The Hearts Series Books 1-4 - L.H. Cosway

THE HEART SERIES BOXSET

L.H. COSWAY

Contents Six Of Hearts Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Epilogue Hearts of Fire Playlist One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen

Nineteen The Story of Jack and Lille Epilogue King of Hearts Playlist Before One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen After Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Epilogue Hearts of Blue Playlist Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Glossary of Terms Epilogue Cross My Heart One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Hearts on Air About the Author Also by L.H. Cosway

SIX OF HEARTS

Copyright © 2014 L.H. Cosway All rights reserved. Cover pictures taken from Shutterstock.com. Cover design by RBA Designs. Editing by Indie Author Services. ISBN-10: 1500392782 ISBN-13: 9781500392789 This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

For the ones whose childhood was stolen. No matter your age, it’s never too late to steal it back. Believe in the unbelievable, because this world we live in is magic.

Do your worst, for I will do mine! — THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS.

PROLOGUE

1998.

J

ason’s neighbours’ house was much nicer than his own. At home all he ever heard was shouting, crying, or silence. All he ever felt was the pain of his father’s fists colliding with some part of his body. One day while outside in their adjoining back gardens, he’d befriended the neighbours’ daughter. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He liked being around her because she was always smiling, a smile full of happiness and perfect white teeth. He wanted to capture that emotion, steal a little piece of it for himself. Sometimes, on the days when his father was away at work, he felt something like happiness. It would just be him, Mum, and his brother Jack. He loved them both so much that he felt he would do anything for them. They would laugh and play in the garden, and for a time forget that in just a few hours the violence his dad always brought would return. The neighbour girl would give him and his little brother food. She must have sensed their hunger, somehow known his father tightly rationed everything and his mother was powerless to stop him. He was big and strong, and his mother was small and weak. That was the way his dad liked it. His favourite thing about his neighbours’ house, though, was the television. They weren’t allowed to watch TV in his house. It was against his dad’s rules. He would only ever hear it on at night time when he and his brother had been sent to bed and his father was home from work. At his neighbours’ house, he could watch endless television. There were no rules about that. He’d been waiting in the old shed in the garden that night, knowing his father had been out drinking and would likely return home in a temper. Jason planned to stop him this time. He would do whatever was in his power to keep him from hurting his brother and mother, even if it meant taking the beating himself. To pass the time in the shed, and to keep his mind from the pain he would soon endure, he brought some marbles and a deck of playing cards, practicing various tricks he’d made up. He always enjoyed doing tricks for people, seeing the look of

wonder on their faces as he dazzled them with his skills. At school he and his best friend Jessie would make a killing. Jessie would take the bets, and Jay would wager with his classmates that he could figure out which card they had without ever seeing it. It was one of the simplest tricks, but he was always challenging himself to think bigger. To master tricks that would impress people and gain their respect. It was past midnight when he heard his dad come in. The front door slammed shut, and his father’s feet pounded on the steps as he went up the stairs. He knew that his absence would distract his dad. He would go looking for Jason, and that would keep him away from Jack and his mother. As he peered out the window, he saw the light come on in his parents’ bedroom. There was some quiet talking, and then the light went off again. Silence. Jason let out a long breath. Perhaps this would be one of the rare times when his dad wasn’t in need of a punching bag. He decided to wait for twenty minutes before going back inside. His dad would be asleep by then and wouldn’t hear him sneaking in. As he waited, he heard muffled voices coming from somewhere nearby. Peeking out the window again, he watched as three men dressed in dark clothes approached the back door. They were encased in shadow, so Jason couldn’t see their faces. Frozen in place, he saw one of them bash in the glass part of the door. Then he reached in and opened it from the other side. Jason’s heart pounded. These were bad men, perhaps even worse than his own dad. He could feel it. They were breaking into his house, and he had to stop them. Racing for the door, he entered the kitchen to find two of the hooded men staring at him, while the other walked around the room, pouring petrol over everything. “Fuck! It’s McCabe’s kid,” the tallest of the three swore. “Take care of him,” said the one with the petrol gruffly before moving into the next room. The tall one grabbed Jason, but he struggled, biting and kicking at the man. Just as he started to scream, the man stuffed a balled-up dishcloth in his mouth, preventing him from making a sound. He continued to struggle and then felt a mind-numbing pain crash into the back of his skull. That was the last thing he remembered before he woke up, smoke and flames blurring his vision. His house was on fire, and his whole family was still sleeping upstairs. He stumbled to his feet, preparing to go and wake them up, but then he heard someone shouting at him not to move. A fireman grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. He struggled, but the man holding him was too strong. Seconds later he was outside, the fireman setting him down on a stretcher in an ambulance. “My family! I have to wake them up!” he protested hysterically, but a medic held him down. He felt bile rise in his throat, nausea overtaking him as he vomited into a bucket.

“He’s got a concussion,” he vaguely heard someone say. He’d never felt more helpless in his life, staring up at his house as the fire overtook it. He tried so hard to remember what those three men looked like, but their faces were just shadowy blurs in his mind. At the hospital, a female doctor with pretty, concerned eyes looked him over. She frowned when she saw the bruises on his ribs, asking where he’d gotten them from. He told her that he’d fallen off his bike. She didn’t look like she believed him. Time was either moving too fast or too slow; he couldn’t seem to tell. Whenever he asked about his mother and Jack, nobody would tell him anything. Then a bald man with glasses came and sat down with him in the room where he’d been placed. It was full of toys for little children, but at twelve years of age, Jason decided he had no interest in toys anymore. Jason could see in the bald man’s eyes that he wasn’t bringing him good news, and that made him lash out. He picked up a bunch of toy cars and began throwing them around the room. He didn’t want to hear what the man had to say; he knew he couldn’t handle it. A few hours later he was told that his uncle from America was on his way to come and take him to live with him. Jason had heard of this uncle, his mother’s eccentric brother, but had never actually met him. In the interim, his neighbours came to take care of him. They filled the doorway of the room in the hospital: mum, dad, and daughter. She had the biggest blue eyes, his favourite eyes. They were the perfect family, and his own didn’t exist anymore. His purpose was gone now. What was the point of his life if it wasn’t to protect Mum and Jack? His body started to shake as tears fell down his face. The girl rushed to his side, throwing her small arms around his neck and hugging him tight. She whispered that everything would be okay and that he was going to come and stay with them for the next few days until his uncle got there. It took him a long time to stop crying, but when he did, he went home with his neighbours. At their house he spent the saddest three days of his life. Then his uncle arrived and told him unsympathetically that his family were dead. He took him away to a world that was nothing and everything like the one he left behind. Each day Jason thought about those hooded men, about his mother and brother, whom he couldn’t keep safe in the end, and with those thoughts came one unchanging theme. Revenge.

ONE

Present day. Matilda. ometimes in life you just have to laugh. SThese last couple of weeks I’ve been making my debut into the hazardous world

of online dating, and right now I’m staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out if this latest “suitor” is serious or just seriously taking the piss. What does he look like? I hear you ask? Well, I know he’s got a really nice set of particularly shiny abs, or he Googled a picture of a really nice set of particularly shiny abs and used it as his profile image. Is that supposed to be oil or sweat? I can’t tell. Anyway, his message reads as follows: Hey, pretty lady, Dayum, I am agog! Your picture caught my attention as soon as I spied it. You are soooo flipping beautiful. I really hope we can get to know each other better. Please check out my profile and write me back. If you don’t, I might just have to cry. Steve. xxxxxxx. There are so many things wrong with this, I don’t even know where to start. First of all, I have to whip out the dictionary on my office shelf to check the meaning of the word “agog.” Its definition is “in a state of eager desire,” or “highly excited by eagerness, curiosity, or anticipation.” Right. Steve’s use of the word “agog” makes me the opposite of agog. In fact, I find myself in an eager state of desire to delete his message from my inbox. Then there’s his use of “dayum.” His profile states he’s twenty-seven years old and was born and raised in North County Dublin, where nobody uses the word “dayum.” And if they do, they need a good firm talking to. Somebody’s been watching too much MTV. And the mention of crying? I have no words. In any case, my reaction to his wooing endeavours is a big, fat “no thanks.” This is mainly because his message smacks of a copy and paste job, hence the use of

“pretty lady” instead of my actual name. I can imagine he’s been sending this bad boy out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the site. Or should I say every Tomasina, Dickina, and Harriet, waiting all agog for some unsuspecting woman to write back and be tricked into cybersex. I bet Steve only waits about ten seconds before inundating his victims with dick pics. We really do live in a world full of perverts. Also, I apologise to any woman whose parents were cruel enough to name her Dickina. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s eight forty-five. Only fifteen more minutes before the office officially opens, so I quickly log out of the pit of despair, otherwise known as my online dating site, and check to make sure I have all the day’s appointments prepared for. Brandon Solicitors is my dad’s law practice, which can be found in a small threeroom office space in Dublin city centre. Ever since I finished school, I’ve been working here full-time as his legal secretary. We mostly deal with small claims. You know, people who want to sue their local supermarket because they slipped and fell on a wet floor. Or people who want to sue their local supermarket because they “slipped and fell on a wet floor.” Please don’t overlook my use of sarcasm on that last sentence. Basically, we’re not exactly the high flyers of the law world around here, but we get by. The entrance door to the office swings open, and my dad, Hugh, limps his way into the room. His limp is particularly noticeable today, and it makes me frown. He must not be getting as much rest as usual. When I was just eight years old, our house was broken into by a group of thugs, and they beat my father so badly that he now walks with a permanent limp in his left leg. That’s not the worst of what they did, though. One of them shot my mother when she made an attempt to call the police. When I became hysterical at the sight of my dead parent, the shooter threw me into a mirror. The glass shattered and I got badly cut, leaving me with a permanent scar that runs from just below my ear, down the side of my neck, and under my jawline. Mum died that night, leaving me and Dad all alone. They never caught the burglars. I was only a child when it happened, but my heart remembers my mother, and I miss her every day. Dad never mentions it, but I know he does, too. She was the love of his life, and he never quite found it in himself to move on to someone else. “Morning, Matilda,” says Dad. “Could you get me a coffee from the place down the street? Our machine is broken again.” “Will do,” I reply cheerily in an effort to block out the horrific memory that had just been flitting through my head. “How have you been sleeping?” He grimaces and glances down. “I suppose you noticed the leg?” “Yeah, you need to rest it more often,” I say, grabbing my handbag from under my desk. “I was up half the night working on the O’Connell case,” he explains.

“Right, well, get an early night tonight, okay?” I urge, walking over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. He replies that he will, and I duck out of the office. I can be particularly protective of my dad’s health, because we’re really all the other has left in the world. Making my way down the narrow staircase that leads out of the building and onto the street, I bump into a tall man with golden-brown hair. I wouldn’t normally notice a man’s hair so specifically, but this guy has some serious style going on. It’s cut tight at the sides and left long on the top, kind of like a sexy villain in a movie set in the 1920s. I stare up at him, wide-eyed. He’s wearing a very nice navy suit with a leather satchel bag slung over his shoulder. Even though it was the first thing I noticed, his hair pales in comparison to the wonder that is his face. I don’t think I’ve ever been up close to such a handsome example of the male species in my life. Why can’t men like this write to me online? I ponder dejectedly. Because men like this don’t even know the meaning of the term “socially awkward,” my brain answers. My five-foot-something stares up at his six-foot-whatever, and I think to myself, what’s a prize like you doing in a dive like this? Actually, now that I’m looking at him, he does seem vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on where I’ve seen him before. Probably on the pages of a fashion magazine, if his looks are anything to go by. If it hasn’t already been deduced from the fact that I can’t even find a date using the romantic connection slut that is the Internet, then I’ll spell it out. I’m useless with men, and I’m talking all men. Even the nice approachable fellows. And I’m not looking at a nice approachable fellow right now. I’m looking at a “chew you up and spit you out” tiger. Rawr. Since the entrance to the building is so narrow, we have to skirt around each other. I give him a hesitant smile and a shrug. His eyes sparkle with some kind of hidden knowledge as he lets me pass, like beautiful people know the meaning of the universe and are amused by us ordinary folks who have to bumble along in the dark. I’m just about to step out the door when the tiger starts to speak. “I’m looking for Brandon Solicitors. Do you know if I have the right place?” I step back inside. He sounds like Mark Wahlberg when he’s letting his Southie roots all hang out. His deep American accent makes me want to close my eyes and savour the sound. But I don’t do that – because I’m not a complete psycho. “Yeah, this is the place. I work here, actually. I’m the secretary slash receptionist slash general dogsbody. It’s my dad’s firm,” I reply. Too much information, Matilda. Too. Much. Information. The tiger smiles, making him better-looking, if that’s even possible. And thankfully, he doesn’t comment on my fluster. “I have an appointment with Hugh

Brandon at nine. I’m Jay,” he says, and takes a step closer to hold his hand out to me. My back hits the wall, his tall frame dwarfing mine. I don’t think he realises just how narrow this space is, and now I can smell his cologne. Wow, it’s not often that I get close enough to a man to smell him. And Jay Fields smells indecently good. “Ah, right. Jay Fields. Yeah, I have you pencilled in. You can go on upstairs, and Dad will take care of you,” I reply, shaking his hand and letting go quickly so that he doesn’t notice my sweatacular palms. “I’ve got an errand to run.” He stares at me for a long moment, like his eyes are trying to take in my every feature, but that can’t be right. When he finally responds, it’s a simple, “I won’t keep you, then, Matilda.” God. Why does the way he says “keep you” in that deep voice have to make my heart flutter? It’s been literally thirty seconds, and I’m already well on my way to developing a crush. He makes some keen eye contact with me, then turns and continues up the stairs to the office. I’m already on the street when I realise I hadn’t offered my name, and yet he knew it. Perhaps he’d been browsing our website. Our offices might be shoddy, but I always make sure to keep our online presence up to scratch. There’s a picture of me, Dad, and Will, the other solicitor who works for the practice, on the “About Us” page. So if he knew who I was already, why did he ask if he had the right place? Miracle of all miracles, was he actually, like, chatting me up or something? Be still my beating heart. Or is he just the friendly, chatty type? I consider these questions as I walk inside the café three buildings down from our office and order two lattes to go. I briefly think about ordering something for the tiger, aka Jay Fields, but he might be one of those picky coffee drinkers, so I don’t. When I get back, I find Dad’s shut himself inside his office with Jay, and the next appointment is already waiting to be seen. She’s a middle-aged woman wearing a neck brace. I haven’t had the chance to look at her information, but I can imagine what she’s here for. Some sort of accident claim. What I really want to know is what Jay’s here for. Yep, I’m already wondering about this man way too much. I remember him calling up last week to make the appointment, and somehow I neglected to ask him what kind of a claim he wanted to make. It’s weird, too, because I have my set spiel for appointments, and I never forget to ask for all the information I need. It’s almost like my subconscious knew I was speaking with a gorgeous man, thus rendering me double “F-ed”: frazzled and forgetful. Knowing Dad will want his caffeine fix as soon as possible, I knock lightly on the door and wait to be let in. Dad calls for me to enter and I do, opening the door with the paper coffee cup in my hand. Jay’s sitting in the seat in front of Dad’s desk, his hands clasped together over his head as he lounges back, casual as you please. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to Dad and give him his beverage. He seems a little out of sorts, so I put a hand on his shoulder and ask, “Everything okay?”

Dad looks lost in his own head for a minute, and I have to repeat the question a second time to get him to answer me. “What? Oh, yes, everything’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, chicken,” he mutters. “It might be me who’s the problem,” Jays puts in. “I just presented your old man with a case he’s not sure he wants to take.” I look at Jay now, my brow furrowing. Who the hell is this guy? What he’s said has piqued my curiosity, though, so I close the door and fold my arms. Unless I’m needed to take notes, I don’t normally sit in on meetings with clients, but Dad’s demeanour has put me on edge, my protective instincts kicking into gear. Jay grins in a way that makes me think he’s pleased with my attention. “Oh, now she’s curious.” Okay, this man might be beautiful, but he’s also kind of strange. “Did you want to make a claim against someone?” I ask, because Dad still isn’t talking. I suppose he’s still considering whatever Jay’s case is. “Nope. I want to sue someone,” says Jay, all matter-of-fact. “For what?” “Defamation of character,” he answers before pulling a newspaper out of his bag. He flips through it, folds it open to the page he’s looking for, and hands it to me. I glance down at the tabloid, scanning the bold headline that reads, “Illusionist Jay Fields Causes Death of Volunteer.” I let my eyes drift briefly over the article, which features a promotional picture of Jay holding up a six of hearts card. Oh. Now I remember where I know him from. A couple of weeks ago The Daily Post broke a story about an Irish-American illusionist with a new show coming to RTÉ. He was filming an upcoming episode when a tragic accident hit. I scan the article before me, recalling the details. A couple of hours after wrapping up the filming of an episode where Jay was paying homage to Houdini by re-creating a version of his “Buried Alive” stunt, the volunteer who’d taken part had died of a heart attack. What Jay proposed to do was to put the volunteer, David Murphy, into a hypnotic state whereby he would only breathe in very little air, allowing him to be buried for twenty-four hours in an empty grave and not suffocate in the process. An impossible feat, many would say. The volunteer was given a panic button, and if anything went wrong, he could press it, and he’d be immediately dug up. In the end the panic button wasn’t needed, and he miraculously managed to survive the entire twenty-four hours underground. However, when he went to bed that night, he suffered a fatal heart attack and died. Needless to say, the tabloids caught on to the story and began posing questions about whether or not Jay’s stunt had somehow caused David Murphy to have his heart attack. After all, being buried alive is quite the traumatic experience. The piece before me, written by a well-known crime journalist named Una Harris, who was the one to break the initial story about Jay, is certainly extreme. It delves into Jay’s background in America, where she claims he spent a year in a juvenile detention facility for assaulting a man on the street. Before that he’d been

a runaway, squatting in derelict buildings in Boston. Harris poses questions about Jay’s less than squeaky-clean background. She wonders how a man who spent time in prison, even if it was a young offenders’ prison, would be given permission to carry out dangerous stunts as he had been doing in his show. She also wonders why Jay, who had been performing some very successful live shows in Las Vegas, would give all that up to move to such a small pond as Ireland to film a series that would only reach a tiny audience in comparison to the States. Overall, she basically out and out claims that Jay had shady motives for coming here, and perhaps he even intended for David Murphy to die. He did, after all, almost beat a man to death when he was just fifteen. Perhaps he’s simply come up with a more elaborate way to feed his need to harm people, Harris muses. Whoa, this woman really doesn’t pull any punches with her insinuations. It’s almost like she’s begging for a lawsuit. I mean, I’ve worked with my dad long enough to know that you should always have hard evidence before you publicly make claims about people that could be construed as libellous. And aside from a few hazy pieces of information about Jay’s teenage years, Una Harris has zero evidence. I draw my attention away from the newspaper to find that my dad and Jay had been having a conversation while I was lost in the article. “Don’t get me wrong,” says Dad. “The thought of taking on such a case excites me. I haven’t worked on anything like this in years, but at the same time I need to be selfless and tell you that there are far better solicitors out there for the job. I can even give you a few names to contact. You do actually want to win this case, I presume?” Jay uncrosses his legs and folds his arms. “Hell, yeah, I want to win it. And I know you’re the man for the job, Hugh, no matter how much you try to convince me otherwise.” I silently hand him back the newspaper and he takes it, his fingertips brushing mine. The contact makes my skin tingle. Stupid handsome bastard. Dad stares at Jay, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to say yes — he just doesn’t have the confidence to do it. In all honesty, I’m hoping he continues to say no. I know how stressful the kind of case Jay is proposing can be, and I don’t want Dad going through all that. He just turned sixty last month. The landmark birthday only functioned to make me more aware of how many years he might have left. “I’m sorry, Mr Fields, but I’m going to have to stick to my guns on his one,” Dad says apologetically. “Taking on a journalist is one thing, but suing a newspaper is going to require a top-notch firm. As you can probably see, we’re not that.” Oh. Jay wants to sue the actual newspaper? I’m impressed. That takes some serious balls. Okay, Matilda, stop thinking about the man’s balls. Jay lets out a long sigh and turns his head to the window. A second later he gets

up from his seat and thrusts his hand out at Dad. “Well, if there’s no way I can convince you,” he replies, and the two men shake hands. “Thanks for your time anyway.” Jay goes to walk out the door but then turns back for a second, an impish gleam in his eye. “Oh, before I go, can you recommend anywhere I might be able to rent a place close to the city? I’ve had to move out of the apartment I’d been staying in.” I take in a quick breath as Dad’s eyes light up. A couple of weeks ago he got it into his head to renovate the spare bedroom in our house so that he could take on a lodger and make a little extra money. I haven’t been too keen on the idea, since I don’t really want to share my living space with a stranger, but once Dad settled on the idea, there was no deterring him. I certainly don’t want to share my living space with Jay Fields. Not because of his supposed history mapped out by Una Harris, but because I wouldn’t be able to relax around him. He has this magnetic energy that makes me feel anxious and excited all at once. “It’s funny you should ask,” says Dad. “I’ve been planning on renting out our spare room — if you’re interested, of course. It’s got an en-suite, newly refurbished.” I squeeze my fists tight and walk back out to the reception area, taking a seat at my desk and slugging back a gulp of my coffee. I don’t like how rapidly my heart beats at the thought of Jay moving into that room, so I leave before I hear his answer. Please, please, please let him say no. My Dad’s raucous laughter streams out from the office; Jay’s obviously in there charming the pants off him. I silently curse my father for being such an easily charmed hussy. No more than a minute later, both Dad and Jay leave his office. I can see Jay looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I continue typing into the computer in front of me, feeling like if I look directly at him, he’ll somehow be able to tell how attractive I find him. “Matilda, could you do me a huge favour and bring Jay out to the house on your lunch break to see the room? I’d do it myself, only I have a meeting to go to.” Oh, Dad. You have no idea how you’re torturing me right now. It takes me several beats to answer. When I finally do, my voice is quiet. “Yeah, okay.” What I really want to say is hell, no, but that would make me look like a bitch. And I’m not a bitch. Well, outside my own inner dialogue, I’m not. “Great,” says Dad before turning to the waiting neck-brace woman. “Ah, Mrs Kelly. You can come on in now.” Mrs Kelly follows Dad into his office, leaving me alone with Jay. “What time do you have lunch?” he asks in a low voice, stepping closer to my desk. “One o’clock. We’ll have to get a taxi, because I need to be back here by two.” “That’s okay. I can drive us,” says Jay, and I bite my lip, looking up at him now. Wow, his eyes are kind of mesmerising, not quite brown, not quite green. We stare

at one another for a long moment, and there’s a faint smile on his perfectly sculpted lips. “All right. See you at one,” I tell him breezily, and then my eyes return to the screen in front of me as he leaves. On the outside I’m all business. On the inside I’m a nervous wreck. How in the hell am I going to act like a normal human being while spending at least an hour in his company? He really doesn’t know what he’s in for. I wager I’ll last about five minutes before I blurt out something stupid, thus rendering the following fifty-five minutes an awkward delight. And when I say “delight,” I mean nightmare. Just as I’m simultaneously organising files on my computer and agonising over my impending social doom, Will walks in the door, his wisp of brown hair a windswept mess atop his head. He was in court this morning, which is why he’s late to the office. Unlike most men, I get along with Will just fine. That’s probably because I find him about as sexually appealing as a pair of oversized granny knickers. So, when I said I’m crap with all men, I suppose I should adjust that statement. I’m just crap with all men that I fancy. Sure, I can be their friend. But their girlfriend? Well, that just never seems to pan out. My one and only boyfriend from several years ago unceremoniously dumped me by text, and that just says it all. I’m still scarred from the experience. “Morning, Will,” I greet my colleague as a folder slides out of his half-open briefcase. He bends over to pick it up, and I’m greeted with his unimpressive rear end. Two flat fried eggs in a hanky. What? I said my inner dialogue was a bitch. The important thing is that I’d never actually say something so mean out loud. We all have thoughts that we would never, ever vocalise. And people who say they don’t are liars. “Hi, Matilda, could you be a love and make me a cup of tea? I’m parched.” “Sure,” I reply. “It’s a good thing you’re a tea man, because the coffee machine’s on the outs again.” He shakes his head. “That machine is broken more often than it’s functioning. I think it’s time to retire the poor old dear.” I let out a mock gasp. “Don’t ever let Dad hear you say that. You know he never throws anything out until it’s well and truly dead.” Will laughs and walks into his office. I register the next couple of appointments as they arrive and spend the hours before lunch carrying out my usual mundane administrative tasks. I’d much rather be at home working at my sewing machine. By day I might be a legal secretary, but by night I’m a dress designer extraordinaire. I design and make my own creations, and sell them through Etsy. It doesn’t make me enough money to be a proper wage, though, which is why I work here. Before she died, my mother was a seamstress, and one of my earliest memories was of her teaching me how to sew. The hobby stuck with me, and now it’s my true escape. I find it wonderfully therapeutic to lose myself in a new design. In fact, it’s

one of the only ways that I can still feel close to my mum. When I glance at the clock and see it’s almost one, I make a quick run to the bathroom to fix my hair and the little makeup I put on this morning, staring at my face in the mirror. If I’d known I’d be meeting someone like Jay Fields today, I would’ve made more of an effort. My friend Michelle tells me I have great lips and that I should try to enhance my best features. Actually, her exact words were “blowjob lips,” and I blushed like a maniac. I tend to get along with people who are the opposite of me. Confident girls who take to men and sex like ducks to water. They paddle through the lake of dating without a care in the world. Michelle is one of those girls, and I admire that about her. There’s a certain bravery in not giving a crap what other people think and simply grabbing what you want in life. I run a brush through my long dark brown hair, making sure to sweep it close to my face on the side with my scar. I almost always wear my hair down in order to disguise it. It’s just a few silver lines, and yet I’m constantly aware of their presence, hoping people don’t notice. I can barely remember his face, and yet I hate the man who scarred me more than anything else in this world. And I hate him more for killing my mother. Hate is an ugly emotion, though, so I try not to let it consume me. After swiping on one more layer of mascara to frame my light blue eyes, I pack up my handbag and walk back out to the reception. I stop in my tracks when I find Jay leaning against the wall, his arms folded casually across his chest. I hadn’t heard anyone enter the office, so I get a tiny fright, my hand going to my heart for a second. Damn, he’s got those super-silent ninja skills. His eyes are on me, and I know it must only be one-sided, but every time our eyes connect, I feel a fire burning low. What is it about this man? He’s incredibly attractive, yes, but there’s something else, and for the life of me I can’t figure it out. He smiles at me, showing teeth, and jangles some car keys in his pocket. “You all set, Matilda?” he asks. I take a deep breath and nod my head.

