Page 62 of West (The Moral Compass 1)
We leave the restaurant, and a woman with a microphone stands between us and our car.
“Three questions and, please, can you step aside? Or the deal is off.” Sutton’s voice is so clear, still polite, but there is not one ounce of timidness there.
The reporter moves. “I’m Cheryl Johnston from theDaily Herald. I am the spokesperson for the press.”
Sutton smiles back at her. “Okay, Cheryl. Ask away; we want to get home tonight.” She turns her head up to mine, and I return her smile with a wink. I know it turns her on, but it will hopefully keep her calm. With my hand in hers, the first question comes.
“Sutton, is it true you and your friend were raped and tortured at the instruction of your mother?” I grip her hand tight, but she just loosens her smile a little.
“Cheryl. I can’t discuss the case, trial, or any of that horrendous incident. I’m sorry, but if your other two questions are the same, I can’t help you.”
“No, no, sorry, they’re not. My second question is: are you and Mr. McGarry the infamous Billionaire Bachelor in a romantic relationship?”
I don’t give Sutton chance to answer. I just raise our linked hands and kiss her directly on her plump cherry-coloured lips. “Happy?” I quip. The cameras flash, and I can see Sutton covering her eyes.
God, let’s just get this over with, already.
“Very! Mr. McGarry, thank you for the obvious display of affection. My third question is: is it true you are pregnant, Sutton, and that is why you are now a permanent resident with said Billionaire Bachelor?”
The question freaks me a little. It’s not something I have ever considered. Someone being pregnant with my child? But I just look down at Sutton lovingly as she answers.
“Cheryl, I’m sorry to disappoint but, at this time, there are no little McGarry’s on the cards for us. If that changes, I will be sure to let you know.” She leans in and takes Cheryl’s business card.
We walk to the car and the driver opens the door, but before she gets in, she turns and faces the press. They are all snapping photos with flashes going off left and right.
“I would like to thank you all for agreeing to my terms. I hope that West and I can continue to have a positive relationship with the press. I know our paths are going to cross many times over the next few months, but if you treat us with respect, we will give you as much as we possibly can. Thank you, and good night.”
With that, she bent and got in the back of the car. It took me a few seconds to catch up. This woman was savvy. She’d turned a shitty invasion of privacy into an organised press conference and won the fuckers over all in one sitting. I knew the day I met her she was something else, but I never realised she would be everything.
We drive off to shouts of “thank you, Sutton” and “good luck, Sutton.” I’m so proud of her, I could cry. She never ceases to surprise me.
“She speaks French, she’s a press wrangler, and she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. You amaze me every day, Sutton. Every fucking day.” I lean in and take her mouth to mine, our tongues battling and then finding rhythm. It feels so good. I can’t wait to get her home.
“Home.” That’s what I want. I want her with me every night in a place we call home. Not just for now, but forever.
A few days pass, and each day gets better. Our communication is great. She tells me when she’s happy and when she’s not. The sex keeps getting more and more frequent to the point where I think my dick is going to fall off. There are no games or me trying to read her mind. Things have gotten fairly normal.
Kara and North are getting on so well, it makes it easy to spend time alone with her. I keep waiting for the bubble to burst, but it doesn’t.
Well, until we’re another week in, and my mobile phone rings.
Chapter 50
Sutton
Mylifefeelslikea dream. I have everything I want and everything I need. Except for one thing. My job. West still won’t let me go into the office and meet people. I have been working from home in his office, running reports and getting a good feel for the business. I now know that the foundation of the business was not as clear-cut as it looks, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is the moral reasoning behind the organisation. I flap my hands around my head.
Stop thinking shit, Sutton. You’re a lucky-ass bitch.Yep, I am, and I need to be grateful for everything. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it all to go to shit, or something bad happen. Because, let’s face it, that’s how my life goes.
“Sutton, beautiful, are you in the office?” West calls, coming up the stairs.
“Yeah, I’m finishing some reports.” As he stands in the door frame, I whisper, “I won’t be long if you want to go get cleaned up, and then we can get dirty again.”
His eyes flash with want and desire, but it fades quickly. Uh oh, what’s going on? My brain is on full alert. I know that look. Something’s not right.
“Spit it out, West. I can tell something’s wrong. Don’t go round the houses. Out with it, okay?” I have learned to be direct when I need answers. He’s good at deflection, and I meanreallygood.
“Okay, so I had a phone call today…” he starts and stops. I start waving my hands in a “come-on” motion. He rolls his eyes and smiles.
