“As long as you know that,” he continues. “You gotta know that. You gotta do right.”
The game moves along, with the yellow team rushing to one side, the green team rushing to the other side. The crowd roars its approval and disapproval. Guys in black and white striped shirts hustle alongside the action.
Near the end of the game, Ron is almost finished his beer. I hear the front door open and Dahlia and Bunny walk into the foyer.
“As long as you understand that,” Ron says again, his voice barely audible under the sound from the front of the house. “She's everything in the world to me.”
“Thanks,” I choke, my voice thick with emotion. I know that's the most emotional conversation Ron has had in a long time. He's usually happy just to have me next to him. Not talking, not about anything important anyway. He's always aware, always even. He's a rock. But there's nothing more than he needs to say.
I totally understand.
Epilogue
Dahlia
“Berner Security, how can I help you?” I tap the Bluetooth to push up the volume. The voice on the other end of the line is tinny, maybe far away.
“Can you speak up? We may have a bad connection.”
The caller is from Malta. It's a small country — one of the smallest in the world — on the other side of the planet. One of August’s former clients needs an escort during a trip. I jot the details into my iPad and then tuck it in my bag and disconnect the call.
The interns huddle around the kitchen island, tapping on the laptops. Business has been extraordinarily good since Kirkman decided he loved August in retrospect. He tweeted about him a few times, and new contracts came rolling in. Celebrities, musicians especially, love to get hooked up with other celebrities. August, for the moment, seems to be just the right guy.
It's funny, for someone who needs to be on the down low so much, August seems to enjoy a tiny slice of the limelight. He looks amazing in an Armani suit, following closely behind Rihanna or Brad Pitt. We had a brief contract with the Kardashians that ended well, but found ourselves back in DC working with a senator I'm not allowed to name.
In the short time that I've been here, I've seen twenty-two of the United States and three other countries. Malta will make four.
The front door opens and August strides in, quickly refilling his coffee cup as he moves swiftly toward the back of the loft space. He's been working on a new series of apps that track image locations on Instagram and his programmer told me earlier that he had made progress.
But first, he has to kiss me hello.
He swerves, coming right for me, his expression instantly changed. He's not scowling, he's not distracted. He's focused only on me for this brief moment. I smile warmly, opening my arms so that he can lift me briefly off my feet, kiss me deeply, then set me back down.
“Hello,” I breathe, as soon as I catch my breath.
>
“Hello, beautiful,” he says in a soft, intimate voice. Everyone else in the apartment averts their eyes politely so we can have this brief, stolen moment.
He finishes with a sweet peck on the tip of my nose and then rushes back off to the back of the space so he can talk to the programmer. For the thousandth time, I have to sit for a moment to collect myself. Every time he walks into a room, I'm swept away all over again. My heart races, and my breath seems to leave me. I tingle everywhere. I am distracted by deluge of thoughts that invade my mind. I can't wait to get him alone, to be his.
The phone rings again and I connect the call, taking down more details. It's more new business, something I will need to run past August before I answer them yes or no, but I promise to contact them tomorrow with a response. This time, it's the Romanian diplomat, wanting to negotiate an agricultural treaty in Washington. Even though Romania has their own security detail, I guess August’s reputation is fairly well-known at this point.
Finally the day ends, and our employees drift off one by one. They’re dedicated people, but I'm happy to see them leave, to carry on with their own lives.
Finally, we are alone.
August unbuttons his shirt as he approaches me, his eyes hungry and direct.
“Show me,” he growls as he approaches.
I smile and shift toward him, spreading my knees. Slowly I pull the fabric of my skirt up my thighs, tantalizing him with millimeter by millimeter of exposure. His gait doesn’t waver and he falls to his knees in front of me, biting the inside of my knee gently as I slowly reveal more of myself to him.
I hear him groaning under his breath, growling as he kisses a line from my knee up the inside of my thigh. My body pulses a response, ready for him immediately. I feel myself swelling, feel my belly clench with desire.
“You smell so good,” he says as his mouth closes over my sex, I feel his teeth gently through the fabric of my panties, and his hands push my knees open wider.
Roughly he drags the fabric to the side so his tongue can plunge into me, finding my clit, swirling against it.