TWO

he first thing I notice as we round the corner to where Jay parked is that he’s T got a really nice car. A black Aston Martin V8. One of Dad’s favourite television

shows is Top Gear, so I can’t help unconsciously absorbing useless car information sometimes. The second is that he seems to have all his worldly possessions packed in the back seat. It’s bizarre to think that he’s temporarily homeless, and yet he’s driving around in a car worth well over 100,000 euros. It just doesn’t make sense. I slide into the passenger seat when Jay opens the door for me, savouring the feel of the leather. For a second I pretend I’m a sassy Bond girl about to be chauffeured by my spy lover to a swanky hotel for sweaty, passionate, over-the-top sex. “So, where to?” Jay asks, now in the driver’s seat and waiting for my instructions. I got a little lost in the fantasy there. “Oh, our house is in Clontarf. Do you know the way?” “I know the gist of it. You can direct me once we get close,” he responds, smiling, and pulling away from the curb. As he starts the engine, the radio comes on, heavy rock music blasting from the speakers. I glance at the dash to check what station is playing, my nervous disposition urging me to fill this short car journey with some variety of conversation. “Oh, I see you’re a Phantom FM fan,” I say over the music. The sentence couldn’t have come out any nerdier, but it’s the first crappy thing that popped into my head. Jay’s eyes flick to me, then to the dash, then back to the road ahead of him. His expression is blank before the edges of his mouth curve in a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he finally responds before lowering the music so we can talk properly. Oh, no, don’t do that. “They play some good shit.” “You should give Radio Nova a listen. They play some, uh, good shit, too.” Jay lets out a deep chuckle, and I resist the urge to face-palm. “Oh, yeah? What kind of good shit?” “Um, the usual rock fare. They play a lot of Fleetwood Mac. I love Fleetwood Mac.”

Jay laughs some more, and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or laughing with me. Then he gives me this warm look that tells me it’s the latter. There’s the fire again. I really wish he’d stop looking at me like that, but asking him to stop would surely be too weird a request. “What’s a kid like you doing listening to Fleetwood Mac? Shouldn’t you be swooning over Brandon Flowers or something?” he teases, and it raises my hackles slightly. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-three, for your information.” Jay turns his head to look at me again for a brief moment. His lips curve, and it makes me realise he was only teasing. “So, Fleetwood Mac?” he probes. I shrug. “I don’t know. I just love every single one of their songs — not to mention there was this palpable angst about them back in the day. So many emotions flying around, you know?” “I get you,” says Jay, fixing his attention back on the road. “Do I bang a left here or a right?” he asks as we approach a roundabout. His turn of phrase amuses me as I respond, “Go left, then keep on driving straight ahead. Our house isn’t far. Also, on the subject of our house, why on earth do you want to rent a room when you’re driving around in a car like this? People who drive Aston Martins can generally afford to buy their own house — buy several, in fact.” Jay gives me a sneaky look. “If you really want to know the truth, I won this car on a bet.” I raise an eyebrow. “That must have been some bet.” “It was. Found myself playing poker with a bunch of guys who performed with the circus one night. Long story short, I came away with an Aston Martin, five grand, two llamas and an elephant. I was feeling generous, so I let them keep the llamas and the elephant. I mean, who has a backyard big enough for an elephant?” I stare at him, my mouth open slightly. “Is that true?” His hands flex on the steering wheel. “Of course it’s true. Why would I lie?” Laughter bubbles out of me. “You must lead a very colourful life, Mr Fields.” The way he smiles after I say it makes me think he likes that idea. When we pull into the drive, Jay gets out first, and before I have the chance to do it myself, he walks around the car and opens my door for me. I like that. I rummage through my bag as I exit, trying to locate my keys. By the time I reach the door, I still haven’t found them, and I try to backtrack in my head to remember if I forgot to bring them with me this morning. A little jingle sounds at my ear, and I turn to see Jay standing behind me, my keys hanging from his hand and a brazen gleam in his eyes. “Are these what you’re looking for?” he asks with a smirk. I stare at him, hands on my hips, while a little rush of curiosity goes through me. “Okay, how did you do that?” He gives me the keys before answering innocently, “Do what?”

I snicker. “You’d make a great pickpocket, you know.” “Correction,” Jay replies. “I made a great pickpocket.” I laugh in spite of myself. “Are you sure this is something you want to be telling a prospective housemate?” “Generally, no, but you’ve already decided that you like me, and discovering I used to pick pockets isn’t going to change that,” he says with absolute certainty as he rocks back on his heels and looks down at me, a devilish smile on his lips. Okay, hold on a second. How can he possibly know that? Even if it is true. I step inside the hallway, and he follows suit. “When did you come to this conclusion?” I ask in a low, self-conscious voice. “Do you really want to know?” He grins, leaning closer. I stare at him for a second, and my heart stutters. He really is gorgeous, especially up this close. I’m thinking that if I say yes, I could be opening a whole can of worms, so I go for the safe answer. “No. I guess I don’t.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and I quickly walk forward to lead him up the stairs. “The room’s this way,” I call behind me. I’m halfway up, and he’s so quiet that I have to turn to make sure he’s following. What I find when I do makes my heart stutter even harder, because those hypnotic eyes are unmistakably glued to my arse, and it looks like he’s enjoying the view. Tingles spread through my chest as his gaze travels up to me and his lips form a smirk. Oh, God. Before he can say anything, I turn back around and practically jog the rest of the way up. When we reach the spare room Jay takes a look around. The only furniture is a pine double bed, a matching wardrobe, and a bedside dresser. The walls are painted a plain magnolia, and there are simple cream cotton curtains on the window. Jay has a happy look on his face as he steps inside the en-suite. He emerges a minute later, declaring, “The room is perfect, Matilda. Where do I sign?” I almost stammer. “Oh, well, I’ll have to talk to Dad first. He probably has a few more prospective tenants he needs to show around before he selects the person he’s going to rent it to. He’ll also want to do a background check.” Jay leans his arm against the door frame and eyes me. “Hmm, is she lying or telling the truth? I think she’s lying. You don’t want me living here, darlin’?” “I’m not lying,” I state, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. “I’ll call Dad now if you like and let him tell you himself,” I say, shoving my hand into my bag for my phone. I can’t find it, though, and I let out a little huff of frustration. Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You didn’t happen to swipe my phone as well as my keys, did you?” Two dimples deepen in each of Jay’s cheeks as he answers, “I never swiped your keys, Matilda. They fell out of your bag when you were leaving the car. I simply picked them up for you.” Great, that means I’ve lost my phone and will probably have to fork out for a new one. I distinctly remember slipping it into my bag about twenty minutes before lunch. Did I drop it when I was on the street?

Jay pushes off the doorframe and takes a few steps toward me, stopping a mere foot away. As he tilts his head to the side, his eyes never leave mine. A second that feels like an hour passes before he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out an iPhone. “I’ll just call your Dad myself, let him know I’m interested.” “Yeah, you go right ahead,” I reply, doing my best to sound breezy. He’s silent for a moment as he holds the phone to his ear, then says, “Hugh? Yeah, it’s Jay. Listen, I’ve just had a look at the room, and it’s exactly what I had in mind.” He pauses for a second as my dad talks to him down the line. I walk over to the window and glance out at the view of the houses on the street behind ours, my skin goose-pimpling. Jay was right when he said I liked him, and I don’t even know why I do, aside from his obvious attractions. There’s something about him that tells me he’s one of the good guys, despite what the little I know of him would lead me to believe. And yet, the idea of us living under the same roof has my stomach all aflutter. “Cool, cool. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Hugh,” says Jay, hanging up the phone and bringing his attention back to me. The grin on his face says he’s won this round. I knew he’d managed to charm Dad earlier. “Your old man said there’s a copy of the tenancy agreement in the living room cabinet. He also said I could sign and move in tomorrow. He’ll take me on good faith for now and do the background check in the morning.” “Right, I’ll just fetch the papers for you,” I say tightly, and move to go downstairs. As I walk by him, he catches my elbow in his hand to stop me. His fingers are warm on my skin, burning a fire right through to my veins. “You okay with this, darlin’?” he asks, his voice pure gravel. The way he says “darlin’” in that accent literally kills me every time. He says it like this: “dahlin’.” God. Stupid hormones. I swallow. “I’m fine with it. Do you mind if we stop here for a couple of minutes? I have a sandwich in my bag for lunch that I want to eat.” I’m proud of that speedy subject change. He eyes me for another second before letting go. “No problem. Take as long as you need.” First I go get the papers for him to sign, and he spreads them out over the kitchen counter, reading all the small print. I sit at the table and unwrap my chicken and onion relish sandwich, taking a big hungry bite. “This is a six -month lease,” says Jay. “You think your old man might be open to extending it to twelve months? I hate moving once I’ve settled in a place.” “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” He nods thoughtfully but doesn’t bring his attention immediately back to the papers. Instead he walks over to the few picture frames hanging on the wall opposite him. Gesturing to a photograph of me sitting on the couch with my old cat Maggie on my lap, he observes, “Nice cat.” “She was,” I tell him, chewing. “She died last year.” “I’m sorry. You gonna get another?”

I shake my head. “No cat could ever live up to Maggie. She was a feline of mystery. Every evening when I came home from work, I’d find her sitting in the back garden, smelling of lavender perfume.” “Oh, yeah?” Jay says, coming to sit across from me at the table, a look of interest on his face, so I tell him the story. “Yeah. I made it my secret detective mission to find out how she was coming to smell like that. So, whenever I had the morning off, I’d follow her. She was too quick for me, though, and I lost her every time. I never found out what the deal was until she died. An old woman who lives a few doors down showed up at the house, bawling her eyes out. She had a bunch of photos of Maggie from her house, and she reeked of lavender. Apparently my cat had been living a double life. Spending the daytime hours with this old lady and the evenings with me.” “Sounds like Maggie was one clever cat, Watson.” I burst out laughing. “Oh, she definitely was.” A pause. “Why’d you call me that?” “You know, because of your detective work. Watson and Holmes.” I wrinkle my nose. “Why can’t I be Holmes?” Jay folds his arms and quirks an eyebrow. “Because only I’m allowed to be Holmes.” “Well, he was a bit of a lunatic,” I agree teasingly. What’s this? Am I actually flirting? Jay looks like he’s suppressing a big smile. It’s enough encouragement for me to go on, “So, am I a Lucy Liu Watson or a Martin Freeman Watson?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and bringing our faces closer. “Which do you want to be?” “Eh, Martin Freeman, obviously. That way I could be BFFs with Benedict Cumberbatch.” “But if you were Lucy Liu you could be BFFs with Jonny Lee Miller,” Jay counters. “Ugh, no, thank you. I’d have to listen to him whine on and on about missing his chance with Angelina Jolie and how it’s the biggest regret of his life.” Jay’s mouth opens as he lets out a loud guffaw of a laugh. “That was a good one, Watson!” Ignoring his compliment, I ask, “Do you want the other half of my sandwich?” My belly is too full of butterflies in his presence to eat it all myself. “Give it here.” I push it across the table to him, and he eats it in less than four bites. There’s something about watching him eat that gives me a pang of déjà vu. Strange. Jay signs the tenancy agreement and tells me he’ll be around some time tomorrow evening to move in, provided his references all check out. “Can I ask you a question?” I request shyly as he’s driving me back to the office. “Fire away.” “Did David Murphy really die because of the ordeal you put him through?” Jay’s fists reflexively tighten on the steering wheel, and he doesn’t look at me as he answers, “What am I, Matilda?”

“Uh, I don’t….” “What’s my profession?” “You’re an illusionist.” “Right, and what’s an illusion?” I hesitate a moment before replying, “Something that isn’t real?” “Exactly. Despite what some of the crazies out there would have you believe, everything I do is a trick. Sleight of hand, misdirection, smoke and mirrors. I show people a table and make them believe it’s a chair. But in the end it’s still a table. David’s heart attack would’ve happened that night whether he’d taken part in my stunt or not.” “But Una Harris’ article said you gave his family twenty grand,” I practically whisper. “Yeah, I did. Because David wasn’t just some random volunteer. He was a good friend of mine. I wanted to help pay for the funeral.” “Oh.” “Yeah, oh,” Jay replies, and there’s a long silence before a small smile splits his lips. “You feeling like a bit of a shit now, Watson?” I do my best not to smile back. “Just a little.” He chuckles softly. “Good.” A minute later he lets me off at the office and then pulls away in his flashy car. I can’t believe this man could be officially sharing a house with me in only a day’s time. There are a few people already sitting in the reception area, waiting to be seen, when I arrive and hurry to my desk. As I take my seat and quickly register each of the waiting clients, something red catches my eye. Sitting atop a stack of folders that have been placed on the floor, waiting to be filed, is my phone. And quite mysteriously, resting on the screen is a red and white six of hearts, taken from a deck of playing cards.

THREE

ad and I arrive home the next evening at six-thirty, having taken the bus as D usual. We have a car, but Dad says it’s not economical to drive to the office and pay

exorbitant parking fees when we can simply use public transport. As it happens, Jay’s references did check out, so Dad called him earlier to give him the good news. There’s no sign of him yet, and I can’t say I’m not relieved. I definitely need some time to relax into the idea of him living here. In the kitchen I put the oven on to pre-heat, planning on cooking a lasagne for dinner. Dad sits at the table, sorting through files in his briefcase. “Put those away,” I scold him mildly. “I think you should spend this one evening work-free. You’ve been overdoing it lately.” Dad puts down a file and rubs his forehead. “I know, love. It’s just so hard to turn off these days.” “What do you think about joining that book club I mentioned last week? It sounds like fun and will give you something to do that’s not work-related.” “A-ha, but what if they’re reading a novel about a court case?” he counters, and I sigh. “Dad.” “Okay, I’ll go to the book club if it makes you happy.” “Great, the next meeting is on Wednesday.” Dad smiles at me now. “It’s funny how the roles change, isn’t it? I remember a time when I was the one who looked out for you. Now you’re the one who’s looking out for me.” I smile fondly back him. “We look out for each other, Dad. Always.” He’s right, though. Up until around the time I turned twenty-one, Dad had been very protective of me, always making sure I was safe and sheltering me as much as he could. He’d even sent me to an all-girls convent school growing up, which could be why I’m a little behind other women my age when it comes to men. Losing Mum when she was so young made Dad cling to me more tightly than your average parent. I make a quick trip to my room to change out of my work clothes and get into some comfy yoga pants and my favourite, a Game of Thrones T-shirt that reads,

Stick ’em with the pointy end. If Jay’s going to be living here, then I might as well let him see the real me. I have no desire to put in the effort of pretending I go around the house all dolled up to the nines twenty-four/seven. Better to disillusion the illusionist from the get-go. I wash off my makeup and moisturise, then take out my contacts. Slipping on my black-rimmed Ray Ban glasses, I tie my hair up in a bun. There. The outfit says, This is me. Take it or leave it. Just as I’m popping the lasagne in the oven and Dad has settled himself in front of the TV in the living room, there’s a knock at the door. Walking nervously down the hallway, I recognise Jay’s tall frame standing in front of the frosted glass. I take a deep breath and open the door. Whoa. It seems I’m not the only one who decided to dress down. Gone is his business suit from yesterday. Now he’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a grey Tshirt, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. And wow, both his arms have tattoos right down to the wrists. I make a big show of giving him a curious look. “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, but I was expecting someone else. You wouldn’t happen to have seen him? Goes by the name of Jay Fields, about your height, wearing a suit, no visible ink?” “Quit being a clever clogs, Watson, and come give me a hand with my stuff,” he chuckles, not for a second batting an eyelid at my dressed-down appearance. Oh, well, all right, then. I take the box he’s holding and set it at the end of the stairs, then follow him out to his car to help with the rest. “So, who are you supposed to be now, Clark Kent or Superman?” I ask jokingly as he hands me another box. This one rattles, and I look inside to see a plastic dummy head, a medieval knight’s helmet, a bunch of fake coins, and an industrialsized roll of cello tape. “Fuck that. I told you I was Sherlock,” he replies with a smirk, stubbing his smoke out with the toe of his boot. He moves to stand in front of me and takes me by surprise when he gives my nose a little pinch. “Besides, you’re the one wearing the cute glasses.” I laugh. I can’t help it. He’s just so…charming. Once we’ve gotten everything inside, along with a large wheelie suitcase and two rucksacks, I ask him if he wants something to eat. “Sure. Whatever you’re making smells delicious, and I’m famished,” he says, giving my shoulder a firm squeeze and then going into the living room to talk to Dad. I can still feel the pressure of his hand on me as I throw together a salad to go with the lasagne. In the far corner of the kitchen is my dressmaking station, with my old sewing machine and all my fabrics. I eye it longingly, looking forward to finishing the evening gown I’m currently working on when I’m done with dinner. Dad and Jay’s conversation drifts in from the living room as they talk animatedly about Jay’s defamation case. I can tell Jay’s still set on convincing Dad to take him on as a

client, and it baffles me. I just don’t get why he wants Dad to represent him so badly. Setting the food on plates, I call them both in to sit at the table. As he takes the seat across from me, I notice Jay eyeing my T-shirt with a look on his face like he finds it amusing. “Is that some kind of a euphemism?” he asks, and I can tell he’s trying to embarrass me. Dad’s phone buzzes and he picks it up, typing out a message as he eats his food, not paying us any attention. So much for him taking a night off work. “No,” I reply, annoyed. “It’s from a TV show I like.” “Is it a pornography show?” His smirk grows into a full-on smile, and I can only be thankful that Dad’s engrossed in his phone right now. My cheeks flush while Jay shovels a forkful of lasagne in his mouth, because there is quite a bit of sex in it. “There’s no such thing as a pornography show.” I scowl. “Oh, I beg to differ.” “Dick!” says Dad loudly as he answers his phone, picking up his plate and walking into the next room to take the call. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that meeting we had last week.” There’s a long, long stretch of silence. That was hilarious, but I’m not going to laugh. Not. Going. To. Laugh. Unfortunately, the second I make eye contact with Jay, we both burst into a fit of laughter. “Talk about perfect comedic timing,” I mutter. “Yeah.” Jay grins. “And about the T-shirt, I was only pulling your leg, Watson. Winter is coming and all that jazz.” “You’re cruel!” “Only when it makes you blush.” And now I’m blushing even harder. I start eating my dinner with gusto so that I don’t have to talk. When I regain the ability to speak, I ask, “So why did you leave that card on my phone?” He looks up at me as he swallows. “Who in the what now?” “My phone. I found it in the office with a six of hearts on top.” His smile brings out his dimples again. “Well, that’s interesting.” “Yeah, so why did you do it?” I dig my fork into the salad. “I didn’t do anything.” Furrowing my brow, I try to backtrack through my day. Just before lunch I’d put my phone in my bag, and then I’d brought the bag with me into the bathroom. As I was leaving the bathroom, Jay showed up in the office and we left. At no point would he have had the chance to swipe the phone. “Wow. You’re good,” I breathe. “I know you took it — I just can’t figure out when or how.” His smile grows wider as he chews on his food. Then his voice deepens as he replies, “You don’t know the half of how good I am.”

Okay, no way am I touching that one. “So, uh, has your show been completely cancelled, then?” He shrugs. “It’s all up in the air at the moment. They haven’t said it’s cancelled, but they haven’t said it isn’t cancelled, either. I have a meeting tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be given any real answers. It all depends on the case. If I can clear my name, then I’m hoping we can get back to filming. But that’s going to take forever, and even if I am in the clear, there’s still a chance it won’t go ahead. Accusations stain your rep even after you’re found innocent, ya know?” “Yeah, I know.” “I think I can convince your Dad to take the case, though,” he says then, voice low. I sigh. “Why are you so determined for him to do it?” He stares at me for a long time, so long I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then he asks randomly, “Do you know that I was raised by my uncle for a couple of years after my parents died?” “What does this have to do with…?” “He was a behavioural science professor,” Jay interrupts before I have the chance to finish. “Brought me to live with him over in the States when I was twelve. Up until then I’d actually lived here in Ireland, if you can believe it. Long story short, he was a fucking nut and would make me study college-level textbooks day in and day out. If I didn’t or couldn’t understand something, he’d punish me in various ways until I did — not letting me eat, not letting me go to the bathroom. It’s one of the main reasons why I ran away and became a street kid. But despite all the abuse, the endless studying taught me techniques on how to read people. When I look at your old man, I see the guy who’s gonna help me win this case. I don’t care about the hot shots. I want your dad, and I’ll stop at nothing until I convince him.” “Oh,” I say, hushed. “I’m sorry about your parents…and your crazy uncle.” Jay waves away my apologies. “It’s all in the past, Watson. So, you gonna help me win the old guy over?” I eat the final bite of my lasagne before answering, “I don’t think you need any help from me. But I won’t get in your way, either. Promise. Still, you’ll probably have to move out if he does agree. Living with your solicitor could be seen as a conflict of interest.” Jay gives me a thoughtful look. Getting up from the table, I go to make a start on the dishes. When I look back to where Jay was sitting, he’s gone. Once I’ve gotten everything loaded in the dishwasher, I go to sit down by my sewing machine to make a start on the evening gown. I turn the machine on and wince at the unhealthy sound it makes. I’ve been saving up for a new one, but it’s going to be a while before I have enough money. The dress I’m making at the moment is an order from one of my regular online customers. I sit down and get right to work on it, hoping the machine at least holds out until I’m finished. I’ve been going at it for almost an hour when Jay re-enters the room, taking a big bite out of an apple.

“Yo, Watson, your old jalopy doesn’t sound too healthy,” he comments, leaning against the doorframe. I frown as I run the last of the hem through. “I know. I’m hoping it’ll last until I can afford a new one.” “You saving up?” Sitting back to take a break, I nod. “Yeah.” “How much you got?” “Not much. About a hundred and fifty, but I need eight hundred for the machine I want to buy.” Jay chews on his bite of apple and mulls over what I’ve said. “What if I told you I could turn your one-fifty into eight hundred in a night?” “I’d say you were having me on,” I answer warily. “Well, I’m not. You come out with me tomorrow, and we’ll have your eight hundred by the early hours of Wednesday morning.” “Okay. But how?” A wicked gleam comes into his eyes. “Blackjack, Watson. Blackjack.” I give him a hesitant look. “Like in a casino?” “Yeah. Where else?” “I’ve never been to a casino before.” “I’ll admit Dublin’s got nothing on Vegas, but there are a few good places here. I’ll show you the ropes.” Looking back at my nearly broken sewing machine, I let out a sigh. I know I need a new one badly. Otherwise, I’ll have to stop taking orders for however many weeks it takes me to save. Jay’s proposal is certainly an attractive one. “And I’ll be placing the bets? I have no clue about playing blackjack, Jay.” “Can you count to twenty-one?” I shoot him a cynical look. “Of course.” “Then we’re off to a good start.” He walks over to throw the core of his apple in the bin. “We’ll leave here at eight. And wear something nice.” With that, he exits the room again.

FOUR

s luck would have it, my machine sputters its last breath just as I’ve finished A the dress. I put everything away and then head upstairs to bed, hopeful that come

Thursday evening I’ll have a brand-new machine sitting on my table. Settling myself under the covers, I pick my phone up off the nightstand to check my messages. There’s just one from Michelle. Michelle: How was your day? Xxx. She always puts kisses at the end of a message, no matter what, and ninety-nine percent of the time they aren’t necessary. Matilda: Quite eventful, actually. How was yours? P.S. Stop kissy kissing me. I’m not one of your boyfriends :-P Michelle: You think I don’t know that, lol? You give me far more affection than any of those arseholes. Mine was boring to the max. So, yours was eventful, eh? Do tell. Matilda: Dad finally found someone to rent the spare room to… Michelle: Those dots look ominous. Anyone I know? God, it’s not Larry with the big nose, is it? We put a stop to the whole friends with benefits thing a while back. He got clingy. I go on Google for a second to search for images of Jay. As it happens, there are quite a few. The best one is of him standing on a stage in Vegas wearing jeans and a Sex Pistols T-shirt, the gun show well on display. I save it to my phone and then send it so Michelle. Matilda: Him. Michelle: OMFG! You’re joking me! Matilda: No joke. Michelle: I read about him in the news last week. So hot. I refuse to believe anyone that good looking could be evil. Matilda: Eh, Justin Bieber? Michelle: Bieber doesn’t count. He’s more like a semi-pretty lesbian. Matilda: Thanks for that. Now I’m creeped out. Jay seems like a nice guy, though. You know the press is full of lies. Michelle: Yeah, you’re right. But how did this come about?

Matilda: He came to the office looking for a solicitor and left with a landlord instead. Michelle: Lol. Funny how often that happens. So, when can I come over and meet him? I’ll be all like, TOLO come over here and impregnate me with your sexy magician babies. Matilda: TOLO…? Michelle: Tits out, legs open. Matilda: Okay. Sorry I asked. Michelle: Seriously, I want to meet him. I promise I’ll behave. Matilda: I believe that about as much as I believed Crossing Over with John Edwards. Michelle: Hey, that was a good night out! Matilda: Biggest waste of sixty euros I ever spent. Michelle: Such a sceptic. Please let me meet him? I’ve never met anyone famous before. Matilda: Famous is stretching it a little, but okay. I’ll ask if he wants to come for drinks with us on Friday. Friday is mine and Michelle’s regular night out. It usually ends with her going off with some lucky fellow and me going home alone. Unsurprisingly, I’ve never managed to perfect the art of the one-night stand. I should invite her to this whole casino thing tomorrow, but selfishly I kind of want to keep Jay to myself for a while. Michelle: Yay! Now I just need to figure out what to wear. Matilda: Lol. Wear the black Chanel dress. That’s always a winner. Michelle: I will. You never steer me wrong. Matilda: Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow. Michelle: You too. Xxx. As I go to shut down the search page, I notice a link to a YouTube video, and I can’t help but to let my clicky finger do the walking. The title to the video is “Jay Fields: Freaking people out, making people hate him, and making people love him.” Bit of a mouthful. I press “play,” and it goes to a street scene, a shopping district in Boston. Someone’s walking behind Jay, filming him as he strolls down the street in beige chinos and a grey T-shirt that shows off his tats. He’s got this confident swagger that gives me tingles in my chest. He’s one of those people that you can’t tell if you want to be with him or you just want to be him. Two women approach, chatting and carrying shopping bags. They don’t notice him until he walks by them with one of those big takeaway Cokes. He knocks into the blonde by mistake, spilling the brown liquid all over her white top. “Oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry,” says Jay as the woman gasps and gives him a death look. “Fucking hell!” she exclaims as her friend stares on in surprise. “I said I’m sorry. Hey, I can fix this, just give me a sec,” he says, and then starts circling his hand over the stain. The two women eye him like he’s a lunatic, and the

camera zooms in on her top. Quite miraculously, the brown stain begins to shrink until it’s completely disappeared, like he drained it from the fabric by sheer force of will. “What the….” the blonde breathes, staring at her previously destroyed garment, which is now as good as new. Her friend has a big smile on her face as she spots the person with the camera behind Jay. “How did you do that? Come on, tell us! Are you guys filming for a show?” The video cuts to another scene, this one inside a nightclub. It pans over crowds of people on the dance floor, above which is a massive screen flashing dozens of coloured lights. An epileptic’s nightmare. Jay walks through the crowd and approaches a girl with short red hair wearing a silver top. He’s got a deck of cards in his hands, doing this fancy shuffle that sends them sailing through the air from one hand into the other. People eye him up as he walks by, the women in particular. He holds out the deck to the girl. “Pick a card.” “What?” she shouts over the music. “Go on, pick a card, but make sure you don’t let me see it.” The girl looks slightly confused. “Oh, okay.” She picks a card and looks at it. Jay hands her a Sharpie. “I want you to write down the names of your favourite song, your favourite colour, and your favourite animal.” She nods, thinking for a second before scribbling onto the card, then looks up. “What now?” “Put it in your pocket.” Sliding it into her tight hot pants, she giggles and asks, “Is this some kind of magic trick?” Jay steps closer to her and grins. “I bet I can guess what card you’ve got.” The girl beams. “No way. There’s no way you could know.” He eyes her, like he’s thinking really hard about it. “Eight of diamonds.” Her smile grows wide with triumph. “Nope.” “Shoot! How about queen of hearts?” “Wrong again. I think you should buy me a drink.” Jay steps back and rubs either side of his forehead. “Nah, nah, wait. I can do this.” He pauses and looks up, then points at the screen behind them, now displaying a gigantic, flashing two of clubs. “Hey…is that your card?” “Oh, my God!” the girl squeals as she turns around. The music playing stops midway through a song, switching over to “Single Ladies” by Beyoncé. “No way!” “What?” Jay asks. “This is the song I wrote down!”

