Chapter 3

"Lunch with the berg," Dylan gave a low whistle as Gwyneth finally plopped herself down at her desk. "Someone's becoming the new teacher's pet."

She felt a little flustered when he said that, but she kept her cool and refused to let the comment weigh down on the endorphin rush she was currently experiencing. Lunch had been delightful and completely unexpected - she was mentally prepared for a stilted charade of formality between her and Aidan while they talked business with Marty, but thankfully, they were able to avoid that minefield when Marty called to inform that his flight had been delayed, and was thus unable to join them.

When Michael had made his appearance and Aidan had asked her whether she was interested, the mood of the conversation dipped considerably, becoming a lot more sombre than they'd intended. Not wanting to leave her feeling uncomfortable, Aidan tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"Thirty five years, and he's never stopped making me feel like a kid," Aidan joked with a warm smile on his face, shaking his head. "Do you have any siblings?"

Gwyneth smiled back in understanding. "Three brothers, all younger, each and every one a colossal pain to live with."

"One Gwyneth and three boys. It must've been a riot in the Kenner household."

"God, you have no idea," she took a bite of her salmon ravioli. "You should've seen us fighting over the Nintendo. I think at one point one of us tried to strangle the other with a gaming console cord."

"I'd pay good money to see that. Maybe I'm being presumptuous over here, but I just can't seem to imagine you as being violent. You don't look like one for physical force."

"That's only because you're unfamiliar with the mechanics of having to govern testosterone-filled beings that gradually outgrow you in both size and strength. Let me put it this way, keeping them in order when they were young required a Mafia-like approach, but as they grew up things became more Machiavellian."

A slow smile began to spread on Aidan's face. "I'm very intrigued, do explain."

She tried a casual shrug. "Well I'm no stranger to fistfights, that much I'll tell you. But there came a point where I knew I couldn't take them out physically, so I resorted to politics. You'd be surprised at how efficient people can be under duress of blackmail. I could have them balance beach balls on their noses if I wanted to."

He suppressed a snort of laughter. "You must have been so pleased with yourself, making them goose-step around you..."

"I wasn't so bad," she threw him a defensive look. "Honestly, do I come across as a mean person?"

"No, you don't," he assured. "But who knows? You could just as easily be some kind of a fascist gone drunk with power when my back is turned," he teased. "Obey! No questions!" He put on a nasal, robotic voice. "I shall reign supreme!"

She rolled her eyes. "I was a very nice sister," she insisted. "I only did what I had to do because they can be such jerks when they want to be. Take this, for instance - when I refused to help Andrew sneak out one night, he got his revenge by convincing my parents that I was pregnant."

Aidan burst out in laughter. "Stupendous. There really is no love quite like sibling love, huh?"

Gwyneth lifted her glass in mock celebration. "Hear, hear."

"Well, for what it's worth, Michael and I have given each other enough grief throughout our childhood. Once, as punishment, he duct taped me to a wall and tickled my feet with this ridiculously huge peacock feather, of all things, even as I desperately howled for mercy. I couldn't even move, what more struggle, and he made damn sure to continue until I passed out from tormented laughter. When I regained consciousness, I thought he'd let me go, but he went on and repeated the whole cycle several times."

She couldn't hold back a burst of giggles, but showed little sympathy. "What did you do to make him so angry?"

Aidan looked at her, taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, what did you do to make him so angry?"

He felt a prickle of genuine surprise and it showed on his face. "So I tell you about how my brother essentially bullied the crap out of me, and you're asking me what I might have done to deserve it?" He sounded so mystified, Gwyneth didn't know whether to feel bad or to laugh.

"I'm not saying that he should've done that to you," she said, pulling a sympathetic face. "Being bound and forcibly tickled? That's vicious, really, just pretty damn cruel. But..." she hesitated, worried that she was treading on eggshells, " ... as an elder sibling myself, I refuse to believe that such an attack was unprovoked. I've always been rough with my younger brothers, Aidan. Have you tried keeping three boys in order?

