Well, so much for having the final chapter up before New Year, huh? Chinese New Year, maybe! Many apologies, everyone. In my defence, January turned out to be a write off rather than a write fest, unfortunately. Meh. Next year, I'm definitely having a flu jab!

Anyway, as a result of the long delay, it made sense to split the 'final' chapter – especially as it was shaping up to be a decent length. Without further ado …

….

Chapter 2

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Gene managed to get Alex seated on the bed, slipping her boots off before throwing back the duvet.

"In yer get, Bolly Kecks."

She blinked up at him.

"Can't possibly sleep in these jeans. Too tight."

Lord, have some mercy. He scratched his head.

"Right, here's wot we'll do. I'll close me eyes and you lean on me while yer try to undo 'em. OK?"

After a bit of unsteady manoeuvring she finally managed to get them down around her knees, falling back on the bed while he dragged them over her feet with a grunt of relief.

"The Jean Genie!"

She giggled at her own joke while Gene gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to peek. One glimpse of those amazing pins of hers and his fragile control would almost certainly dissolve.

"Into bed with yer, Madam Fruitcake. And don't give up the day job."

He heard the rustle of bedclothes and tentatively opened one eye, gratified to find her in the centre of the matress with the duvet pulled up around her waist.

"Don't leave me, Guv. Please."

She patted the empty space next to her, looking so lost and vulnerable that he hadn't the heart to refuse. Resigned to his fate, he shed his jacket and tie, laying them on the back of a chair before toeing his boots off. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and plumped up a pillow before stretching out on the bed next to her, glad of the thick duvet separating them.

"Gene?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I'm dying …"

He blew out a long breath. She didn't know it, but she'd probably taken several years off his own life since that first fateful meeting.

"We all are, luv. It's just a question of when."

Reluctantly he extended one arm in invitation and she shifted closer, laying her head on his shoulder. Reaching out with the other he flicked off the bedside light, plunging the room into sudden darkness.

"Gene?"

"Wot now?"

"Thanks for looking after me."

A wave of protectiveness washed over him.

"Yer welcome, Lady Bols. Now go ter sleep."

As he lay there, awaiting the change on her breathing, he realised he was exhausted too. The distinctive aroma of her perfume filled his nostrils – mysterious, exotic, enticing – and he found his eyelids drooping. What harm could a quick nap do? Twenty minutes, half an hour tops. He'd still have plenty of time to get downstairs and enjoy that bottle of red he'd promised himself earlier. Giving up the fight, he closed his eyes and relaxed back against the pillow. Seconds later, he was out for the count.

...

Alex surfaced from a deep and dreamless sleep into the pale light of a grey midwinter dawn. At first she was startled to find she had company, but then she recognised his familiar reassuring scent. Gene! Had she asked him to stay? She wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed he hadn't wanted to leave her alone in her inebriated state. Her heart gave a peculiar little lurch.

Outside, the predicted storm had arrived with a vengeance: a howling gale buffeted the building, hurling fists full of icy hail against the window like a petulant child. Alex shivered, instinctively shifting closer to Gene while taking care not to disturb his peaceful slumber. God knows, he deserved it after the week they'd had. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or disappointed to find him almost fully clothed and lying on top of the duvet. Trust the Guv to behave like such a gentleman. Something about that phrase niggled at her, but she wasn't entirely sure why. What exactly had happened the previous night? She had some vague recollection of vodka – a lot of vodka – which was odd. It wasn't her usual tipple, after all.

Mum … please come back to us …

The memory reared its ugly head without warning.

Molly. The vision.

Her throat constricted and tears sprang to her eyes as the truth finally hit her: she wasn't ever going back. Somewhere beneath her ribcage, a dull ache replaced the agony of the previous evening, and she exhaled a shaky breath. The pain would always be there, but she couldn't continue living in denial any more: she was stuck with this new reality, and somehow she had to make the best of it.

Blinking away the tears, she closed her eyes and fell into a semi-doze. To her surprise, her troubled mind finally began to calm: acceptance brought with it some kind of inner peace at least, it seemed. And things weren't all bad in her present existence. She enjoyed the challenges of her job, she'd made some good friends – and she had Gene. For all his faults, she'd come to think of him as one of the best men she'd ever known. He was her rock, her one constant in this new reality, and the thought of being without him was almost unbearable.

If I had managed to get back to Molly, I'd have lost Gene in the process.

Her eyes flew open as the enormity of the realisation hit her: she couldn't imagine a life without him in it now. He frustrated her to hell at times, but he also made her feel safe, protected, secure. And horny. Very horny. She permitted herself the ghost of a smile. So she had thing for rugged masculinity? Broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes and a sexy as hell pout apparently ticked all her boxes. So what? It wasn't like she was planning to jump into bed with him, was it? Present circumstances notwithstanding, of course. And there was a duvet separating them, so it didn't really count.

Relaxing back against the pillow, she let her mind wander. Memories of the previous evening began to swim to the surface. She vaguely recalled Gene helping her up the icy stairs and the relief of stumbling into a warm flat.

Want you, Gene. Always wanted you …

Her eyes flew open and her heart began to pound in her ears.

Oh. My. God.

Had she actually said those words out loud? While he was in the same room? She cursed inwardly, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, repeating the exercise until she started to feel calmer. What she needed now was a plan, preferably before Gene woke up.

Think, Alex, think.

Focusing her mind, she attempted to apply logic to the situation, weighing up her options. In the end, it seemed she only had two choices.

The first was denial. Pretend she had no memory of anything after leaving Luigi's. That way they could continue on as if nothing had happened. Problem solved. Only it wasn't, was it? Even if Gene believed her, which was not something she could take for granted given the fact she'd had a strong coffee and a healthy dose of fresh air by that point – even then, HE would still know. That knowledge would become the big fat elephant in the room, affecting both their working and personal relationships and slowly, inevitably driving a wedge between them. Denial was the coward's way out and she was no coward.

The other choice would require all the courage she could muster - and complete honesty. Taking the bull by the horns, or indeed the Manc lion by the tail, and admitting the truth. Fortune favours the brave and all that. After all, she did want him, didn't she? Lurid fantasies plagued her by day, and erotic dreams filled her nights: Gene, on top of her, moving deep inside her … bending her over his desk and taking her roughly from behind … groaning in pleasure while she straddled him on the backseat of the Quattro …

The sudden rush of arousal came as no surprise. In her idle moments, she'd often found herself wondering what kind of lover he'd be. He was clearly a sensual being beneath that gruff exterior: just the sight of him caressing a whisky glass, cradling it between those long elegant fingers as his tongue flicked out to gather the last few drops from that full lower lip, was enough to make her mouth go dry. The question was, did she have to nerve to act on her innermost desires? Because the result of taking action could only go one of two ways – a triumphant seduction or a devastating rejection. And if she did work up the courage, she would have to be willing to make all the moves: Gene would need some serious convincing that not only was she no longer under the influence, but that she wanted more than just a one night stand. So much more.

It was all or nothing. In or out, so to speak. Given that she had so much to lose, could she really take that risk?

.

…..

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I know, I know. I'm keeping you all waiting again. I'll try not to leave it several weeks before the final instalment this time, though!

If you're still enjoying, please take a few moments to leave me a quick review – must admit, I've been feeling pretty low and it would really cheer me up to know my humble efforts are still appreciated. :)