I heaved off my gear, grateful to drop the heavy bags, and read the note that Liz left me. She informed me that we’d been invited to a dinner party being held by the UN for local military, Press, and important Afghan government officials. It was taking place at the Intercontinental Hotel – and I had 40 minutes to get my ‘arse’ over there.
So much for having a rest.
The shower sputtered intermittently, but it was nearly hot, and washed away most of the yellow dust that seemed to coat every part of me.
Formal functions in some Muslim countries could be a cultural minefield. Since this dinner was including women, it wasn’t going to be truly orthodox, so I wasn’t too worried about what to wear. I had my tried and trusted black cocktail dress, and planned to match it with the black ballerina flats that Sebastian bought for me. My ring was on the necklace hidden beneath my dress, but I could feel it, and that was important.
The dress had long sleeves, a high neckline, and a knee-length skirt. It passed in more conservative circles, and Liz had thoughtfully informed me that there would be a number of Muslim guests tonight. And although they were likely to be of the more liberal persuasion as women would be present, I didn’t want to risk giving offence. I had my plain, black headscarf in my purse to cover all eventualities.
It was lucky I was dark haired and dark eyed, because once I’d donned my headscarf, I attracted little interest. If I’d been blonde haired and blue eyed, it would have been a very different story. As soon as my sweet Sergeant Benson escorted me to the Intercontinental, I went straight to the restroom, to take off my headscarf and brush out my hair.
My attention was caught by a stunning woman in a jade-green, designer gown, with plunging neckline and exposed back. She would have been perfect for a glitzy LA premiere, but here she was jaw-dropping – and not in a good way.
I suspected she was with the UN – certainly no journalist would be so ridiculously overexposed and underprepared, and I was surprised that no one had warned her to dress more appropriately. In the spirit of sisterhood, I decided to give her a heads-up.
“Excuse me, hi. My name is Lee Venzi, I’m with the Press. Forgive me, your dress is really beautiful, but it might give you some problems here tonight: for Muslims, green is Mohammed’s favorite color – they might find your choice, as a Western woman, disrespectful. And a more… conservative style usually goes down better.”
“Oh, I never bother with formalities like that,” she sneered, rolling her eyes up and down my simple, black dress with obvious contempt.
I was left speechless by her arrogant attitude. I seriously considered jamming her head under the faucet to see if her heavy mascara really was waterproof.
She left me standing, and turned to her friend who was applying an indecent amount of lipstick, although at least her dress was more respectful and less revealing.
“You’re dressed to impress, Natalie,” said the second woman, in a heavy, German accent. She gave her friend’s designer gown the same visual appraisal as my own, but with less honesty. “I wonder if I can guess who you’ve got your eye on – seeing as you mentioned you’d bumped into him again.”
The woman called ‘Natalie’ smiled coolly. “What can I say, Hanna? He’s a five-star fuck: stamina and expertise, with fabulous packaging. Paris was memorable: I’m planning on having another night to remember; who’d have thought Kabul could be so entertaining.”
I followed the two women out of the restroom, shaking my head.
“What a bitch!” I muttered to myself.
“You don’t know how right you are,” said a familiar voice.
I whirled around, beyond thrilled.
He looked dashing and so handsome in his Dress Blues; my heart leapt with joy, reveling in the fact that he was here, that I was here – that we were together so much sooner than either of us could have hoped.
“Sebastian! What are you doing here? I thought they were sending you to Kandahar?”
“Change of plan,” he said, his eyes dancing with happiness. “I’ve had a two-day stopover and I’d heard the Press would be here tonight, so I wangled an invite. I wasn’t sure when you were arriving.” He grinned at me wickedly. “But now that you’re here, I’m planning on seducing you behind the potted palms.”
“Or somewhere a little more private, I hope,” I breathed out.
His eyes flared with excitement. “Yes, ma’am.”
“By the way, do you know that tramp?” I said, jerking my head in the general direction of the slutty woman.
He smirked. “Her name is Natalie Arnaud. French. She’s a PA for some guy at the UN: but she likes people to think she’s important.”
“And you know her because…?”
He didn’t answer, looking away.
“One of your Parisian conquests.”
‘He’s a five-star fuck.’ Oh no.
“It was just a warm body, Caro,” he said, correctly reading the expression on my face.
“I understand that,” sort of, “but she’s going to get herself into a lot of trouble; she’s only dressing like that to impress you, Sebastian, so you’d better speak to her.”