That’s her favourite song? Talk about crap taste. “It is?” “Yes! How did you know?” “Lucky guess.” He grins. “But hold your horses. I still gotta figure out your favourite colour and animal.” All of a sudden every light in the place turns purple, and the two of clubs vanishes from the big screen, being replaced with the outline of a turtle. The redhead stares in awe. “Fuck,” she gasps. “Did I guess right?” Jay asks. “Let me see your card so I can check.” Slack-jawed, the girl reaches inside her pocket but comes up empty. Her brow furrows. “It’s gone.” She looks around as though checking to see if anyone could have gotten close enough to steal it. “Wait a sec, what’s that?” says Jay, pointing in the direction of the screen again, a good fifteen feet away. The camera follows. It’s flashing trippy colours like before, but right in the centre it looks like there’s something stuck to it. The girl squints at the screen, shaking her head and laughing like she doesn’t believe it. “Fuck off, that can’t be my card.” “Go get it and see,” Jay replies, gesturing for her to go forward. After hesitating for only a moment, the girl starts to walk through the club. She climbs onto the stage where the DJ’s booth is and goes to the screen, grabbing the card that’s been stuck to it. She stares down at it in her hand as she walks back, her mouth open in disbelief. “It’s my card,” she says, lifting it up to the camera to show her writing. There in a list it reads: Beyoncé “Single Ladies,” purple, and turtle. “I’m freaking out right now,” she goes on, running her hand through her hair. You can hear whoever’s holding the camera chuckling, and Jay turns to smile at them. He really does have a gorgeous smile. Jay goes to the girl and throws his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get you that drink.” The next clip is during the daytime, in a beer garden where there are a bunch of men and women wearing football jerseys watching a game. Jay stumbles through to a group of burly-looking men holding pints of beer. He’s unsteady on his feet and looks drunk off his face. Going to one of the men (the biggest and burliest of them all, by the way), he grabs the beer right out of his hand and brings it to his own mouth before downing the entire thing in one go. The big guy looks at Jay like he can’t believe he just had the balls to do that. Then his expression turns angry. “You fucking shithead, you just robbed my beer,” says the man, looking to his friends for support. “This fuck just took the beer right out of my hand.” Seeming pleased with himself, Jay sets the empty glass primly down on a table just as one of the friends grabs his shoulder. “That’s not okay, dude.” I was thirsty,” says Jay with a casual shrug, almost as though goading the man to hit him. No more than a second later he does, swinging his fist through the air,

aiming straight for Jay’s face. Jay ducks and sidesteps out of the way before he’s hit. “Hey, no need to get violent. I have every intention of replacing it.” “Go get me a fucking beer, then,” says the burly one. “Okay, okay, just watch,” says Jay as he hovers his hand over the empty glass. “I bet you fifty bucks I can make your drink reappear without even touching this glass.” “Yeah, you’ll make it reappear by marching your ass over to the bar and buying me a new one.” “Nope. That’s not how I’m gonna do it. Do we have a bet?” The other men seem interested now, their attention on Jay and Mr Burly, the football game long forgotten. “You’re a nut, but fine, it’s a bet.” “Shake on it,” says Jay, thrusting out his hand, and they shake. I notice that he’s not acting drunk at all anymore, and I suddenly realise it was only an act before. Part of the ruse. The camera focuses in on Jay’s hand above the empty glass. He moves it in circles, like he’s about to conjure a rabbit from a hat (or beer from a glass, in this case). Slowly, something brown starts to appear, and then liquid is rising from the bottom of the glass, moving upward. The men around him let out a whole bunch of expletives as Jay proves that he could do it. He just made the drink reappear, seemingly out of thin air. Now the glass is full again. “You’re joking me,” Mr Burly exclaims, rubbing at his head, a confused look on his face. “Ah, shit, I’ll give you fifty bucks and a beer,” says one of the others as he steps forward to slap Jay on the back. “That was amazing.” “Do you do parties?” a woman, presumably one of their wives, asks. Jay gives her an arch look and shakes his head before all the men start crowding around to congratulate him on his trick. Mr Burly chuckles. “Okay, you win, but I ain’t drinking that beer. That was fucking freaky.” The video ends and I sit back, a big stupid smile on my face. There are more videos that I could watch, but I decide not to, knowing I’ll be up all night if I do. Instead I do a quick read-up on how to play blackjack before passing out cold. My alarm springs to life with its peaceful morning sounds and I wake up, having dreamt of Jay shrinking me to the size of a penny and dropping me into a pint of beer. I don’t think I’ll be finding any interpretations for that one in a book. I hear the shower come on in the spare room, so I know he’s just woken up, too. There’s something exciting about knowing we’re going to be living our lives side by side for the next couple of months. I go grab a shower, and by the time I’m dressed and ready for work, the smell of bacon is drifting up from downstairs. Dad never cooks breakfast; he always just grabs something easy, so I know it has to be Jay. My heels click on the wood floor as I walk into the kitchen, wearing a plain black shift dress and a cream cardigan, my hair down. I’m wearing minimal makeup, mostly just some concealer over my scar, lip gloss, and mascara.

I’m not a great fan of applying makeup in the morning. Or ever, really. I think that when you have to put it on to cover something up, it becomes more of a chore than an enjoyment. And then you’re always worrying if it’s rubbed off and people can see what you’ve been trying to hide. When I was fifteen I had a crush on this boy who lived down the street. When I tried to talk to him one day on my way home from school, he pointed and asked me what was wrong with my neck. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the disgusted look on his face that made it a horrid experience. Ever since then I’ve always tried to cover it up. In the kitchen, Jay’s standing by the cooker with his back turned to me, while Dad sits at the table, happily reading the paper and eating bacon and eggs. I admire the sexy, muscular lines of Jay’s back and get a fright when he asks, “You hungry, Watson?” How did he know I was there? It must have been the telltale click of my heels. Dad chuckles at the nickname, getting the meaning right off the bat. Ever since I was a child I’ve had a curious nature, always wanting to figure out mysteries, not that I’m really any good at it. Dad used to call me Harriet the Spy, but I always hated it. I like it when Jay calls me Watson, though. It kind of makes me feel like I could be his sidekick. And that makes me cool by association. “A little,” I answer as he turns around and puts some food on a plate for me. “I figured I’d pay you back for dinner last night,” he says, setting the plate down as I pour orange juice into a glass. “That was thoughtful of you. Thanks,” I reply with a smile. “I hear you two have a night of gambling planned,” says Dad, folding his newspaper and putting it away. “I used to love the slot machines when I was young. Never won much money. I don’t have the luck for it.” “Luck has nothing to do with it, Hugh. You’re playing poker, you learn how to read your opponents. You’re playing roulette, you weigh your odds. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” “I’m afraid I’m going to be disastrously bad at blackjack,” I put in. “Isn’t there some easier game I could play?” “You can watch me play a few rounds first. You’ll pick it up quick,” Jay reassures me with a warm smile as he takes a bite of toast. “I’m not so sure, but I’ll take your word for it,” I say modestly, and Dad gets up from the table, done with his breakfast. “I’m going to catch the earlier bus, Matilda, but I’ll see you at the office.” He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and then goes to grab his coat and briefcase. I eye the battered leather, thinking I could get him a new one for Christmas. The front door opens and shuts. “You look nice today,” says Jay, and I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I focus on eating. “Thanks,” I mumble, brushing my hair close to my neck. “You do that a lot, you know.”

Now I glance up. “What?” “Your hair. You run your hand through it a lot, moving it to hide your scar.” “Oh.” Crap, he noticed the scar. I suppose he saw it when I’d had my hair up in a bun last night. “Yeah, it’s unconscious most of the time.” I shrug. “I could teach you how to stop. It’s pretty easy.” “That’s okay. It’s not like one of those awful habits, like biting your nails until they bleed or something.” Biting your nails until they bleed? Lovely imagery, Matilda. Jay nods, still watching me eat. Right now I’m wishing I were anywhere but here. His attention is exciting, yet unnerving. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.” A moment of silence elapses. “You’re not going to ask how I got the scar?” I say quietly. “That’s your business. Though if you wanna tell me, I’m all ears.” I give him a grateful look, not saying anything more. I’m not fond of reciting stories about myself, so in this case I don’t want to tell him. Perhaps another time when I’m feeling braver. Nobody feels brave at breakfast. Dinner is the meal of bravery. Lunch at a push. We finish eating, and Jay offers to drive me to the office. “I’m fine getting the bus,” I say, not wanting to put him out, even though I really want to go with him. Jay cocks a brow. “You want to ride the boring bus or experience the fucking sexy beast that is my car again?” An unexpected laugh erupts from my throat. “I think it’s a little early for experiencing sexy beasts.” My response surprises me. There’s something about Jay that brings out my flirtatious side, and, to be honest, I never really knew I had one until now. Jay steps closer, his smile matching my own. “It’s never too early for that.” I shake my head and go to grab my handbag, needing to put some distance between us. He’s definitely unnerving. So unnerving. But in the best way. “Okay, then, you can drive me.” “Get ready for the ride of your life, Watson.” I have to say, his confidence is quite the turn-on.

FIVE

“S o, eh, you’re not planning on cheating tonight, are you?” I ask on the drive.

Last night while I’d been reading up on blackjack, I’d noticed an article about counting cards and got a little nervous. I had this vision of being hauled into the back offices of the casino by some scary bouncers. There’d be a bunch of migrant workers sitting at long tables, counting money in their underwear, while some old mob boss character would threaten me with a gun for trying to cheat the system. Okay, so maybe I’ve been watching a few too many heist movies. I’m not even sure if there are mob bosses in Ireland. Not the proper Italian ones, anyway. Chinese triad, maybe. Jay laughs quietly, his hands loose on the steering wheel. “You really think I’m a shifty fuck, don’t you?” “I never said that! It’s just that you do what you do…and I’m sure you must know how to count cards.” “You been doing some detective work, Watson?” “I don’t know what you mean,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I mean, have you been looking me up?” I snort (rather unattractively). “Noooo.” “Lie.” “I’m not lying.” “Another lie.” He chuckles. “You’ve got to remember the behavioural science crazy uncle, Matilda. I can tell when someone’s telling a fib. Mostly.” I let out a sigh. “Fine. I might have come across a YouTube video.” “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He looks at me sideways, his eyes smiling. “Were you impressed?” “Obviously. I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to get that girl’s card up onto the screen in the nightclub.” “That was a fun one. But if you’re hedging for me to reveal my secrets you’re shit out of luck.” “Ugh, you’re no fun.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so sad. Maybe I’ll tell you one

or two sometime if you’re really, really nice to me.” “Okay, that doesn’t sound sinister at all,” I say, deadpan. Jay laughs. “Look, I’m not going to be counting cards, so you don’t have to worry. The secret to good gambling is to know when to bet and when to stop.” “How very vague. That tells me nothing,” I groan. “Watch me tonight and you’ll learn,” he says, pulling the car into a parking spot close to the office. “Now, out you get, and have a good day at work, munchkin.” I slide out of the car and turn to face him. “Oh, please, no. Watson I can handle, munchkin, not so much.” He raises his hands in the air. “Hey, we’ve got to eat a few sour grapes before we get to the sweet ones.” I just shake my head at him and turn to leave. All the way to the office I can hardly keep the smile off my face. MY DAY PASSES in the usual mundane fashion. Every hour that brings me closer to home time makes me more and more anxious. I’ve gone through a number of outfit possibilities in my head for tonight. Jay said to wear something nice, but I can’t tell if he meant “nicey nice” or “sexy nice.” I’ve always adored fashion, but I’ve never been able to pull off “sexy nice,” so I suppose “nicey nice” is the direction I’m going to have to take. I settle on a pretty dark blue tea dress that I made myself. It reaches just past my knees, and I’ll match it with my coveted black Louboutins. They’re probably the only “sexy nice” item I own. I mostly wear them for special occasions, but I’m thinking my first foray into the world of casino gambling definitely counts as special. When I arrive home, I pop a ready meal for one in the oven, since Dad’s working late in the office with Will and then he’s going to the book club. When I go upstairs, I pass by Jay’s room and see the door’s wide open. He’s sitting on the floor, messy stacks of books all around him and dozens of sheets of paper with indecipherable handwriting spread out on the wood floor. The bin is full to the brim with crumpled papers and his laptop is open, playing a video of a surgeon carrying out some kind of operation. Quite bizarre. I’ve always been squeamish about blood, so I look away. “I didn’t realise you were home,” I say, standing in the doorway. His head comes up, his eyes meeting mine as he scratches his jaw. His hair is all dishevelled, which for some reason makes me want to touch it. “Matilda. How was your day?” he asks, shoving some of the papers aside and pressing “pause” on the video. I take one step inside the room. “Good. Can I ask what you’re doing?” “Ah, just working out some new tricks.” So he’s not studying to become a surgeon, then. “So you’re definitely not quitting?” I ask, curious.

He shoots me a wry look and laughs harshly. “What, because some bitch who doesn’t even know me decided to sit at her computer and rip me a new one? Hell to the fuck no. It’ll take a lot more than a few articles to put a stop to me.” I don’t know what to say to that. In fact, his passionate anger puts me a little on edge, even though it isn’t directed at me, so I change the subject. “Do you want dinner? I’m just making something quick.” “No, I’m good. I already ate.” The flat tone and faraway look in his eyes give me the impression he’s somewhere else right now, so I quickly take my leave. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” “Be ready for eight,” he calls after me, his eyes returning to the laptop screen. “Will do.” I close the door and go to my own room. Jay’s demeanour seemed different just now, mercurial somehow. Granted, I’ve only known him a day, so I’m sure there are many more sides to him than the witty charmer I’ve known him to be. I eat dinner in front of the TV. Jay doesn’t come down at all, still up in his room doing his research, or whatever it is he’s doing. A while later I’m in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches to my makeup, when there’s a tap on the door. “Knock, knock, can I come in?” Jay asks from outside as I clip a strand of hair at my temple. I get a momentary jolt but then realise I’m decent, so I say, “Sure.” Still, I find it a little odd that he wants to come in here. He steps into the small room, casual as you please, wearing a dark shirt and slacks. The first button of the shirt is undone, showing a hint of the tattoos at his collarbone. He lets out a low whistle, and I can’t help but blush. “You scrub up well, Watson.” I focus on putting in my contact lenses as his eyes trail down my legs to my feet. “Nice shoes. Real nice. They make up for the conservative neckline.” “Uh, thanks. I think.” I have my contacts in now, and his eyes are still on my shoes, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he swallows. What the hell is he thinking about? I brush on some lip gloss and I’m done. Jay’s still standing behind me, but now his eyes are on my face. I can’t really decipher his look, since I’ve never had a man stare at me like he is. The only way I can describe it is somewhere in between hot and smouldering. Yikes. I find it difficult to believe it’s directed at me, but it must be. I mean, there’s nobody else in the room. I cough. “Are you driving?” He shakes his head, and his expression clears. “Nah, I think we’ll taxi it. After we get you your eight hundred, we’re going to want to celebrate.” He flashes me a wide, toothy smile. “Right. I hope not too much. It’s a work night,” I say, unable to help myself. And I had almost pulled off cool. Almost. Jay’s hand moves to rest on my shoulder, his voice unexpectedly soft. “Don’t

worry, Watson. I’ll have you home and tucked in bed by one.” If I were a provocative person I might say something sassy, like, “Oh, yeah, and are you going to be the one doing the tucking?” But I’m not, so I don’t. Jay says he’ll wait downstairs for me and leaves me to it. Dad’s coming in the door just as we’re leaving, the taxi idling by the side of the road. He tells us to have a great night, and then Jay’s ushering me in the back of the taxi. I’m nervous on the ride, while Jay makes boisterous small talk with the driver. I check to make sure I brought my hundred and fifty with me several times. Then I check to make sure I brought my I.D., since you’ve got to be twenty-one to get into some of the casinos. Jay pays the fare when we arrive in the city a couple of minutes later. I look up at the sleek black front of the building with the flashing sign above the entrance. There’s a bouncer on the door who’s about as wide as he is tall, and I can’t tell if it’s muscle or fat. He’s wearing a suit and has an earpiece. Unexpectedly, Jay slides his arm around my waist as we approach, pressing the side of my body flush to his. Okay, this is new. I haven’t been this close to a man in quite some time. He looks down at me for a second, and I think I see his gaze zone in on my lips, tracing the lines of my mouth. And now I think I just came. I really need to get a handle on this crush of mine. The bouncer lets us in right away, no asking for I.D. It must be Jay’s confidence that got us through without incident. Right now Jay’s hand is resting on my hip, and I can hardly concentrate on anything else. It feels so warm and tingly and good. He shows me how to exchange my cash for chips, his arm dropping and my expectations dropping with it. I put my chips in my bag, and then Jay’s gripping my chin with his fingers, bringing my eyes up to his. “Okay, Matilda, you’re making me anxious just looking at you. Let’s go get you a drink first to loosen up.” “I’m not nervous,” I mutter as he guides me to the bar and I slide my bum onto a stool. He shakes his head and nods for the bartender to come over. “What’s it going to take to get you to stop lying to me?” “I’m sorry. It’s kind of my default setting,” I reply quietly. “I don’t lie because I’m being duplicitous. I just lie because I don’t want people to know when I’m, like, scared and stuff.” Whoa, that was quite honest. His smile when he looks at me is warm. “I know. But you don’t have to lie to me. Plus, I can tell when you’re scared and stuff anyway.” Well, there is that. The bartender arrives, and Jay asks for a J.D. and Coke. I’m in the mood for a cocktail, so I scan the menu above the bar. Damn, why do the cocktails that sound the best always have the most embarrassing names? Fuck it, I might as well order what I want. Jay will probably be able to tell anyway, what with his psychic body-language-reading skills, or whatever it is

you’d call them. “I’ll have the Porn Star Martini, please,” I say decisively. The bartender doesn’t even bat an eyelid as he goes off to fetch our orders. “Brave choice,” says Jay with a smirk. “You fixing to get drunk, Watson?” “Hmm, not until after I win my eight-hundred…or lose my one-fifty. Either scenario will call for alcohol, I’m guessing.” He touches my elbow for a second. “You won’t lose your one-fifty, I promise.” “And you have no idea how bad I could be at this.” Our drinks arrive, and I delight in how there’s an actual passion fruit floating in the yellow liquid. Whenever I see there’s champagne in a cocktail, I just have to have it. My brain tells me it’ll be classy. I suck it up through a straw (not so classy) and find that Jay was right — it is loosening me up. The place isn’t too packed, since it’s only a Wednesday night, but there are a reasonable number of people around. My attention is drawn to a balding guy who’s swearing like a madman at a slot machine. “He does realise the machine can’t swear back, right?” I whisper to Jay jokingly. “Gambling crazies. There’s always one.” Jay orders another drink and brings it with him as he leads me through the casino. I look around, taking it all in. When I spy the roulette table, I hurry on ahead, eager to see what it’s like. A middle-aged man in a suit makes a bet, and the wheel spins. When he wins, he gets a satisfied look on his face as his businessmen friends congratulate him. I can certainly see how this stuff could become addictive. When we get to the blackjack table, there’s a guy in his twenties and a woman in maybe her early forties playing. The woman has platinum-blonde hair and is wearing a lot of gold jewellery, a look of faded grandeur about her. The guy is decent-looking, with dark hair and nice eyes. Jay takes a seat, setting his glass down on the edge of the table. The dealer is a tall, bored-looking woman with short black hair and almost as many tattoos as Jay. You can’t see them all, though, since she’s wearing the casino uniform. She also has two silver hoops through her nose and one in the centre of her bottom lip. She reminds me of one of my lady heroes, Lisbeth Salander, from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. If only I were half as cool as Lisbeth, I’d be twice as cool as I actually am. When the dealer sees Jay, her eyes light up and she gives him a measured smile. Hmm, do they know each other? “Never said you were coming tonight,” she says in a deep, husky voice. “I’m showing my new friend Matilda here the ropes,” he replies, and I take the seat beside him. She turns to me, her eyes scanning me up and down before giving me a friendly nod. “Ah, so this is Matilda. She’s exactly like you described her.” I shoot Jay a questioning glance. He’s been telling people about me already? And more to the vain point, how, pray tell, did he describe me? “This is my friend Jessie,” he says by way of introduction.

“Hello.” I dip my head and joke, “So, together you’re ‘Jessie J.’” There’s a moment of silence as Jessie raises an eyebrow and suppresses a smirk while Jay gives my shoulder a pat. “You know, like the singer?” I go on. “I told you she has a great offbeat sense of humour,” says Jay to Jessie. “Yeah, I get that.” Jessie smiles at me before turning back to him. “So are you going to place a bet, or did you just come to stare at my gorgeous mug all night?” “A bit of both,” Jay responds before placing some chips down in a little circle on the table in front of him. Jessie raises an eyebrow at his chips and then picks up a deck of cards, shuffling them. She takes a plain blue card and hands it to the blonde woman, giving her what I’m thinking is a flirtatious smile. Oh. Oh. For a second there I’d wondered if she and Jay were an item. Now I’m seeing that’s probably not the case. Jessie starts dealing the cards out. I watch with interest as Jay studies his: a seven of diamonds and a four of clubs. I crane my neck and ask, “Is that good?” “She really is a novice,” Jessie murmurs from her spot at the head of the table. “A blackjack virgin,” says Jay with a mischievous grin. “I’m breaking her in slowly.” The young guy chuckles quietly while the blonde woman flattens her lips in distaste. “Nice visual,” I put in sarcastically. Jay’s smile only grows bigger as his eyes lock on mine. “I like to think so.” The blonde indicates that she’d like another card (which I learned in my reading last night is called a “hit”), but the guy simply waves to show he’s sticking with what he’s got. Jay gets another card, too. I don’t know much about this game, but I did read that the person with the closest to twenty-one is the winner, and each card has its own numerical value. Once everybody’s cards are revealed, it turns out that the blonde has fifteen, the guy has eighteen, and Jessie has seventeen. But Jay has a perfect twenty-one, winning the game. He’d put down one hundred euros’ worth of chips, so he wins a hundred. “This is all so exciting,” I exclaim, really getting into it. It’s fun to watch people win money. “That was too easy,” says Jay. “Let’s make things a little more interesting.” He places all the chips he won, the ones he put down originally, plus a few more in the circle this time. They all start to play another game, and the blonde wins. It gets more complicated, and there are lots of fancy terms thrown around, like “double down” and “five card Charlie.” Jay does his best to explain each one as we go. Along the way I have another two Porn Star Martinis, so I’m well on the road to Tipsyville. There’s a group of businessmen sitting at a table close by, having drinks and talking loudly. As I stare at Jay, I notice he’s discreetly watching them. He doesn’t

seem annoyed that they’re being loud, but he does seem to be keeping track of them for some reason. It gets me curious, so now I watch them as well. They’re mostly middle-aged men, but there’s one man at the head of the table who looks to be in his sixties. He’s drinking a glass of wine and laughing at something the man beside him is saying. He’s the one Jay has his eye on the most. “Jay,” says Jessie quietly as she deals out more cards. There seems to be a warning in her tone. He lifts his head to her slowly, almost like he’d been in a trance, watching the old guy. “What?” he clips out. I haven’t heard him be short like this until now. She stares at him for a long moment, her body tense, then says, “Quit eyefucking the businessmen. You’ll make them nervous.” Jay lets out a breath and looks away, picking up the cards she just dealt him. “I was just taking in the scenery,” he mutters. “Sure,” says Jessie, then in a barely audible voice, “Tell that to the white shotgun look in your eyes.” I momentarily wonder what she’s talking about, slipping my phone out and covertly looking up what “white shotgun” means. Turns out it’s a mob term for killing someone in such a way that they vanish without a trace. Okay, that’s not weird at all. Or disturbing. In the next game, Jay wins by the skin of his teeth with eighteen, trumping Jessie’s seventeen. After seeing him play a number of times at this point, I really am impressed. If I were Jay, I’d almost have enough for my new sewing machine right now. Soon the young guy leaves and then the blonde does, too, but not without slipping her number to Jessie before she walks away. Jessie smiles to herself as she shoves the piece of paper in her pocket. Jay glances at the blonde’s retreating figure. “How’s that working out for you?” he asks curiously. Jessie cocks an eyebrow. “How do you think? She’s got a bangin’ body.” “Yeah, and enough jewellery to sink the Titanic.” Jessie snickers. “So, any more gambling for yourself tonight, sir, or are you done?” Jay’s gaze lands on me. “I’m thinking we’ll give our little virgin a chance to play.” I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m still not entirely certain of the rules.” “We’ll go slowly,” says Jessie. “Like any good de-flowerer,” Jay puts in. “I’ll have you know I was de-flowered quite some time ago,” I blurt humorously while pointing a finger at Jay, the martinis well and truly taking their hold. Jessie laughs, but Jay turns in his seat to give me a heated look, his lips curving in an almost smile. “Come on, then, let’s hear the story.” “Not a chance,” I answer sassily, rummaging in my bag for my chips. With a proud look on my face, I set down ten euros’ worth.

