping all over the world, pinpointing the places Gwyneth longed to visit the most, starting with Malaysia and ending at France. The idea was first conceived on a Saturday evening when Aidan came home to find Gwyneth watching Anthony Bourdain on the TLC channel with a wistful expression on her face. He'd suggested that they took some time off for a trip but she thought he was joking when he talked about a 2-month break, and subsequently believed that everything he said after that was a good ol' castle in the sky. She played along, throwing in all the whimsical ideas her mind could think of until he sat her down and asked her, very seriously, whether she could really afford to take two months of leave with her job as legal counsel at JPMorgan Chase. She stared at him dumbly when the question popped out of his mouth.

The thought of someone like him taking two months off work to travel with her was nothing short of absurd. Sure, they'd been through crazy things alright, but this ranked pretty high up the list. Stupefied, she stammered out a vague answer about seeing what she could do. Not long after the attack, she had decided to leave LSA because she could only have a long-term relationship with one or the other - Aidan or the firm - never both. Aidan graciously offered to help place her somewhere - and if she had accepted his help, she knew that she would have but the best seats in the house at her whim - but she absolutely banned him from interfering, wanting her accomplishments to be truly called her own. The holiday was probably one of the best decisions they'd ever made together, a step forward that helped mature the relationship by leaps and bounds. Nothing could reveal a couple's dynamics quite so well as the process of traveling together. They'd returned with suitcases full of souvenirs for the family and several memory cards full of photos to match. One of her cousins' young children streaked through the living room, shrieking in delight as she tried to evade the sibling that was giving chase. "No running downstairs!" someone shouted above the din of excited youngsters. The whole house was bustling with activity, packed to bursting with the entirety of the Kenner extended family. The adults had congregated in the living room, eager to hear stories about Morocco while the adolescents sequestered themselves into a locked room upstairs. The younger ones were having a jolly romp with one another, indulging in the rare chance they got to see their cousins. "No, David, no!" One of Gwyneth's cousins scolded her young son who was reaching for the folded sari that Gwyneth had brought back from India. All around the room, almost every family member had a small pile of gifts sitting in front of them, courtesy of the traveling couple. "Here, David, I have something for you," Aidan enticed, digging a hand into his leather satchel. The young boy bounded over to him with hungry eyes, anticipating a goodie or two. Aidan pulled out an Iban hand-carved flute and handed it to the kid. "Sorry," Aidan shot an apologetic look at the boy's mother, "but that thing is probably going to drive you insane for a week." It worked as a

temporary distraction and little David tottered away to show off his new toy to his playmates. "Back to Marrakech!" another cousin interjected impatiently. "Oh my God, the place looks amazinglook at those carpets!" The photos flicked by and Gwyneth gave a running commentary about each picture, with Aidan supplementing any missing details. After Morocco, they moved on to Istanbul. She paused the slideshow to fish out a handful of blue amulets strung on silver necklaces, each with an eye painted on it. She offered it to her cousins who received it with enthusiastic hands. "This is a nazar," she explained, "it's supposed to protect you from the evil eye." She smiled as she saw them ooh and ahh over it, slipping it over their necks and checking out how it looked on them. It was for this reason that she bothered with souvenirs in the first place. Everyone laughed at a photo of Gwyneth posing with a red Jeep parked on a grassy slope, wearing aviators with a cheeky grin on her face. "This is us in Cappadocia, on the way to Goreme" she narrated, blushing a little. She pressed a button and the next picture popped up, prompting a collective gasp around the room. A vivid and colorful hot air balloon was anchored to the ground, already fully inflated and contrasting beautifully against the cerulean blue of the dusky Turkish sky. Even if they were adults, everyone was acting like a child again, wide-eyed and thrilled by the playfulness of the idea. "You guys rode in a hot air balloon? Oh my freaking God!" "I can't believe it! What was it like? Tell! Tell!" "That is SO romantic! How come you never do things like that for me?" Husbands and boyfriends around the room got nudged in the ribs. Aidan beamed encouragingly at Gwyneth. She flicked through the next few photos - self taken shots of the couple in the airborne balloon with the camera held out at arm's length - to the chorus of envious sighs from everyone. They almost died when they saw the panoramic shots Gwyneth took from her vantage point above, displaying the majestic rock formations that rose like taupe daggers from the ground. Across the rolling badlands stood tall spires of volcanic rock, proud and tall in their natural beauty.

