Bound by Her Best Friend (A Club Smex Story) (2 page)

“Frey?” he prompted. “What’s going on at the school?”

“We have some issues with one of the boys. He’s…” She paused to take another sip of wine. “Difficult.”

“I worry about you,” Zak said, and not for the first time. They’d had countless arguments over the years about Freya’s job. Zak didn’t understand why she felt the need to work with challenging children. She thought he could be a bit more understanding seeing as they had both come from similar circumstances. “I’ve seen some of those kids,” he added. “Hell, I don’t know why we call them kids; they tower over you, could easily overpower you.”

“They wouldn’t. They won’t. There’s nothing to worry about,” Freya quickly reassured, because she dreaded, often, Zak coming into the school and forcibly dragging her out, then placing her in a job with his firm. At times, when Freya was exhausted and worn down by it all, she worried she might let him. But really, could anything be more shameful? Having to be rescued by her bestie?

“I’m just tired,” she continued. “I’m glad it’s almost the end of the week is all. No kids for two whole days, it’s going to be bliss”

Zak’s frown remained, but he nodded slowly, sipping on his own glass. “Then let’s get you fed. You always get moody if your belly’s empty.”

“I do not!”

“Sparks, you do. Remember that time that you lost that waitressing job at McBenny’s? You told the manager to fuck off when he tried to touch your ass?”

“You smacked him in the mouth when I told you.”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. My point is that you were broke all week and you
didn’t
tell me that, did you? I came round that Thursday and you were the biggest bitch ever.”

“Lies!”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.”

She rolled her eyes and gestured to her cell. It was lilting dangerously off the edge of the armchair. “I’ll tell it to someone in a minute if you don’t feed me.”

“Thereby proving my point.” Zak pulled his own cell from his pocket. “Chinese?” he asked.

She grinned. “You know me too well.”

“That I do.”

A moment later and Zak was placing the order for perhaps their billionth Chinese takeout, rolling off the names of dishes one after the other. Freya took advantage of the fact that his intensity was focused somewhere else for a moment. She curled up, her head resting against his shoulder, and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Hell, it wasn’t even cold anymore. Zak was so big, so solid, that he heated her up by simply sitting next to her. Freya grinned some more and wiggled a bit closer.

“Won’t be long,” he said the moment he dropped his cell phone back in his pocket.

She nodded. “I’ll grab some chopsticks in a minute.”

“And some bowls. You know I hate it when you dip your sweet and sour sticks in my oyster sauce because—”

“It mixes up the flavors,” Freya finished. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Sparks.”

“I’ll leave that to you, shall I?”

Zak nudged her in the side, though clearly he hadn’t factored their positions in properly because his elbow grazed the side of her boob. Freya shifted left and swatted him on the arm. “Douche.”

“Sorry.” A pause and then, “You always order the same thing,”

“I do what?”

“Was just thinking,” Zak said slowly. “You always order the same thing whenever we have Chinese.”

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

“Because there was no need,” he said. “It would have been the
exact
same thing.”

Freya shrugged and sipped on her wine. “I like routine. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Don’t you ever want to try something new?” he asked.

She shifted position again and looked up at Zak. Even sitting down she
still
had to look up, he had at least six inches on her. “What do you mean?”

He narrowed his eyes, and there it was again, that same intensity. It occurred to Freya, in that moment, as it was all focused on her, that it seemed to be particularly magnified tonight. Maybe he’d wrapped up another million dollar deal? Or was dating the latest supermodel? The intensity would settle down eventually, she was sure of that. Next Thursday, maybe the one after, he’d come around and he’d be normal Zak again for a little while. That was the pattern of their relationship
.

“
I mean, don’t you get tired of following the same routine all the time?” he asked. “You know, I could say exactly where you are, or what you’re doing at any given minute of the day. I know when you’re at work, or when you’re at the gym, even when you’re out. You’re rigid, Frey.”

“Structured.”

“Even with what’s-his-name you were like that.”

What’ -his-name
. Freya sighed. That was the generic name Zak gave to all her boyfriends. They were not Tony or Pete or Will, just what’s-his-name.