She took a sip of her water. "Kicking and shoving was routine, but there's a thick and clear line between the usual scuffle and a provoked outburst of rage." Her voice was gentle, and the look in her eyes were soft. "I'm not implying that you deserved it, but knowing how younger brothers usually are..." she trailed off, not feeling brave enough to continue down that road.

As she dwindled into silence, she studied Aidan's face to gauge his reaction. He was still looking at her with his usual stoic expression, as if he was trying to read her mind and figure her out. Shame was beginning to creep into her cheeks, making her feel awfully gauche and just plain rude.

He'd tried to lighten the mood by joking, and instead she'd said something that might have excavated into a potentially troubled childhood. She cringed inwardly at the thought that maybe she'd stepped on a sore spot, wanting to kick herself in the head for being an insensitive idiot.

Suddenly he started laughing, a deep, growling rumble that she'd never heard before, and her heart skipped a beat as she thought of how sexy he sounded. He was still watching her intently, his eyes twinkling in good humor and lips curved faintly into a half-smile. She bit her lip, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest, so fast and hard it almost made her giddy.

"Only you, Gwyneth, only you." He said the words in a different voice, keeping his pale blue irises fixed on hers. "You're right," he admitted as he broke into a nostalgic grin. "I did drive him up the wall, and that's why it happened." The tension dissolved immediately and she found it easier to breathe again.

"I was only nine then. We were both crazy about Star Wars - huge fanatics, die hard fans," he emphasized, "and Michael, being thirteen at that time, had just begun to take interest in girls, so naturally, Leia Skywalker was the golden goddess of his dreams."

"I don't blame him. The metal bikini..."

"Exactly! The metal bikini..." Aidan shook his head, a wide smile plastered on his face. "But I digress. He was lucky enough to chance on a limited edition poster, autographed by the entire cast and George Lucas. It was an extremely rare item, if I remember correctly - I think there were only twenty of those in print. Anyway, he got his hands on one, and that became his most prized possession. He loved it so much, he didn't even mount it on the wall; just kept it safely tucked away in the storage tube..."

Gwyneth narrowed her eyes and sucked in a breath through her teeth. "I think I know where this is going..." Aidan's widening smile seemed to confirm her hypothesis.

" ... all I wanted was a look. I swear, I wasn't defacing the poster or trying to ruin it. I just took it out to get a proper look..."

" ... without his permission, of course..."

"Bingo," he leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Before I knew it, he caught me in the act and just went berserk. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry, ever. He was absolutely livid, shouting and yelling at me to keep my hands off his stuff. We started grabbing at each other, trading punches, fighting like usual until of course, one of us accidentally crushed a small part of the poster, permanently creasing it."

"Oh, God..."

"Mmmhmm. He blamed me, I blamed him, everything blew up..."

" ... and he taped you to the wall."

"Not yet, actually. When I realized I was losing the fight, knowing that there was no way I could defeat him physically - that's when I retaliated, and only after that did shit hit the fan."

Gwyneth's eyes widened in surprise. "What did you do?"

Aidan was beaming from ear to ear, a smile so wide it made him look like the Cheshire cat. "I ripped the bloody poster into a million fucking pieces."

"Christ," she said, appalled. "Aidan!"

He didn't even look sheepish, his grin was wide and unabashed. There was a trace of wistfulness in his eyes, as if he were quietly reminiscing about a much happier, almost forgotten past. "You're evil," she teased lightly, laughing. "Just like every other annoying younger brother out there. Can't you just keep your hands off our things?"

"I probably won't stick my fingers where they don't belong. Unless, of course, you specifically tell me not to..."

The laughter was winding down now, and they both settled into a comfortable silence. Gwyneth's heart gave a little lurch when he caught her gaze, giving her one of those looks that melted her insides. Being alone with Aidan always felt so good - his commanding presence, the sound of his laugh, the guarded, slightly cryptic smile.

He was usually more distant at work, but it was so easy to talk to him when no one else was around. Even now, just having lunch away from their colleagues, this was a pleasant reprieve. The secrecy of their entire relationship just added to the intimacy of it all, making every moment so precious. It almost felt like they were sharing a secret that only the both of them knew. Almost like they knew each other better than anyone else did.