The next photograph was obviously taken with a long-lens by someone else riding in a different balloon. It showed Aidan pointing out the photographer's existence to Gwyneth, who was squinting at the camera with her hand held over her eyes like a visor. This was follow by a couple of shots with the happy couple smiling and embracing each otherthen a few where the two were obviously deep in conversation, talking about something serious. Gwyneth glanced over at her mother and noted that she had pricked up in suspicion. Sayuri Kenner sat up straight, leaning forward with keen interest. Something about the photo gave them away and the excited chatter was fading, the air in the room gradually becoming thick with anticipation. The photographer's balloon rose slightly higher than the couple's, allowing him to capture properly what was going on in the basket. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for - the money shot. A photo of Aidan in the basket on one bended knee, holding out what must have been a ring in front of a surprised Gwyneth, who had a hand clapped over her mouth. Mayhem. The whole room broke out in a complete pandemonium, mostly composing of feminine shrieks and squeals that could have rendered anyone deaf. The noise was so loud that even the teenagers came out of their room to investigate. "But you're not wearing a ring!" David's mother yelled out and the room fell into awkward silence as everyone turned to stare. "What?" she shrugged, only a tiny bit embarrassed, "don't tell me I was the only one who checked out her hand as soon as she walked in." Her other female cousins nodded in avid agreement. "Where's the ring?" they demanded in unison. The greedy look in their eyes made Gwyneth wonder if her family consisted of lunatics. Right on cue, Aidan got up from his seat and pulled out a ring from his jeans pocket. Pin-drop silence ensued. As he got down on his knee, Gwyneth could see the wall of women whipping out their iPhones and training it on them. She really was feeling quite self-conscious, her pulse rate quickening as her face began to color a bright pink. It seemed like her family had the same vice as a million other around the world - an obsessive need to photograph all the 'right' moments.

"May I?" Aidan's voice was deep and husky, his expression gentle. Cameras flashed around them as she nodded at him and he slipped the diamond solitaire onto her fourth finger. Even if this wasn't the real proposal, her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest and she felt almost giddy with happiness. It felt like it was only yesterday that he had asked her to marry him, the Turkish breeze teasing his hair and the dusky sun glinting in his irises. He stood up and leaned in for a kiss, curling an arm around her slender waist to hold her close while the sounds of cheering engulfed them. When they pulled away she could see the happiness in his eyes, and she knew that this was it. This was their fairytale ending. This was their moment. ----------------------------------Gwyneth sighed in weary exhaustion as she sank into the chair beside Aidan's. They were on the porch, out to catch some time alone away from the crowd inside. After the little show they had put on, she'd been cornered by her cousins and forced to retell every excruciating detail about the actual proposal itself. It took some time before she could extricate herself from the pack of psyched-up females and she wasn't sure she was ready to rejoin the merry members just quite yet. "How was it?" Aidan asked, rubbing comforting circles on her hand. "I hope they didn't give you too hard a time." "They only mean well, I suppose. Can't deny them the pleasure of such frivolities, can I?" He gave her a peck on the cheek and pushed over a mug of mint tea. "Here, have some. It'll make you feel better." "Thanks." Her eyes fell on the table between them. "Oh, look - Scrabble! Fancy a game?" Aidan tried to keep his face deadpan but she could see the gleam in his eye. "Sure, why not?" As she unpacked the board game from the box she couldn't resist gearing up her competitive side. "Loser gets to discuss ideas for wedding venues with the rest of them." "Deal. You're going to be so sorry you ever said that," he shot back with

a grin. "So he can talk the talk! But can he walk the walk?" "If you think that I'm going to go easy on you just because we're engaged, you're terribly mistaken. I hope you're hungry, because you're in for a huge serving of defeat." She shuffled the tiles on the little rack with her chin held high. "Ooh, trash talk. I'm quaking with fear." She started with DRAFTY for 14 points. "Fourteen points? Abysmal. Who's walking the walk now?" He scoffed and played CHANCERY using her Y. Double word, all tiles used. 88 points. Her face fell immediately as she looked up at his smug face and gaped in mild horror. He looked back at her with an irritatingly cool air, oozing confidence and arrogance from every pore. It looked like he really meant it when he said that he wasn't going to let her win. Well, she wasn't going to give up just yet. She rooted around in the bag and fished out more tiles. "We'll see, Scodelario. We'll see." She beamed in satisfaction at her play. WAHINE, 68 points. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Aidan raised his eyebrows at her with a small smile on his face. "You're going to be one soon, you know." His voice softened. "Be what?" "A Scodelario." "Oh." A blush of pleasure diffused inside her and she smiled to herself as she played her next move. Technically, they'd been engaged for almost a month now but sometimes she still found it so hard to believe. If anyone had told her two years ago that she'd be marrying Aidan Scodelario, she would have had them locked up in the loony bin. Yet here they were, playing Scrabble with the family close by, a solid rock decorating her left hand. "Can you believe it's been two years?" He played his turn. "Honestly, it feels like we've known each other for so much longer."