“What’s-his-name wasn’t worth changing my routine for,” Freya said softly. “If it’d been up to him, he would have put a stop to our Thursdays.”

“Who
will
be worth it?” Zak asked.

There was a peculiar note to his voice that Freya didn’t understand, or maybe hadn’t heard before. She wasn’t sure. She caught his gaze, a frown chasing across her face. “I don’t know, Zak,” she said honestly. “Maybe no one. No one but you.”

“Because I’m your best friend?” he asked softly.

“Exactly.”

He reached out and took her hand, wrapping their fingers together. They’d done the same thing so many times that Freya didn’t even think to stop him. Besides it felt good. He had large, capable hands that dwarfed hers.

“Frey…”

“Zak…”

They both spoke at the same time, each then opening their mouth to speak again, but a theme tune started on the television, one of Freya’s favorites, and it was blaringly loud. She pulled her gaze, and hand, away from Zak’s and reached out to grab the remote. “So loud…Christ…shall we watch this though, now it’s on?”

He snorted. “Storage Wars? Do I even get a choice?”

“Nope.”

She settled back against him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Vaguely, Freya remembered one of the what’s-his-names finding her and Zak in such a position. He’d been outraged, talking about boundaries and what was appropriate. Freya had understood exactly what he meant, she and Zak were closer than a lot of people could understand, but they were just
friends
. They cared about one another. So what if they hugged and cuddled and held hands? It may not be normal between others, but it was normal between them, always had been. And it had never crossed any kind of boundary. The cuddles remained just cuddles. The hugs were just hugs. Freya trusted Zak implicitly. He would never take advantage of her.

He simply didn’t see her that way.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later. The Chinese delivered in the usual record time, but then that wasn’t a surprise; the take-out place was only five minutes away. Zak jumped up from the couch, patting her almost dry head as he passed, and strode off to the door.

The Chinese was consumed in record time, the intensity Zak had shown seeming to settle down. They watched some TV, chatted about the latest news, Zak’s work, about friends they had in common, even about their families. By the time they’d run out of things to say, and drunk the entire bottle of wine; Freya more than Zak if she was honest, it was heading on for almost eleven o’clock.

“How quickly the time flies with you, Sparks,” Zak said.

“I’m amazing company,” she said back with a laugh. “But I am going to be exhausted in the morning. My commute’s a killer.”

“I’ll come pick you up,” he offered, as he always did. “Drive you into work.”

“In your fancy car? You’d never make it back out.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Hmmm…on second thoughts...maybe not,” she said quickly, because he
would
. A time or two Freya
had
given in to Zak’s offer of a ride. The looks she’d gotten though, as he glided to a halt outside her school, were enough for her not to do so again. Here, in this cold apartment, Zak fit into her world. They were the same two people from all those years ago. Even when Zak got all tense and weird, like tonight, Freya ignored it. He was still just Zak to her. Not the multi-millionaire or the man who people relied on for jobs and favors.

But elsewhere? At Zak’s fancy offices, at the parties he’d dragged her to, the ones she had flat out refused to attend for the last couple of years, at her school? Well, they
didn’t
fit, and it pained Freya to admit that. Which was why, mostly, she didn’t admit it, preferring to keep their little Thursday night bubble and ignore everything else.

“You’re probably busy tomorrow anyway,” she said quickly. “An early start followed by a late finish.”

Zak gathered up his jacket and scarf. “It’s going to be a
very
late one tomorrow.”

“Another date I bet,” she teased.

“Something like that,” he said. “I’m just going to use your bathroom.”

Zak didn’t take long, but Freya took the time to put all the foil boxes in the bin, dump the wine bottle and remove their glasses. By the time he returned the space looked vaguely presentable, though chilly. It was always chilly when she was on her own.

“I enjoyed tonight, Frey,” Zak said.

She turned, arms wrapped around herself, and shot him a smile. “Me too. I always do.”

“Walk me out?”

Freya nodded and followed Zak down the corridor. It never seemed creepy when Zak strode down it. Probably because he was so big himself, so imposing. He was a man who filled a space very easily.

“I’ll see you next week,” he said, pulling her in for a swift hug. He smelled as he always did, of an unidentifiable spice, and Freya couldn’t help but lift her hand and ruffle his hair.

