Chapter 42: Bad Girls Can't Help Flirting

Mac

The cops aren't too keen on me taking a meeting with Dev in the middle of their business with him, but after a few minutes of wheedling, the desk sergeant takes me back to the arresting officer's desk, because I insist I have a statement to give, too.

Dev is there, holding ice to his mouth, and stoking ice in his eyes, gesturing with irritated shrugs and head jerks as he speaks to the officer. His expressions calm when he sees me walking toward him.

"You're alright, then?" he looks me up and down, as I nod. "That's good. Too bad your boyfriend's a wanker."

"He's not. He's really not. He's just...protective. And he had reason to be."

"Calling bullshit on that one," Dev hisses. "You looked ready to pass out, for Chrissakes. You stumbled. I caught you by the arm to steady you, that's all."

"That's not what I meant." I look at the officer taking his statement. "Look, can we have a minute?" I'm unable to keep the irritation out of my voice, because I keep picturing this jerk twisting Adam's arm painfully behind his back. "In private? This really isn't police business."

He looks at me like I'm insane. He points a finger to his desk. "My desk." Then twirls his finger in the air. "My house. You can have a seat and wait your turn to make a statement."

I turn to Dev and drop all pretense. "Please. Can I have a minute? Please." I'm pleading.

He runs a hand through his black and blue hair as he stares at me impassively, then he turns to the cop. "Look, Officer—" he glances at the guy's deskplate. "Officer Randall, you've been so accommodating already—thanks again for this—" he lifts up the bag of melting ice, then continues "but Ms. Lawson and I are in negotiations to record a song together. I'd like to extend her the professional courtesy of hearing what she has to say. May I impose on your patience and use your break room?" He jerks his head to room enclosed in glass.

Officer Randall rolls his eyes and throws down a pen. "Have at it. I have real work to do, anyway." He turns to his computer monitor and begins typing.

Dev rises, putting a hand to my back, gesturing for me to go first. In the break room, Dev pours a cup of water from the cooler and offers it to me. "Thanks."

"You are quite welcome."

I can't help but smile at Dev's...Britishness. "You are the strangest person I've ever met. A rapper with aristocratic manners?"

"I get arrested a lot. When that happens, I rise to my father's station. Confuses the fuck out of the Bobbies. I guess being in a police station...it's just a force of habit."

"Ah, so the politeness is in your blue-blood. "

He tries to grin and winces, because of his busted lip. "I take it you've been Googling me."

"Yeah, I saw you are aristocracy or something?" I say with a shrug.

He laughs. "Not quite. My father is a baron. My half-brother will be a baron one day. I'm just an illegitimate son my dear old dad managed to conceive with his hotelier's daughter during a Mediterranean holiday."

"Wow. Bet that went over great back home," I smile.

"Wasn't a big deal for him, actually," he shrugged. "Even in modern times...there is noblesse oblige."

"I have no idea what that means," I laugh and point to myself. "Uncultured American."

He looks slightly embarrased. "Oh, sorry, it's a bit of an old-fashioned notion. The idea that the noble class has a responsibility to the underpriveleged. It was easily accepted when dear old dad gave me his name, brought my "servant-class"  mother to England, set up her in a nice flat, supported us. Sent me to boarding school, invited me for summer holidays at the country estate. His Baroness even forgave him. Doesn't tolerate me of course, but she despises the moors, so she never goes up there  where I spent time. It was all so politely dealt with, you see. God, they are all insufferable, actually. Even my brother," he laughs. "Honestly, I  started making rhymes to take the  piss out of the whole lot. I quite enjoy being the blue-blooded-rap-bastard."

"Hmmmm, sounds something like being a red-headed step-child. I know something about that." I twirl a lock of my light red hair. He raises his eyebrows and nods. "I don't believe you at all, however," I continue. "That you are only a revenge-rapper. I think you do it because you love it. You're that good. Really, Dev. I'm honored that you want to song-write with me."

He removes the ice and points to his lip. "I'm smiling at your flattery on the inside. Can't really on the outside, thanks to your prat-boyfriend."

Without the ice there, I have a clear view of his piercings, but they don't affect me quite as much as before. Dev's Britishness is overwhelming the piercings, somehow. "Adam is the nicest, most decent human being I know. He just misunderstood, I promise you. He saw me choking and saw your hand on my arm and thought I was having a...panic attack, and that you were making it worse."

"Why would he think that?"

"It's complicated."

Dev sits down at the institutional break table. He points to his brain. "Top-notch education. I'm confident I can follow."

I sip the water. Then I pull out the chair. "Can I trust you? With something personal that I have never told anyone outside my circle? With something my publicist has spent tons of money to keep quiet?"

Dev thinks a moment. Then he reaches for some spare napkins and a pen lying on the table. He scribbles the time, date, location and the following sentence:

The conversation taking place between Devlin Cavendish and MacKenna Lawson is agreed to be confidential and private. D.C. owes M.L. a legal and binding non-disclosure agreement within one week's time.

He scrawls a large signature beneath it and offers me the pen.

I take the napkin, crumple it, and throw it in the trash. "Thank you. I trust you to keep what I'm about to tell you in confidence."

He tips his head slightly. Not the chin tip, more like a curt bow. This guy is such a enigma. Some of his rap is quite vulgar, and here is he bowing like he's straight out of a Jane Austen novel. It's...weird. But like I said, it works for him.

"Last year, I was hospitalized. The official story was that I had throat surgery for a polyp."

"Yes, I saw that when I Googled you," he admits.

"It was a lie. I was hospitalized for crush injuries to my throat." I concentrate on Dev's eyes, not his mouth. "I was assaulted, nearly choked to death. My brother Leed stopped it, saved me."