“High roller,” says Jay with a chuckle. Jessie gives him a scolding look before saying to me, “You don’t have to bet big like this flashy bastard. Just put down whatever you’re comfortable with.” “I know,” I say, my heart thumping with anticipation. When I get my cards, I pick them up and hold them close so that Jay can’t see, annoyed with him for slagging me off about my small bet. I doesn’t matter anyway, because I end up losing. We play two more games, with me only putting down ten euros each time. I lose once and win once. The win gives me the confidence to go bigger, so I bet fifty euros this time. Two of the businessmen from the group Jay had been staring at come over and take seats at the table. I feel a bead of sweat trickle from my temple as I wait to see what the result will be. My original hand contains an ace and an eight of clubs, so I stick with it, my heart fluttering with excitement. I’ve got nineteen altogether. That’s good. Very good. I cross my fingers, hoping Jessie has lower than that, or something over twenty-one. When she reveals she’s only got fifteen, I practically jump off my seat with glee. I won! I just won fifty euros. Wow! I’m so elated that I throw my arms around Jay’s shoulders and give him a big hug. I’m tipsy, but I still notice how good his body feels all pressed up against mine. He hugs me back, his warm hand at the base of my spine for a moment. Then I pull away. “This calls for a celebratory drink,” I say happily. “Yeah,” Jay replies, giving me a tender smile. From the other side of the table, I hear the businessmen chuckling while one of them jokes, “Christ, if she’s that excited for fifty euros, I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob.” Ugh. What a sleazebag. Unfortunately, Jay heard him say it, too. He gets up from his seat, his happy transforming into pissed in a heartbeat. “The fuck did you just say?” he asks as he steps over to the two men. The one who said it is too drunk to realise he should be scared. He gives Jay a dirty look. “I said,” he enunciates, “I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob. Those lips would be so worth it.” His friend is in hysterics now, and I go to Jay, placing a hand on his elbow. “Leave it. They’re just arseholes.” “Yeah, Jay,” Jessie adds in a serious voice. “Leave it.” We might as well be invisible, though, because it’s like Jay can’t even hear us. He takes another step toward the guy who’d mouthed off, staring down at him furiously. “Apologise now.” The guy makes an unattractive snort. “Fuck you.” “No, fuck you,” says Jay before shoving him in the shoulder. Outraged, the man loosens his tie and rises from his seat. “Don’t you dare touch me,” he spits, then looks to Jessie. “You work here — shouldn’t you be calling security?” “I should be,” she answers with a raised eyebrow. “I’m thinking I’ll give it

another minute, though.” “This is ridiculous. This piece of shit just attacked me. I’ll be having words with your manager.” “You go right ahead.” Jay gets up in the man’s face, and his friend tries to calm him down. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.” “Oh, yeah? ’Cause this fuck seems to be asking for it.” “Christ, I’m sorry if I made some joke about your slut over there. I was only having a laugh.” “Okay, let’s see how funny you find this,” says Jay before landing a punch to his jaw and then an uppercut to his ribs. The man stumbles back into his seat, clutching his jaw in his hand, a look of shock on his face. I don’t think he believed Jay was actually going to hit him. Even I didn’t really believe it until it was happening. Seconds later the bouncer from earlier is on Jay, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from the businessmen. Jay easily slips out of the bouncer’s hold, side-stepping toward me. “Sorry to abandon you so soon, Jess, but it seems I’ve outstayed my welcome.” He salutes her with a grin. “No problem,” says Jessie, and then Jay grabs my hand in his. “Come on, Watson. I think it’s time to vamoose.” He yanks me off my stool, still dodging the bouncer, who’s advancing on us and shouting at Jay that he’s barred. Hand in hand, we run out of the casino and halfway down the street before I have to stop. Running and heels do not go together. Out of breath, I clutch my chest before bursting into a fit of giggles. I don’t know why I’m laughing. I think it might be delayed shock or something. Jay stands in front of me and starts laughing, too. It takes a while for us to calm down. When we finally do, Jay steps out to the side of the road and flags down a taxi. It’s only when we’re both seated in the back that I finally have enough breath to speak. I can’t believe you punched that man. That was just crazy. I seriously didn’t think you’d actually do it,” I say, my breathing still heavy. The taxi driver perks his ears up to listen. I don’t think I’ve experienced this much excitement since Dad sprang a surprise trip to Disneyland Paris on me for my eleventh birthday. Jay turns to me in his seat and reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. He’s looking at me intensely, emotions in his eyes that I don’t understand. “I can’t let assholes get away with talking to you like that. No way. You’re too good for that shit.” His words make me shiver. And I hate to admit it, but some deep inner part of me loves the fact that he’d defend my honour when he hardly even knows me. Does he feel something for me like I do for him? Some small attraction? He takes my hand then and holds it in his, his fingers laced through mine. His thumb rubs along

the veins on the inside of my wrist and I stare out the window, savouring the simple feeling of his skin on my skin.

SIX

s we exit the taxi and go in the front door, we try to be as quiet as possible so as A not to wake up Dad. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s almost midnight. I didn’t

manage to win enough money to buy a new sewing machine; however, I did end up with slightly more cash than I started out with, so at least that’s something. Turning on the hall light, I catch a glimpse of the knuckles on Jay’s right hand and see that they’re a little scraped and reddened from throwing those two punches. “Come on upstairs, and I’ll get you some antiseptic for that,” I whisper, touching his hand for a second. I slip off my heels and leave them at the bottom of the stairs. He follows silently behind me, and I wonder if he’s checking out my arse again like last time. I don’t have the courage to turn around and investigate, though. When we reach the bathroom, I pull a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf and some cotton wool from the cupboard. Jay sits down on the edge of the bathtub, watching me. “You really shouldn’t have attacked that man,” I say. “I’ve had worse things said to me over the years.” His eyes darken. “Who’s said worse to you, Matilda?” I shrug it off. “Almost every time my friend Michelle and I go out, we get crude stuff shouted at us. I think it’s all part and parcel of being around drunk men with no filters.” I pause and amend, “The women can be fairly nasty at times, too.” “Well, that’s probably because they’re jealous. And the men do it because they misguidedly think it’ll get them laid.” I laugh softly and pour some antiseptic onto the cotton wool before sitting down beside him and bringing it to his hand. “‘Misguided’ is definitely the right word.” When the cotton wool meets his knuckles, he hisses and curses, “Motherfucker.” “You know what? You Boston-Irish swear even more than us Irish-Irish,” I joke. “Yeah,” says Jay. “I’ve got a dirty mouth, but it’s mostly used for good.” I glance at him. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel all funny and hot, so I hand him the cotton wool.

“There. You can finish yourself off,” I say, standing up. I have to resist the urge to face palm when I see the size of his smile. Sometimes I think my brain might just be a gaping hole containing nothing but unconscious innuendo. “You know what I mean,” I mutter as I open the door to leave. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Jay calls after me. “I’m going to bed.” “Sleep tight.” I can still hear him chuckling as I close my bedroom door. The next morning, breakfast is waiting for me again. This time it’s fresh fruit and a croissant. Jay’s nowhere to be seen, but the croissant is still warm, so he must have gone out to get it. Dad’s eating his just as happily as he ate his bacon and eggs yesterday. “I think it might have been the best decision I ever made, taking in a lodger. He has us eating like kings every morning.” “Yeah, let’s see if you’re still saying that when you gain ten pounds,” I reply, and take a bite of the deliciously fresh pastry. Jay enters the room just then, dressed in a suit like he’d been when we first met. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Watson,” he chirps. “It’s actually been proven that you lose weight by eating it, rather than the opposite way around.” “Oh, well, colour me corrected,” I mutter. “So, how did the casino night go?” asks Dad with interest. I make eye contact with Jay, and I think in that moment we both unconsciously agree to leave out the part about him punching a man to defend my honour. “Great. You’re looking at a girl who’s forty euros richer than she was yesterday,” I declare proudly. “I lost ten euros twice, but then I won back ten, and then I won fifty, so forty profit altogether.” I glance at Jay. “Still not enough to buy me a new machine, but I’ll keep saving.” Jay gives me a surprisingly affectionate expression before knocking back a gulp of coffee. “Right, lady and gent, I’ll be out most of the day. I’ve got a couple of meetings to find a solicitor willing to take my case.” “Oh, good luck with that,” says Dad as Jay leaves. When he’s gone, Dad takes his plate over to the sink and rinses a few dishes. My eyes travel to my broken sewing machine, and I notice something’s amiss. Leaving my half-eaten breakfast, I go over to check and find two neatly stacked piles of casino chips. In front of the piles is a note. My fault we had to leave early last night, so I forfeit my winnings to you, Watson. Go get yourself the sickest sewing machine that money can buy. Yours, Jay. P.S. Finishing myself off last night wasn’t nearly as satisfying as having someone else do it for me.

Oh, my God, he’s so cheeky…and I kind of love it. I pick up a chip and run my fingers over the plastic. I really shouldn’t accept these, but the prospect of buying a new machine today is too tempting to walk away from. I scoop them all up and drop them into my bag like a giddy child. Later on during my lunch break, I take a trip to the casino to see if I can cash in the chips, hoping it’s open. Turns out it opens at ten in the morning, and there are actually people already there gambling when I go inside (which is a little depressing). At night there’s a sense of glamour, but in the light of day there’s a desperation about it all. As it happens, Jessie is working on the booth when I go to cash in my chips. “Ah, Matilda, good to see you again,” she says. “You, too,” I reply, sliding the chips through to her. “Funny, I don’t remember you winning all these last night,” she continues, suppressing a grin. “I didn’t. Jay gave me his winnings as an apology for the, uh, punching incident.” “Oh, yeah? That was generous of him,” she says. “You going on a big shopping spree?” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “In a sense, yes. I’m getting a new sewing machine. I make dresses and sell them online, but my old machine broke. Jay said he’d bring me to the casino to win enough for a new one, but obviously that didn’t work out.” “Did you go to college for that? The dressmaking, I mean.” I shake my head. “No, my mum taught me when I was little, and I did night classes when I was a teenager.” “Cool. Well, here you go,” she says, and slides the cash out to me. I slip it into my purse and say goodbye. I’m late getting home that evening as I lug the big brown box into the hallway. I drop it down on the floor and let out a long, heaving breath. That was some seriously heavy lifting, even if the walk from the bus stop was blessedly short. Dad’s in the living room, watching television. It looks like he ordered in a Chinese takeaway, because there are leftovers in the fridge. I heat some up and eat them quickly before getting right to work. It’s after eleven when I finish up, tiredly packing the few orders I have into bubble-wrap envelopes for posting. Jay comes in the door just as I’m sealing the final one. “Hey, you got it. Nice!” he exclaims, walking over to take a look at the new machine. It’s a pretty olive green with a sort of fifties-looking design. “Yep. And I have you to thank for it,” I reply with a grateful smile. “How did your meetings go today?” “Ah, shitty, really. Lawyers…I mean, solicitors are a bunch of old windbags. You could practically see the dollar signs in their eyes when I was speaking to them…or should I say euro signs?”

“Don’t let Dad hear you say that.” “Your dad’s the exception. Is he still up? I need to get convincing him to take the case.” “No, he went to bed about an hour ago,” I say, setting the stack of packages on the table. Jay eyes them. “You need me to drop those to the post office for you in the morning?” “Would you? I was going to go before work, but it might be cutting it a bit fine.” “I’d be happy to. So, it’s Friday tomorrow. Any plans for the weekend?” He rubs his hands together. I try to think. Then I remember Michelle’s adamant pleas for me to bring Jay for drinks with us. “Yes, actually. I’m going out with my friend tomorrow night. You’re welcome to come along.” “Sounds good,” says Jay as he picks up two safety pins from a bunch I’d left by my sewing machine. He links them together and holds them up to show me. “Safety pins, fascinating,” I murmur past a yawn. He’s standing close to me now, and I watch as he repeatedly pulls the two apart, then links them back together like magic. It looks like metal is sliding seamlessly through metal. “If I weren’t so tired, I’m sure I’d be able to figure out how you’re doing that,” I say softly. His chest moves as he silently laughs. I bid him goodnight and then go to bed. When my head does finally hit the pillow, I’m overly aware of how Jay’s bed is right on the other side of the wall, our bodies barely a foot apart. I fall asleep thinking about how I wish I could bridge the gap. FRIDAY IS A SLOW DAY. We only have appointments scheduled for before lunch, so once I’ve finished all my tasks, Dad says I can go home early. On my way to the bus, a car beeps its horn from behind me, and I turn to see Jay with his window rolled down, Jessie in the passenger seat beside him, smoking a cigarette. “Want a ride?” Jay calls, his arm resting along the side of the window. A car behind him honks and then overtakes him. “Hop in.” I hurry to the car and slide into the back seat. Jessie sticks her smoke in her mouth and says hello to me. “You looking forward to tonight?” she asks. “Yeah, are you coming with us?” “I can’t. I’ve got a hot date with the cougar from the casino. You remember her?” The grin she gives me is devilish. “I do.” “I’m thinking she’s a sure thing, but you never know. I guess you’re out to trap yourself a fella tonight, then.” My cheeks redden, and I think I catch Jay giving her a hard look through the

overhead mirror. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of luck with men. I’ve actually been trying online dating, but I’m not sure if it’s for me.” Jay’s eyes meet mine in the mirror briefly before flicking back to the road. I can tell he’s listening to all this intently, even though he’s acting like he isn’t. “Yeah, I’ve met a few people online myself, but they mostly seem to be out for casual sex,” says Jessie. “Not that that’s a bad thing, but I’m guessing that’s not what you’re out for.” She gives me a sympathetic look. Christ, could my cheeks get any redder? “No, not really,” I reply. Jay raises one eyebrow. “What does ‘not really’ mean, Watson?” I scratch at my arm. “Well, it’s not like I’d mind if there was sex involved. It’s just that it never seems to get that far. Michelle says it’s because I don’t give out vibes of availability. I give out ‘stay away from me’ vibes.” I laugh lightheartedly. “Nothing wrong with that,” says Jay. “Your friend sounds like she wants you to act like a slut.” “Jay!” Jessie exclaims. I scowl. “Uh, no. That’s not it at all. Michelle is very supportive of me.” “If you say so.” “So, have you gone on many dates?” Jessie asks, still turned around in her seat to face me. “Not with any of the online guys. They all seem so sleazy and only interested in sex.” “Oh, you’re obviously on the wrong site, then. Here, give me your number, and I’ll send you a list of which sites are for hook-ups and which are for relationships.” She hands me her phone, and I programme my number into her contacts. “Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” I say. “In what way are they sleazy?” Jay asks, his brow furrowed. I could be mistaken, but there seems to be a protective note to his voice. I swallow hard. “Oh, God. You really don’t want to know.” Jay goes strangely silent, and his jaw is tight. He seems annoyed. We drop Jessie off at her apartment, and I wave goodbye while Jay pulls back onto the road. “You shouldn’t be meeting up with random men anyway,” he says out of nowhere. “Well, I haven’t, not yet. But if I do, I have a number of rules to follow.” I hold up my fingers as I list them off. “It has to be during the day in a public place — never go to somebody’s house alone. I have to tell Michelle and Dad exactly where I’m going. And most importantly, Michelle and I have code words to text if we need each other to call and pretend there’s an emergency. That’s only for if the date is really bad, although so far I’ve only had to do it for Michelle twice.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that I can’t quite decipher. A minute or two of silence passes. “I’ll help you,” he says then. “Huh?” “With the dating. I’ll teach you how to come across as available. I shouldn’t have

said that about your friend earlier. I’m sorry. She’s actually on the right track with what she’s told you. Usually, people who are single show that they’re available through their body language, while people who are happily in a relationship don’t. Since you’re single but are supposedly giving out unavailable vibes, there must be a reason why.” I fold my arms. “What kind of a reason?” Jay shrugs. “It’s probably just anxiety or something like that. But don’t worry — we’ll figure it out.”

SEVEN

hen we arrive at the house, I go straight to my room. After the topic we W discussed in the car, I don’t really want to face Jay for a while. It’s humiliating to

have people know how hopeless I am when it comes to romance. The problem is, whenever I’m asked about it, I can’t help but to be brutally honest. It’s sort of a relief to get it all out and see what another person thinks. The idea of Jay helping isn’t as appealing as it should be. I mean, he probably really knows his stuff. However, I’d much rather if he helped me to successfully score him, rather than other men. A hopeless situation if ever there was one. After grabbing a bite to eat, I go take a shower and get ready for the evening ahead. My phone buzzes with a text just as I’m towelling dry my hair. Michelle: So, is the sexy magician coming tonight or what?! Matilda: Yeah, he’s coming. Michelle: Oh, he definitely will be. Matilda: Please don’t…Btw, I think he prefers illusionist to magician. Michelle: Good to know. Wouldn’t want to offend. Xxx. Once I’m ready, I use my phone to order a taxi and then knock on the wall between my room and Jay’s. “What’s up, Watson?” Jay shouts. I think I can hear him chuckling to himself, and I have no idea why. He can be kind of odd sometimes. “The taxi will be here in ten minutes.” “I’ll be ready.” The taxi signals its arrival with a honk from outside. I hurry downstairs, buttoning my long navy blue dress coat. Telling Dad I won’t be out too late, I whistle for Jay to come on. I hear the door to his room open, and then he’s coming down the stairs toward me. I stand there, working hard to keep my jaw in place. He looks hot, but “hot” is probably an understatement. Dressed in dark jeans and a form-fitting black shirt, his hair combed to the side, he definitely looks good enough to eat. Or lick. What is it about this man that always makes my thoughts turn inappropriately sexual?

I shake myself out of it and give him a quick smile before leading the way outside. In the car, the driver falls into the no-conversation category. There are two kinds of taxi drivers, in my experience: the ones who want to talk your ear off and the ones who don’t want to talk at all. Jay nods to my buttoned-up coat. “You not going to let me get a look at you in that dress?” I tug at my sleeve, awkward under his inspection. Trying to sound casual, I reply, “You’ll get to see it at the bar.” He sighs and drums his fingers impatiently on the window. “But I want a sneak peek.” “Why?” “Just do.” “Oh, that’s a wonderful reason, Jacob. May I call you Jacob?” He laughs and shakes his head, looking out at the passing buildings now. “It’s Jason, actually. And I only let women call me that in the bedroom.” He winks. I’m a little embarrassed, but I soldier on. “You want women to call you by your full name while they clean out your underwear drawer? That is a strange fetish, Jason.” “Nope. I clean out my own underwear drawer, Watson. This is what I’m talking about.” He puts on a breathless, heaving voice several notes higher than his actual one, “Oh, Jason you’re a god. Fuck me harder, Jason. Jason, you’re the biggest I’ve ever had. Make me come, Jason.” I practically dive across the seat to put my hand over his mouth, somewhere in between laughing hysterically and blushing profusely. “Shut up!” I whisper-shout, while the taxi driver gives Jay a displeased look through his overhead mirror. Jay’s chest is rising and falling rapidly with suppressed laughter. When I’m certain he isn’t going to go off again, I pull my hand away from his surprisingly soft mouth and move back to my seat. “I can’t believe you,” I say, shaking my head at him. His eyes move to mine, the glow from the streetlamps outside lighting them up. They seem to travel over my features for an indeterminate amount of time. Then the car is stopping and the driver is telling us in a grumpy voice that we owe him fifteen euros. Before I can dig into my purse, Jay is handing him a twenty and leaning across me to open the door. When he does, I get a waft of his cologne, and it smells divine. I try not to be too obvious when I inhale. Then I step out and spy Michelle having a cigarette outside the bar. We’re on one of the posher streets, and it’s lined with bars frequented by businessmen and professional types. Michelle always insists we go here because we’re more likely to snag a good catch. Jay links his arm through mine and leads me to the entrance as I wave to Michelle. She’s wearing the black Chanel dress that I suggested, alongside a pair of sky-high purple heels, her coat draped over her arm. I pull away from Jay to go give her a hug.

“Hey, babes,” she sing-songs, and gives me peck on each cheek. “Hi, you look amazing,” I tell her as her gaze travels to Jay expectantly, so I make the introductions. “This is our new housemate, Jay. Jay, this is my friend, Michelle.” She thrusts out her hand, and Jay shakes with her. She seems disappointed that he doesn’t lean down for a kiss. A couple of weeks ago she had a date with a guy who did that, and she swooned to me about it over the phone for at least an hour. “Michelle, good to meet you,” says Jay before letting go of her hand. I’m not sure why, but I find myself studying their reactions to one another intently, trying to pinpoint something. What that something is exactly, I don’t know. In the back of my mind, I’m sort of hoping that they don’t end up fancying each other, despite Michelle’s enthusiasm thus far. We go inside and manage to snag a table by the window. Jay helps me out of my coat, silently appraising my dress, the chest area in particular. Such a guy. Though I must confess, my push-up bra is doing excellent work on this occasion. Excellent work. A waiter comes over to take our drinks order, and I opt for the white wine. “So, Jay, I hear you do magic for a living. That must be so much fun. I’m in marketing myself, so boring,” says Michelle. “It’s fun until someone decides to write a story painting you as some kind of evil mastermind,” he replies to her, deadpan, before taking a sip of his drink. His blunt answer doesn’t faze her. “Yeah, I heard about that, too. Oh,” she says, suddenly turning to me, “speaking of work, I have to do overtime this weekend to prepare for a big presentation we’ve got on Monday, so I can’t make it Sunday. I’m so sorry.” “What?” I say quietly – sheepishly. “But we’ve had this planned for weeks. The tickets cost eighty euros, and I really don’t want to go without you.” I’m not overjoyed at the fact that she’s bringing this up in front of Jay, either, because it’s a little embarrassing. A few months back I saw an ad for a day-long seminar with this relationship specialist from Australia. It’s supposed to help women be more successful in their love lives. I managed to wrangle Michelle into coming with me, and now she’s backing out. I cannot believe this. I’d been really looking forward to it, too, hoping that it would somehow help me to overcome my issues, or whatever the hell it is that’s wrong with me. “I said I’m sorry. I tried to get out of the overtime, but my boss was having none of it. You should still go, though.” “I’m not going by myself.” She bites her lip, an expression on her face like she’s wracking her brains for an alternative. “You could get your dad to go with you,” she finally suggests. I scoff, loudly. “I’m not going with my dad. That would be like getting him to sit down and watch a porno with me.” Michelle rolls her eyes at how melodramatic I’m being. “Okay, I was curious before, but now I’m really curious,” says Jay. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” I answer quickly, giving Michelle a sharp look not to tell him. Unfortunately, she ignores it. “We’d planned on going to this relationship seminar. It’s being held by a guy called Simon Silver. He’s supposed to be some kind of love expert,” says Michelle, all matter-of-fact and with no embarrassment whatsoever. “Thanks for that,” I mutter. Jay takes all of this in with an ever-widening smile. I glance at him, tightlipped. “Don’t make fun of me, okay? I already told you I need help.” “I could go with you,” he offers. It’s definitely unexpected. To be honest, I’d been expecting him to point and laugh for at least a few minutes. I mean, twenty-three-year-olds aren’t supposed to go to these things. They’re supposed to be out for a good time. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, though. I’ve wanted to find “the one” since as far back as I can remember. I want epic love, like you see in the movies. I want it so desperately that it fills my heart when I even think about the possibility of it. “I think that would be even worse than going with my dad,” I say, and then knock back a big gulp of wine. Jay makes a mock gasp. “Matilda, I didn’t know you had it in you to be so rude!” “Oh, shut up. You’re not offended in the slightest.” He smirks. “Yeah, you’re right. But I still want to go with you. It’ll be hilarious.” “And that right there is why you’re not coming. No siree, Bob.” “Oh, go on,” says Michelle, butting in. “Let him go. What’s the worst that could happen?” I look at her, and she’s got a strange calculating expression on her face as she glances between Jay and me. “Plenty worst can happen, Dr. Pepper,” I answer firmly. “Anyway, I’ve already decided I don’t want to go anymore.” “But you spent all that money,” Michelle pouts. “Yeah, Watson. You spent all that money,” Jay agrees, nudging me with his elbow. I don’t say anything, leaning forward and resting my chin on my arm in dejection. It does really annoy me, thinking of all the money I forked out for the tickets. Michelle gets up from the table then. “Listen, you two discuss it between yourselves. I need to use the ladies’ room, and then I’m going to chat up the fox sitting over by the bar all by his lonesome. Toodles!” Eh, come again? I thought she had her heart set on bagging Jay tonight. What a fickle web her libido weaves. “Toodles?” Jay asks, one eyebrow raised. “Rhymes with poodles,” I mumble. “And noodles.” “Doodles.”

