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“Make it an hour. I have some calls to make first.” Callum made no attempt to appear friendly to the help.
“Excellent.” The butler actually bowed. A tiny little one, but still. Megan wanted to wrap him up and take him back to Scotland to show her sister. It would be nice to have a souvenir of her time as a mercenary. One that didn’t make her feel bad.
“If there is anything more I can help you with, please do not hesitate to call,” the butler said.
Rachel inclined her head and the man left. Leaving the team standing in a set of rooms that were designed for aristocracy.
“Okay,” Rachel said. “There are four bedrooms. I’m taking one of them. I don’t share.”
“What a shock,” Megan muttered.
“The rest of you can fight over the other rooms.” Rachel turned on her heel, wheeling her suitcase behind her.
“I want a river view room!” Elle shouted and raced off. She threw open a door. “This one is perfect. There are two beds. Who’s with me?”
“I am.” Julia sounded determined as she kept her head down and hurried after Elle.
The door closed on the sound of Elle whooping loudly about the view.
That left two rooms, three men and Megan. She looked at the three men in front of her.
“One of you needs to take the sofa.” The sofa was a formal, upholstered design with delicate carved wooden legs. “It looks comfy.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she headed for the bedroom near Rachel, hoping that it too had a river view. She was lucky. The view was perfect. Closing the door behind her, she made a beeline for the windows. Lights flickered on the gently lolling waters of the Thames. The London Eye across the river was lit up, a strange big wheel of fairy lights in the city skyline. Boats chugged up and down the river, people strolled along the walkways lining the Thames. To her right she could just make out Parliament building, but Big Ben was too far back to see. She wondered if Rachel’s room had a view of the world’s most famous clock.
The door opened making her jump.
“Hey, roomie.” Dimitri strode inside.
“I’m not in the mood to argue with you. There’s only one bed, I got here first, you need to find somewhere else to sleep.” She was in no mood to deal with Dimitri. She felt as though she was bruised on the inside.
Dimitri completely ignored her. There was snick sound as the lock turned.
Megan had to fight a sudden urge to run. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Dimitri leaned back against the door. He folded his arms over his grey T-shirt and lazily crossed his ankles. Only the calculation in his eyes and the fact he was barring her exit betrayed that he wasn’t as relaxed as he seemed.
“I’m tired.” It was an understatement. She was emotionally exhausted. A limp rag version of her usual self. “Can we do this, whatever it is, tomorrow?” Or never, which would suit much better.
The infuriating man didn’t answer. Instead he just stood there, staring at her. Thinking so loudly she could practically hear him. Slowly, purposefully, he pushed away from the door and stalked towards her.
Prey. She felt like prey.
Before she could stop herself, Megan stepped back and felt the chill of the window press against her back. Dimitri came to a halt in front of her. He placed his hands palms down on the window above her head. His face was close enough for their breaths to merge.
“You and I are gonna have that talk now.” It was a rumbled order.
“Now isn’t a good time for me.” It was the understatement of the year.
Her defences had been broken apart by the realisation that her actions caused more problems than they’d solved. The soft underbelly of her soul was exposed. The wounds from words hurled at her earlier in the evening were raw. There was no space inside her for more of the same.
“I can’t.” It was a whispered confession. She closed her eyes at the truth of it, as accusations from earlier that evening flooded her mind.
“You’re irresponsible. Reckless. You’re dangerous. And you don’t give a shit about your team.”
“You treat this like a game. It isn’t a game. People’s lives are on the line. Nobody wants someone on the team who they can’t trust to have their backs in a situation.”
“What do you want?” she whispered. “To make me bleed?” She held up her hands, wrists out. “Trust me, I’m already bleeding.” You couldn’t see the blood that poured from her wounds, but she hoped Dimitri could feel it. Could recognise it.