“This needs to be cut,” she said as she pulled back.

He gripped her hand, and then oddly, placed a quick kiss on it. Freya frowned, unable to remember the last time Zak had done that.

“I know,” he said softly. “Soon.”

A moment later and he was gone. Freya closed the door, unable to stop the thought now banging around in her brain.

And you won’t see him again for another week
.

She sighed. Sure, she and Zak would email and text, but they would rarely meet up in between. Zak simply didn’t have the time, and she did not have the inclination to meet him in his world.

Six days.

Freya locked the door tight, and walked back down the now creepy corridor until she was in the main room. She was slightly tipsy and very tired. That was sure to explain the gloomy mood that had suddenly overtook her.

Ignoring the cutlery and plates that still needed washing, and the couch that now looked bare and cold, she stomped back to her bedroom, shivering a little on the way. She’d need to sleep in her tee and sweats tonight she decided. It was simply too cold to do otherwise.

Freya pulled back her duvet and headed off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her hands, Zak’s odd behavior, not to mention the swift kiss, playing on her mind.
Maybe something was bothering him, she thought. Perhaps he had something he needed to talk over?

“I’ll text him tomorrow,” she said to her reflection. “Make him spill the beans.”

She nodded to herself and picked up her toothbrush. It was then that Freya saw it just behind her, neatly folded on her laundry hamper. She dropped the toothbrush, turned and picked it up, oh so carefully.

It was as soft as she’d imagined it to be, still warm, and it smelled ever so slightly of spices.

Zak’s sweater.

Chapter Two

Zak was freezing cold as he walked back to his car. Freya’s neighborhood didn’t have on-street parking meaning he had to use one of the public lots a good five minutes away. The wind whipped through his thin jacket and straight to his tee as he walked, chilling his skin and making him shiver. He hunched his shoulders slightly and shoved his hands in his pockets, regretting the loss of his sweater.

Well, no, that wasn’t true, he regretted the cold, but not that Freya was now wrapped up in the soft cashmere—because there was no doubt she would have it on already. He grinned slightly as he imagined her finding it on the hamper in the bathroom and slipping it on over his M.I.T shirt. She’d be warm in bed tonight at least.

Zak’s grin faded as the image of Freya wrapped in her thick duvet, and all the layers of clothes came to mind. That fucking apartment of hers was
always
freezing. Every Thursday since winter had set in he felt like he’d entered a freezer whenever he arrived, and tonight had been no different. Zak knew it was because she couldn’t afford to run the heaters all the time. That she struggled to keep up with the bills.

How he wished she’d let him help.

He scowled as he jogged up the incline to the parking lot, finding his keys in his pocket and wrapping his fingers around them. Over the past decade, he’d tried everything he could to convince Freya to let him help out in some way, but she stubbornly refused. A bottle of wine and take out on a Thursday was fine, she let him do that. A small present for Christmas and her birthday she accepted only if it was within a twenty dollar limit. Anything else she flat out refused. Hell, even that gloomy apartment of hers was off limits. Zak had thought about simply buying the building and then fixing everything up in a sneaky kind of way without telling her , but knew she would be beyond angry if he did that. There was only one thing he lied to Freya about, and even that one thing felt like too much.

He scowled some more as that thought came to mind and mentally banished it to the back of his brain. It was surely too soon to start brooding?

Too soon but inevitable.

He shook his head as he unlocked his car and slipped inside. Immediately, he turned the engine on and pushed the heaters up to full blast. A few moments later and wondrous warmth flooded the car.

“Freya, Freya,” he muttered. “You should be in here with me, warm and comfortable.”

He sighed and pulled out of the lot, unsure for a moment where he was heading. He could go straight home of course, but that probably wasn’t the best idea. He had learned many years ago that sitting alone after an evening with Freya was a recipe for disaster. He’d brood for a bit, then start plotting, before realizing the plots weren’t going to work, before going back to brooding. Tonight, for some reason he had yet to comprehend, felt particularly hard, so home was off the list. He needed a distraction and there was only one place to get it. The club.

