Page 15 of Love Spell (Witches of London #3)

It had been so easy to sleep at the office on Monday night without anyone being the wiser, Noah assumed he could get away with Tuesday as well. No one had noticed his bags tucked under his desk. No one questioned him being first in or last out.

Then Tuesday evening rolled around and everyone drifted out, two or three at a time, Noah pretending to leave as well, only to discover Timo was still in his office. Leave and come back? He did need dinner.

Without a word, he slunk past Timo’s office so as not to say goodnight and risk a conversation. Although “altercation” would be a better word for his time alone with Timo.

Over his solitary Thai dinner with fresh summer rolls and ginger prawns in vegetables, his mind played on loops that he’d been reliving since Saturday night.

His parents, his first love, that night in February, city life, school, London, Timo, all leading to Saturday night in Wales, to Noah spending his spa vacation night staring at the ceiling, fighting suffocation, fighting tears, wishing he hadn’t walked away.

Timo’s behaviour was so inappropriate, so unacceptable, of course Noah had to walk away. He couldn’t encourage someone like that. Timo was Noah’s boss; he was abusing his power; sexual harassment now escalated to assault. Noah had 100% done the right thing. No question.

No matter how many times Noah reminded himself of that, he still lay awake wishing he’d done the wrong thing. However stunning and magnetic Timo was, however amazing the sex might promise to be, he could not let pure instinct take over.

He hadn’t been carefully avoiding Timo ever since Sunday because he was afraid Timo would try something again. He’d been avoiding Timo because he wanted Timo to try something again. That was what turned his stomach.

Noah had a month left in the country. After that, he would almost certainly never see Timo again.

He couldn’t possibly get into anything complicated now, couldn’t commit in any way.

That said, he also didn’t have much to lose.

So why not? Why not try being with someone again?

Why not tell Timo the truth? Why live in this endless state of panic?

Then what? Set the scene for a predator to go after the next junior he hired?

Instead of encouraging him, Noah should be reporting him.

In order to drag out his time for as long as possible before going back to read and sleep on the floor, Noah ordered a scoop of coconut ice cream.

He ate as slowly as he could, tiny licks off his spoon one by one, watching the round scoop begin to melt into the bottom of the glass dish.

What if it was real? What if — yes it seemed wild and impossible and hardly worth thinking of — Timo really was in love with him?

What if instant action and pressing his company at Noah was all he knew to show his feelings and, given Noah’s impending departure anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to explore the possibility?

No … Noah was romanticising a creep. He couldn’t help being flattered on some level by the lavish attention, but the whole thing was messed up and Noah had to stay away.

Even if he didn’t want to? Well, if Noah didn’t want to stay away it was only a result of unruly hormones and these mind games, more akin to Stockholm Syndrome than genuine, healthy affection.

His regrets about fleeing on Saturday, about lying awake all night alone instead of going back, were just the same: unhealthy.

But what if he did tell Timo the truth? How would Timo respond? What if not telling him was ultimately hurting Noah more than anyone because Noah regretted not going back and —?

Ugh.

Noah screwed up his eyes, trying to focus on the taste of coconut melting on his tongue.

He’d never told anyone the truth about that February night — not doctors, not cops, not his mother — and he wasn’t going to start now. One day. One day when he’d met someone who really was special to him, who could be the one; someone with whom he shared all. Not his predatory boss.

If this was all so hard, why not leave? Book a flight, go back to the States, get a job.

It was what he would be doing anyway. But he’d be in a sorry state trying to get all that done on the fly if he didn’t save up another month’s worth of pay so he could live on it for a good chunk of time once he got back there and had time to choose where he’d live and what he’d do.

Did he even want to keep trading among wolves? Or go back to IT?

Finally, Noah returned to the office. He would stay, get the income and experience, avoid Timo; everything would be fine.

He needed something else to focus on. That was the problem.

How about rentals and job listings? He could do that tonight, lull himself to sleep browsing Manhattan lofts: Serious motivation to stay and work those remaining weeks.

He started down the dim hallway, only for a man to step into his path.

Noah sprang back, heart in throat, swearing.

Timo also jumped, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hell,” Timo muttered, “you startled me. Heard someone after the cleaning crew already came and went …”

He was startled? Noah was shaking with the shock and comedown.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asked.

“Just playing with numbers.” Timo shrugged. “I stay late sometimes, watch Wall Street in real time. What are you doing here? Forgot something?”

“Uh… Yes.” Big enough that he’d come back two hours after leaving? “My phone.”

Timo made a face. “Was it a long way? Where are you staying?”

Noah was hit with a fresh wave of panic, only to decide that no, Timo wasn’t suspicious. It was, in fact, a perfectly normal question.

