Mr Garcia

I sit back, not buying it for a second. “But she’s still married to him. Wouldn’t that mean that he cheated on her as well?”

“Look.” He sips his coffee. “I know how this must look from the outside, but his drug tests came back, and he definitely had Rohypnol in his system.”

“The test was positive?” I frown, surprised.

“Yes.”

I stare at him. “That means Sebastian was drugged, too.”

“Well, thankfully, the security guard got him home safe.”

“Hmm.” My mind goes into overdrive. “Why do you think it was Bart’s wife?”

“Only she would organize female hookers. Anyone else who was trying to hurt him would have known his taste was toward men.”

“True.”

“And she called me in the morning, saying that she hadn’t been able to contact him, asking me if I could go to his room to check if he was okay.”

I narrow my eyes. “What a bitch.

“Anyway, I don’t care.” He smiles sarcastically. “She put her own nail in the coffin. He’s left her for good now.”

I blow into my coffee. “So, he’s moved in with you?”

“No.” He shrugs. “Thinks we should live apart for a while. Date and get back to trusting each other.”

I frown. “That’s weird.”

“I know.” He looks around. “I keep feeling like there is another part to this story.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is something else going on with him, but I just can’t for the life of me…” His face falls as he stares at something across the restaurant.

I look over to where he is looking. “What is it?”

“Look who’s in town,” he whispers, anger oozing out of his every pore.

I frown as I look back over to where he is staring. “Who?”

“Nicolas Anastas.”

“Who’s that?”

“See the two men sitting near the bar?”

I look over to see two men. One, a gorgeous European man, and the other with curly brown hair. “Which one?”

“The Greek god.”

“Oh.” I smile as I stare over at him. “Perfect analogy. He is, isn’t he? Who’s he?”

“He’s a psychologist, and an acclaimed author. He’s also loaded and quite famous. He’s American. Lived in London for a couple of years a while back, and he and Bart became good friends. Bart’s his solicitor.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Hmm.”

“It was him who first made Bart question his sexuality.”

“What?”

“He told me that whenever he was with Nicolas, he found himself aroused and dreaming of them having sex together. He thought about him all the time.”

My eyes widen in horror. “Bart told you that?”

“This was long before we got together, but…”

“You think Bart and Nicolas have reconnected?”

“Well, if he’s back in town, I know they definitely will have seen each other. He only comes to London to see Bart.”

Oh hell.

I puff air into my cheeks. “With all due respect, Jeremy, Bart seems like a pretty fucked-up guy. You can do a lot better than him.”

“I know.” He sighs sadly. A waitress walks by. “Excuse me,” Jeremy says. “I’ve changed my mind. Can I see the drinks menu, please?”

“Of course.” She smiles.

I watch Jeremy for a moment. “Why are you still working for him? Why are you still with him? How many chances are you going to give the man?”

“I love him.”

“Sometimes love isn’t worth the payoff.” I sigh. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous and in the prime of your life. But you’re in love with a married man who has now finally left his wife, yet he still isn’t willingly returning to your bed.”

“He loves me, April. I know he loves me.”

“I don’t doubt it, but it seems that he needs time to get his shit together. Perhaps he needs to sow his gay wild oats or something before you and he can plan a future.”

He exhales heavily. “Maybe.”

Jeremy’s eyes drift back to the other side of the restaurant. I look over to see the Greek god standing to pay the bill. He’s tall and powerful, dominant.

“He’s gorgeous.” Jeremy sighs.

He really is.

I reach over and take Jeremy’s hand in mine. “So are you, and you’re so young. Too young to be putting up with this fucking bullshit. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

Jeremy exhales heavily as his eyes find mine. “Enough of my disastrous love life. How’s Garcia treating you?”

I smile, grateful for the change of subject. “Surprisingly well.”

The week has been strained. I’ve hardly seen Sebastian. His stress levels are at an all-time high. He leaves before I wake in the morning, and he is home late at night.

Meeting after meeting, press conference after press conference.

I’ve been working and coming straight back here.

He insists on me sleeping at his house, even though he’s hardly here. He says he’s not sleeping without me and that it is non-negotiable. I can’t say that I’m upset about it. I don’t want to sleep without him, either. We turned a corner in the Maldives I’m not sure where that corner leads to but I’m down for the ride.