Filthy Foreign Exchange Book 2 Page 8

  “So how’d I do?”

  “Too well. It’s annoying how much, really,” I mumble. “Go get Burke, but don’t stay out too late. We leave for Paris tomorrow, and it’s a long bus ride. I don’t want to add a tired and grumpy companion to an already-grueling trip.”

  She walks to the door, saying, “I plan to sleep the entire ride, so don’t wait up for me.”

  I don’t hear the door open, so I peer up to find her standing next to it, looking at me.

  “Echo…you’re not mad at me for earlier, are you? Because I’m not on Kingston’s side—I’m on yours. I hope you know that.”

  “I do.” I lift my head a bit and smile. “And I’m not mad at you at all. I need a best friend who’ll be honest with me. You have no idea how thrilled I am that you’re here, and we met.”

  “Me too. And as your newly self-appointed best friend, can I make a teeny-tiny suggestion?”

  “Does it involve the name ‘Kingston’?” I take her silence as an affirmative, and continue, “Then no, you may not. Good night, Nat.”

  “Night, stubborn ass.”

  ~~~~~

  The next morning, we pack all our stuff since we’re headed to a new hotel in a new city. I take one last look out the window, saying a silent goodbye to London.

  Nat had snuck in sometime before sunrise, looking absolutely exhausted, and passed out fully dressed—heels included. I ask now if she had a good time, and while she smiles and says yes, there’s something missing.

  But I don’t have to wonder long, because she’s quick to add, “Burke’s a great guy, but not the guy for me. And no, I’m not holding out any juicy details on you. He’s fun…sweet.” She hitches a shoulder casually. “And will stay a good friend, I hope, but nothing more.”

  And she doesn’t seem upset, so I decide to leave it alone.

  A knock at the door startles me, but Nat reminds me from the bathroom—which she’s been in and out of since she woke—that it’s the bellman to load our stuff. I only have one bag and therefore no need for help, but the front desk had insisted, so who am I to say anything?

  We follow him, empty-handed—I, for one, feeling foolish as he carries our whopping two bags to the elevator and then to the bus waiting outside the front doors of the hotel.

  Kingston’s there, doing a headcount and writing on a clipboard, but he looks up to give me a dazzling smile.

  I try to return it, but I know it’s lacking. I haven’t forgotten yesterday as easily as he seems to have.

  When everyone’s present and accounted for, we start loading onto the bus, but I grab Natalie’s arm and whisper for her to hold back. If I have to be trapped on a bus for an eight-hour trip, I want to be near the front. God forbid there’s a wreck, fire, hijacking, emergency evacuation, etc. The front exit is my friend.

  Our choice in seats, I soon discover and really should’ve deduced before now, puts us right across the aisle from Kingston; our fearless leader is naturally seated in the first row, as well. And Nat’s about as subtle as a foghorn when she insists on the window seat, leaving me on the aisle and therefore nearest to him.

  Great. I can’t wait to spend hours on a bus acting as if Kingston isn’t sitting close enough I could reach out and touch him. And he has no intention of being ignored, or putting on a show for our close-quarters audience, considering my phone pings with a text before we’ve even pulled into traffic.

  I know who it is without looking—and that it won’t be a solitary occurrence—so I switch my phone to vibrate, then read the message.

  Kingston: Good morning, friend. You look lovely.

  I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He’s smiling down at his phone, obviously wanting to play out this familiar, secret game.

  Me: Good morning, and thank you.

  Kingston: Been quite a while since we’ve texted.

  A twinge of annoyed grief sprouts in my chest, and I grind my back teeth but control my expression as I respond.

  Me: Probably not a good idea to remind me of that.

  Kingston: Agreed, forgive me. But I wanted to say I missed it.

  Me: Out of sight, out of mind, right?

  Kingston: Look at me, please.

  With a loud sigh, I turn and give him a bored look.

  “Never, not a single day, were you out of mind,” he says in a hushed voice meant for my ears only.