“Oodles.” “Strudels.” “Googles?” says Jay. I shake my head and smile for the first time since Michelle decided to embarrass me. “Okay, I got nothing.” “Ha! I win the rhyming war,” I declare, and sit up straighter, my hand going for the wine again. “You feeling better now?” Jay asks, voice low. “Slightly.” His arm moves across the back of the couch we’re sitting on. “You’re too fucking cute,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. “You should let me go with you to the thing.” I eye him and fold my arms. “Can you please forget about that? I’m still dying of embarrassment.” “How about if I pretend to be a gay dude for the entire day? Will that make you feel less embarrassed?” “Yeah, like anyone would believe that. I don’t even get why you want to come. It’s for single women, not men.” “Didn’t I just say I’d pretend to be gay? That way I’d be there for the same thing as everyone else.” He grins. I narrow my eyes at him. “You think you’re so clever. Fine, you can come, but you have to promise to take it seriously.” He swipes his fingers over his chest, making a little X-shape. “Cross my heart. So, it’s settled. I’m coming.” “Yeah,” I sigh, and glance across the room to see Michelle approaching the guy she said she had her eye on. I still don’t get why her interest in Jay has disappeared so abruptly. Perhaps she decided she doesn’t like all his tattoos. Not that you can see much of them with the way he’s dressed right now. And not that I’m not relieved her attention has been diverted. I seem to be developing an ever-growing crush, and watching my best friend get off with said crush might be a little too painful to bear. Jay moves closer to me on the red velvet couch, his thigh touching mine. “So, you watch porn, huh?” A spurt of laughter erupts from me. “Trust you to remember that tiny detail, you lunatic. I was being sarcastic. You don’t have to take everything I say as gospel.” His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “You watch it. I have quite a varied collection, you know. You’re welcome to borrow from me anytime.” He picks up his drink and takes a swig, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t watch porn,” I say, adamant. “Everybody watches porn.” “Well, I don’t. Porn for me is more cerebral. I get a better thrill out of a really emotionally intense romance than watching two random people go at it.” He leans closer, interest marking his features. “Yeah? Tell me more.” Another sip of wine. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Like, you know when

Harvey Keitel touches Holly Hunter through the hole in her stockings in The Piano? That turns me on more than seeing actual sex.” “I bet that’s a fucking sight,” he says under his breath. “What?” His arm that’s hanging along the back of the couch moves down to rest on my shoulders. I tense up, my heart beating faster at his closeness. “Nothing. That’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Matilda.” I expect him to be making fun of me, but when I look at him, there’s nothing but seriousness on his face. Shifting away, I focus on my wine, not saying a word. Michelle’s tinkling laughter trickles over from the bar as she places her hand on the guy’s arm. Jay follows where I’m looking. “Now, remember I said I’d teach you about body language?” I nod. “Well, look at your friend as an example. When a girl likes a guy, she’ll do some subtle touching to show her interest, like Michelle’s doing now. So, if you want to show somebody you’re interested, you can put your hand on their arm or their leg for a second, then take it away.” I try not to think about how his thigh is still touching mine. What does that mean? “There’s also eye contact,” he goes on. “If you like a guy, you should be looking at him, not at the floor. Look away when you need to and then look back. Maintaining constant eye contact just looks psycho, so you’ve got to perfect it.” “I always look at the floor,” I say. “It’s such a bad habit, I know, but I can’t seem to stop.” In fact, I’m tempted to look at the floor right now, but I’m forcing myself not to; otherwise, Jay might catch on to my crush. Perish the thought. “Whenever you catch yourself doing it, just stop. After a while it’ll become second nature not to.” At this the waiter returns to our table, asking if we’d like another round of drinks. Jay tells him to give us the same again, and I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Hopefully, by the time I get back, Michelle might have returned to the table. It’s strangely intimate sitting alone with Jay, and my antsy disposition urges me to bolt when I’m in situations like that. There’s a knock on the stall door when I’m doing my business, Michelle calling, “So how’s your night going?” “It’s going fine, no thanks to you. I can’t believe you told Jay about the seminar. Now I have to bring him with me. He won’t take no for an answer.” “Oh, he won’t, will he? Well, I think you two will have a great time.” “We’ll see. It’s going to be a function room filled with two hundred sex-deprived women, and I’m bringing Jay Fields with me. That’s like dangling a bloody steak in front of a bunch of hungry dogs.” “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re doing those women a favour, allowing them to

stare upon such a prime example of maleness.” Michelle laughs, her voice merry. I wonder how many drinks she managed to knock back while she was at the bar. “Speaking of which, what’s with your sudden lack of interest?” I ask curiously as I flush and leave the stall, going to the sink to wash my hands. Michelle shrugs and gives me a weird look. “He’s not interested in me. I can tell. And you know I only want men who are willing to worship at my feet.” “That’s true. So, I guess you’ll be off with Mr Fox from the bar for the rest of the night.” “For now. If someone else tickles my fancy, I might do a switch.” We exit the bathroom, and Michelle returns to the bar. As I make my way toward Jay, I notice he’s no longer alone at the table. There’s a redhead sitting beside him, flicking her silky hair over one shoulder. I glance from side to side, weighing my options. Do I go back to the table and suffer being the third wheel, or do I find something else to occupy my time? The only other way I could occupy myself would be to go chat someone up, but I don’t have the pep for that right now. So I continue my way to the table. When I reach it, I slide in on the other side where Michelle had been sitting and pick up the new glass of wine the waiter left for me. I give the redhead a small smile and then take a sip. Most girls tend to like me. I suppose that’s because they find me non-threatening. This woman, though, looks at me like she just sniffed something bad. Hmm, must be the dress I’m wearing; it does show a healthy dose of cleavage. A little zing of excitement goes through me. It seems I quite like being a threat. “Hey, you’re back,” says Jay. “This is Matilda,” he says to the redhead. “We’re housemates. Matilda, this is Charlene. She’s a flight attendant, has a white Persian cat, likes going to the gym, and just recently became a redhead.” Is that a note of sarcasm I hear in his voice? I do my best to contain a snicker. “Were you lurking on her Facebook profile or something?” I ask dryly. “Shush, you’re revealing all my secrets,” he says with a wink. “He managed to guess all that just by looking at me,” Charlene explains. “Isn’t it amazing?” “Definitely.” I turn my attention to Jay. “So, tell us how you knew.” Jay leans back to peruse Charlene before pointing out the evidence. “White cat hair on the dress, but longer than typical domestic cat hair. Persian was the most obvious choice. Musculature on the arms suggests she works out. However, the slight acne around the chin beneath the makeup says it’s only a casual health kick. So, not an athlete who’d be on a very clean diet, which would lead to clear skin. It’s not hormonal acne, because that usually carries on from the teenage years and therefore there’d be scarring, which there isn’t. Also, the whiff of cigarette smoke. Most athletes don’t smoke. So, a gym membership it is. The bags under the eyes show a lack of sleep, indicating either insomnia or a demanding job. Plus, I got a look at her flight attendant badge sticking slightly out of her bag.” He smirks. “And

lastly, I know the hair is a recent dye job because of the slight stains on the scalp.” He folds his arms casually. I have to admit, I wasn’t ready for that onslaught. I don’t think Charlene was, either. In fact, she looks kind of embarrassed at him picking apart her appearance like that. It’s one thing for him to tell her random facts no stranger could possibly know. That’s the exciting bit. But it’s another for him to explain how he knows them. After a few seconds she laughs it off, though. “Oh, my God, I never knew people could tell these things about me. It’s kind of freaking me out, but it’s so much fun! Okay, now do her,” she says, pointing to me. Jays turns his head, a wicked tilt to his lips. “I’d be happy to.” I can’t tell whether or not he meant that as an innuendo. I raise my hands in the air. “Please don’t. I don’t want to know.” “Oh, come on, don’t be a spoilsport,” Charlene chides. I cut her an annoyed look. Jay leans forward and takes one of my hands in both of his. The touch surprises me, scattering goose pimples across my skin. He rubs his thumb over the top of my index finger, and I suppress a shiver. “You see these little scratches? They show you do some kind of work with your hands. The dressmaking, right?” I nod. “Yeah, but you already knew that.” His lips twitch. “Okay. You’re a deep sleeper. You enjoy healthy comfort foods. You do some form of exercise. My bet would be cycling. When it’s warm out, you like to sit in the sun. You don’t dye your hair. When men touch you, it makes you nervous. Your favourite style era is the fifties…and you wish I’d shut the fuck up right now.” He stops and sits back in his seat with a smile. “Well, how did I do?” I narrow my eyes. “Too well.” “You want me to explain how I know?” “Not particularly.” Charlene rolls her eyes and puts her hand on Jay’s shoulder, leaning close to him. “I want to know. Tell us.” Jay angles his body away from her ever so slightly, then starts to speak. “I can tell you sleep deeply because the whites of your eyes are clear. People who sleep bad get redness, or their eyes can be bloodshot. I’m a prime example of that.” He points to himself, and it makes me wonder why he doesn’t sleep well. “I know you like healthy comfort foods because you’re not fat, but you’ve got curves. You’ve got muscles in your thighs and calves, but not in your arms, which shows you exercise mainly with your legs, hence the cycling. You’ve got a small scattering of freckles across your nose from sitting in the sun. Your hair is an exact match for your eyebrows, so it’s most likely not dyed. Plus, your dad showed me some of your kiddie pictures the other day,” he admits. Oh, I’m so having words with Dad about that. “You flinched very slightly when I touched your hand, which means you either don’t like me or men don’t touch you very often, which is why it makes you nervous. I can tell you like the fifties because most of the dresses you make have

details that are reminiscent of that era. And your eyes did a pretty good job of telling me you wished I’d shut the fuck up.” He chuckles. “Well,” I say, letting out a long breath, “that was spot on. Disturbingly so,” I grumble. “I’ve been paying close attention, Watson,” he says, and I suppress a tremor. “Seriously, that was so good,” Charlene exclaims. “You should, like, have your own TV show or something.” Jay gives her a sardonic look. “Yeah, I should, shouldn’t I?” An Abba song comes on, and I hear Michelle calling me to join her and Mr Fox. Both are currently shaking it over on the dance floor. “Matilda! It’s ‘Dancing Queen’ — get over here now!” she drunkenly shouts. When we were younger we discovered Muriel’s Wedding, and Abba has been our guilty pleasure ever since. I turn back to Jay and Charlene. “It looks like I’m wanted.” Then I stand up and go to Michelle. She grabs both of my hands when I reach her and starts swaying me from side to side. “I love this song,” she yells over the music while Mr Fox hovers close behind her. It seems like I’m destined to be the third wheel in some form or another tonight. “Who’s the ginger bitch?” she asks, nodding toward the table. “Some air hostess.” “Huh. Oh, don’t look now, but Jay’s coming over. Ginger bitch doesn’t look too happy.” “Really? He’s coming over?” “Oh, no wait. He made a beeline for the bar.” I exhale in relief. I like dancing, but dancing with Jay is not an experience I think I can handle. The song ends and changes to a slow number, so I leave Michelle alone to slow dance with her latest acquisition. Joining Jay, I ask the bartender for another wine. “Aren’t you going back to Charlene?” I ask. “She’s still over there waiting.” Jay turns to face me while I continue looking directly ahead. I’m not sure why, but I can’t seem to make eye contact. I see him frowning at me out of the corner of my eye, his brows all drawn together. “Do you want me to go back to her?” I shrug and glance at him, then gulp down more wine. “You should take it easy. It’s only ten o’clock.” “It’s fine. I’ll probably head home soon, anyway. Michelle’s not going to be much company for the rest of the night.” “Does she usually leave you alone like this?” Jay asks, moving his body slightly closer. “Nah, I normally get to talk with the friend of whoever she’s flirting with. Fun, yeah?” Jay doesn’t reply, but his jaw moves in a weird way. He keeps on staring at me until Charlene takes it upon herself to come to him. “Hey, I thought I’d save you the trip,” she says in a sweet voice, sliding onto the

stool beside him. I turn away and let my gaze drift over the crowds on the dance floor. A man wearing a blue shirt leers at me, so I make sure not to have any more eye contact with him. Jay nudges me, holding up his phone. “I just got a text from Jessie. Apparently, the cougar turned out to have a husband who wanted a ménage a trois, and she needs rescuing. You want to come with me?” “Uh, sure. I’ll just send Michelle a quick message to let her know we’re leaving.” And, just like that, we’re out of there and on our way to get Jay’s car to pick up Jessie. From the daggers she gives me, I get the feeling Charlene is none too pleased about it.

EIGHT

hen we stop off at the house, I make a quick change into some jeans, a TW shirt, and plimsolls. Overall, the night was a bit of a bust, so there’s no point in

holding onto the glamour. Jay honks his horn, and I hurry downstairs and out the door. I sit in the passenger seat, and Jay manages to speed while keeping just below the actual speeding limit. We head out toward a quiet suburb, with Jay’s GPS giving us directions as we go. In the end we drive down a dark country lane toward a large grey house. It all seems quiet, with Jessie nowhere to be seen. However, the second we stop at the end of the stony driveway, the front door flies open and Jessie emerges, her tall form running toward us like a bat out of hell. The cougar and a middle-aged man come after her, matching black silk robes on, shouting and waving their fists. If their anger didn’t have me so on edge, I’d probably laugh at what they’re wearing. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but when Jay rolls down his window, I catch the tail end of a tirade that ends with, “Little bitch!” Jessie hops straight into the back seat, yelling, “Put your foot on it, Jay — we need to get the fuck out of Dodge.” The couple are in front of Jay’s car now, and there isn’t enough space for him to get around them. “What did you do, steal their wallets or something?” Jay asks, chuckling and reversing, trying to figure out a way past the fuming husband and wife. “You were taking too long, and they kept trying to convince me to take part in a threesome. I let my temper get the better of me and smashed a tray of crystal glasses. Now they want me to pay for the damage. Pair of fucking nutjobs.” “I hate to break it to you, but it sounds like you were the nut in this situation, Jess.” “Hey, I’m allowed to be angry. It’s not my fault I’m offended by the idea of sucking a cock,” she jokes. Sticking his head out the window, Jay calls to the couple, “Listen, you’re going to want to move out of the way before I run you both the fuck over.” “That crystal was an anniversary gift!” the man shouts. “She owes us six

hundred euros.” “For a couple of glasses?” Jay asks. “Are you high?” “They were Waterford crystal!” the wife wails. “Well, since they were a gift, you haven’t really lost any money, now, have you?” “They had sentimental value!” “Call it payback for sexual harassment!” Jessie shouts from the back seat. The wife marches toward the car now, and Jay reverses further. “You knew exactly what this was about, Jessie,” she says, gesticulating wildly. “So don’t go acting all innocent.” “I didn’t know you had a fucking husband. No, you decided to spring that on me once you’d lured me into your lair.” “You should be flattered that we invited you into our home, you little tramp.” “I’d rather be a tramp than a dried-up old hag!” At this the woman dives for the car, but Jay reverses just enough so she doesn’t collide with his bumper. He ends up on the lawn, and manages to swing around and head straight for the exit, leaving tire marks all through their flower beds. I turn in my seat to see the two chasing after the car. I hope they didn’t get the chance to memorise his licence plate. Soon we’re well clear of the house and back on the road. I let out a long sigh and turn to Jessie, asking with concern, “Are you okay?” “Oh, no way, Matilda,” says Jay, putting his hand on my thigh. “Don’t go giving her any sympathy. She got herself into this situation, so she only has herself to blame.” “She didn’t know the woman had a husband,” I say, my voice quiet. “Yeah, I didn’t know,” says Jessie pointedly. “And thank you for your concern, honey, but I’m fine.” “You shouldn’t have caused a scene,” Jay mutters, eyeing Jessie sharply through his overhead mirror. “But it’s what I do best,” Jessie replies, and sticks out her tongue. I turn to look out the window, but Jay doesn’t move his hand from my thigh. His fingers are pretty close to a certain place, and I have a hard time breathing for a second. He gives a little squeeze, and God, it makes me want things I don’t want to want. There’s a couple minutes of silence. Jay breaks it when he starts to mimic Jessie. “‘It’s not my fault I’m offended by the idea of sucking a cock.’” Jessie snickers. “Shut up.” Jay sighs. “We both knew that one was going to be trouble.” “Trouble is fun, so long as there’s no husband involved.” “Yeah, well, you’ve got to stop letting your temper get the better of you. One of these days it’ll get you into the wrong kind of trouble, Jess, the un-fun kind.” “Okay, Dad. I won’t point out that you’re hardly a poster boy for self-control.” “Yeah, you won’t, but you just did. Anyway, I’m not your dad, and thank fuck for that. You were a little hell-raiser.”

Jessie laughs and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms. “So, how did your night go?” “It was going great until we had to leave to come rescue your ass.” “Yes,” I put in, turning to wink at Jessie, “there was a very attractive redhead coming onto Jay. You totally cockblocked him.” He squeezes my thigh again, his voice low when he says, “She didn’t cockblock anyone. I never planned on going there.” I don’t know what to say now, so I say nothing. Jessie’s soft chuckling drifts from the back. A couple of minutes later, we arrive at her apartment and she hops out, tipping her imaginary hat to us. “Thanks for the ride, you two,” she says, and then skips her way to the entrance. “How do you know Jessie?” I ask as Jay pulls away from the curb. “Known her since I was a kid. Before my parents died and I went to America to live with my uncle, we were best buds at school. When I moved back here, I looked her up. Turned out she was doing pretty badly. Her entire family had disowned her when they found out she was gay, so she turned to drugs. I got her into a clinic, helped her find a job. The rest, I guess, is history.” “Wow. That was really nice of you.” Jay shrugs. “It is what it is.” The remainder of the drive home is quiet. In the house, Jay follows me upstairs. When I get to my bedroom door, I turn back to say good night, only to find he’s standing right behind me, a look in his eyes that makes me feel hot all over. There’s something dark in his gaze that I can’t translate. The air between us is thick, and as the seconds tick by, I grow nervous. I need to get away and I’m not even sure why, so when I find my voice to speak, I tell him good night before quickly hurrying inside my room. And when I lay my head on my pillow, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t broken the moment. SATURDAY PASSES IN A LAZY FASHION. I spend most of my time reading my Kindle out in the garden. We’re going through a sunny-weather patch. My book choice on this occasion veers toward the emotionally intense romantic kind, but I’m not going to analyse why that is. I suppose the way Jay was looking at me last night has me in need of a bit of lady porn. Speaking of Jay, he’s currently camped out at the table by the glass sliding doors, a tonne of books and his laptop open in front of him as he researches God only knows what. Every once in a while I’ll let my eyes wander in his direction, and I’ll find him looking back at me pensively. Then he’ll smile and return his attention to his research. Other times he won’t be looking, and I’ll be unable to tear my eyes off him. He’s wearing a tight grey T-shirt that showcases his muscular arms perfectly, the toned lines of his shoulders.

As the day draws to a close, I start to get all nerved up for the seminar tomorrow. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I just hope Jay keeps his promise and behaves himself. Morning comes, and I dress in a simple blue summer dress with some black heels. I’m not in the mood to put in my contacts, so I slip on my glasses instead. Arriving downstairs, I find that Jay has yet again made me breakfast, oat pancakes smothered with honey. “You are paying rent, you know. You don’t have to make breakfast every morning to keep Dad sweet,” I say with a soft laugh. “How do you know he’s the one I’m trying to keep sweet?” Jay replies with a flirty grin, waggling his eyebrows and taking a seat opposite me. I stuff a forkful of pancake into my mouth so I don’t have to respond. “How about we make a deal?” says Jay. “I’ll do breakfast every morning if you do dinner every evening. That way it’s even.” I grin as I chew. “Okay, you’re on.” About an hour later, we arrive at the Hilton for the seminar. The receptionist in the lobby directs us to a function room where there’s a big banner hanging over the entrance. It reads: Kick-start Your Love Life with Simon Silver. We’re each given a goodie bag and then ushered inside. Two women standing in front of us keep peeking over their shoulders at Jay, giggling to one another. “Your gay act better be convincing,” I whisper to him. “Otherwise, I think you might have a swarm on your hands by the end of the day.” “What are you going on about, Watson?” Jay asks, walking over to a water cooler to get a drink. I follow him. “I’m going on about the fact that every woman in here has her eyes on you, and although that might sound appealing right now, it won’t be when we have a stampede on our hands,” I joke, though I’m also kind of serious. Today he’s wearing a midnight-blue shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans, his svelte waist accentuated by a brown leather belt. The sight is more than a little appealing. “Now, that would be interesting,” says Jay. He pauses for a second, hand on hip, then finishes with a camp, “Girlfriend.” I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh, God. Please let me know when you’ve stopped doing that, whatever it is you’re doing.” His deep chuckle moves closer to me and then his warm hand is on mine, pulling it away from my face. “Okay, I won’t do it again. I’ll just be one of those nonflaming gays.” “I think that might be for the best.” He continues laughing as he guides me to a seat about three rows from the front. “Perhaps we should sit a little farther back,” I suggest. “I don’t want to be singled out to talk.” “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” says Jay, pulling me down to sit. A woman sitting alone two seats away keeps sneaking glances at us. It’s plainly obvious that Jay is about as homosexual as Gerard Butler in the movie 300. On

second thought, no, I need to think of a better comparison. 300 was so excessively straight it was actually unconsciously super-gay. A few minutes pass by, and the conference room begins to fill up. Soon there are hardly any seats left. It’s reassuring to me that I’m not the only woman out there who’s hopeless with men. I can even spot a few girls my age in attendance. A blonde sits down on the other side of Jay, smiling demurely and giving him a quiet but interested, “Hello.” I want to stab her with the complimentary pen provided in the goodie bag. Okay, I should probably calm down. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean I have any ownership over Jay. He’s a free agent. Free as a bird, really. Now, there’s a depressing thought. Rummaging through the aforementioned goodie bag, I pull out a pamphlet containing ten top tips for finding a date. I’m starting to skim through it when some hip modern music comes through the speakers and a well-dressed woman in her twenties walks onto the stage. She does a quick intro for the event and then says, “So, without further ado, I give you Simon Silver.” Jay snorts next to me. “That can’t be his real name. He sounds like a pirate from a kids’ TV show.” I suppress a laugh, because it’s sort of true. “Yeah, well, not all of us were blessed with ultra-cool names like Jay Fields,” I tease, and his body goes slightly rigid. Did I say something wrong? Focusing my attention back on the stage, I deduct that Simon’s probably in his mid-thirties, though it’s hard to tell because his hair has blond highlights and he’s sporting a seriously hard-core fake tan, the kind gotten through years and years of sun beds. He’s even wearing a diamond earring in one ear. I hadn’t really done too much research into the event, so this is actually the first time I’m seeing the man in the flesh. I can’t say I’m impressed. In fact, I’m feeling that squirming sensation in my gut that tells me this could turn out to be a massive cringe-fest.

NINE

imon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset S microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent.

“I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.” Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look. “Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.” I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome. “Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?” The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak. “All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?” Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.” Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.” Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.” “Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially. Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate. Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty

euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me. “Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?” Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now. “Not particularly,” I mumble. “I’m sorry, could you speak up?” I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.” “Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?” “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark. Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?” All of a sudden Simon becomes aware that there’s a man in the audience. Shock, horror. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it. “But of course. Go ahead,” he says, a wary glint in his eye as he gestures for Jay to stand up. Jay stands, his eyes on mine the entire time. I send him a silent look of thanks. “Okay, my ideal girl will be classy, funny, beautiful, sensitive, and she’ll have a great fucking rack.” Furious giggling breaks out all around us, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly embarrassed. Apart from “sensitive,” I’m not sure if I’m any of those things. Simon chuckles. “You do realise this is a seminar to teach women how to find men, right?” Jay shrugs. “I must have missed the memo.” “All right, well, a lot of what I teach will be useful for dating women, too. So you’re welcome to stay.” “Gee whiz, thanks,” says Jay with no small amount of sarcasm before sitting back down in his seat. Simon gives him a hard look but then plasters a big smile on his face seconds later. “Okay, the next part of this exercise requires you to take those five attributes, and I want you to focus mainly on the personal qualities rather than appearance, and turn them on yourself. I want you to question whether or not you possess the qualities you want your partner to have. If you don’t, then do you have a right to demand them of others? Furthermore, what can you do to cultivate those qualities in yourself?” I look down at my list: funny, smart, protective, motivated, and handsome. Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “How are you doing so far?” “Well, I am the handsomest lady I know, so that’s a start.”

“And I’ve got a fucking awesome rack, but remember, we have to leave out anything related to appearance.” “Right,” I reply, half laughing as I bite my lip nervously. “So…?” “I’m not very good with self-analysis.” “Let me see.” I hand him the list, and he looks it over. “Funny? Check. Smart? Check. Protective? Check. You’re always looking out for your dad. Motivated? Check again. I don’t know anyone who’d work a forty-hour week and then come home every evening to work more on making dresses.” “Jay! I hate to admit it, but you’ve just made me quite like myself.” He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?” “I don’t know. Self-loathing is kind of a human disease, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t be here right now if I went around thinking I was flipping fantastic all the time. If I did that, I’d have no trouble picking up men.” Jay’s about to say something when Simon starts to speak again. “Well, how did you all do?” There are a number of grumblings from the audience. “Yeah, I get it. We’re all guilty of wanting the perfect person, but we never think to look inward and see how totally imperfect we are ourselves. But that’s okay. The key is to be constantly trying to improve. None of us are ever going to be perfect, so let’s cut that thought out right there. All we can really do is try to be the best version of ourselves that we can possibly be. We need to be comfortable in our own skin, and when we achieve that, we suddenly become more attractive to the opposite sex. “Take me as an example. When I was younger, I had zero confidence. I might as well have been invisible to women. I didn’t believe in myself, and believing in yourself is the most important thing. One day I walked into a shop and bought a self-help book. It was nothing special, but it planted the seed in me to become what I am today.” He continues with a few more anecdotes, though it feels more like an opportunity for him to waste a bit of time patting himself on the back. I don’t really come away with anything useful. Then we’re broken up into groups to role-play. One of us is the guy and the other is the girl, and we have to pretend we’ve just met in a bar or some similar environment. The one playing the girl has to take the lead in chatting the “guy” up. And yes, it’s just as painful as it sounds. I get stuck doing it with a woman wearing a paisley shirt and a corduroy skirt, while Jay is practically bombarded with women who want to role-play with him. Surprise, surprise. In the end, though, he pairs up with the blonde who’d been sitting beside him. I still have a slight urge to stab her with my pen. I hardly get to speak to Jay for the entire two hours, and then it’s already lunchtime. I’m making my way out of the ladies’ room and heading toward the hotel restaurant when he appears from behind a column. He immediately links his

arm through mine and leads me in the opposite direction. “Hey, soooo, I was thinking we’d do lunch at the café across the street. Turns out you were right about the stampede.” I burst into laughter that’s full of “I told you so’s.” “What happened?” “I got asked to eat with about ten different chicks. One started squeezing my bicep, and another actually pinched my ass.” “Oh, God, lucky you. Okay, I suppose we don’t have to eat here if it’s all too much for you.” Jay raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Watson?” “Why, I do believe it is, Holmes.” My grin couldn’t get any wider. “Fine. We’ll eat here, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” When we enter the restaurant, I can practically feel the eyes on us like laser beams. Jay makes sure that we get a table only big enough for two in the far corner of the room. A waiter comes along quickly to take our orders and then leaves just as swiftly. “Ah, I’m starving. I hope the food comes soon,” I say just before the blonde Jay had been partnered up with appears at the table. “Hey, mind if I join you?” she asks. Jay coughs. “Sorry, Joanne, but I don’t think there’s room.” “Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to squeeze myself in somewhere,” she tells him with a wink. “We’ve already ordered, and I actually came today to support my friend, Matilda. So, if you don’t mind….” Her expression sours. “Right, well, I apologise for interrupting.” There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence after she leaves, so I occupy myself by unfolding my napkin and placing it on my lap. When the quiet becomes too much to bear, I make a joke. “You know what, single men should crash these things all the time. It would be the perfect hunting ground.” “Yeah,” says Jay, but he doesn’t seem much in the mood for conversation. I reach across the table and put my hand on top of his. “Are you okay?” He turns his hand palm up then before lacing his fingers through mine and giving them a tight squeeze. He still hasn’t responded, but he’s giving me some kind of meaningful eye contact. Tingles rush through my veins. A moment later the food arrives, and I quickly pull my hand away. I spend the next while focusing on eating my salmon salad, at the same time berating myself for ever agreeing to let Jay come here. Not only has it been a cringe-fest, but it’s also been a bit of an awkward-fest, too. The second half of the day is less about role-play, and more about sitting and listening to Simon drone on and on. Along the way, I come to the epiphany that I’m never going to become the best version of myself like Simon wants us all to do. The best version of myself got lost somewhere in the past, destroyed by a whole range of experiences. Number one would be seeing my own mother killed in front of me.