The streets were near empty as he drove, but then it was past eleven on a Thursday so that wasn’t really surprising. It took Zak only fifteen minutes to make the journey to the club and a parking space was waiting for him. It had been his car space for well over a year now. He pulled in, turned off the engine, and strode across to the building, smiling slightly as he remembered his first thoughts when he’d seen the elegant façade. An easy mistake to make, Zak suspected most passersby would think it was an up-market hotel too. The myriad of winking lights, the polished marble steps, the thick oak door, it all gave off that vibe.

Of course, the façade was just that, a thin veneer that hid the truth of what really went on behind those closed doors. Perhaps if someone passing looked closely they might realize the lights actually hid the fact that the windows were reflective, that no one
could
look inside them. And the oak door would not open, no matter how many times a person pushed against it, because only those who were members knew about the card reader hidden discreetly to the side.

Zak pulled his own card from his pocket and pushed the oak door open. The lobby was quiet, the checkerboard floor perfectly clean. Zak looked around him and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A moment later and his gaze rested on the hostess. She was sat behind a large desk in the back of the lobby, a smile on her face, and an enquiring look in her eye. Zak couldn’t remember ever arriving and finding that desk deserted no matter what the time. More than that, he couldn’t remember ever seeing a different hostess. It was always this one. Her name was Eliza.

She was sitting down, of course, so Zak couldn’t see all of her, but he knew that she was wearing a black dress and ridiculously high heels. She always did. Her honey-colored hair was left loose, dancing around her shoulders and her makeup was discreet.

Not for the first time Zak wondered how she always managed to be in the same place at the same time. Not that she wasn’t stunning to look at, God knew she was, but she never made him pause in that way. What did was the hair—because no matter what the shade of blonde—it always made him think of Freya. He compared every woman with golden locks to her…and found them all lacking.

“Mr. Harker,” Eliza said as he walked forward. “Would you like someone to escort you to your room?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t here for anything like that tonight. Not so soon after seeing Freya, it would feel like, he scowled, like a betrayal, and how fucking ridiculous was that?

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m heading to the bar.”

She and pressed a button under the desk. The double glass doors behind her opened, releasing a flood of warmed air. “Of course,” she said with a smile. “Enjoy, and if you need anything please let me know.”

He shot her a polite smile as he passed through the doors and into the corridor. It went on for quite some time before opening up to a grand staircase and a number of doors. Zak chose the second door on the left—straight into the bar.

He looked around and immediately spotted two familiar faces, Mitch and Rob. Zak had known both men before the club, they moved in the same business circles as him, and it had been Rob who’d put him up for club membership. That was the way the club worked, you couldn’t just turn up and ask to be let in, whether a woman or a man, someone had to recommend you. Only after finances and character were checked out would you then be permitted to apply for membership.

“Thought I might find you two here,” Zak said as he approached the men.

Rob slapped him on the back, whilst Mitch signaled the bartender. “Scotch?” he asked. “A large one I imagine.”

Zak nodded. “I’ll leave my car in the lot. Pick it up tomorrow.”

“Here,” Mitch said a moment later. “You need to down that.”

“Yeah,” Rob agreed. “We’ve been expecting you for the past hour.”

“Am I that predictable?” Zak asked.

Rob shrugged. “We know how hard these nights are for you.”

“And we’re not going to lecture you again,” Mitch interrupted. “Your love life is your own business, even if you are acting like a complete pussy.”

Rob laughed. “We said a dick, didn’t we? Not a pussy.”

Mitch downed his own drink. “Either or. Have you manned up yet by any chance? Sorted your fucking love life out?” He paused. “No, you wouldn’t be here otherwise would you?”

“We don’t talk about this,” Zak grated. “You know that.”

Both men grinned and despite himself, Zak grinned back. It was the only way to deal with it, to smile and pretend that all was well. Besides, Zak knew from experience that this teasing would go on for at least another ten minutes, longer if he let on how much it bothered him.

He deeply regretted confessing all to his friends, but it had been late one Saturday night, he’d been drunk, brooding, and it had been such a relief at the time to talk to someone. Zak remembered Mitch shaking his head and advising Zak to fess up or walk away. Rob was a little more understanding, but not much. Trouble was, in the end, no matter how he tried to explain it neither men could understand why he didn’t just make a move. Why he couldn’t simply go after what he wanted. But they had no idea of how delicate the situation was, how the years all added together into more than the whole.