  I force my eyes to roll then dart away, but all I really want to do is stare and gauge the sincerity in his. I look over at Nat, whose head is resting against the window, her earbuds in as she busily texts someone on her phone.

  And then mine is vibrating again.

  Kingston: What are you most looking forward to seeing in Paris?

  That’s an easy one. My fingers fly over the buttons.

  Me: The Eiffel Tower.

  Kingston: Excellent choice, and what I would have guessed.

  Me: Oh yeah? Why is that?

  Kingston: It’s the romantic choice, and you, sweet Echo, are a romantic.

  Me: Perhaps. And unashamed. Nothing wrong with being a romantic.

  Kingston: I couldn’t agree more.

  And so it goes, back and forth, text after text between two people who are sitting right beside each other but have always preferred their secret solitude.

  About four hours into the trip, we stop for a bathroom break and lunch, and not a moment too soon. Had Jackie whined “When are we stoppiiinnnggg?” from the back of the bus one more time, I’d have lost it. Like riding with a petulant three-year-old.

  “Nat.” I shake her, and she pulls out her earbuds. “We’re stopping for lunch.”

  “Cool.” She returns to her phone, and I see the name of the person she’s texting but bite my tongue. I want to wait and see if she, my friend, will tell me.

  Kingston stands and announces what time we all need to be back on board, reminding everyone it’s their responsibility to be on time and of the protocol for calling in if they get left behind. Then the doors open, and everyone can’t unload fast enough.

  “Natalie! Echo!”

  We both turn at the sound of our names to see Patton and Chad jogging up to us.

  “Where you guys eating?” Patton asks.

  I glance at Nat, who shrugs, then look around at the different signs.

  “How about there?” I point to a darling little bistro with sidewalk tables.

  “Works for me,” Jackie says, strolling up with Bridget and two other girls I’ve seen but haven’t really met. “Let’s go.”

  She takes Patton’s hand and leads the way, looking back over her shoulder to give me a nasty glare.

  “What the hell was that for?” I wonder aloud.

  “That would be the classic look for a mean girl who’s jealous,” Nat answers.

  “Of what?”

  “Well, I’d say of all the attention Kingston gives you, but since she had a ménage a twat with Patton and Chad, maybe it’s Patton’s attention toward you that’s pissing her off. Who knows, and who cares? Come on, we’ll eat somewhere else.”

  “If I may…I made reservations at the restaurant just ahead,” Kingston—once again, right behind us—says. “Would you ladies care to join me and a few others?”

  “It’s up to Echo,” Nat says with a snicker, and I shoot her a death glare. These two may very well drive me crazy.

  But not until after I eat.

  “Sounds good,” I concede. “Lead the way.”

  I smile, stepping aside and extending an arm to let Kingston get in front of us—a necessity when leading.

  Chapter 11

  While we lagged behind the group on our short walk to lunch, Nat suggested, as sweetly as possible, that I may be a bit wishy-washy—and the comment is still nagging me. First of all, if guarding your heart while attempting to remain friends with the most irresistible man in the world makes you wishy-washy, then throw me in the machine for a full heavy-duty cycle.

  And secondly, that term usually refers to someone who not only can’t m
ake up their mind, but doesn’t know what they want. I know exactly want I want, though—Kingston.

  It just so happens, unfortunately, that he’s proven himself a huge risk I can’t afford to take. I’d made up my mind, during the endless months I was left with no letter, call, or text of explanation that I can’t get caught up in his spellbinding web again. Because when he sets his captive free, it hurts. A lot.

  Our lunch party ends up being larger than I’d expected, which is nice for two reasons. One, I get to know several of the others on the trip. And two, Kingston has to play the role of gracious host, which diverts his attention from me.

  With everyone’s bellies full and their bladders empty, we load back up for the second leg of our day trip, during which most everyone naps, including me.

  ~~~~~

  When the bus comes to an abrupt stop, it jars me awake—in Paris.