Number two was spending an entire year as a confused child trying to pull my father out of his grief. Number three was meeting my teenage boyfriend, a boyfriend who then dumped me out of the blue by text after two years together because he decided he was in love with someone else. And the constant underneath all of that is an ingrained fear of taking chances. I’ve lived my entire life at home, with the comfort blanket of my dad as my constant companion. The funny thing is, Jay’s recent presence in my life has made me start to want to take a chance, break free and do something crazy. Consequences be damned. When the day finally draws to a close, I’m exhausted and can’t wait to get home to my bed. It seems that’s not to be, as Jay convinces me to come have a drink with him. He brings me to a pub called the Gypsy Rose, where there’s an old rocker sitting in the corner, strumming a guitar and crooning into a microphone. “So,” I say as I hitch myself up onto a barstool, “this is where you like to spend your time.” “Yeah,” says Jay. “It’s got character.” “Oh, so that’s they’re calling it these days.” The bartender, a surprisingly young and attractive rockabilly type, comes over, and he and Jay do this suave little handshake. “What can I get you two?” “I’ll have a beer,” Jay replies. “And I’ll have a vodka and orange,” I say, avoiding the wine because it will probably be more like vinegar. “So, did you enjoy yourself today?” Jay asks once we’ve been served our drinks. “Uh, yeah. It was very helpful,” I reply, lying through my false teeth. In all honesty, I’m really embarrassed that I paid so much money and came away with nothing but a goodie bag filled with pat advice. Jay chuckles softly as he lifts his beer and takes a long, thirsty swig, his mouth curving in a smile. “So, basically, you thought it was a load of horseshit.” “What? That’s not what I said!” Jay twists on his stool so he’s facing me head on. “Watch me carefully.” He clears his throat before repeating my exact words back at me while shaking his head. “That’s what you did, Watson. Your mouth was saying yes, but your body told me no. Mouths lie, bodies tell the truth.” I groan. “Okay, so I was bored out of my mind for the most part. The roleplaying could have been useful if I had been paired with someone better than Miss Paisley Shirt. Even I could pretend to flirt better than her.” “All right, how about we try again now? Pretend I’m some dude you’re into, and you want to chat me up. Go on.” Pretend? Sure, Jason, I’ll pretend I’m into you. “I think I’ve suffered enough for one day, thank you very much,” I reply. Jay tuts. “Chickenshit.”

“I’m not chicken — I’m just not in the mood.” “You’re chicken. Come on, Matilda, I’m waiting.” He starts to drum his fingers on the bar to emphasise his point. I know he isn’t going to let up until I do this, so I sit there for a minute, trying to think of an angle. I get up, walk over to the corner, and then walk back, slipping onto the stool again. Jay stares straight ahead, nursing his beer. I cough. “Hello.” He gives me a casual glance, then says, “Hey.” “Do you, uh, come here often?” His chest starts to move up and down in silent laughter. I expect him to drop the whole thing and tell me my line was shit, but he goes with it. “Yeah. Do you?” “No, actually. This is my first time.” A smirk. “Your first time, eh?” God, he really loves his virgin jokes. “Yes. My name’s Matilda. What’s yours?” “Royston. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Matilda,” he replies, offering his hand. I sputter a laugh. “Royston, seriously?” “You got a problem with my name?” I try to keep a straight face. “Nope. None at all.” “Good.” I open my mouth to say something, but I’ve got nothing. I let out a long sigh. Jay laughs. “What’s wrong?” “Ugh, I give up.” Knocking back another gulp of beer, he gets up from his stool. “Okay, you want me to show you how it’s done?” “Eh, yes?” I reply eagerly. “I’ll be right back.” He walks away, and I turn back to the bar, running a finger over the rim of my glass. The stool next to mine squeaks, sliding closer. I feel Jay’s arm touch off mine as he takes my hand in his. He’s all up in my space, and it’s hard to breathe, hard to focus. “Hey,” he murmurs huskily, his gaze boring into mine. “Hi,” I croak. “Great eyes,” he goes on, voice low. “Oh. Thanks.” His gaze wanders down my legs to my feet, and it feels like his mere presence is taking up every inch of my personal space. Normally, if a man did this to me, I’d be running in the opposite direction. But Jay has this way about him that makes me like the touching, as though he is a magnet and I’m a piece of metal. I like the closeness, even though in this role-play we’re supposed to be complete strangers. “Fantastic shoes.” “Thanks. Again.” Now he just keeps looking at me, his eyes flickering back and forth between

mine. I get lost in their greenish-brown depths, and his mouth moves closer, close enough so that I can feel his breath on me. My hand is still in his, growing sweatier by the second. His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips, and for a brief moment I forget what we’re doing, because it feels like he might kiss me. “Darlin’,” he breathes softly, and I melt. Involuntarily, I squeeze my thighs together tight, suddenly aching between my legs. A tiny, almost inaudible gasp escapes me. This is it. He’s actually going to do it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls away, giving me a sly grin. “Well, how did I do?” I knock back the last of my drink in order to give myself a chance to recuperate. “Uh, yeah, you did okay. You didn’t really say much, though.” “I never really need to,” he answers smugly. “Well, we mere mortals don’t have that luxury.” “Sometimes I go with: ‘Do you know what you’re doing later? No? That’s funny, ’cos I do.’” A burst of laughter escapes me. “You’re joking! That works?” He nods his head. “Yup. Like a charm.” “I think you could probably say, ‘I’ll be Burger King and you be McDonalds. I’ll have it my way and you’ll be lovin’ it,’ and you’d probably still score.” Jay slams his hand down on the bar top. “That’s a good one! Did you come up with that all by yourself?” “Are you being sarcastic? And no, I’m not a complete cheeseball.” When I look at him, he’s turned to face me, his chin resting on his fist, his hair hanging slightly over his forehead. He couldn’t look any more edible. “You’re more appealing than you think, Matilda. It’s your mindset that’s pulling you down.” Okay. Can I please have the first part of that quote engraved in gold and hung over my mantelpiece forevermore? The only response I can come up with is my usual unladylike snort. He shakes his head, and then a man wearing a black leather jacket and biker boots walks into the pub. He gives Jay a nod and then goes to sit at a table by himself. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Jay says, leaving me and making his way over to the man. They shake hands, and Jay pulls a small, thin package from the inside pocket of his coat. He hands it to the man, and the man gives him an A4-sized envelope in return. Then they sit and talk for a minute before shaking hands again, and the man leaves. Jay returns to his stool beside me. “What was that all about?” “Just a man about a dog.” “Hmm.” “Hmm,” Jay says, mimicking me. “Has it got to do with your case?”

“We are nosy this evening.” “Fine, I’ll stop asking questions.” Jay stands, his stool scraping against the floor. “Are you finished? I think it’s home time.” “Yeah, I’m done.” We leave the pub and drive back to the house in silence, though it’s a comfortable kind. After spending the day with him, I feel like I know Jay a lot better now. Well, I don’t know much about him in terms of hard facts, but I do feel less antsy in his company, more relaxed. The next day at work is another slow one. Dad comes in and out of his office several times to check the appointment list. It’s still just as empty as it was the last four times he checked. “Things will pick up,” I try to reassure him, but he doesn’t look reassured. I take a long lunch and go sit in the park to eat my sandwich. Since I managed to get my new sewing machine with Jay’s help, I no longer have to save up and can afford the nice sandwiches from the deli, rather than bringing a packed lunch. Although, from the way our appointment numbers have gone down, I’ll probably be back to saving again pretty soon. There must be some way to help boost the business, I think to myself. When I get back to the office, I spend some time researching online advertising and exploring ways in which Dad could branch out. I bookmark a couple of ideas and then shut down my computer for the day. As I walk to the bus stop, I notice a weird stencil on the pavement. It looks like it’s been done with some sort of chalky substance. There’s a big red heart, inside of which is the number six. Inside the hole in the six is one of those QR codes. It instantly reminds me of Jay’s picture in the newspaper, where he’d been holding a six of hearts. He’d also left that exact card on my phone when he’d made it miraculously disappear and then appear. Pulling said phone out of my handbag, I scan the code and wait to see what happens. A slick website pops up, all done in black and electric blue. An image of a man on a stage makes up the background. His back is turned to the audience, his arms spread out like an eagle. It takes a second for me to realise it’s Jay, because he’s topless and I haven’t seen him topless before. His tattoos dance along his skin, looking almost alive. Beneath the image are just a few lines. July 26th, 8 p.m. The Paint Cellar, Temple Bar, Dublin 2. And that’s all there is, just one page, no other info at all. I hurry to the bus now, eager to get home and question Jay about the mysterious website. What’s going to happen on that date and at that location? My pores tingle with excitement.

TEN

t home I find Jay in the kitchen with Jessie. He’s writing furiously into an old A moleskin notepad, while Jessie listens to music on a pair of ultra-hip headphones,

bobbing her head to the beat. What catches my attention most of all, though, is the cage that’s been placed by the window containing two beautiful white doves. “Oh, my God, they’re so pretty,” I exclaim, going over to get a better look. Jay puts down his pen, stands up, and walks toward me. “You like my girls, huh?” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I really do. Are they yours?” “Yep. Jessie was keeping them for me at her place.” “What are their names?” “This one’s Ellen,” says Jay, pointing to the one on the left. “And this one’s Portia. If you haven’t already guessed, I let Jessie name them. She thinks it’s funny.” “Ah. But how can you tell them apart? They both look identical to me.” “They’ve got different personalities. Ellen’s the chatty one. Portia’s the sleepy one.” “I see,” I reply before continuing excitedly, “Are you going to be keeping them here from now on?” “Sure am.” He smiles indulgently, his face close to mine. “I’m so happy! I haven’t had a pet since my cat died.” Jay starts rubbing my shoulder now, the friendly gesture causing a little more than a friendly reaction in me. I want him to slip his hand beneath the fabric and touch me skin on skin. We watch the birds for a minute or two, and then I remember what I really wanted to talk to him about, so I pull my phone from my bag. Bringing up the website again, I show it to him. “So, uh, what’s this all about?” Jay stands back and rubs a hand along his stubble, grinning. “Ah, you saw that, did you? I should have guessed my little Watson would want to solve the mystery.” My little Watson. Yeah, I think I like the sound of that. “So, come on, don’t leave me in anticipation,” I prompt. Jessie pulls off her headphones. “Hey, Matilda,” she says, giving me a casual

nod. I quickly say hello back before returning my attention to Jay. “I’m doing a show this Friday. What you saw was an advertisement. Jessie and I spent the whole morning spray-chalking the stencils all around the city.” I go to the fridge and open it up to see what’s for dinner. Surprisingly, it’s stocked full of food. Jay must have gone shopping. That was nice of him. “That’s a really cool idea, but do you think it will be effective? Most people might think it’s just street art.” “Oh, it’ll work,” says Jay. “People love shit that’s all obscure and mysterious. They’ll go just to see what it’s all about. Though my fans will know it’s me the second they see the symbol.” “If you build it, they will come,” says Jessie, sitting cross-legged on her seat like Buddha. She sounds mildly stoned, but I think that’s just her way. “Okay.” Jay laughs. “What does that symbol mean, anyway?” I ask. “Ah, now, that would be telling.” “So many secrets,” I tease, pulling some chicken and a few vegetables out of the fridge. “You’re like a naughty husband who’s having an affair.” Jay grabs a carrot out of my hand and takes a big bite. He stares at me as he chews, swallows. With a wink, he says, “I’m not the cheating kind, but I sure can be naughty.” Well, I don’t doubt that. Turning away, I start preparing my chicken stir-fry, making enough for everyone, including Dad, who should be home any minute. “So,” I begin casually, “am I invited to this show? Or is it too exclusive for the likes of me?” “Of course not, Watson! You’re going to be my guest of honour,” Jay exclaims, all boisterous. I laugh and shake my head before replying jokingly, “Look, Jay, I’m know I’m the image of Emma Watson and everything, but you don’t have to keep going on about it.” I place a cover over the stir-fry to let it simmer. When I turn around, he’s right in front of me, studying my face for what feels like forever. “Nah, you’re more like a brunette Scarlett Johansson,” he murmurs low, penning me in. I harrumph. “Sure, if she had a facial disfigurement.” His hand comes up to cup the side of my face and part of my neck, where my scar lines my skin. My breathing hitches at his warm touch. God, how long has it been since I’ve been touched like this? Have I ever been touched like this? He levels his eyes on me seriously, his thumb brushing back and forth, as he murmurs, “Because this makes you so unappealing.” I don’t have to be a genius to tell he’s being sarcastic. Wow. This is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he’s mentioned my appeal. Should I start getting my hopes up? Jessie makes quick work of ruining the moment by making a little vomiting sound. “Ugh, you two need to get a room,” she says before putting her headphones

back on. Jay tugs on my hand and leads me out to the back garden, where the sun is shining down warmly. “I created a magic trick just for you. I think I have it perfected.” “For me? Seriously?” I ask in delight. He hands me what looks like a small beige chicken’s egg, placing it in my upturned palm. “It’s an egg,” I say, stating the obvious. Jay nods. “Just keep watching.” He passes his hand over it once, and it starts to crack, like maybe there’s a tiny chick inside. Then he passes his hand over the top of it again, and it cracks completely open. I gasp with surprise as five gorgeous red and black butterflies with white spots practically explode from the shell, their wings flapping through the air. They flutter all around me, and my heart lifts when one of them comes to sit on my shoulder. “Oh, wow,” I whisper, smiling like crazy and trying my hardest not to move. Another comes and sits on my hand, tickling me and making me giggle. When I look at Jay, his eyes are shining bright under the sun as he soaks up my reaction, his mouth curving ever so slightly at the edges. I’m not even going to ask him how he did it. I’m locked in his spell, and I don’t want to break it. “That was amazing,” I say to him when the butterflies have all finally flown away. Stepping closer, he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Look at those eyes, so full of wonder. I love your reactions. They make me feel like I can reclaim the childhood I never had.” His heartfelt words make my throat tighten with empathy. I feel like hugging him, but I can’t. It would be…too much. Just then I hear Dad come in the front door, and I stumble back, hurrying to the kitchen. Jay follows me. When I step inside, Dad’s already saying hello to Jessie, who introduces herself as a friend of Jay’s. I dish up a plate of stir-fry for everyone, and we sit down to eat at the table, chatting about light topics. After dinner Dad excuses himself to his room, where he plans to start reading the novel they’re discussing in his book club this month. Jay suggests the rest of us watch a movie in the living room. I go to change out of my work clothes while he and Jessie decide on a DVD. When I come back down, they’ve selected a romantic comedy called Away We Go that I bought a couple of years ago when it first came out. I can’t remember it all too well, but I do recall it being about a couple who are expecting a baby. An odd choice for these two, but I go with it anyway. Jessie is camped out on the armchair, so I sit next to Jay on the sofa, a nice safe distance between us. I hug a cushion to my chest as Jay presses “play” on the DVD. The film starts off with a quiet night time scene, and I relax into my seat. Unfortunately, my relaxation lasts about five seconds before I realise that the first scene is a sex scene. A scene where the man is going down on the woman, to be precise. Immediately, I can feel my cheeks heat up, even though it’s supposed to be

kind of funny. “Oh, now look at this,” says Jessie, pointing at the screen. “He’s doing it all wrong. He needs to take a few tips from me. I’m the queen of cunnilingus.” Jay cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks, his arm resting behind me along the top of the couch. “I’d wager I’m better,” he says in a low, challenging voice. Jessie snorts long and loud. “You wanna bet? I’d win hands down.” Christ, could this conversation end, please? “Okay, how are we going to play this? We need a judge,” says Jay, laughing, and I really hope he’s joking. Jessie waggles her brow at me. “You want the position, Matilda?” I practically choke on a cough. “I think I’ll have to decline.” “Scared?” Jay asks, tilting his head to me with a wicked grin. I get defensive. “No, I’m not scared. Besides, you need experience to be a judge….” Oh, God, did I just say that? Where the hell is my filter? “What?” Jessie spurts, practically jumping out of her seat. Suddenly, I’m regretting agreeing to watch a movie with these two. “Please tell me you’re joking!” My face has become so red I might as well be a tomato. “Forget I said anything,” I mutter. “Oh, my God, you’re not joking, are you?” she goes on. I make the mistake of glancing at Jay, and his gaze is on fire. I play with the hem of my top and sigh. “No. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and, well, let’s just say he was kind of selfish in that department.” “Asshole,” says Jay. “Yeah, he was. So, no, I’ve no experience of that particular…act.” “That’s a fucking travesty, hon. All girls need to get their vaginas licked. It’s like a rite of passage,” Jessie tells me with no embarrassment whatsoever. I make a move to leave, but Jay grabs my wrist and pulls me back down, turning to face me properly. His eyes flick to Jessie as he warns sharply, “You don’t have to talk like that to her.” “She’s not a child, Jay.” “She’s not one of your fuck buddies, either, so try and keep it clean, yeah?” I pull my wrist from his hold. “She can talk to me whatever way she likes. I just wish we could watch the film and stop discussing my sex life, or lack thereof.” He raises his hands in the air. “Fine. Let’s watch it, then.” There’s a couple of minutes of awkwardness before we all get into the storyline. In the end, it actually turns out to be really enjoyable, that uncomfortable first scene aside. Jessie leaves once it’s over, and I go to my room. I can hear Jay in his own room as I’m getting my clothes ready for work in the morning. It sounds like he’s pacing. A minute later, there’s a knock on my door. “Come in,” I call, and Jay appears, stepping inside but leaving the door open behind him. Oh, yeah, and did I forget to mention that he’s topless? Topless! My

eyes wander over his tattoos as I admire a particularly detailed one right over his heart. It looks a like a cubist painting, a box filled with triangles of all different colours. On the other side of his chest is a six of hearts card done in vibrant red and chalky white. Somebody’s definitely got a theme. Above the card is a quote: Do your worst, for I will do mine. Isn’t that from The Count of Monte Cristo? “I’m sorry about earlier. We shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.” “It’s okay.” He hovers in his spot indecisively, then turns as if to leave. Instead, he slams the door shut and comes to stand right in front of me. He takes the shirt I’m folding from my hands and places it down on the bed. The next thing he does is lace his fingers through mine. I watch, transfixed, as he brings our hands to come and rest in the centre of his chest. He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?” “Um, no,” I lie, and for once he doesn’t call me out on it. He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” “What I said?” “About never having a man go down on you.” My eyes widen at his words, but I try to laugh it off. “It’s pitiful, isn’t it?” “You should let me do it. Show you what all the fuss is about.” His smile is devilish. I pull my hand from his and walk to the other side of the room. Facing the window, I’m unable to look at him, not knowing whether to be elated or insulted. “You’re being inappropriate.” “Darlin’.” Oh, don’t call me that, Jason. I melt when you call me that. Glancing down, I see that my hands are shaking. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever known. I should want this. I do want this. The problem is, I’m scared shitless. I feel him move across the room, stopping right behind me. The heat from his body practically scorches me, and we’re not even touching. My voice is quiet when I start to speak. “Don’t you think that might be kind of weird? You’re not my boyfriend, Jay.” “I don’t need to be your boyfriend to do that to you, Matilda.” My name rolls off his tongue like a caress. Oh, God. “Do you like me?” I ask, hating how insecure I sound. “Of course I like you. I enjoy your company a lot.” “I don’t mean in the friends way,” I soldier on disappointedly. Someone liking me as a friend isn’t the epic love I’ve been waiting my entire life for. His hand goes to my arm as he leans his head on my shoulder, his breath hitting the back of my neck. “You have no idea,” he whispers. A minute passes, and then his heat is gone. I turn around just in time to see him shutting my door behind him.

ELEVEN

he rest of the week passes quickly enough. I only ever see Jay at breakfast or T during dinner. Other times he’s mostly off preparing for his show at the venue in

Temple Bar. There’s been no further talk of sexual things, which is both a relief and a disappointment. It’s all for the best, though. Jay was probably just feeling horny, and I was the only female around. The next morning I would’ve been slotted right back into the friend zone, and Jay would move on with his life while I wallowed in lovesickness. I gave up a night of pleasure to save my feelings in the long run. On Thursday I meet up with Michelle for lunch and ask her if she wants to come with me to Jay’s show. Her answer is an enthusiastic yes. When I go home that night, I log in to my online dating site for the first time in a while. It seems that ever since Jay moved in, I haven’t been obsessively checking my messages like I used to. Funny that. I’ve got about five PMs from different guys. Only one of them seems decent. His name is Owen, and he’s got jet-black hair and blue eyes. A nice combination. Still, I can’t help comparing him to the golden-brown hair and hazel eyes that have been starring in my dreams of late. Owen works as a chef in a city restaurant, one I’m actually quite fond of, so that scores him some definite points. He’s two years older than I am and lives in the city centre. Deciding to be brave, and also to take my mind off my stupid crush on Jay, I write Owen a message back. Hi, Owen, Thanks for writing to me. I actually LOVE your restaurant! It’s such a coincidence that I eat there all the time. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I’d like to meet up. Let me know what day and time suits you. Matilda. There. Short and sweet. Just what the doctor ordered. My heart pounds as I hit the “send” button. I haven’t met up with anyone from the Internet before. I’ve thought about it a lot, forever telling myself that next week would be the week. In the end I kept putting it off for so long that it became a huge thing, and I had built up this unbreakable psychological barrier. Now I’m deciding to face my fears; otherwise, I’ll just end up spending my days

admiring Jay from afar, and that’s way too pathetic, even for me. The next night I dress ambitiously for Jay’s show in a dark purple body-con dress and heels. I do my hair in waves clipped to the side and hanging over one shoulder. Owen still hasn’t messaged me back, and I admit it’s rubbed me up the wrong way slightly. I keep telling myself that he’s probably just busy. The work of a chef is notoriously stressful. Anyway, perhaps I’ll meet somebody interesting tonight. I’m studying my reflection in my full-length mirror, about to put in some stud earrings, when Jay appears in my doorway. He watches me for a minute as I stare at him through the glass. “Don’t wear the earrings,” he says. “Why not?” Something mischievous dances in his eyes. “Just don’t.” “Weird request, but all right. You look good, by the way.” He’s wearing a black shirt and matching slacks. They make him look dark and mysterious and, if I’m being honest, a little like a sexy version of the Devil. “You look better,” he replies, and I catch my breath at the compliment. “I have to leave early to bring some stuff to the venue. You and Michelle are going for drinks first, right?” “Yeah. The same bar as last week. It’s not too far from your show, so we should be able to walk from there.” Jay whistles. “In those shoes? I don’t think so.” I laugh. “I think that might be a song, you know. Michelle and I once went to see this drag queen perform on Capel Street and the guy sang it.” Jay gives me an indulgent look before rummaging in his pocket. “Get a cab. Here’s some cash.” He places the money down on my dresser, but I have no intention of taking it. His eyes trail up and down my body before he tells me he’ll see me later, then disappears from my doorway just as quickly as he appeared. Drinks with Michelle are as colourful as they usually are. She tells me all about her escapades with the man from last week and how he ended up tying her to his bedpost. It wasn’t as sexy as it sounds, though, because apparently the ties kept coming loose. The guy then proceeded to have a hissy fit because his attempt at bondage wasn’t working. I laugh into my white wine, and after one more drink we make our way to Jay’s show. He was right about one thing — I shouldn’t have walked there in my heels. When selecting my footwear earlier, I hadn’t made concessions for the cobblestones lining the alleyway that leads to the venue. I’m thinking I’ll have a few pretty blisters to contend with come tomorrow. Surprisingly, there’s a long queue outside extending onto the next street. Definitely an excellent turnout for something he’d only started advertising five days ago. Jay told me that he’d put mine and Michelle’s names on the guest list, so we wouldn’t have to wait to get in. Michelle takes great pleasure in the fact that we

get to walk past those forming an orderly line and straight to the entrance. The bouncer checks that our names are on the list and then lets us both in. A pretty girl with short purple hair comes up to us just after we’ve left our coats in the cloakroom. “Hey, are you Matilda?” “That’s me.” “Great. Come with me. Mr Fields wants you sitting in the front row.” “Oh,” I say warily. “Why’s that?” She shrugs. “Not sure. I’m just following orders.” The venue is underground, and the bare brick walls are all done in colourful spray paint. One side of the room is dark, depicting fire and demons, while the other side is bright and full of heavenly angels. It’s all seated, too, with rows and rows of old-style velvety cinema chairs. Cooler than any place I’ve ever been. Even some of the people here look too cool to be real, all tattoos, piercings, and unusual clothes. There are a couple of average-looking people as well, so I don’t feel completely out of place. The purple-haired girl tells us she’ll get us whatever drinks we want from the bar, and yes, we both opt for more wine. “Wow, we’re really being given the VIP treatment tonight,” Michelle gushes, running her hands over the velvety armrests on either side of her. “I know. Seemingly it pays to have an illusionist as a housemate. Who would have guessed?” Michelle gets a sneaky gleam in her eye when she asks, “Does it pay in any other ways, too?” “You’ll have to be more specific,” I say just as the purple-haired girl returns with our drinks before hurrying back to the bar. “Specifically, in the way of male and female relations,” she elaborates. “Of course not!” I sputter far too defensively. “Oh, but you wish it did. I know you, Matilda, and I know you like him. It’s written all over your face. Why don’t you go for it? It’s the whole reason I backed off last week, you know.” Really? That’s why she backed off? She’s an even better friend than I give her credit for. Sighing, I lean my chin on my fist. “It’s not that simple. What if I came onto him and he was all like, uh, could you please not? I’d be mortified, and I’d still have to suffer living with him afterward. It’s too risky.” “Life is risky. And anyway, I highly doubt he’d say that. It’s more likely he’d be all, yes, please continue.” I laugh at her, and she smiles. She always manages to make me feel better, even if she was the one who brought up the subject in the first place. At least she repairs her own damage. We drink some more wine, and then the venue starts to fill up. And I mean, there isn’t an empty seat in the house. There’s even a bunch of people who didn’t manage to get seats standing by the bar. I get a fright when someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see Jessie crouched behind me.

