Chapter 33 : New Home

It was by evening the next day that Isla gained the courage to tell George what was brewing in her mind.

"Run it by me again, love." he requested just after he had swallowed his forkful of spaghetti and sauce.

Releasing a breath, Isla recapped. "I want you to come with me to my condo out of town. I don't feel safe here now. Julie knows this place, and I am sick of Jake troubling me. Tired of the lack of the privacy and..." She chewed on her bottom lip, the next words too thick to vocalize.

"I'm certain Jake won't be bothering you for quite some time," he protested.

"George, pleaseeee. I can't be here anymore and I need you with me. Come be with me, George. I told you I came here to punish myself. To pay the perchance for my sins. You said I should forgive myself right? I have. Please, I just...want you and me to..." She looked at him, wishing he could see in her eyes the words she couldn't say. Words she was too bashful to say out loud.

She needed him. That was all George wanted to hear. He looked at her face, not liking her parlor. She needed a change of scenery; somewhere quiet and serene. They both did. He had come to feel responsible for this woman, keeping her safe had become his duty. And if it offered him more alone time with her, even better. But...moving out of here with her, to live in an apartment together.... wasn’t that equivalent to swearing his commitment to her. How could he do so without telling her who he really was?

He cleared his throat, "Isla, there is something you need to know."

Her stomach squeezed tightly. Anxiously. "No, George." She whispered desperately, "It's okay. I don't want to hear it. Whatever it is, I forgive you. We are starting over. Whatever we did in the past, let it be in the past. Just...unless you don't lo--"

"I do." George cut in quickly, not wanting to her to even finish that train of thought. He wet his lips with his tongue, peering at her through his lashes. "Are you...sure?"

Isla nodded her head. Whatever secrets about his past George wanted to tell her, it wasn't necessary. She just wanted a new beginning with him, no chains of their past dragging them back.

George watched the determined line of her jaw, and the pleading eyes that watched him unblinkingly. Maybe...maybe it would be easier for him this way. Once they had settled in, he would tell her. Living together would fortify her feelings for him. Then she wouldn't be able to help but forgive him, then, if things continued progressively between them, she might agree to move to Chicago with him when he resumed work.

It sounded like the perfect plan in his head. George beamed at her. "When do we leave?"

***

Isla drove into the building's underground parking lot and shifted the gear stick into park, signaling the end of the ride for the night. She had taken over the wheel on their way back, loving the intense feeling of satisfaction she got from being in control of the Ferrari. The first car she bought for herself. She had abandoned all the ones her father gifted to her in Chicago, refusing to collect anything anymore from hands she considered soiled.

She turned to the side to catch George staring at her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. "What?" she asked, giggling.

He shook his head in bewilderment. "You, Isla, are a walking contradiction. So many things do not add up or make any sense."

She giggled harder, even though she didn't quite understand him yet.

"I don't know which has been a bigger shock to me," he continued. "Your love for war movies, or your love and knowledge of muscle cars." On their trip the previous day, Isla had confided in him that she often serviced the car herself, speaking with car vocabulary so appropriate, that he was tempted to take notes. "Where did you learn so much about cars, Isla?"

"Well, my boy," she teased adopting a British accent and patting his shoulder, "all will be revealed in due season… In due season." Laughing at his pouty expression, she proceeded to unlock her car.

***

George came in quietly, admiring as he always did, the beauty of this condo. It was three days now since they had moved here. It was nothing like their previous living conditions, it was tastefully furnished; minimalist, and classy.

He smiled as they made for the kitchen together, eager to start making dinner with her while they gisted like co-wives. He wanted this for life.

While he stocked away some of the produce they had brought into the refrigerator, Isla busied herself with washing the vegetables for dinner.

"So? How is your online job hunting going?"

Isla turned to look at George when minutes passed without her receiving the answer to her question. "George?"

George straightened up from where he had been hunched over taking the items out from the basket. He raised a brow at her in question, "Pardon?"

Of course he had heard her question loud and clear. Two days ago, Isla had finally popped the big question of what he did for a living. It had been the perfect opportunity to tell her who he was, but the words failed him. Instead, he had lied to her that he was laid off a big company in Dallas four months ago and was regularly surfing the net for appealing job opportunities. Isla didn't seem to completely buy the idea, but she didn't pry either. Rather, she would barrage him every day about any update on his efforts to get a job.

"I asked if there was any success today?"

He feigned ignorance. "Oh?" With a shake of his head, he hunched back down, and continued sorting out the vegetables, effectively avoiding eye contact with her. "Nothing much. I mean the last one I spoke with wants a virtual P.A, but the pay doesn't make sense for the workload he described."

"Well, maybe it's time you consider my offer. I can give it to you as a loan. Start something for yourself, George. It's hard at first, but trust me, nothing beats being your own boss."

George nodded in agreement. Her offer last night to give him money to set up something for himself was too kind, but even if George was truly jobless, he wasn't going to accept. He had put a lot of his pride aside moving here with her, but only because he knew he wouldn't be here long.

"Give me till the end of this week, Isla. Then I will know what to do." He was going to tell her then, that he wasn't a job seeker. He was whole-heartedly a cop. He stood up to help her with the vegetables.

Isla felt the pleasant pool of desire in her lower tummy when George sneaked up behind her and placing his hands over hands, joined her in dicing the leaks on the board. It wasn't the most effective way to work, but it was the most romantic. And it helped distract her from the questions in her head about what appeared to her to be George's reluctance to work.

***

Harry lay on his back, hands interlocked behind his head and a slight smirk on his face; the very picture of satisfaction. He turned to grin at the woman sleeping naked next to him, grateful he had come to George's building five days ago. It had been three days of sexual debauchery with this woman, and his longing for her was nowhere near blunt. She was greedy for him as well. He had gotten enough erotic memories to last him a while. His eyes traveled down the length of her body, admiring her perky, forty-something-year-old breasts and taut body. The woman had certainly gone under the knife, Harry's trained eyes noticed. A small nip here and a tiny tuck there. Harry didn't mind though; the result was outstanding.

Feeling a twitch in his groin, Harry leaned down to take one rosy bud in his mouth, sucking softly. He was instantly rewarded with a breathy moan, and Harry thanked God he had waited outside George's building. He moved a hand southward. It was time to really wake Katherine Evans up.