I felt proud of myself for taking the moral high ground. Sebastian scowled at me, clearly unhappy with the mission I’d just given him.
“Suck it up, Hunter,” I smirked at him. “You created this situation; you’ve got to deal with it. And then find somewhere private for us.”
He shook his head in irritation at my insistence he deal with the slut-fest going on in the main room, but smiled and threw me a cocky salute.
“Yes, boss.”
Then his smile faded and his eyes darkened in a way that made me long to run my hands over his strong body, and push my tongue between his soft, sensual lips.
I knew he was on the same page, because he glanced around him quickly, took my hand and tugged me down the corridor. We were clearly in the staff area of the hotel, because we passed several cramped rooms full of desks and crammed with filing cabinets.
But when Sebastian found an empty office that was larger than a closet, he pushed me inside, slammed me against the door, and kissed me roughly, the buttons of his uniform pressing painfully into my breasts.
His hand was under my dress, dragging the skirt up to my waist, his fingers circling the edge of my panties, and then he ran one long finger under the material and inside me, making me cry out.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he hissed.
I moaned in reply.
“I am so fucking hard right now,” he growled into my ear. “Here and now: yes or no, Caro?”
“Yes!”
He unzipped his fly quickly, rolling a condom over his erection, while I shimmied out of my panties.
“Bend over the desk,” he ordered, as he gripped my hips.
“Sebastian, the door!”
“Fuck,” he snarled, spinning around and wedging a chair against the handle.
I leaned over the desk, completely aroused by the unexpected and illicit nature of the moment.
He hauled my dress up over my ass, forced my feet apart with his, and plunged inside me: I heard his breath hiss out through his teeth. He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, making me feel every inch of him.
He angled his body and rolled his hips, making me clutch hold of the edge of the desk. My insides quivered in response, and I could hear his soft grunts as he continued to thrust deeply.
I pushed my hips backwards to meet him and he groaned loudly, picking up the pace and pounding into me, frantically, almost desperate in his desire and need.
I couldn’t take any more – I thought my legs were going to buckle when I came – but he didn’t stop: pounding on and on and on, in a way that would leave bruises across my hip bones from the wooden desk.
I felt his body shudder and empty into me, and his chest rested on my back for a brief moment, before he pulled out. I sank to my knees, and collapsed onto the floor. He lay down next to me, his breath hot on my neck. I twisted around t
o gaze into his eyes, softly brushing the tips of my fingers over his face.
I didn’t need to ask why he’d fucked me like that, with such desperation: it was an adrenaline rush – the heightened sense of awareness that came from being in a war zone and close to death. It was an intense need to prove that you were still alive, to reaffirm life.
“Fuck, that wasn’t enough, Caro. I want you again.”
“We can’t, Sebastian,” I panted. “As it is, we’ll be missed if we don’t hurry.”
He frowned unhappily and tugged my limp hand to his lips, sucking my fingers, one by one.
“I need you, Caro. Let me come to your room tonight, please, baby.”
“You can’t: I’m sharing with Liz.”
“Get rid of her!” he whispered, persuasively into my ear.
Suddenly someone rattled the door handle, and I could hear men’s voices outside.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, tucking himself in quickly.
“My panties,” I said, feeling panicky.
Sebastian grinned at me, and searched around until he found them hanging disconsolately from a handle on the desk drawer.
“I think these are yours, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I said, hurriedly pulling them on and straightening my skirt.
The door handle rattled again, and I held my breath, but the voices receded into the distance, arguing with each other.
Sebastian helped me up, and listened intently at the door. He hesitated, glancing back at me, then opened it cautiously.
“You’re good,” he said, quietly, his eyes searching the corridor in both directions.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not so bad yourself, Chief.”
He grinned wickedly. “Later?”
But then we heard more voices coming towards us; I smiled once, and hurried away.
He let me go first, and I made my way into the reception area, where people who’d been invited to the dinner were circulating.
I was concentrating on calming my breathing when I heard someone say my name.
“Hello, Caroline.”
I recognized that voice. And only one person called me ‘Caroline’.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I turned slowly.
My ex-husband stood in front of me, a stiff smile on his face. He looked handsome, in a silver fox sort of way.
“Hello, David,” I said warily, as feelings of dislike and distrust swept over me.
“I heard you were here tonight: the famous war correspondent ‘Lee Venzi’, as you’re known now.”
I listened out for the sarcasm in his words, but I wasn’t certain I could hear any. How odd.
