M stepped out of the elevator, turned on the light, and there he was, seated at her table like an invited guest. She sucked in her breath, but maintained her composure. "Bond," she said stiffly.
"Ma'am." He stood up to greet her.
M stayed where she was. "Of all the places we thought you would show up, this was not one of them." Of course it wasn't. Her address and her name would never show up on lists that MI-6 would generate. "I don't suppose you're here to recant your resignation."
"You know that I'm not," Bond said sharply, and M rebuked him with the slightest raise of her eyebrow. James closed the distance between them and M stepped back, painfully aware of the height he had on her and the brawn behind those wide shoulders. She put up her hand and pushed him back to arm's length. Under her hand, she could feel his heart beating.
His blue eyes were burning with anger. No, not anger, she realized. He wasn't after justice or revenge. What she saw in his eyes was passion, and what he wanted was a final conquest. Bond was here for what he could never have had before. Now that he was no longer her agent, the last taboo had been removed. "James," M said, "before you make a mistake, ask yourself how much this will mean to your future. If you leave now, there will still be a chance for you to walk away."
Bond took her hand slowly and carefully. He examined it as he spoke. "I've met many women who wanted to tame me, but you're the only one who actually has. You already controlled my life. ow take the rest of me."
M met his eye. "If you mean this, Bond, there will be no turning back. When you leave, you will never speak of this again."
"Understood." Bond led her to the bedroom, and it didn't surprise her that he already knew where it was.
***
The elevator closed behind her, and M pulled her robe tighter. She sipped a cup of tea and stared contemplatively out the window. It hadn't just been Bond who'd daydreamed about an encounter. He'd been more than what she'd imagined.
Several stories below, she could seem him leave the building and cross the deserted street. There was a flash that grabbed her attention and the crack of a gunshot, and when her eyes went back to the street there he was, lying on the rain-soaked pavement.
M sighed and turned her back to the window. She knew Bond would come here. The man hated unfinished business. Her phone rang, but she ignored it. Confirmation of a successful kill. Bond had walked away from the service and became a rogue agent. He might have lived if he'd only left with the secrets of MI-6. Now that he'd known her, he really did know too much.