The sound of Dylan's voice pulled her back to reality. "So what was lunch about?" Dylan repeated the question, waiting expectantly for an answer. "He's been seeing you a lot lately, huh?"

"New case!" Gwyneth answered, hoping she didn't sound too artificial. "Marty will be leading, and I'll be on the team. Lunch was just to flesh out details, we met in his office earlier to confirm my participation."

"Well, well, well, handpicked by Aidan Scodelario himself," he teased in good nature, and Gwyneth flushed a little, suddenly feeling modest. "That's pretty big news, Ms. Brainiac. But hey, good on you, really. I always knew that you'd make it far and fast." He congratulated her sincerely, and his face broke into a lopsided grin. "What's the case about?"

"Class action suit, huge company. It's supposed to be a big case, apparently, and the media are going to have field day. I wasn't actually handpicked, per se. Marty wanted me in for environmental, and..." she stopped herself before she accidentally referred to Aidan by name, " ... the berg approved, so ... yeah. It's more of a chance to shine than actually moving up a rung in the corporate ladder, but it's something to start with."

"And shine you will, baby girl." A thought occurred to him and he cocked his head. "But why environmental, if it's a suit? Wouldn't they be concentrating on civil procedure?"

"The company in question is biotech-based. Agricultural, to be precise. I suppose the berg and the rest of the dream team will pull most of the weight for the trial while I futz around with the finer details."

"Ah," Dylan's eyes shone in comprehension. "Bloody brilliant opportunity, then. Drinks tonight to celebrate! You're buying, and that's non-negotiable. Let's be the college us again, for just one night. Tonight. Let's just lose it, get completely hammered and wake up not knowing where we are." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Wha-" she looked aghast, "that's not fair! It's not a promotion, alright? Fuck, I don't even get a raise. Believe you me, I'll need a huge bonus if I'm going to be able to afford to buy you drinks," she complained. "We'll go out tonight, but no free booze for you, mister. And we're definitely not getting drunk, Dylan, we've got work in the morning." Gwyneth wagged a reproving finger at Dylan and he pulled a face. She didn't like being a killjoy, but she did have a point.

Dylan, who played starting center in football and stood at a firm six foot five, was famous for his alcohol tolerance. His physique, coupled with the intensive drinking habit he developed throughout law school granted him the ability to consume beer in unparalleled quantities.

As with all heavy drinkers, it also made him the cornerstone of every party - when he mentioned college, it sure as hell served as the perfect metaphor. The average Law School Dylan night entailed losing his cellphone at some random party, leaving a frantic Gwyneth to launch a desperate manhunt to track him down while he hopped from one rave to another, never remembering a single thing that happened.

For all his drunken antics, he had woken up in a completely different state before - not just once, but twice - and somehow managed to find his way back to his dorm. Liquor wasn't his only vice - he'd also showed up for numerous exams while being high on weed, miraculously scoring better than other students who'd bent over backwards studying.

Some of Gwyneth's fondest memories of law school were of her hanging out with Dylan in the college quad when he was high as a kite, hearing him ramble about his life and all his secrets, his drug-addled mind fixing him in a permanently giggly mood.

She looked over the computer monitor to see his face locked in an exaggerated sulk. Despite herself, she had to admit that his energy was infectious. Knowing Dylan, he was obviously very happy for her and probably just looking for an excuse to spend the night doing what he did best - party. The last vestiges of reluctance quickly evaporated and she found herself rolling her eyes at the inevitable.

"Fine, fine," she said begrudgingly, her lips pressed together in a crooked line as she tried to hide a smile. "One drink. I'll buy you one drink."

Dylan grinned and flashed two thumbs-up. "Nice!"

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" They chanted as Gwyneth swallowed gulp after gulp of the golden liquid, finally draining the beer bottle. Her friends cheered as she slammed the empty bottle onto the table while Dylan busied himself with the task of ordering more drinks. Gwyneth was glowing with happiness, pleasantly warmed by the beer and the good company of old friends.

She looked around her, basking in the familiar surroundings of their favorite bar and had to admit - life was looking pretty peachy from where she stood. Things with Aidan were going great, and the Ceres case would help garner attention at work. Someone cracked a joke that made everyone break into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the humor snowballed around until they could laugh no more, with Gwyneth's cheeks smarting from smiling so much.