“Just an Airbnb room … south. So, uh, do you learn anything interesting by staying in late?”

“More like useful.” Timo drifted back into his office.

Noah didn’t hang about making conversation. He power-walked to his desk, rummaged for a moment, pretending to find his phone, turned, and again jumped to find Timo at the edge of Noah’s trading terminal.

“I have people coming into the city on Friday. Tell me, if you could see only three things in London, what would they be?”

“Oh … The Tower, Hyde Park or Oxford Street depending on their tastes, and … a river cruise to see the city from the Thames?”

“River cruise …” Timo mused as he turned away. “Very good.”

Noah let out a breath.

Here they were, all alone in the world, at night, and Timo didn’t start anything. Wasn’t that a good sign? That they could have a normal working relationship? Or was Timo trying to lure him into a false sense of security?

Noah started to follow him out, about to hurry away, maybe go to a movie? Or just sit in the stairwell listening until Timo left for the night so Noah could go to bed?

Timo turned around just beyond the doorway, making Noah stop abruptly and take a step back.

Timo was frowning. “Is that luggage under your desk?”

“What? No.” Noah winced. “Yeah, it’s my bags.”

Timo gazed past him to the bags nestled in shadows below the desk, then to Noah, waiting expectantly.

When Noah said nothing, Timo asked, “Am I supposed to guess?”

“I just needed to leave some stuff here.”

“You were here when I got in this morning,” Timo said.

“So?”

“Are you sleeping here?” His tone was interested, not heated or accusatory, as if still asking about the best local attractions.

Noah cleared his throat. “It’s really inefficient to constantly move from room to room and also have to take the horrible commute morning and evening.”

“Am I not paying you enough?”

“I can afford a room. Everything’s booked up or too far away or hundreds of pounds a night — and that’s just stupid. I need to save —”

“So you don’t actually have anywhere to stay right now?”

Noah shifted, glared at the desk. “Kind of.”

“Come to my place. I need to get home anyway.”

Noah snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Timo cocked his head. “You can have the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“I bet.”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

Noah glanced at him. “Obviously, if I stayed at your place, you would take advantage of the situation because that’s just who you are. So, yeah, compared to dealing with that shit? I’d rather sleep here.”

Timo blinked, took half a step back, his gaze unfocused. “Understandable. I’ve not made your life easy lately, have I?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I’ll make it up to you. What is it you need? A room for the next five weeks, close to work, and not chopping into your income?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. And a unicorn.”

“Let’s find you a room.” Timo returned to his office.

Uneasy but too curious not to follow, Noah watched while Timo pulled up London hotels on his desktop.

“Here we go …” Timo murmured as he checked dates and rooms. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You can get in here starting … tomorrow. Five weeks? What’s your departure day?”

“I don’t know for sure. Haven’t got my flight.”

“We’ll just say an even five for now. King suite?”

“Wait, Timo, that’s the —”

“Breakfast? See? No problem.” Timo clicked Book to be directed to a payment page.

“Christ! Stop it! Timo, that’s over sixty-six thousand pounds.” Noah grabbed his hand, pulling it away from the mouse.

“So it is.” Timo swivelled in the chair to look up at him, tone mild. “But just imagine all the overhead the Ritz juggles — and I’m sure the breakfast is good.”

Noah was sweating, heart pounding at the thought of wasting all that money. “No, no, no, do not book that. I’d rather you donate it somewhere than spend that much on a stupid hotel room.”

“Where?” Again, Timo seemed interested.

Noah opened and closed his mouth.

“So, where are you going to stay?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“I wouldn’t be looking after my pack if I didn’t make sure you had a place to sleep at night. How about this: I’ll book the room, or, for absolutely free, you can stay with me until you find a better option.” Timo smiled up at him. “One or the other.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“We usually call it ‘a helping hand’ in this country, but I cannot claim to have mastered every cultural intricacy.”

“You have to realise why I can’t stay with you. Do you even have a guest room?”

“I have a couch. I will take the couch. You can have the bed. Breakfast optional. Depending on if you make it or not. Hands off, unless you say otherwise.”

“That would last about thirty seconds.”

“Cross my heart.” Timo rested a hand over his heart. “I do have that conference coming up next month, you know? I must look smart. No broken bones. And if you don’t like the view, we can always find you a hotel room.”

Noah chewed his lip, glanced at the glowing screen.

True that he could simply leave if Timo’s bad behaviour escalated.

Classic stupid move, going to live with a guy like this.

But Noah looked at him and remembered lying awake regretting, not what Timo had done on Saturday night, but what Noah had done. Finally, Noah nodded.