Page 42 of The Devil’s Detail (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #2)

Carter

He knows it was me. He knows it was me in that room with him. He knows it was me that has hit every P spot, G spot, ABCDE F-ucking spot. Twenty six letters in the alphabet, and I hit every freaking one of them. On him, for him. For me. For us.

I sink to my knees on my driveway, tears rolling down my face. I ran after him. Chased him. And for what? Nothing? For him to dump me without giving me a chance to explain. His voice totally chilling my soul. Quenching out the fire burning within me.

He should have stayed and listened. Listened and heard my explanation.

I was going to tell him everything. When everyone left the house.

I think. No, I’m sure I was. I knew if he got his hands on me, he might know it was me.

I’ve been aching to kiss him. But I didn’t dare even do that for fear he might have figured it out.

He might have remembered me, jogged a memory loose, and then he’d have known my identity without me sitting down and telling him why.

Why I’d resorted to that sort of behaviour. Hiding behind blindfolds and fucking NDAs.

But it was the first time I’d done that, the blindfolds etc. I hadn’t before, and I haven’t since. In fact, I haven’t been with anyone since him at all. I couldn’t. Because I wanted him.

But I wanted him as us—real and unfiltered. Carter and Jackson. Not Bonney and Stone. I wanted to be us. Because I knew it would have been even better than before.

But now? All gone. All up in smoke. And not even a word said in explanation.

I should have told him in London. When he came and plucked me out of that crowd. I should have told him then. But I bottled it all up, was a great big coward. I hid. Convinced myself that he’d fall in love with me. Me, Carter.

But in the back of my mind—the pit that conceals my deepest and best hidden insecurities—I still worried he was hankering for Bonney.

When he bolted after my almost-marriage proposal, I needed to test the waters.

See if it was me, or was it Jameson Bonney.

So I gave him the opportunity to prove me right, or wrong.

Made the appointment for him to see Mr Bonney.

I set it all up exactly like before, so he’d know it would be a booty call.

Never had I felt so good that someone stood me up. I’d watched him out the front of the hotel, praying for him to walk away. Praying as he paced the pavement that he’d get back on his bike and drive away from me. Well, not me, but Mr Bonney. The best fuck of his life.

My prayers were answered when he left. No call, no contact. A fuck off if there ever was one.

And I know he saw the administrator there.

He said as much on the phone call to him afterwards.

On the call I paid him to make. The first one he answered and said he didn’t want to reschedule.

All the other calls, he declined. Different dates, different times, all from the same number.

He didn’t block it, just let it ring out.

He knew what he’d been coming to, and he’d said no in the most emphatic terms.

For whatever reason, he was done with Bonney. And I was ecstatic. High as a kite on that knowledge.

With my alter ego out of the way, the playing field was left open for me.

Just me. Me to seduce, to charm, to try and win his heart.

And although he’d run away to Ireland, he picked up a few of my calls, and the odd message.

Even texted back one-liners on occasion.

So I knew even though I was down, I wasn’t out.

And now this. Just as he’d told me yes. My skeletons poured out of the closet in the most spectacular way. Sprung up as if they’d been resurrected and did a fuckin’ jig. Laid themselves at his feet. Unwanted bones.

But the more Freddie talked, the more I could see everyone was stuck in one big misunderstanding.

Jackson was talking about CAshO Jameson Bonney, while Freddie and co were talking about Jameson Bonney the movie franchise.

The part I’d been born to play. The part I’d stolen the voice from.

The part I’d been auditioning for at the time I went to CAshO.

The part that will push my life to megastar status.

It was farcical. You couldn’t make it up if you tried.

And while it was obvious to me, it wouldn’t have been to Jackson. But either way, regardless of how he’d gotten there, I need to see him to explain what’s happened. I was Jameson Bonney from CAshO, I’m going to be Jameson Bonney the spy on screen. But I’m also Carter to him. Just Carter.

“Henry’s got a ring of bruises around his throat. He’s going to sue,” Freddie enlightens me. “You need to sort this out, Carter. What the fuck was going on? How could you tell your security about your film before it’s been announced? And now I have to report the leak. What a fucking mess.”

I shake my head slowly. “He thought Henry was my next lover. He saw red.” I can’t help sounding defeated, dejected.

Freddie pales. “He didn’t just see red, he was going to kill him. He’s a fucking savage in a thirty thousand dollar suit. You need to get him under control.” He finally takes a breath and I raise my eyebrows at that.

“I don’t think that’s going to work, ever.

I’m afraid he’s beyond reasoning now, and it’s all my fault.

” I’d seen the depths of despair he was plundering.

I’d seen the brutality, the pain. And he’d gone there because of me.

I’ve blown up the love of my life, before we even got out of the starting gate.