“Just thought I’d come say hi,” she says to me with a smile. “Hi, Jessie, this is my friend Michelle.” Jessie gives Michelle an appreciative look up and down, and a head nod. “Hey.” “Hello,” says Michelle with a grin. Jessie’s all dressed in black, the same as Jay had been, and it makes me wonder if she’s going to be a part of the show. Before I have the chance to ask her, she tells me she has to get going and hurries backstage. Suddenly, every light in the house blows out, and we’re all plunged into darkness. What the hell? It’s so dark that I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. My heart beats fast, and electricity seems to fill the air. Ironic, no? Excitement clutches at my lungs. For some reason, I don’t think this is a fault with the electricity. A track starts up, blasting through the speakers, and I immediately recognise the song: “Till I Collapse” by Eminem. What? I had a rap phase. The lights don’t come back on, though. A few seconds into the song, a spotlight lands on the stage, illuminating Jay from the feet up, as though he’s appearing out of thin air. My pores tingle with the heavy beat. His black shirt from earlier is gone, replaced by a simple black wife-beater vest. His muscular arms and tattoos are on full show, held out in front of his body as he displays a pair of shiny metal handcuffs binding his wrists. A tiny grin forms on my lips. Is this a subtle jab at Una Harris’ article? I think so. The audience erupts into applause, applause so deafening it makes me think they must be massive fans of his already, because he hasn’t even done anything yet. Jay beams down at everyone, and as he walks to the edge of the stage, he spots me and winks. Wow, I have chills. There’s something about the fact that the spotlight is the only light in the venue that makes the anticipation of what he might do that much more all-consuming. He holds up his hands in a gesture that says “give me a moment,” and then he reaches inside his pocket, pulling out a tiny key and dangling it for everyone to see. The key is for the handcuffs. He raises it into the air, opens his mouth, and drops the key right in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows it whole. Walking from one side of the stage to the other, he again displays the strength of the handcuffs to the audience. Now he tries to yank his hands apart, but the handcuffs aren’t budging. He twists and turns his arms, but still nothing. What on earth is he up to? I expect him to turn around at some point and then turn back with the handcuffs off, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he keeps yanking at them, and something starts to happen. The chain linking the cuffs together begins to crumble to sand, pouring onto the stage floor in a long stream. Seconds later, Jay snaps the cuffs in half. The crowd roars with applause. Next, he pulls a knife out of the waistband of his pants. Bringing it to his chest, he slices right through the fabric, leaving a gaping hole to demonstrate its sharpness. Then, quick as a flash, he flips the knife; it flies right up into the air

before turning and sailing back down, slicing directly through his foot. There’s an audible collective intake of breath. Jay plasters a confused look on his face and lifts his leg up, bending down to see that the knife has gone right through his shoe. You can see the sharp, pointy end of it sticking out of the sole. He bends down and pulls the knife clean out, and I’m not the only one who winces. I’m so close to him, sitting here in the front row, and it looks so real. It can’t be, though, because there’s no blood on the knife, and when he lifts his leg again, the sole of his shoe is completely intact. More applause. Next, he pulls a small black gun from his pocket and brings it to his head. I grimace, blood pounding in my ears. Past trauma has programmed me to panic at a sight like this, and even though I know it can’t be real, I still come out in goose bumps all over. I’m on the edge of my seat as he pulls the trigger and a violently loud bang goes off, confetti exploding out the other side of his skull. My heart stutters, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Guns have always been a bad visual for me, even ones that aren’t real. The clapping deafens me almost as much as the bang of the fake gun. He takes the gun now and covers it with both his hands. When he opens them, the gun is gone, and a bird flies out. A dove. One of his pet doves! Somehow, seeing a symbol of war being transformed into a symbol of peace is soothing to me. It does something to my brain, releases the trauma. The dove flies around him and then lands on his shoulder. Jay picks her up, holding her in his hands just like he held the gun. He crisscrosses his hands over her, and she transforms into two doves. Fucking. Wow. He has each of them perched in either hand now. He raises his arms, and they fly off over the audience to the back of the venue. As he rubs his hands together quickly, smoke begins to rise out of his skin, and then huge, billowing flames erupt, seemingly from his very palms. The crowd goes wild, and the flames rise up and up. I can actually feel the heat of them from where I’m sitting, so I know they must be real. As this is happening, two red devil horns are projected against the bare wall behind him, making it look like they’re coming out of his own head. Fire and brimstone. Yep. I was definitely right earlier when I’d described him as a sexy version of the devil. Then he reaches for a black strap around his neck and pulls one of those scary Jason masks on, covering his face. A group of people sitting to the back cheers loudly. Ah, I get it. His full name is Jason. He stands there for a long time, completely still, his arms outstretched. Then, miraculously, his body starts to rise into the air by about two feet. He makes a swift gesture with his hands, and the curtains around the stage move abruptly, billowing out as though caught on a giant gust of wind. He gestures to a chair that had been placed off to the side, and it goes flying, crashing into the other end of the stage. A woman sitting behind me lets out a startled yelp.

Did I mention he’s still floating in the air? Flying while telekinetic. That’s some magic trick. Dry ice smoke begins to seep out from the floor, the dusty smell of it filling my nostrils. He hovers there for a second before lowering back to the stage. When the clapping dies down, he reaches to pull the mask to the back of his head again, but when he reveals his face, it’s not Jay at all. It’s Jessie. She’s almost the same height, with similar tattoos, but not the same build. And she’s definitely not Jay. Where the hell did he go?

TWELVE

he spotlight travels from Jessie on the stage, down the centre of the audience, T to the back of the room. Every single person’s gaze follows the light until it lands

on Jay, standing casually at the back of the audience, holding Ellen and Portia, his two white doves. He waves to the audience, and then the spotlight goes out completely, plunging us all into darkness again. A second later it comes back on, this time shining on the far right-hand corner of the stage, where Jay is now standing, sans doves. Okay, how on earth did he get there so quickly? It seriously can’t be possible. My mind is boggled. The song has ended now, and the crowd is cheering louder than ever. When it quietens down, Jay looks to his wrists, where the broken handcuffs still hang. “You know what,” he says, looking to the audience, “these are beginning to chafe a little. Anybody got the key?” “You swallowed it,” somebody shouts at him from the back. Jay scratches his head and looks confused. “Oh, yeah, I did, didn’t I? Shit, that was a bad move. Hey, are you all sure none of you have it?” His eyes land on me, and I jump a little. Up until this moment, I’d felt invisible from my place amid the crowd, but Jay’s gaze alone makes me feel illuminated. “Hey, you in the purple,” he calls to me with a knowing smile. “Have you got a key?” I shake my head no, already planning to give him an earful later for singling me out, when I hear something jingle. I reach up to the side of my face, all of a sudden aware of a heavy object pulling on my earlobe. My hand comes to the object, and I feel it. Oh, fuck me. This can’t be the key for the handcuffs. He swallowed it, or at least that’s what it looked like. It’s not possible for it to have gotten on my ear. It just isn’t. The spotlight lands on me, along with every pair of eyes in the place, as I feel the key hanging from an earring hook on my ear. Jay makes his way off the stage and comes toward me. I lift the key up for everyone to see, and they all start clapping. Jay stands in front of me, holding his cuffed wrists out as he bends down and asks, “You wouldn’t mind doing the honours, would you?”

His breath whispers over my skin and I swallow hard, starting with his left wrist and unlocking the cuff. It falls free as I go to undo the other one. Jay comes closer and gives me a quick, light peck on the cheek, whispering, “Thanks, Watson.” His mischievous grin is still in place. “You told me not to wear earrings. You planned this,” I whisper in reply. “Did I?” he asks before turning and hopping back up onto the stage. I glance at Michelle, and she’s wearing a delighted smile. “Okay,” says Jay as he walks to centre stage. “I guess you all read some stuff about me in the press lately.” “Fuck The Daily Post!” some drunken man shouts from the bar. Jay chuckles. “Yeah, fuck ’em.” “You can fuck me any time, Jay!” a very enthusiastic woman yells. That’s the thing about heckling, even the positive kind. Once one person does it, they all start. Jay looks over to where the woman is sitting with her friends. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and gives her a flirty wink. On the inside I’m like, That’s my flirty wink. Jealousy rears its ugly head, but I stuff it away. I imagine half the people in here want to make Jay the same offer that woman did. My jealousy would be futile.

JAY CONTINUES, clearing his throat, “But in all seriousness, I want to thank each and every one of you for not believing the lies, having faith in me, and coming here tonight.” There are shouts of encouragement and clapping. Jay waits for it to trickle out before going on, “So, I should probably move onto the next part of the show. As Mr Jerry Burke, who has the good grace to write me truly delightful ten-page ranting emails every week would say, ‘I’m gonna use my godlike super mind-reading skills to mess with your heads a little.’” Laughter rings out, and I wonder if Jerry Burke is a real person. If he is, it sounds like Jay attracts his fair amount of crazies. “Okay, I need three volunteers, and my nice assistant Jessie here is going to pick them for me.” Jessie walks out from the side of the stage and heads for the audience. She walks along the rows and selects two women and a man. After she leads them up onto the stage, Jay greets each of them before handing them a white sheet of card, an envelope, and a Sharpie pen. He tells one of the women to write down the name of her favourite band, the other woman to write down the title of her favourite book, and the man to write the title of his favourite painting. “Once you’ve written them down, I want you to put the cards inside the envelopes and seal them up,” says Jay, going over to the corner of the stage and returning with a small metal lock box. It’s got a narrow slit opening on the top, and each of the volunteers slides their envelopes in. Jay carries the box right to the edge of the stage and sets it down.

“I’m going to leave this here where you all can see it. For the duration of the show, nobody’s going to be able to touch it, so there’s no way I can find out what’s been written. However, I promise you that by the end of the night I’ll have figured out what’s inside those envelopes. Deal?” he says, offering his hand and shaking with all three of them in turn. They go back to their seats, and Jay carries on with more tricks. The first involves getting a man up onto the stage and hypnotising him into believing he’s gained the superpower of invisibility and can do whatever he wants with no consequences. He heads straight for the bar, helping himself to free drinks and some money out of the cash register. After Jay has woken him up from the hypnosis and thanked him, the man returns to his seat. I think he must remember what he did because he looks a little sheepish. Jay walks to one side of the stage and calls on one of the women who’d volunteered with the envelopes earlier. Her names is Rhona. “Hey, Rhona,” says Jay. “I’m feeling kind of generous right now and I want to give you a little gift. Would you take a look in your purse for me? See if there’s anything in there that wasn’t before?” Rhona looks excited and nervous all at once as she rummages through her red leather handbag. A moment later she pulls out a small brown envelope. “Shall I open it?” she asks shyly. “Be my guest,” says Jay, coming to sit at the edge of the stage, resting his chin casually on his hand. “Show us all what’s inside.” I crane my neck to see as she holds up what looks like a pair of tickets. “It’s concert tickets for Kings of Leon,” she exclaims. “Is that the same band you wrote down on the card and put in this box?” he asks, pointing to the box in question. “Yes,” she answers happily. “Amazing! Wow, thank you.” Jay stands. “My pleasure. Okay, that’s one down, two to go. You know what, it’s way too fucking hot in here. I think I’ll take this off.” He proceeds to remove the vest he’s wearing, and the place practically erupts with whistles and catcalls. Some of them come from Michelle sitting right beside me. I eye her and she mouths what?, unable to keep the smile off her face. God. Nobody looks better than Jay without a shirt on. He’s turned with his back to the audience, and at first I think it’s just more tattoos, but it’s not. There, painted onto his skin, is an exact replica of The Scream by Edvard Munch. Applause mixes with the catcalls. “What is it?” Jay asks playfully. “Is there something on my back?” The man who’d volunteered stands up. “You’ve got my favourite painting drawn on you, the one I wrote down on the card.” His jaw is slack, like he can’t believe it. “That’s two down now,” says Jay, looking to the final volunteer where she’s sitting in the second row, a woman named Becky. “I’m coming for you next, Becky, so watch this space.” She giggles, and Jay hops over to the other side of the stage, preparing his next

piece. I know it’s the obvious question, but how the hell does he do it? He’d have to have that painting drawn on him in advance of the show, which means he needed to know the answer before any of the volunteers were ever asked the question. Either he somehow planted the idea in the man’s head to write down that painting, or he really does have godlike super minding-reading skills, as Jerry Burke, the nutty fan claims. As it turns out, guessing the favourite book of the last volunteer is the big finish. Jay went off stage for a moment, and now he walks back on, scratching his head. I’ve come to learn that this is how he pretends to be confused, when really everything is going exactly the way he wants it. I guess other people don’t know this because they haven’t spent as much time studying him as I have, which I’m sure he’d find disconcerting if he knew. “Crap, Becky,” Jay says. “I still haven’t gotten you yet, have I?” Becky shakes her head. She looks a little disappointed. Perhaps she was hoping she’d get a gift just like Rhona and her concert tickets. Jay pulls a small book out of his back pocket and lifts it up. “It’s not The Catcher in the Rye, is it?” Becky’s brow furrows. “Um, no, that’s not what I wrote down.” Jay throws the book aside and bites his lip. “Lord of the Rings?” The place is quiet, and Becky shakes her head again, lifting her glass and taking a sip of her drink. “Hey, it looks like there’s something in your glass, Becky. Can you see that?” He points. Becky squints at her glass before fishing out an ice cube. She’s sitting in the row directly behind me, and it looks like something’s been frozen inside the ice. “Oh, my God,” Becky breathes. “Crack her open for me, would you, Becks?” says Jay confidently. Jerry Burke was right about one thing — Jay is godlike, and that god would be Loki, the trickster. Becky cracks the ice, discovering the thing inside is a folded piece of paper. She unfolds it and gasps, “It’s the first page from Neverwhere. My favourite book!” Applause fills the venue, and Jay comes down off the stage, going to thank Becky for taking part. He takes her hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss. She blushes. He’s such a charmer. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was beginning to think he might have a thing for me, but now I see that’s just the way he is with women. Flirty. He gets back on the stage, walks off, and walks back on, taking a bow. The clapping continues, and when he rises, he smiles wide before his body starts to shimmer and disappear. What the hell? Was that a projection? Then the real Jay walks out from backstage, taking the same bow the projection Jay just took. The cheering deafens me as I rise with everyone else to give him a standing ovation.

This might just be the best show I’ve ever seen. The house lights come on, and people begin to gather their things, slowly exiting the venue or going to get one last drink from the bar. “That was flipping amazing,” says Michelle. “My brain is hurting trying to figure out all those tricks. I think I just need to give up. The man is a genius.” I rub at my arms, trying to get rid of the goose bumps, and they aren’t from the cold. Jay exudes charisma and sex appeal when he’s on the stage. It sort of leaves you feeling empty when the show is over. “Yeah, he definitely thinks in a different way to the rest of us,” I say just as Jessie turns up. “Hey. Did you enjoy the show?” she asks, all out of breath. “Of course! I’ve never seen anything like it,” I exclaim as she links one arm through mine and the other through Michelle’s. “Come with me, ladies. We’re having a small after-party backstage, and you’re both invited.”

THIRTEEN

L

eading us past the staff doors behind the bar, Jessie brings us down a short corridor and into a VIP room with red walls, black velvet chairs, and glass tables. Jay is standing on the opposite side of the room, signing autographs for a bunch of Goth teenagers. The only other people are two men and an older woman who are sitting at a table having drinks and chatting animatedly. They’re dressed in black like Jessie, so I’m thinking they’re more members of Jay’s stage crew. “Oh, come on, just tell us how you two did the change when Jay put on that scary mask,” Michelle urges, trying to get Jessie to reveal some secrets. “You know what?” Jessie chuckles. “The fucker actually had me sign a contract for confidentiality, so I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, babe.” Michelle pouts, and Jessie asks her if she wants a drink. My friend tells her yes with a little too much of a flirtatious tone for my liking. Michelle is a great friend, but she’ll flirt with anyone who gives her compliments, male or female. I just hope Jessie is wise enough to see that. I catch Jay’s eye just as he signs his last autograph and a bouncer comes to escort the teenagers from the room. He’s still topless and sweaty from the show as he strides over to me. “I shouldn’t be speaking to you,” I say, poking him in the chest with my finger. It’s not an excuse to touch his bare, sweaty skin, I promise. He chuckles, giving me an indulgent look. “Why not?” “Because you made me a part of your act and never gave me any warning! You know I don’t like the attention.” Now he wears a cynical, amused expression. “You loved it.” “I did not,” I say firmly, folding my arms. He steps closer now, looming over me, and he smells incredible. I hate that he smells incredible. His voice dips low when he takes my chin and lifts it so that I have to look him in the eye. “You fucking loved it.” I pull away quickly. “Whatever. I’m going to get a drink.” “Help yourself,” he says, following me as I locate a bottle of wine on a table full of drinks and start to pour. When I sit down at the table with everyone else, Jay slides in beside me, a whiskey in his hand. He still hasn’t gone to clean up or put a

shirt on. Is he trying to kill me? Jessie introduces me and Michelle to everyone else. They include Ger, the sound and light guy; Ricky, the stage coordinator; and Sharon, props and wardrobe. I feel Jay scoot a little closer as the conversation drifts around me. I talk to Sharon for a while, interested in how she got into the whole wardrobe business. I’m actually a little jealous of her, to be honest. She has my dream job. Although Jay doesn’t have too many complicated outfit changes, so perhaps it would be my dream job if he decided to wear something a little more flamboyant. Let’s just say, if John Barrowman’s stylist up and quit, I would sell my left kidney to get the gig. “You still pissed with me, Watson?” he asks after a while. I roll my eyes and give him a smile as I slur, “No. I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” “Are you drunk?” Holding up my thumb and forefinger, I answer, “Just a little bit.” He chuckles. “I’d better keep my eye on you, then, huh?” I don’t answer. Can’t. There’s quiet between us before I break it. “I just don’t get how you can do all that stuff. I mean, how did you make the fire rise from your hands?” Jay tilts head to me. “I’d like to hear your theory.” I rub at my chin. “My guess would be that you had tubing somewhere on your body containing lighter fluid, and then flint somewhere else that helped you light it. But the flames were so big, so it had to be more powerful than that.” His eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles at me. “You know what my secret is?” he whispers and I perk up, eager for him to actually reveal something. “I have an obsessive fixation with obscure science. Most people only care about the final result. They don’t think about the way things work. They don’t consider how their laptop manages to perform its tasks or how their fridge keeps their food cold — they just want a functioning computer and fresh food. That’s how I get ahead. I think about what I want to do…for example, make fire rise from the palms of my hands…and I work my way backward. Or sometimes I’ll be reading and come across an interesting fact, and I’ll come up with a way to make it work to my advantage.” “I don’t think it’s as simple as you’re making out. Most people wouldn’t be able to do what you do, even if they did think backward. I know I couldn’t.” “Well, I couldn’t design and make a dress that fits perfectly, so we’re even,” he says, clinking his glass with mine. I cross my arms, happy with his compliment. Not many people know about my dressmaking, mainly because it’s such a solitary occupation, so it’s nice to get some props for my efforts. I imagine if my mum was still alive, she’d be proud that I’d continued on the skill she gave to me. “So, tell me more. I want to know some obscure facts.” “Well,” says Jay, lifting my hand and turning it over. He starts to run his finger

along the veins on the inside of my arm, and I have to cover up a tremble. “If I said you were 60,000 miles long, I’d technically be telling the truth, because there are 60,000 miles of blood vessels inside your body.” I scrunch up my mouth. “Really? Don’t tell me that. Now I feel squeamish. That’s a lot of veins.” His eyes travel to my mouth, and he lifts his thumb to smooth out my lips. “You exchange more germs when you shake a person’s hand than when you kiss them,” he murmurs. “Oh,” I whisper, having one of those crazy moments again when I think he might kiss me. Like always, though, he doesn’t. He seems to welcome the distraction when Jessie suggests that we all play a game of strip poker. “Ha! No way am I playing that with you two,” I say, pointing between her and Jay. “I’ve seen you both shuffle a deck of cards, and it’s frightening how fast you are.” “That’s right,” Jessie replies, grinning in Michelle’s direction. “I’ve got lightning fingers.” Because I’m drunk, I imagine little lightning bolts shooting out of her hands, and it makes me chuckle to myself. I stop quickly, though, not wanting to come across like a creepy “laugh at my own private jokes” creeper. Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “When have you seen me shuffle a deck?” “In those videos I watched of you, remember?” He seems pleased with that answer. “Be honest — you watch them every night before you go to sleep, don’t you?” “I do not! I only watched them that one time.” “Liar. You love watching me do my tricks. They’re like your own little version of porn. I bet you have a fucking great time watching my videos…in bed.” I push him now, hard. “You’re trying to embarrass me, and it’s not going to work.” “It’s already working.” He laughs, and I narrow my gaze at him. Quickly, I move and go to sit by Michelle, deciding I’ve had enough of the torture of interacting with Jay for one night. The tiny after-party progresses, and soon I’ve lost count of how many drinks I’ve had. There’s loud music on, and I’m dancing with Michelle in the middle of the room. We’re doing a waltz to a song that was created for booty popping. My drunken brain is pleased by the irony. Our heels have long since been discarded as we prance around, barefoot. Michelle leads, dipping me down so low that my head collides with the floor. She pulls me back up quickly, laughing and apologising as I rub at my skull. I’m too drunk to feel the pain, though, which is a plus. “Shit, sorry!” she exclaims past furious giggles. “That’s it, sir!” I shout loudly in pretend outrage. “I no longer wish to be your dance partner.” “Oh, no, but the cotillion is coming up next,” she replies, putting on a distraught face.

“You fool, you can’t dance a cotillion with just two people. Are you mad?” I’d like to point out that we’re both currently putting on fake English accents, like we’re in a Jane Austen novel. “You two are really fucking weird, do you know that?” Jessie says, holding a beer in her hand. Jay has been sitting in the same spot for most of the night, nursing the same drink and watching us with a smile. I can’t tell if he’s amused or just laughing at us, though. At least he finally decided to go and put a shirt on. The other members of his stage crew have gone home, so it’s just the four of us left. “I think it’s time to call it a night,” he says, standing and collecting my things for me. “Jessie, you and Michelle get cabs, okay? You’re too drunk to drive. I’ll take care of Matilda.” “Matilda would just love for you to take care of her, Jay,” Michelle says, trying to sound sexy in her drunken state but just sounding like she’s got a bad cough. I scowl at her, and she almost chokes on her laughter. Ignoring her, Jay helps me into my coat and slides my handbag onto my shoulder. Then he grabs my shoes and goes down on one knee to help me into them, his warm touch on my foot making me think of the phrase “hot and bothered.” Yeah, that’s what he makes me. I wriggle all the while, giggling drunkenly and making his job more difficult. He finally gets me out the door and into his car, which is parked at the back of the venue. Ushering me into the passenger seat, he straps on my seatbelt, and I’m vaguely aware of his knuckles brushing over my cleavage, but I’m not sober enough to enjoy it. Damn you, wine! I’m drunker than I’ve been in quite some time. I think the last time I was this shit-faced was during my eighteenth birthday celebrations, where I spent half the night face down on Michelle’s couch, unable to remember how I’d gotten there. Actually, no, I do remember. It was a bottle of cheap vodka from Aldi that got me there. When we arrive at the house, Jay helps me out of the car, his arm around my waist as he walks us to the front door. He uses his key to let us in, and I walk to the stairs, holding onto the banister as I take my shoes off and fling them away. “Stupid painful spikey things,” I yammer on, my head fuzzy. Jay laughs softly as I put my unsteady foot on the first step. “Hey, let me help you, drunky,” he says, coming and wrapping his arm around my waist. It feels good, so I rest my head on his shoulder. He must realise that it’s going to take too long to get me to put one foot in front of the other, so he simply scoops me up like a bride on her wedding night and carries me. “Wheee!” I squeal, then squeeze his bicep as we ascend. “You’re so strong, Inspector Holmes.” “You sound impressed.” “Well, you’re very…impressive.” “Oh, yeah? How so?”

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. “Ugh, just…everything.” We reach my room, and he pushes open the door with his elbow, still not putting me down until we get to my bed. Then he lowers me onto the mattress. Somewhere along the way, my arms managed to wrap themselves around his neck, and they aren’t letting go. Instead I practically pull him down onto the bed with me, laughing hysterically when he lands on top of me. “Ha! You fell,” I say loudly. His hand covers my mouth as his chest moves up and down with suppressed laughter. “Be quieter, darlin’. You’ll wake your dad.” I don’t have a response. In fact, my head is clearing quite rapidly with his hand still on my mouth. My eyes are glued to his fingers on my lips, and he must notice because he moves it then. My breathing becomes laboured at our closeness and the fact that we’re on my bed. He notices this, too, bringing his hands to my arms and trying to remove them from his neck. I remember his words from earlier, how he’d spoken about germs and shaking hands and kissing. I want to exchange some kissing germs right now. Really and truly, the germs wouldn’t bother me at all. “You’ve got to let go, Matilda,” he says gently. “I don’t want you to go,” I whisper. He’s smiling and shaking his head. “You’ve had too much wine. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Just as he’s about to leave, I pounce, grabbing him and hesitantly pressing my lips to his. Fireworks, electricity, and explosive tingles fire through my system at the contact. His lips feel warm and soft and perfect against mine, and that’s when I realise how rigid his body has become. He lets out a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a growl before moving away. His mouth goes to my forehead, where he presses a soft, momentary kiss, and then he’s gone. As though my body is just as eager to escape the humiliation as my brain is, I fall asleep almost immediately.

FOURTEEN

hen I wake up, it’s just past seven and my mouth is dry. I must have only W slept for about three hours. Ugh, why don’t hangovers ever just let you sleep? My

eyes feel like they’re bruised, and my muscles ache. All I want to do is stay in bed, so I burrow further under the covers and snuggle into my pillow. Unfortunately, I’m too thirsty to go back asleep, so I decide to go downstairs and grab some water. It’s just as I’m crawling out of bed that I remember what I did last night. I tried to kiss Jay, and he gave me the platonic forehead kiss before awkwardly leaving the room. I’ve seen enough rom coms in my time to know what the platonic forehead kiss means. Feeling a sudden urge to work off the embarrassment, I pull my hair up into a knot on top of my head, put on my exercise gear, and decide to go for a cycle. Thankfully, Jay’s still sleeping, so I manage to grab some water and get my bike out of the shed without bumping into him. It’s a beautiful July morning when I step outside, the birds singing and the sun shining. I can tell we’re in for a hot day, and already I feel slightly better about myself. Everybody does embarrassing stuff when they’re drunk. It doesn’t mean anything. I pedal fast, gliding down the road. The place where I live can be kind of beautiful sometimes; there’s a long stretch of road that runs along the coast from right outside my house for miles all the way to Howth, a small seaside town about a twenty-minute car ride outside the city. I cycle all the way there and back again, my entire body dripping with sweat by the time I get home. As I walk into the house, I hear Jay cooking up a storm in the kitchen. In an effort to avoid him, I sneak back out and go around the side of the house to leave my bike in the shed. He must see me through the window, because he opens the sliding doors and steps out. “Matilda, I’m making all the best hangover foods for you. I hope you’re hungry.” I take a deep breath, shutting the door of the shed and turning around. He comes toward me, taking in my cycling gear and my sweaty, hung-over self. I wonder what I look like to him right now.

