Smoke and Sin (The Perfect Gentlemen 4)

“Did you know she’s made five trips to the City in the last year?” Connor asked.

What was he trying to imply? “I’m sure I have, too. New York isn’t far. We all go in from time to time.”

“Gus tends to go home to visit her mother when she has time off. Instead, she’s been taking trips to New York, and I can’t tell who she’s meeting.”

Because she was probably meeting a lover. Or shopping a book deal. “Damn it. I bet she’s talking to publishers. We’ve all been asked to write about Mad. We’ve all turned them down.”

“Why do you always think the worst of her? She couldn’t possibly be a spy, but she’ll sell out her friends?” Connor asked. “Don’t get me wrong. The feeling is mutual. She totally thinks the worst of you, too, but I’m surprised you would accuse her of doing something like that. She loved Mad.”

Her relationship with Mad had been one of the sore spots between him and his long-time friend. Roman and Mad got along right up to the point that Gus’s name would come up. Mad had never forgiven him for the night he’d taken Gus home after her fall down the stairs. He hadn’t shown back up, hadn’t even called for weeks afterward. Once he finally had, he’d been cool. Roman had always wondered if Gus and Mad had started their “fun times” up again that very night. “She and Mad were fuck buddies.”

“I knew they were friends with benefits, but I think their sex was about comfort, not just orgasm. And not love.”

“When did you get into pop psychology, Connor? Look, I’m sorry. I’m wound up and having Gus around doesn’t help things.”

“So fire her or reposition her.”

Fire Gus? He’d just found a way to get back into her life…even if she tied him up in knots. He was so fucked up. “She’s too good at her job. I can’t move her. We need her.”

“Then suck it up, buttercup, because I’m telling you she and Liz are up to something and we need to figure out what before it bites us all in the ass.”

“You really think so?” A plotting Gus was a dangerous Gus. And a sexy one. She was never hotter than when she was playing the game.

“I do.” Connor seemed to relax now that Roman was taking him seriously. “I’m sending Lara in. Gus is going to let Lara follow her. I told her it’s because I’m worried about how the other aides will treat her.”

“Ah, you’re appealing to Gus’s underdog syndrome. She can’t stand it when the bullies show up. She tends to prove she’s the biggest, baddest bully of them all.”

“Yes, and you know she’ll love Lara.”

“She’ll view Lara as a wide-eyed baby bird she needs to protect from predators.” But there was something Connor wasn’t thinking about. “What exactly do you expect Lara to do? Spy?”

Connor laughed, a deeply amused sound. “No. I wouldn’t send my princess in to do that. She would be terrible. I’m going to let nature take its course, then carefully question Lara about what’s going on with Gus. She’ll never know what I’m doing. We’ll simply be talking about her new friend. Lara loves to talk about her friends.”

And she made them quickly. She also tended to be loyal, something Gus could use against them. “I think this is going to backfire on you. Gus is excellent at getting baby birds to follow her. And I’m worried about getting the women together in one room.”

“Why?”

Revolution. A coup d’état. Gus taking over and steamrolling everyone. “Up until now the women have been mostly low key, but—”

“BS, my brother. Everly and Lara can cause some serious trouble. There’s still an APB out for Everly, I’m fairly certain. They managed to nearly start an international incident at the Lincoln Memorial.”

“My point exactly. They can be dangerous.” Roman nodded. “Now imagine adding Gus to that mix.”

Connor breathed out. “Wow. I need another drink.”

He wasn’t alone. “Pour me one, too.”

It was going to be a long week.

CHAPTER TWO

Normally Regent’s Park was a placid ocean of green, and the manor house with its soaring neo-Georgian architecture gave Roman a sense of staid peace. Not today. He stared out an upper-floor window, over the sea of impatient reporters covering the president’s imminent visit to London. The crowd of them was so thick he couldn’t see the damn lawn.

Of course, all those cameras and questions weren’t the only reasons Roman couldn’t find any calm.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the airport to meet Zack. You know I truly can hold things down here. Nothing would have burned to the ground.” Gus stared out, her eyes on the crowd rather than him.

She’d refused to look him in the eyes since their arrival. In some women, he would have interpreted her downturned gaze as a form of submission. And he would probably have relished it. With Gus, the lack of visual contact was merely her way of telling him he wasn’t worth her time. All week long, even when they’d been forced to work side by side, she’d made him feel as if there was massive chasm between them.

It was driving Roman insane.

“I didn’t want to fight all that London traffic to the airport. Connor is making sure Zack’s arrival runs smoothly. That gives me a few moments to find some peace and quiet before the storm begins.” Before he could quietly sneak away because all eyes would be on the president.

“Ah, well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” she murmured as she stepped back.

He was so weary of her interpreting every word he said in the worst possible way. “I wasn’t telling you to leave. I was answering your question.”

She stopped, turning on those ridiculously sexy heels he would swear she wore twenty-four seven. Even when she dressed down, those red-soled shoes would poke out from the hem of her jeans and make her legs look a million miles long. It was even worse when she paired those stilettos with shorts so teeny-tiny they should be outlawed. When she wore them, Roman couldn’t think straight.

“But you’re after peace, and we all know I’m not conducive to that.” Her lips turned down in a frown, but she was still one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen.

She also looked at home amidst all the luxury. Normally the president would stay at Winfield House, but it was under renovations so they’d been offered this jewel of a mansion in the heart of London. He could practically see Augustine in one of those Victorian gowns, all buttoned up and proper, like her name. But he knew how hot she could get underneath that prim exterior. Lately, he’d been wondering if he could make her hot again. If he could melt the ice between them.

Dangerous thoughts.

“That’s not true. Do you think I don’t see all the effort you put in to make everything run without a hitch? You’ve worked your ass off all week so that Zack will be comfortable when he gets here. I know that.” Did she think he didn’t see her at all?

“Ah, but I didn’t do that for Zack.”

Of course not. Zack might be the authority figure, but technically that wasn’t who Gus worked for. “You did it for Liz.”

Her hair was piled on her head in a perfectly mussed bun. On other women it might look messy, but the soft tendrils perfectly framed her face, drawing attention to her eyes and those bee-stung lips. “Yes. She’s my boss. I did my job. Don’t think it was anything more than that.”

Why did she have to play the tough chick around him? If any realization had come out of the last few months of secrets and lies and death, it was that he missed Augustine. He missed her in bed, missed the passion that had once been a conflagration between them, but most of all, he missed her friendship. He knew they weren’t good together in the long term, but were either of them looking for forever? They were married to their jobs. “So you watching after Lara was just your job? You taking on the Number 10 chef was your job?”

Number 10 was the colloquial term for Number 10 Downing Street, the residence of the prime minister of Great Britain. They’d been in and out of Number 10 several times for preliminary meetings and to ensure that everything was rea

dy for the president’s visit. Naturally Gus had made friends. If by friends, one meant someone powerful who wanted to murder her.

Her jaw firmed and she pointed a finger his way. “That fucking chef made one of my girls cry for asking if she could get some ranch dressing on the side. I get it. He’s some kind of wizard with twenty culinary degrees, but the girl only wanted some damn dip. Pretentious ass.” She took a deep breath. “Did you have to deal with the aftermath? I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think about the fact that the prime minister might get involved.”