She sighed with contentment, grateful for the simple pleasures in life, and then her phone rang shrilly in her clutch. Mom calling, the phone flashed. "Hang on, guys, I gotta take this." She slid out of the booth and made her way out of the bar to take the call outside.

"Hi, Mom. How are you?"

Aidan was in the car, going through some of the documents he'd brought along with him. A glance at his Omega said that it was nine fifteen. Michael was expecting him at nine, and being late was one of Aidan's pet peeves - he hated being tardy for anything and was a natural stickler for punctuality. Irritation was beginning to gnaw at him, but he ignored it and continued reading the files.

The driver must have seen him looking at his watch. "Traffic's a bit heavy for a weeknight," he explained, "we might be here for quite a while."

Aidan looked up from the stack of papers he'd been perusing. "Don't worry about it," he assured the man. It wasn't the driver's fault that the roads were clogged up, anyway.

He glanced out of the window to gauge the extent of the gridlock and something caught his eye. A girl with a familiar face was holding a phone to her ear, clutching a purse in her other hand ... a pretty, slim brunette ... Gwyneth. Discreetly hidden behind a pane of tinted glass, Aidan continued to watch her as she stood on the pavement, clearly engrossed in the conversation.

Tonight she'd gone for the rocker look, with her hair swept up in a stylishly messy bun and smokey eye makeup to bring out her eyes. She was wearing a long-sleeved sequined minidress in a metallic gray print and the hem of her dress rode tantalizingly high on her thighs, showing off her toned, lithe legs that tapered into a pair of dainty feet encased in gladiator heels.

Aidan was increasingly turned on now, the familiar stirrings of arousal beginning to unwind inside him. Gwyneth obviously understood that sexy wasn't about cleavage bursting out of skin-tight dresses or low-cut tops that left little to the imagination - no, no, she fed on imagination, her sex appeal thrived on it.

The lines of her relatively modest dress followed the contours of her body closely, enticing him to fantasize about what lay underneath, even if he'd already seen her naked. Unaware that she was being watched, Gwyneth swiveled as she spoke, turning away from him.

He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the back of the neckline dipping deeper than usual, teasing him with a small window of bare, smooth flesh. Of course she had her hair up - the little minx wasn't going to hide the smooth skin of her back behind a waterfall of hair.

The back of her dress was low enough to make Aidan question if she was wearing a bra, but it wasn't low enough to totally discount the possibility. His heart sped up as he wondered if she was wearing any underwear at all, his eyes hungrily searching for hints as he watched her body ripple underneath the fabric.

It was as if she knew exactly how to tweak with the finer machinations of his mind, almost as if she deliberately wore this dress tonight, knowing that he would be seeing her. All he could right now was undress her with his mind and picture, with vivid detail, how it would be like to unclasp the button at the back of the dress and slowly pull down the zipper than ran along her spine to expose more of that soft, creamy flesh.

Whoever was on the line clearly had her attention and did most of the talking while Gwyneth listened, absent-mindedly biting on her lower lip as she did so. The fact that she was completely oblivious as to how sexy she looked made her all the more alluring to Aidan.

He continued to stare at her, continuing with his fantasies where she stood in front of him and looked back over her shoulder with a coy smile, an invitation sparkling in her eyes. He would push off the sleeves of her dress as he sank his teeth into the skin of her neck and suck on it, tasting the warm tang of her skin as he felt her head tip back and heard the moan escape from her throat.

Jesus, he wanted her so fucking badly right now. The bulge in his pants was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and his mind was on the verge of being completely derailed by lust. He could picture her naked, wearing nothing but the heels, bent over in front of him, moaning lewdly while he fucked her like an animal. Similar thoughts continued to run through his imagination until the traffic finally cleared and the car jerked forward, slowly accelerating away from her.

He turned his head, trying to catch a last glimpse of her before they moved too far ahead but she was gone, lost in the sea of people and cars. Aidan blew out a breath and made a few futile attempts to concentrate back to the documents he'd been reading, forcing himself to read the sentences word by word.