"Bloody hell," he says softly. "I'm so very sorry, love." There are questions in his eyes, but he is much too polite to ask them.

I nod. "The details, I...I don't want to share, except for two things. The first is...it was traumatic for me. I have flashbacks. Random things will trigger them. Sometimes I don't know what will trigger them until it does." I stare at his lip piercings.

"Random things like what?" Dev says slowly.

"Like your lip piercings," I nod and look away through the glass partition, to all the the police officers on the other side of the glass. I take a slow breath. "The man that assaulted me had the exact same pattern of piercings. The first time I met you in Florida...I couldn't shake the image of them." I make two small crosses on either side of my lip. "Afterward, back at the hotel, I had a flashback. Adam, he's been there through a couple of flashbacks with me, so he understands...it's really difficult for me to be around triggers. He thought I felt threatened by you. I'm sorry he punched you—that was over the top—but he was just..."

"Protecting you." Dev nods. He blinks twice and stands abruptly. "Excuse me a moment," he says, and strides into the restroom attached in the corner of the break room. I know what he's doing. I sit there, hands in my lap, feeling ashamed and not knowing exactly why. When he returns minus his piercings, my cheeks are flaming.

"You didn't have to do that," I say quietly, not looking at him.

"That's fucking nonsense to say, of course," he says dismissively. "MacKenna, I...I'm very sorry to have been the source of more trauma for you."

"That's fucking nonsense to apologize, of course," I respond with a wan smile. "How could you know? I didn't even know. The piercings...I didn't even remember them until I saw you. Then, I couldn't see your face. I saw his."

"Fucking hell," Dev beats his fist slowly on the table three times. He swallows heavily and smiles at me. "Of course, I'll drop the charges against Heartley. It's the least I can do for the unintentional pain I have caused you."

"Thank you, Dev. I really, really appreciate that."

He nods, then sighs regretfully. "Makes sense now why you feel reluctant about writing together. It's too bad, really."

"It is too bad," I agree. "I think we might actually write well together. You are nothing like the man that assaulted me. The more I am around you, the more I see you, not him. It's just...I hadn't had a flashback in a long time before I met you. I don't want to move backwards, that's all."

He looks at me curiously. "How do you feel right now? Do you feel...anxious...being around me?"

I waffle my hand. "But to be fair, I did come here to talk you out of pressing charges against my boyfriend, so maybe it's more that.'

"And at the club, were you having a...flashback?"

"No, not a flashback. I felt nervous that I would have a flashback. And I really did choke on the drink. Not a big fan of gin." Plus I'm pregnant, and Babycakes really hates it, I guess.

He laughs. "Christ, love. You should have said."

I shrug. "Never had Blue Magic. Thought it might go down better."

"Sorry you didn't take a taste to Blue," he says with a rueful smile.

Before I even decide to say them, the words pour up my throat and flow out. "Maybe Blue is an acquired taste."

Even to myself, I sound...inviting.

Shit. I shouldn't say things like that. Not anymore. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm in love with Adam. I am so bad. It's like I can't help flirting with every attractive man I meet.

It's the accent. Goddamn Dev's sexy British accent.

Dev raises his eyebrows, assessing my words. I clear my throat and shake my head.

"So yeah." I rise abruptly and stick out my hand. Handshakes are within the rules for potential assholes, even if I'm the potential asshole in the situation. "Thanks very much for being so understanding about Adam. About writing together...it's just bad timing for me, right now. I need a little time in, away from the flashback, before I could even consider it. I'm sure you'll find another artist to work with on your new album."

"Of course," he rises and shakes my hand. "You have my number? If you feel differently?"

"I do. Thank you, Dev."

"Right. I'll speak with Officer Randall and let him know I won't be pressing charges." He walks to the door, then turns. "You know, I never really cared those piercings. I've only had them a couple months anyway. My manager suggested them. Fucking pain, they are. I won't be putting them back in. Just so you know."

I nod. I don't know what to say to that.

Then he's gone. He doesn't even sit back down at the officer's desk. He says whatever he needs to say in a few terse sentences, shakes hands and departs, giving me one more curt wave through the glass. The cop stares at me. He holds up a finger and mouths, "Wait there." I nod and try to smile.

It takes way longer than it should for them to release Adam. I sit at the break table, watching Dev's bag of ice melt, feeling guilty about flirting with him. What the fuck is wrong in my brain, that I would do that? I came here to charm him, not be charmed. He's the reason I flashed back to my assault. Shouldn't I be revolted by him?

But I'm not. Because he's not that guy who choked me, even though his piercings caused my flashback. Beyond the piercings, he's a very unusual, personable guy with a tremendous talent. With cool hair and that accent.

Also...uhhm, Adam. Hello? He's incredibly talented. And helluh sexy. And honest, and loyal, and trustworthy and decent. He makes me laugh, and scream, in the good way. And he has incredible hair. And I like his accent, too—that slow sexy Southern undertone that he clips to sound more So-Cal.

Adam, he's...everything. Not to mention my baby daddy. I love him. So much. Too much.

So shouldn't I be blind to the charms of all other men? Isn't that the way love works? You find the one and no others exist? Or does that mean I'm not really in love with Adam? Or maybe I'm just incapable of being in love?

I'm sure Adam would never encourage another girl like I just sort-of flirted with Dev. It's probably physically impossible for him at this point. Because he's so much better than me.

My boot vibrates. Damn. I should have already been making calls to Dawes and Marcy and the guys, telling them Adam is being released. I reach down for my phone.

It's not mine that's ringing. It's Adam's.

Marley? Who's Marley?

Oh dear. Will this night ever end? Thought on what happens next?