They had no inkling how much he stood to lose.

“Let’s just say that this won’t be my first scotch tonight,” he said after a moment. “And leave it at that.”

A half hour and another drink later, Mitch had run out of steam complaining about his newest PA, someone he referred to only as trouble-with a-capital-T, and headed off home. Rob remained at the table with Zak. They were discussing the latest change in some stock they both held when Zak became aware someone was standing at the table. He looked up to see a woman he vaguely recognized.

Gemma, he thought, her name was Gemma.

“Rob. Zak.” She grinned. “Why are you both over here by yourselves?”

“We’re talking stock,” Rob said, grinning back. “Though we’re open to offers to change that.”

“Then you’re playing tonight?” she asked.

“I could be convinced,” Rob said at the same time Zak shook his head.

“Not tonight, Gemma.”

She pouted. “Soon then?”

He shrugged, because Zak did not know the answer to that. Every time he came into the club he promised himself it would just be for a drink, or a meet up with his friends. But every so often, when the months and months of frustration reached a fever pitch, it would become something more. The women in the club came for one reason and one reason only, and to most of them Zak was a challenge. A challenge they wanted to figure out.  The fact Zak had no intention of ever letting them didn’t seem to bother them at all. He suspected it just made them all the more eager.

If only the one woman in his life who meant anything felt that way.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any other answer out of him Gemma wandered off back to the bar. Zak’s gaze followed her, taking in the scene as he did so. There were maybe a dozen men still drinking and talking—many more than he would have expected on a Thursday night—not to mention an equal number of women, but that didn’t give a true count as to the number of people inside the building. Couples—maybe even more—would be enjoying themselves in their private rooms. No guilt. No worries. How Zak envied them. How he wished he could stand up, grab Gemma, throw her over his shoulder and retire to his room, completely guilt free. Hell, it wouldn’t even need to be her; he could pick from any number of the women who’d cast him a flirtatious glance or smile since he’d arrived.

Gemma. Marissa. Penelope, Lacy, Claire…the names went on and on in a never ending circle. They were all ridiculously attractive. The club had very exacting standards for the women they allowed in. Each was lovelier than any woman Zak had ever dated before and yet…

Zak felt his stomach roll a little as he mentally counted exactly how many of them he had spent time with over the last year. Though the number was low, it was too many, but then what else was he supposed to do, he thought bitterly. There was never any option of a girlfriend. Not anymore. He’d tried that over the last decade and no matter how great those women had been they were not
her
, and as the weeks with them went by that fact wormed its way into Zak’s brain until he couldn’t stand to be with them any longer. No, the club was the only option now. It combined networking, business and the possibility of meaningless encounters with women who expected, and wanted, only one thing from him.

A compromise.

The only way to try and assuage the guilt and deal with the fact that despite the fucked up situation he found himself in, he was still a red-blooded male with wants and needs.

“You should have gone with her,” Rob said slowly, interrupting his depressing thoughts. “She’s lovely.”

“They’re all lovely,” Zak said.

“But not as lovely as
her
?” Rob asked. “The woman we’re not allowed to mention. The one you don’t want to scare away.”

His stomach rolled some more as Rob, as usual, hit the nail directly on the head, and Zak rubbed a hand over his face—both because the scotch was working on him, and because he felt abruptly deflated.

It didn’t need saying, and it certainly didn’t need thinking, but the words whispered through his mind anyway.
No one could be as lovely as Freya, not ever.

And suddenly, maybe because of all the scotch, or the fact that Freya had looked so fucking adorable wrapped in his tee, her damp hair curling around her shoulders, or just because he’d reached the end of his tether, Zak found himself mentally repeating the questions that Rob and Mitch had been asking him for months.

How much longer am I going to live like this? How many more years do I have to wait? How many more meaningless encounters before I accept that I have to move on with my life?

He didn’t have a single answer. The only thing Zak knew for sure was that the wanting, the longing, it was
never
going to go away. At some point, something was going to have to be done about it, but just like for the last decade, he had no fucking idea what.