A mental image of her face popped into his mind - her eyes were closed and her head thrown back into the pillow, those sensuous lips parted in a sexy O as she cried out in the deepest throes of her ecstasy. There was nothing he found sexier than seeing that expression on her face - seeing her come, watching the orgasm ravage her body and anoint her face - he gave up with trying to focus on work, slapped the folders shut and filed them away in his briefcase.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his collar felt a lot tighter than usual. Was it just him or did the car suddenly become a lot warmer? He tried to calm himself down with a few deep breaths, never really able to stop thinking about her the whole time. Damn it, he needed her right now. Feeling inspired, he reached into his pocket for his BlackBerry.

"Yeah, sure. Uh-huh, right. Yeah. Alright, mom, okay. Okay. Goodnight, mom, love you, and take care."

She ended the call and slipped her phone back into her purse. The night was chilly and Gwyneth could feel the cold biting through the long sleeves of her dress. Not that she minded - she found it invigorating and refreshing. Neon lights and giant billboards flashed brightly around her, illuminating the night sky with a dizzying spectrum of colors.

She stood out there alone, not caring about the throng of people that walked past. This was one of the things she loved most about New York - how you could find solitude right in the middle of a crowd. She took a deep breath and sighed, then turned to head back into the bar when her she felt her phone vibrate. Her face lit up when she saw that it was a text from Aidan.

You look stunning in that dress. A.

Gwyneth jerked her head upwards instinctively, her eyes swiftly scanning through the swarming mass of people that walked right by her. Where was he? How did he see her? The text had been a little creepy, if not exhilarating. Gwyneth's heart was pounding loudly in her chest now, excitement prickling on her skin like electricity. Her neck craned this way and that as her eyes roved around, searching for Aidan with a predatory precision. Again, her phone buzzed in her hands.

I'm not there - I know you're looking. Drove by a few minutes ago. Enjoy your night, gorgeous. A.

A silly grin spread across her face when she read the message. It would appear that Aidan Scodelario was a bag of surprises, a completely different character beneath the layers she'd been so accustomed to. One minute he was a authoritarian who wouldn't tolerate mediocrity, and without preamble, he could morph into a flirtatious imp - one who knew how to spy on people and jump their bones.

Her fingers hovered uncertainly over her iPhone as she wracked her brains for a smart reply. She typed out a few messages, deleting each and every one after re-reading and a lot of pondering. Minutes passed, and she was still facing a blank text field. She groaned in frustration and pressed a hand to her forehead, as if she wanted to wring an idea directly out of her brain.

"Smooth, Gwyneth, smooth," she muttered to herself. "C'mon, it's just a text message! Be smart, be sexy, be confident. Come on..."

At last she threw her hands up in the air, deciding that there was no way she was going to think her way out of this. Her fingers pecked out a quick reply and she just pressed send, no longer caring about what how he would interpret the message.

You're such a stalker, but the compliment made up for it. Can't wait to see you again. G.

Six words.

That was his favorite part of the message. He'd felt irrationally happy when he read those words, even if they were completely innocuous. Inside, his need for her was almost unbearable - it had become a physical, corporeal hunger. He craved for every part of her; the gentle caresses of her hands, the familiar scent of her skin, the endless flanks of her long legs. All he wanted right now was to feel her body underneath his, squirming at his touch, ready for him.

Do you have any plans after work tomorrow? A.

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the car window as he eagerly waited for a reply. Tomorrow's plans were already laid out in his head, and all he needed was that yes. Would she like it? He was hoping to find out. The BlackBerry buzzed loudly in his hand.

Nope. Why, are you planning to kidnap me? G.

Aidan's lips twitched with a half-smile. Her yes was the best news he'd heard all week. He struggled to rein in his thoughts as he composed a reply, willing himself to stay cool.

It's only kidnapping if you resist. Will pick you up from the office. Can't wait to see you too. A.

Gwyneth laughed out loud when she read the message. The invite piqued her curiosity, filling her head with countless theories as to what he had planned out for tomorrow.

"There you are!" She spun her head to find Dylan taking brisk steps towards her. "What are you doing outside? C'mon back in, you're missing all the fun!"