  It’s early evening, and after the long ride, I’m thinking a lengthy, hot shower and quick dinner before bed sounds good. But of course, the others are already chattering about their immediate plans.

  Nat and I get checked into a posh room, and while I unpack my shower items, she slips into a dress and starts reapplying her makeup in the dresser mirror.

  “You going out?” I ask.

  “Yeah, some of the girls at lunch seemed pretty cool and mentioned checking out the Latin Quarter. You’re coming, right?”

  “No, I’m wiped, but you go and have fun.”

  She pouts slightly. “You sure?”

  “I’m more than sure, but thanks. Just please be safe.”

  “That’s a promise!” she chirps before putting on her shoes and bounding out the door.

  After my shower, I lie on my bed and call Sebastian. We’re about five minutes into catching up when I hear a knock on the door.

  “Hold on, there’s someone knocking,” I tell him.

  “Check the peephole!” he screams in my ear.

  Through the small hole I see a man dressed in wait-staff attire, standing next to what appears to be a room-service cart.

  “Seb, let me call you back. I think this is my dinner.”

  “Think? Good God. Be careful, Echo. I love you.”

  “Love you.”

  I hang up and open the door the tiniest bit.

  “Can I, uh…help you?”

  The man smiles and hands me a notecard.

  I wasn’t sure on your French but was very clear on his lack of English, thus the note. The bill has been sorted; simply say “Merci beaucoup” and enjoy your dinner, Love. - K

  I move aside, making room for the cart to be wheeled in, then thank him as instructed in my note and shut the door behind him.

  My mouth is already watering at the succulent aroma. I lift the lid and giggle at the sight of mountainous, cheesy pizza—and another notecard.

  Perhaps not a Fool’s Gold, but still five cheeses of gluttony.

  I can’t help the happy, yet disappointed, tears welling up in my eyes. Things had been so great, and obviously left more of an impact on him than I’d thought. Why’d he have to ruin it?

  But although I’m a little weepy, I’m also starving, so I dig into the thoughtful meal.

  After two slices and surfing the channels—in vain, since I can’t understand a damn thing they’re saying on any of them—I slip on some yoga pants, a light jacket, and my shoes, deciding to get some fresh air.

  The area outside the hotel seems safe, so I start a leisurely walk down the sidewalk, taking in the skyline of lights that are equally as vibrant in every direction I look. There are a few locals around, but most of the people loitering on the sidewalks appear to be tourists, like me, enjoying the culture and history with cameras out and flashing. Everywhere I look is something new and intriguing that I want to snap a photo of, and my finger is fast-clicking when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind.

  A large, strong arm wraps around my waist, and I’m lifted from the ground. I can see I’m being carried toward an alley, away from the safety of the streetlights and crowds. Sheer panic seizes me and I can’t scream, my survival instincts not yet having kicked in. All I can think of is my poor family. They trusted me, and tomorrow they’ll be called to come identify my body.

  The second I feel his grip loosen slightly, “fight or flight” takes over. So I do both, whirling around to throw one hard punch to his gut and making to run.

  But I don’t get far, feeling him snare my wrist with a groan.

  “You drive me to insanity, Love!”

  And there it is, what I must’ve missed before, the familiarity in my assailant’s voice.

  I look back. Sure enough, I see Kingston, who’s bent over and clutching his stomach with the hand not still gripping me.

  I rip my arm from his hold. “You sadistic piece of shit!” I scream, surprised I can even find words among the onslaught of adrenaline spotting my vision, my full-body tremble, and an off-the-charts heartbeat. “How dare you!”

  “How dare I?” he shouts, standing tall now, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.

  I step away, suddenly unsure of myself—and him—when my back hits a brick wall.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” I ask, panting but calmer.

  His nostrils flare, and when I tilt my head slightly to better see him through the dimly lit area, I find something other than anger staring back at me. He looks absolutely terrified.