“I see you’ve been promoted, Captain Wilson,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral. “Congratulations, David.”
He looked pleased and surprised. “Thank you.”
Meeting one’s ex-husband was never going to be a Kodak moment, but this was perhaps more than usually awkward, bearing in mind my cheeks were still flushed from screwing Sebastian in an office about 40 yards away.
But David’s next comment took me by complete surprise.
“I’ve enjoyed reading your articles, Caroline. They show great insight into all this.”
He gestured around him to indicate all things military. Compliments from David were rare. Very rare.
“Thank you very much,” I said, as my eyebrows rose up to my hairline. “I’m… flattered.”
I thought David was going to say something else, but what he saw over my shoulder made him lose his composure, and a familiar expression of haughty disdain transformed his features.
“I see you’re still with him,” he said coldly.
I knew immediately who he was talking about, of course.
“I must say I’m surprised, Caroline.”
I felt the heat of Sebastian’s furious glare as he came storming over.
Military protocol demanded that he salute a superior officer, even one from another service, and David was Navy, not the Marine Corps. Instead, Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets, with deliberate insolence.
David frowned, but just when I was sure he would insist on his dues, he simply ignored Sebastian and looked back at me.
“Good to see you, Caroline. You look lovely tonight. I hope you enjoy the evening.”
And he strolled away, greeting a few people as he moved through the room.
“What the fuck were you doing talking to that asshole?” snarled Sebastian.
“What are you doing making it so damned obvious that you care?” I shot back, angrily.
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?” he said, sounding hurt.
I guess he’d been too busy fucking me over a desk to notice before.
“I am wearing it – just not where anyone can see it. But right now I am so furious with you: all you’ve done is make it absolutely necessary for me to go to my ex-husband and beg him not to tell anyone about us. Have you any idea how that makes me feel, Sebastian? Do you? Because he’s the last person I’d want to ask a favor from.”
“I’ll handle him,” said Sebastian, arrogantly. “I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing,” I hissed. “Absolutely nothing, do you hear me? Now leave me alone: you’ve already attracted enough attention tonight.”
I walked away, leaving him standing, his expression wounded, angry and defiant.
I forced myself to smile politely as I moved through the crowd, but inside I was fuming: Sebastian wasn’t particularly risking his own career, but he was damn well risking mine – again. Who the hell did he think he was?
I made myself concentrate: I was here to meet the unit commander that I’d be embedded with, a Captain Ryan Grant. In all likelihood he’d resent having a journalist assigned to him; as far as he’d be concerned, having some hack looking over his shoulder when he was trying to do his job, was nothing more than an irritating, additional worry. I just hoped he’d behave with polite tolerance rather than make my position more difficult. At least I knew that someone senior to him had made the decision to give me access, which meant I shouldn’t have a problem with open hostility. I hoped.
I’d been informed that I’d be seated next to him at dinner: I could wait until then for introductions.
First, thanks to Sebastian’s ridiculous territorial display, I had to go and grovel to David. I hated the fact that he’d handed David the power to ruin my career with a few, quiet words in the right ear.
My former husband was standing talking to an Army Major when I walked up.
“Hello, again,” I said, blandly.
He blinked, looking surprised, then politely introduced me. I was taken aback when he used my professional name: that was decent of him.
We chatted casually for a few minutes, before the Major was claimed by a colleague and moved away.
“David,” I said, taking a deep breath, “I won’t insult your intelligence: I’m here to ask you not to reveal what you know about me and Chief Hunter.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“It was certainly a surprise, Caroline, but no; of course I wouldn’t dream of saying anything that could hurt your career.”
I was shocked he was being so magnanimous; I’d expected that he’d take the chance to belittle me. He’d been an expert at it while we were married.
“Thank you, David. That’s very good of you.”
“I would suggest, however,” he said, calmly, “that you advise him to act with more circumspection.”
“Yes. I’ve already mentioned it,” I said, a little bitterly.
He gave a thin smile.
“He seems just as hotheaded as ever.”
Yes, you could say that.
“You were taking a great risk, continuing your relationship,” he couldn’t help adding. “But despite what you may think of me, Caroline, I have never wished you ill.”
I met his eyes, but saw only sincere concern.
“Thank you for that,” I said, with more warmth than I thought I’d ever
feel for him. “I will try to minimize any more… risk.”
He cocked his head to one side, and looked at me quizzically.
“I meant it was a risk to continue seeing each other when he was…well, younger.”