Gwyneth immediately felt bad for abandoning Dylan to swap texts with Aidan. She slipped her phone back into her purse and looped her arm through his, giving him quick hug as they walked back to the bar. Before she even stepped through the entrance, she could hear her friends whooping in delight, the volume of their noise drowning out the merry chatter in the bar.

She walked in to find one of them trying to shoehorn yet another buffalo wing into his already full mouth in an attempt to beat Dylan's record while the others egged him on, and she erupted into a fizz of laughter. There was an incredible lightness in her heart, a happiness she hadn't felt in a long, long time, and as she took a sip from the fresh bottle of beer Dylan offered her, she thought of how fortunate and blessed she was to be here, in this very place at this very moment. Life was good.

Blood was throbbing in her head; a steady, insistent pulse that pounded at her temples. She winced and pressed at the sore spots with her thumbs, rubbing small circles in an attempt to massage out the pain. Papers were stacked on her desk like a miniature Kilimanjaro, tagged with Post-Its and annotations scribbled in pencil awaiting amendment. Even looking at the work pile was exhausting.

Gwyneth took a deep breath and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling more tired than she had felt all week. Beneath the glamourous facade of corporate law lay the festering skeleton of truth - all lawyers were nothing more than slaves, cooped up in a cage of paperwork and coffee; a collection of pale, sallow ghouls dressed in expensive suits.

To anyone else, Gwyneth looked like she was living the dream life in the Big Apple - smart clothes, well-paying job, living in the epicenter of the world. But look closely, and you could see the dark circles concealed by makeup and the dim, lackluster glaze of her eyes.

"You alright?" There was a twinge of concern in Dylan's voice.

"I'm fine," she said dismissively. Gwyneth was thankful that yesterday night hadn't gotten out of hand. Somehow, they'd managed to get home by two in the morning - very early by Dylan's standards - but even then, getting out of bed this morning was a monumental task.

By the time she arrived at work, the files were already stacked on her desk, and the work just kept pouring in a steady stream throughout the day. At least you'll be meeting Aidan later, she told herself. That fact alone was the saving grace that kept her going throughout the day.

"Have you eaten?" Gwyneth looked up to see Dylan studying her with worry.

She actually had to pause and think about the question for a moment. It was a bad habit of hers - being so engrossed with work that she would forget to feed herself, only for the hunger to later retaliate at the end of the day in a gut-wrenching gastric pain, which she relieved by chomping down a gallon of food.

"I ... don't ... know..." she genuinely couldn't remember. "I think I had a sandwich a few hours ago ... I think, I'm not sure."

"Gwyneth," Dylan admonished as he pulled open a drawer. "Here," he tossed a tube of digestive biscuits in her direction. He was no stranger to her habits, being all to familiar with her daily routine, and so he took it upon himself to stash some light snacks as backup. She caught it with a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed at needing to be fussed over like a little child.

Gwyneth unwrapped it and wolfed down a piece, washing it down with lukewarm coffee. "Thanks," she mumbled with her mouth full, brushing the crumbs off her shirt. After a few biscuits, she felt considerably better, her mind felt brighter and much more energized. She then resumed working with renewed vigor, slowly working her way into a steady tempo while the headache faded away.

Her iPhone pinged with a new message.

I'm downstairs. Are you ready? A.

Gwyneth's eyes widened at the message. How could he be downstairs already? A quick glance at the computer clock revealed that three hours had, indeed, flown by in a blip. She cursed under her breath shot back a quick reply saying that she was ready, then began to frantically pack up her belongings.

"Leaving so soon? Wait, wait, wait - lemme guess - a date?"

"Yes, yes, a date," she rolled her eyes and chose to ignore his sly smile. "Why, jealous?"

"Damn right I am," he grumbled, his face gloomy. "You're off for dinner and some lovin' while the only lovin' I'll be getting is from Citibank," he brandished a thick brown file with the words "RESTRUCTURING" printed on it.

"Oh, Dylan," she leaned in close for a confidential whisper. "Continue flirting with Kitty Hayburn long enough, and you'll be getting some lovin' too." Dylan grinned widely at that joke and offered her a fistbump.