  “Kingston…”

  “What the fuck were you thinking going out alone after dark?” he fumes, his words slow and concise. He’s right in my face, an angry muscle ticking in his jaw and a dark, brittle ferocity in his slitted eyes. “You think your sweet arse can just prance around a strange city without a care in the world?”

  I shove at his chest. “I was on a sidewalk with dozens of other people! And you do not get to talk to me like a goddamned child—especially after you attacked me!”

  “Dozens of people, you say?” He steps further into me and takes my chin gently to maneuver my head toward the sidewalk, where I spot a few tourists passing by the opening of the alley. “Hardly. And not a single one stopped me from having my fucking way with you.”

  I jerk my face free. “What is your problem? You’re acting like a jerk! I should kick your ass for scaring me like that!”

  “You already did that. I’m glad to see you still have a nice right hook, but you should’ve screamed straightaway,” he chastises me in an angry snarl. “Do you not see the danger you put yourself in?”

  And I’ve had enough. I smooth down my hair and inhale a calming breath.

  “You know what? We’re done here. You want to stalk me the rest of the night under the guise of my protection? So be it. But do not test me again. Good night, Kingston.”

  I walk away and don’t look back, honestly surprised he allows me to. But that’s our thing lately—I storm off, and he follows, to keep me safe. Tonight is no different. I don’t hear or even see him, but my senses tell me he’s never far behind.

  Which is why, when I enter a beautiful garden park about an hour later and sit on a bench after taking in enough city views for one night, I call out, “Room enough for two.”

  Less than a minute later and he’s there, sitting beside me.

  “I’ve never been that scared before,” he says somberly, staring off ahead.

  “Never?” I ask, unbelieving, taking in his bewildered-yet-striking profile.

  “Not like that. The thought of what could’ve happened to you…” He swallows hard. “Just like last fall, with those damn stairs…I won’t let you get hurt again. All I felt was pure terror.”

  “Yeah, for me too. Imagine how I felt. I thought I was about to die.”

  “I’m sorry you were frightened, but I had to make you understand.”

  “Then I’m sorry I hit you, but I had to get away.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I was glad to see you fight.” He makes a short, shallow noise—a laugh without any real humor.

  After a long stretch of si
lence, he whispers, “I lost you.”

  “What?” I twist my body his way, but he doesn’t look at me, his gaze set on the full moon above. “You were right behind me.”

  “Earlier, when you left the hotel, I couldn’t find you. I knew you were out there—alone—and no matter how fast I ran, I didn’t see you. I was worried maybe I should turn around and go the other way, unsure which direction you headed, but the thought I could be wrong about that terrified me even more. I’ve never felt like that before, literally caught in the middle of your safety, or…one wrong turn, and…”

  He blows out a labored breath. “Thank Christ my instincts were right.”

  I have no words; his are more powerful than any I’ve ever heard. Slowly, I place my hand over his, and he weaves our fingers together and squeezes.

  “I probably should’ve told you I was going for a walk. I’m sorry—I am—and you did make me realize I need to be more aware of my surroundings. But you have to give me some space, Kingston. You have to trust that I can take care of myself. If not, you’ll smother me.”

  He finally looks at me.

  “Do you not get it yet, Echo? You are so deeply rooted in my being that the thought of losing you again…I can’t do it. I won’t do it.” He looks away again, running his hand down his face. “You may consider tonight extreme, and perhaps it was. And I know—just friends—but too damn bad. You can be as angry as you want. Better you upset with me than in danger.”

  I free my hand, unable to ignore the overpowering emotions tugging at my swelling heart. “How’d you even know I was out here?”

  “Ah, Love, I’ve told you many times, I have my ways.” He gives me a smirk, and it lightens the mood instantly. I’m grateful, and I smile back. “You have to promise me you won’t wander about on your own again.”

  “I promise,” I submit easily, tonight’s scare still pulsing through my veins. “But you scare me like that again, next time my punch will land much lower.”

  “Thank you. I’m not sure how I’d explain to your brother, or father, if you got nicked right under my nose.” He shakes his head.

  “So you do talk to my brother?”