"It does, doesn't it?" She bit her lip and looked up at him. "Who would've thought? One plagiarized document" she shook her head in wonder as she played her tiles. "I guess we owe Gavin an invitation." He kept silent for a few moments, staring at the board as he meticulously arranged his tiles on it. "This is a little late, but better late than never, I suppose." He knew that she'd told everyone about how they met - she still thought that the encounter in his office was the first of their meetings. "That thing about the Heyland filethat wasn't really the first time I noticed you." Gwyneth's hand froze in mid-air over the board as she stared at him in confusion, trying to understand how he was rewriting such a crucial part of their history. Now, of all times? "I saw you at Costa's," his eyes met hers, the usually pale blue irises almost dark with intent. "You helped pay for someone who didn't have small change. I was behind you in line and I thought you were pretty. Really liked your smile. God, I'll never forget that smile." "Wait, what?" She blew out a breath and played her turn, looking incredibly bewildered. "Why didn't you tell me this before? I can't believe you let me believe the wrong story for two years. Two whole years!" "I'm so sorry," he sounded genuinely apologetic, "I don't know why I did that in the first place. I've always wanted to tell you, but never really found the right time to. Not an excuse, I know. I'm sorry, I hope I haven't disappointed you." "Relax, I'm not mad." She sniffed a small laugh and reached out to take his hand. "Two years," she emphasized, sounding wry. "Two whole years!" He looked so guilt stricken and she could see him leaning forward, wanting to make amends "Ah-ah-ah - shh. I was just teasing, don't worry about it. I mean it when I say I'm not mad. Oh, silly - you have no idea just how much I love you." He clapped a hand over hers, his face suddenly turning serious. "I do, Gwyneth, I do. And I know that I'm the luckiest man alive to have you by my side. Thank you," he reached up to gently stroke her cheek, "thank you for loving me." She blinked up at him, utterly humbled by his devotion to her. "Thanks

for loving me too," she mumbled back, her eyes shining. She straightened up and cleared her throat in a businesslike manner, ready to swing back into the competition. "Alright, big boy. Your move." Aidan was no dimwit when it came to Scrabble - he knew how to strategically play his tiles, cramping up the spaces so that Gwyneth had difficulties building words. She was practically fuming when he played QUAGGA for 63 points, cashing in on the triple word and double letter bonuses. Later on, he almost choked on his tea when she added the S to the same word for STYPTIC - earning her 22 for QUAGGAS, 21 for STYPTIC and 50 bonus for using all tiles. "That's93 points," he sputtered. Having used up all her tiles, this final play meant that she was left with a twenty point lead, and a cursory glance at Aidan's rack showed that he didn't have many tiles left. His own method of tightly-packed playing may have just backfired - now he had very little space to place out his words. "Mmhmm," she smirked in satisfaction. "And the best part is that the X hasn't come out in play, which means that you have it on your rack right now." She scanned the board for any possible playing options. "Yeah, I honestly doubt you'll be able to play an X-word, so" She leaned back and chuckled, confident about her imminent victory. Aidan stared long and hard at the board, flicking his eyes over the tiles in his rack as he tried to compute every possible move. She was right - he only had four tiles left and the X was a big headachebut then it clicked. She saw the answer dawn upon him and he gave one of his deep, growly laughs that she found so irresistibly sexy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end - she knew that he was up to something. The triple letter score tile above the I in her STYPTIC was her undoing. With a gleam in his eye, Aidan played AXIOM for 30 points. The X alone gave the word 24 points - and with that, he secured a narrow but clear 10 point win. The smile on her face was wiped off completely. "No way," she muttered in disbelief. "That was blind luck!" "That was talent in its purest form, my darling." She slumped back in her chair and continued to stare at the sucker punch that dealt her defeat, unable to stop feeling dissatisfied. Talent? Please, that was a fluke. Of all the luckthat dirty little bugger. She

knew that he was looking at her and was thus determined to avoid his gaze, almost certain that he'd be smirking at her in triumph. As much as she loved him, she was competitive by nature and she knew that he was, too. It was only when she felt his fingers brushing against her temples to tuck her hair behind her ear that she looked up at him. He wasn't wearing his usual blank expression, in fact there was something about the way he looked at her that made her melt on the inside. Whenever he looked at her like that, she felt like she was the only person who existed in this world, like his whole existence relied on her happiness, like she meant more to him than anything in the world possibly could. He placed a hand behind her neck and reeled her in for a slow, breath-stealing kiss, draining all the adrenaline out of her body. The exhilaration from the game was fading away, replaced by the hazy bliss from his caresses. She could do this forever - just be lulled into oblivion by his affections, lose track of time and space in his presence. "I love you," he murmured into the skin below her ear. "I love you too," she curled a lock of his hair around her finger. "Should I have let you win?" She smiled and mouthed back a 'no', shaking her head. Gwyneth was about to resume the exploration of his lips when the front door burst open with a loud crash and the scruffy head of her youngest brother stuck out sideways like a submarine periscope. "Hey, they're about to serve dinner soon, you guys coming in?" "We're coming." Aidan gave her a quick kiss and stood up, offering her his hand. She darted a last look at the finished Scrabble game on the table as she curled her fingers around his and he pulled her to her feet. They shuffled back into the house together, embracing the blast of noise and warmth that was buzzing about. 30 points. Fucking axiom.

---------------------------------------------butterfly #1: I think about you every night so I can keep you alive, even if

it's only in my memories. butterfly #2: It's been 5 years since you left us, but I still can't bear to be in a hospital.