“Morning,” he says simply. “Morning.” I move to walk by him, but his arm flies out, blocking me. “Hey, what’s wrong? You seem off.” I wipe my forehead and drink some more water from the bottle I’m holding. “I’m tired. I just cycled about twelve miles.” Jay whistles. “Did you work it off?” “Huh?” “Whatever you were trying to work off,” he elaborates, reaching out and running a finger down my neck. “Sweat suits you,” he murmurs, almost absently. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it was a good workout. Did you say something about breakfast? I’m starving,” I prattle on, and walk around him, going inside. He sets a plate down in front of me, and it looks delicious. My stomach rumbles at the sight. “You’re being awkward, and you need to stop it,” he tells me firmly. “I’m not being awkward.” “Oh, yes, you are, and I’m not having it. So you tried to kiss me last night. You were drunk, Watson. It’s fine. Everybody gets a little kissy when they’ve had a few.” He winks. “Yeah, well, I apologise for getting kissy,” I say, scowling, and he laughs, pulling a chair out and sitting down. My phone goes off then, vibrating with a message. I pull it out of my pocket to find it’s actually an email alert. I check it out and see that it’s from Owen, the chef. He responded to my message! My heart lifts. He wasn’t avoiding me like I thought. A smile shapes my lips as I read what he’s written. He wants to meet up today for lunch. Oh, wow. That’s so soon. Then again, what with the current Jay situation, it’s probably the ideal distraction. “What are you grinning like a fool for?” Jay asks as he chews. I send Owen a quick response telling him I’ll be there and then slide the phone back in my pocket. All the while I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to meet up with a stranger. “Uh, I just agreed to go on a date,” I reply shakily. “Today.” Jay doesn’t say anything for a while, just silently watches me while he eats. “Is this an online thing?” “Yeah.” “You should let me check out his profile, make sure he’s not some creep.” “Eh, I think I can determine if he’s a creep or not on my own. And he’s not. He’s a chef.” “Well, la di fucking da. I still want to check him out, Matilda. He’s a stranger. It’s not safe. On second thought, why don’t I be your escort?” I laugh out loud at that. “Okay, I’ll just ask my dad along, too, make it a big family day out,” I reply with sarcasm. “You’re not escorting me, but if you like we can exchange numbers, and I’ll call if anything goes wrong. We’re going to be in a public place, though, so even if he is weird, I can easily slip away.” I don’t bother to

point out that Jay was a stranger to me not too long ago. In fact, I still don’t know that much about him. “Fine, give me your phone,” he says, holding his hand out for it. I hand it to him, and he pulls his own out. As he programmes his number in, I carry on eating my breakfast. He’s taking a little long, though, and when he gets this smug look on his face I know he’s snooping. “Give me my phone back now, Jay,” I say, reaching across the table. I swipe for the phone, but he holds it out of my reach. “This guy is a complete douche, Watson. He talks to you like he’s trying to arrange a business transaction.” I jump out of my seat now, determined to get my phone back. I grab it, but he pulls on it, swinging his arm around, and I go flying, landing smack bang on his lap. “Give it back, Jay. You’re being invasive,” I plead, getting upset. I really don’t like him reading my messages. It was funny at first, but now it feels like he’s laughing at me. Frowning, he hands me the phone, and I swiftly jump out of his lap. “I actually find him very gentlemanly compared to most of the perverts who’ve written to me,” I sniff. The hangover has me extra emotional. “And just because some of us find it more difficult than others to meet someone, it doesn’t mean you have to go making fun.” Jay leans across the table, taking my hand in his. “Hey, I was only joking around.” His thumb rubs over the inside of my wrist, and I pull away. The contact makes me feel too much. “Whatever. You were being mean, and you know it.” “That wasn’t my intention, but I’m sorry all the same. God, you’re too fucking cute, aren’t you?” His voice is low, making something stir deep in my belly. “Stop trying to console me with fake compliments.” “You’re cute, Matilda. Real fucking cute. Now, can we backtrack a second? Who says I don’t find it just as difficult to meet people as you do?” I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on. I doubt you’ve ever gone through a dry spell in your life.” “Just because women approach me a lot doesn’t mean I always go for them. We all find it hard to meet someone who fits us. If you hadn’t guessed from my occupation, I’m not exactly normal.” I stare at him, surprised by how he just opened up. He’s getting serious now, and it’s making me feel weird. I want to go and give him a hug and make friends, but I don’t have the courage. Instead, I glance at my watch and make like I need to go get ready. “Okay, well, I’m sorry for insinuating that you have it easy, Jay. Thanks for breakfast. I’m going to take a shower.” I leave the room, and I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. Selecting an outfit for my date is harder than I anticipated. I try to call Michelle for advice, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I suppose she’s probably trying

to sleep last night off. So I’m on my own. It’s times like this that I could do with a female parent. I settle on a pleated pastel blue skirt that reaches past my knees and a white short-sleeved blouse that buttons up to the neck. The look is very fifties preppy, and I finish it off with a pair of white and navy boat shoes. I blow-dry my hair, curling the ends and putting it up in a high ponytail. I’m feeling confident that I look good. I just hope that Owen is impressed. When I come downstairs, Jay and Dad are in the living room, chatting. I step inside, and their conversation quietens. “Where are you off to, chicken?” Dad asks, smiling, his legs crossed as he lounges back in his armchair. Scratching at my arm nervously, I answer, “I have a date.” “A date? Well, isn’t that just wonderful. You look very pretty.” I give him a small grin. “Thanks, Dad.” Jay’s been staring at me silently the whole time. I hitch my bag up on my shoulder and turn to leave. “I’ll walk you out,” he says then, hopping up from his seat and following me out. I walk to the door and step outside before turning to face him. He places his hands on my shoulders and looks down at me, studying my face. “Don’t be nervous. The douche chef is lucky you’re giving him the time of day. Tell yourself that. Repeat it in your head over and over. Be the confident Matilda who’s hiding in there somewhere, the one who never stopped smiling,” he tells me, his voice a little strained. I take a deep breath, and his words actually do make me feel more confident, like I can handle this. “I’ll try. Thanks, Jay.” “You’re welcome,” he says, then runs his hands over the fabric of my top and teases, “Look at this fucking outfit, so angelic, puts me in a mood to do some corrupting.” I look at him, my mouth hanging open. He leans down and places the softest, most feather-light kiss to my cheek. I put my hand to it as I walk away, heading for the bus stop. God, how I wish it was him I was going to lunch with instead of Owen. Not that there’s anything wrong with Owen. I’m sure he’s not a douche, as Jay puts it. It just seems like all men pale in comparison to the illusionist under my roof. When I get to the restaurant, a stylish bistro, I hesitate outside for about five minutes. My heart is pounding way too fast, and my hands are shaking. I breathe in and out, needing another pep talk from Jay. He’s not here, though, and I have to go inside sooner or later. I’m definitely not going to allow myself to chicken out and leave. When I finally walk in, I spot Owen sitting at a table for two outside on the terrace. Every step feels like a mile as I walk toward him and he lifts his eyes to mine. He stands when I reach the table, coming and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I’m disappointed that it doesn’t give me butterflies like Jay’s kiss did. “You’re Matilda,” he says.

“Yeah, I am,” I reply stupidly. He smiles. “I’m Owen.” He pulls out my chair for me, very politely, and I sit. There’s a menu on the table, so I pick it up just to have something to do with my hands. A waiter goes by carrying a tray of drinks, and I wonder why I didn’t think to have one or two myself before coming here. Being tipsy would make my nervousness less obvious. Although being obviously drunk probably wouldn’t look so good, either. “So, you’re the chef. What would you suggest I order?” I ask, trying to sound mature and confident. My voice sounds weird, even to my own ears. Owen smiles. “Well, I don’t work here, but the chicken main sounds good.” “I like chicken. Although, not the fake processed kind. It has the consistency of rubber.” Did I just fucking say that? Kill me now. It’s not a complete disaster, though, because Owen makes noises of agreement. “Yeah, that stuff is awful. I refuse to believe it’s actual chicken.” That makes me laugh. “Oh, my God, what could it be? Do you think they’re feeding us spices and glue?” Owen leans in, whispering, “It could be anything. But let’s not talk about it here. The walls have ears.” I laugh even louder this time. This is actually going well. Colour me surprised. We talk for a while about our jobs, and I tell him all about my dressmaking. He seems alert and interested, which is a good sign. I’ve often gotten stuck talking to men in bars with Michelle, and their eyes would completely glaze over when I spoke about myself. And most of those glazed eyes were focused on my chest rather than my face. Just after our food arrives, my phone beeps loudly with a message. I decide to ignore it, but Owen insists I check, since it could be something important. It’s not. It’s from Jay. Sherlock Holmes at your Service: Watson, where do you keep your lawnmower? Yeah, that’s what he programmed his name in as. I immediately correct it to a simple “Jay.” Matilda: It’s in the shed. I’m not even going to ask what you want it for. P.S. I’m not keeping your name like that, you big geek. Jay: In the shed now. Can’t find it. I want to mow the lawn, what else? Keep the name or face the consequences. Matilda: Why are you bothering me with this? Can’t you ask Dad? I laugh in the face of your consequences. Jay: He’s gone out. Laugh at my consequences, will you? I should spank you for your insolence. I don’t know what to say to that, and I’m actually blushing. My finger hovers over the screen, trying to think of a clever response, when another message comes in. Jay: I forgot to ask how your date’s going…?

Matilda: It would be going better if you weren’t so rudely interrupting it! Jay: So it’s going good. Is he being a gentlemen? He better be. I don’t wanna have to go over there and whip out the fists of fury. Smirking, I shove my phone back in my bag now, deciding I’ve left Owen waiting long enough. We continue with our conversation and our food, and my phone beeps several more times with messages. In the end, I turn it off. Whatever Jay wants, it can wait. Owen seems a little perplexed that I’m ignoring my phone. Great, now he probably thinks I’m a bitch who ignores her friends’ messages. Our date ends, and Owen walks me to the bus stop. It turns out he walked to the restaurant since he lives close by. He quietly suggests we do this again sometime, and I smile at him as I agree. Then we exchange numbers. When my bus comes, he moves in for what could either be a kiss or a hug. My nerves get the better of me, and I hop quickly onto the bus, furiously waving goodbye like a dope. God, that was awful. I think I might have just ruined the semi-success of the date with that stellar move. I’ll just have to wait and see if he calls. As I ride the bus, I finally decide to check Jay’s messages. Jay: Oh, come on, Watson. Don’t leave me hanging. Jay: Still waiting… Jay: He better not try to touch your boobies. Jay: Fine. I know when I’m not wanted. Jay: Only joking. Everybody wants me ;-) When I get home, I see that the lawn hasn’t been mowed, so I know that Jay was either lying or he couldn’t find the lawnmower. The possibility that he couldn’t find it is ridiculously low, since our shed is tiny and the lawnmower is a huge orange contraption. This makes me annoyed, so I march my way up to his room, preparing to give him an earful. I don’t bother to knock; instead, I bulldoze my way in. I should have knocked. What I find is a topless Jay, sprawled out on the top of his bed, asleep. I stand there staring at him for longer than would be deemed appropriate. He has one muscular arm thrown up above his head, while the other rests along his torso, his hand on the cut “V” of his hip bone. I shiver just looking at him, a work of art in tattoos and muscles. Pure pornography. I close the door and walk to the edge of the bed, breathing slowly, my eyes drinking him in. His phone is beside him on the pillow, which makes me think he must have been messaging me while he was like this. Barely clothed and sleepy. He was definitely lying about the lawnmower, but why? Did he want to interrupt my date, or was he simply bored and felt like making a nuisance of himself? My eyes go to the cubist-looking tattoo on one side of his chest. It’s definitely my favourite of all his ink, and he has a lot of it. It’s so vibrant on his smooth skin, and I have the sudden urge to touch it. His chest is rising and falling slowly. I reach out, and just when my fingertips meet his skin, his hand moves, swiftly grabbing

my wrist. I startle, my attention going to his face. His eyes are still closed, his expression relaxed, but then his lips curve in a smile. “What are you doing, Matilda?” he asks in a husky, sleepy voice. Words fail me. He doesn’t let go of my wrist. Now he opens his eyes. “I asked you a question, darlin’.” There it is again. That “dahlin” will be the death of me one of these days. I try to pull my wrist away, but he holds on tight. In fact, he pulls on it, making me lean forward and dragging me closer to that delectable body of his. I suck in a breath. “I came to have a word with you. You almost ruined my date with your stupid messages,” I say, but there’s no anger in my tone. None at all. “Funny, it didn’t look like you came to have a word. It looked more like you came to feel me up in my sleep.” I scowl at him. “I wasn’t feeling you up. I was only going to try to nudge you awake.” He smirks. “Oh, that’s what it was, was it? Come here, then, and we’ll have a word.” Quick as a flash he yanks on my wrist, pulling me down onto the bed with him. He moves me so I’m facing away from him, and then he wraps his arm around my middle so we’re spooning. Spooning! When I marched up those stairs, I never thought this was what would happen. My heart speeds up, and so does my breathing. I can hear it all loud in my ears. “So, go on. Put me in my place,” says Jay, his breath whispering over my neck. “This isn’t how people have words, Jay,” I manage quietly. “It’s not? But this is my favourite way to have words.” “You messaged me on purpose. I know you did. You wanted to be a nuisance because you were bored.” “Something you should know about me, I’m never bored,” he murmurs. “The chance for boredom would be a fine thing, but this fucking brain of mine never stops.” “Then why did you do it?” “I told you, I was looking for the lawnmower.” “The grass hasn’t been mowed.” “I got tired, decided to go take a nap. You must be tired, too. You didn’t get much sleep last night. Let’s nap together.” “I’m not napping with you. I’m still dressed. I haven’t even had the chance to take my shoes off.” I don’t know why that detail seems so pertinent, but it’s what I focus on. Perhaps so I don’t have to focus on his hard chest pushing into my back. He lets out a breath. “Go ahead and take off some articles, then, darlin’. I’m not going to complain.” “Why would I nap with you?” I ask, speaking softly now. “I have a perfectly good bed right next door.” “Because sleeping in a pile is the best way to sleep, and you can’t do that alone.

Haven’t you ever read Where the Wild Things Are?” “This isn’t a pile. This is a spoon. And just so you know, it takes more than two people to make a pile.” “Wanna bet?” he asks, and then rolls us swiftly so I end up right on top of him. My body is lying flat along his, and I’m in danger of combusting. I can feel every sculpted inch of him, every hard line. “Now we’re a pile. Go to sleep.” “I can’t sleep like this.” “Stop betting me — you’ll only lose.” He moves his legs between mine and uses his feet to push off my shoes. “And now your shoes are off. You should definitely be able to sleep now.” There are a long few moments of silence. “Jay,” I whisper. “What, honey?” he whispers back, his hand stroking up and down my spine. I nestle my head into the crook of his neck and close my eyes. There’s no point in protesting anymore. I need to admit that this is probably one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Plus, I am pretty exhausted. “I think I like sleeping in a pile.” His answering chuckle vibrates through his chest, lulling me off to sleep.

FIFTEEN

hen I wake up, I find that I’ve slipped off Jay and am cuddling into his side. W My face is still in his neck, and his face seems to be in my hair. Oh, yeah, and I’m

straddling his leg. Glancing down at our intertwined bodies, my eyes bug out when I notice his “evening wood.” I can’t stop looking at it. And now I know the answer as to whether or not Jay has a big dick. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it’s the good answer. Breathing in, I soak up the smell of him, a hint of sweat, a hint of cologne, and something that’s just him. I love how his smell is all over me right now. Who’d have thought I’d finally go on my first ever Internet date and then come home and sleep with another man? It sounds quite adventurous when worded like that. Jay groans. “Quit moving around, Matilda.” His hand goes to my arm and grips it, seemingly to stop me from fidgeting. The heat from his hand makes me melt. “I should go.” He opens his eyes and frowns. “Why?” “Because this is weird.” “It’s not weird. We’re bonding. Lots of animals sleep together in order to bond. Don’t you ever watch the Discovery Channel?” “We’re not animals.” He gives me a devilish grin. “Speak for yourself.” Moving his face to my hair again, he takes in a deep breath. Is he smelling me? Do I smell good or bad? I showered earlier, so I must at least smell okay. He moves his knee that’s between my thighs, and I let out a tiny gasp at the friction. The movement awakens something inside me, something centred right between my legs, and none of us need to have gotten an A in biology to figure out what that something is. His eyes travel quickly to mine, staring intensely when he moves his knee a second time. Sharp pleasure takes hold as I clench my thighs. He does it again, and I whimper. He stares at me, mouth hanging open slightly, eating up the sound. Just like earlier, he grips my body and rolls us, but this time he’s the one who

ends up on top. Using his thighs, he makes short work of parting my legs and situating himself between them. Still with our gazes connected, he slowly thrusts forward, his hard cock in his lounge pants pushing flush against my sex. His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “Yeah, this is definitely going to be a problem.” He says it so low it feels like he’s talking to himself. My voice is breathy, more air than sound, when I say, “Jay.” His hands come up to cup either side of my face as he rocks his hips forward again. “Matilda.” He builds up a rhythm now, becoming frenzied. I hold onto his big arms, recalling the times I’ve seen him out in the garden doing body weight exercises. He had virtually no equipment, but managed to do so many things using just his body, like a prison workout. I wonder what other things he can do with it. I lick my lips. What does this mean? Is he just horny again, like when he’d suggested going down on me? Or does he really want this? He growls and leans down, taking the bottom lip I just licked into his mouth and biting it — hard. It doesn’t hurt. It feels incredible. Electric. I want him to kiss me now, so badly. Then the front door opens and shuts loudly, my dad’s trademark walk clipping down the hall. Jay goes still as a statue, releasing my lip and pulling back. “Matilda? Are you home?” Dad calls, and my breath leaves me in a rush. “I really should go now,” I whisper, feeling mortified at what I’m doing with my parent just downstairs. It was like I was lost in a dream for a few blissful moments. My dad’s door slamming is what woke me up, and I feel stupid for falling into horny Jay’s trap. He rolls over onto his back, and I get up, slipping my shoes on and hurrying to the door. When I reach it, I glance back at him one last time. He’s lying there, his eyes dark as he watches me, chest heaving, his arousal still blatantly evident through his pants. With great effort I walk out the door, shutting it behind me and calling back to Dad, “Yeah, I’m home.” THE NEXT MORNING is different from usual. Jay’s not around, and my breakfast isn’t ready for me like it has been every day since he moved in. In fact, when I pass by his room, I see his bed has been made and he’s nowhere to be found. He must have gone out early. Dad’s sitting at the table, eating toast and drinking coffee, reading the newspaper as always. I grab a yogurt and some fruit, and sit beside him. When I notice the paper he’s reading is The Daily Post, I give a little tut of disapproval. “Jay wouldn’t be happy about you reading that,” I say, opening my yogurt. Dad peeks at me over the paper. “Jay’s the one who gave it to me. Una Harris has written another article about him.” I perk up at this. “Really? What did she say?”

He puts the paper down now, opened on the page with the article so that I can see. There in a full-page spread is Jay standing on the stage in the part where he’d donned the Jason mask for his show the other night. “Harris went undercover and attended Jay’s show,” Dad explains. “She wrote some unfavourable things. I think she’s feeling brave because he hasn’t taken any steps against her yet. He really needs to get that lawsuit filed. A couple of years ago she destroyed the career of a professional football player by doing an exposé of his background as a drug dealer before he was famous. I think she might be trying to repeat the success of that story with Jay. The woman is a pit bull.” I eye my father. “You really like Jay, don’t you?” “I can tell he’s a good man. I trust my instincts,” says Dad simply, and it surprises me because I’d had those same instincts myself. I read the article, and this time I’m far more annoyed as I scan Miss Harris’ words. That’s probably because I know Jay now, and I’m defensive of my friends. She talks about how the venue was filled with super fans, and that Jay has a following akin to a cult leader. I roll my eyes. She also mentions how he insulted her and her newspaper, shouting with fervour from his place on the stage, Fuck the Daily Post! I could strangle her right now. That is not what happened. It was an audience member who shouted that. I push the paper away from me after I’ve finished her five-hundred-word rant against Jay. What is this woman’s problem? What did he ever do to deserve her vitriol? Absolutely nothing. She’s like a wolf who’s gotten her teeth into some flesh and doesn’t want to let go. When I continue eating my breakfast, Dad says quietly, “I’m considering taking his case.” This surprises me. “You are?” He nods. “I didn’t want to at first, but the more I learn about it, the more I think we could actually win this thing, and win big. The practice hasn’t been doing too well this past year or so. Winning a high-profile case like this could inject some new life into the place.” “It could. But do you think you’re up to it?” Dad smiles. “I’m not dead yet, chicken. But don’t say anything to Jay. I need another few days to think it over.” “My lips are sealed.” That evening when I arrive home from work, I go into the kitchen to find somebody’s placed an expensive-looking chaise longue along the wall in front of my sewing machine. It’s made out of dark wood, the cushioned part a luxurious purple. Jay’s doves chirp at me from their cage. “Hello, ladies,” I greet them. “How are you today?” “Are you talking to Ellen and Portia?” Jay asks in amusement as he enters the room.

I turn around, smiling. “Yeah. What of it?” He walks over to the cage, taking Portia out and letting her perch on his hand. “It’s a coincidence, because I do, too. These girls are the only ones who know all my secrets.” “Oh. You have a lot of secrets, do you?” His only answer is a smile that makes my belly flutter. Is he thinking about what happened between us yesterday? I know I am, but I don’t have it in me to bring it up. “So, I never got around to asking you how the date with Owen went?” he says in a casual tone as he pets Portia’s soft white feathers. I guess Jay’s not planning on bringing up yesterday, either. I swallow. “It went great, despite my awkwardness. He even wants to meet up again sometime.” Jay frowns at this, and it takes me off guard. “Do you want to meet with him again?” he asks, all serious. “Sure. He was nice.” I think I see his jaw twitch. “Nice. Is that what you’re planning to settle for, Matilda? Just nice?” “I’m not settling. It’s early days yet. It could just so happen that he’s the love of my life, but I need more time to get to know him.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. In the back of my mind, I know that Owen isn’t going to be the love of my life, but some sneaky part of me wants to rile Jay up. He doesn’t seem pleased with the topic, which is by contrast pleasing me no end. He puts Portia back in the cage before striding toward me, backing me up against the counter. “He’s not the fucking love of your life, darlin’,” he says, his eyes a little manic. Whoa, I was not expecting this. Okay, subject change needed pronto. I swallow — hard. “Dad showed me the new article. I can’t believe Harris had the gall to go see your show.” Some of the previous tension leaves Jay’s body as he backs away from me and shrugs. “I knew she was there.” “Hold on a second. What?” “I knew she was there. I’m not a fucking idiot. And besides, the woman stands out like a sore thumb. She’s got these big, ridiculous Botox lips. I’m glad she wrote that article, though. The more defamatory shit she writes, the further she digs herself into a hole.” I put a hand on my hip and cock my head. “You actually want her to write about you?” “Yep. That way, once the case finally gets to trial, I’ll have a wealth of ammo. Every insulting lie she’s ever written can be used as evidence.” He’s got this look in his eye that gives me pause, making me wonder if there’s more to this than he’s letting on. “Do you know her or something? Like, from the past?”

“Nope.” “Oh. Well, I just think it’s weird how she’s so determined to write bad things about you.” “Perhaps I turned her down one night and she’s got a vendetta,” he jokes. I open the fridge and start taking out ingredients for dinner while Jay paces the room. I’m sorting through vegetables when I feel the heat of his body behind mine. He braces his hands on the counter on either side of me, penning me in. “You’re looking particularly pretty today, Watson,” he says in a cheerful tone. “What’s for dinner?” “Chicken casserole.” “Sounds delicious,” he murmurs, and it feels like his mouth is closer to my neck now. My entire body goes tense. “What’s with the new furniture?” I ask, moving so he has to let me out of the prison of his arms. He scratches his jaw. “Oh, that. Yeah, I got it so I can sit with you while you work.” “Do you mean sit or chaise lounge?” I say jokingly. Jay smirks. “What? That was an excellent joke. I mean, what’s the point of sitting on one of those? They were designed for reclining and looking hot while doing it.” “Oh, so you think I look hot while reclining. That’s good to know.” I snort. “You’re so full of yourself.” “You wish you were full of myself,” he retorts. I shiver and blush. “I can’t tell if that was the best comeback ever or the worst.” Jay laughs loudly and gives me a wink before he leaves me to my cooking. Later that evening, while I’m working on a pink cocktail dress with a diamante detail around the neck, he saunters into room. His hair is dishevelled and his Tshirt rumpled. He looks like he just woke up from a nap. I continue to work as he sits down on his chaise longue and lies back, raising his arms and resting his head on his palms. It makes his T-shirt rise a bit, revealing an inch of smooth, toned skin. He closes his eyes, like he actually enjoys the rumble of the sewing machine. “What are you…?” “Hush.” He holds up a finger. “Just sew, Watson. I like listening to your breathing when you concentrate. I find it very meditative. It helps me think.” That puts me in my place. It also makes my heart squeeze. He likes listening to me breathe. That’s just so…romantic. Yeah, I said it. It makes me get fanciful notions about the epic love I’ve always sought but never found. We stay like this for over an hour. Me sewing and him lying back on his fancy seat, eyes closed but not asleep, just thinking — and listening to me breathe, apparently. Dad comes in to make tea at one point and gives us both a funny look, Jay in particular. Dad’s always hated the noise of my sewing machine, says it gives him a headache. So he obviously can’t understand what Jay’s doing sitting so close

to it. As he’s leaving, I think I see the ghost of a smile on his lips. After a while, Jay sits up and pulls a notepad from his pocket, then starts scribbling something down. “What are you writing?” “Be quiet for a second, darlin’. I just got an idea for a new trick, and I need to write it down before I forget.” “Oh, sorry.” Putting the fabric I’d been measuring aside, I watch him. I want to ask him about what happened after our shared nap yesterday, but unsurprisingly I can’t seem to think of a way to work dry-humping into the conversation. I really wish he’d bring it up, but he hasn’t so much as mentioned it. When he’s finished writing, he slots the notepad back in his pocket and flexes his fingers. “So, what’s the new trick?” I ask. “You’d need to sign a contract before I could tell you that, Watson. I can’t have you selling all my secrets to old Slugworth, now, can I?” “Okay, Mr Wonka.” I laugh. There’s a moment of quiet before I say, “Can I ask you something?” “Fire away.” “What’s it like in prison?” Jay lets out a bark of a laugh. “Be honest. You’ve committed some heinous crimes that are about to come to light, and you’re afraid of being thrown in the can. I’m right, aren’t I?” That mischievous look that’s so often on his face is there again. I raise my hands in the air, replying deadpan, “Okay, you’ve got me. I’m secretly an underground drug lord, and one of my cronies has sold me out to the authorities.” Jay laughs some more. “You’re funny.” He pauses, and his face sobers. It takes a while before he says anything. “It’s like being locked in a world where violence is God and you’re constantly waiting to become the next victim of its wrath.” Wow. That was kind of poetic. “Did you really almost beat a man to death? Is that why you were put in there?” Jay shakes his head and his eyes grow dark, like he’s remembering the experience. “I was put there for pickpocketing, which, coincidentally, is great training for doing magic. You’ve got to steal stuff right out from under a person’s nose without them ever realising you’re there. I told you I used to pick pockets, didn’t I? Had to. It’s the only way to survive on the streets.” “You did. But Una Harris said you were put away because you beat a man.” “She’s obviously gotten her wires crossed,” says Jay, a satisfied look passing over his face, and then it’s gone. “I’ve been arrested a few times for getting into fights, so perhaps that’s where she got it from. When you’ve got nothing, you’ll justify many things in order to survive, even hurting people.” The serious look on his face gives me pause, and I’m not sure why, but I feel

immense sympathy for him in this moment. I clear my throat and continue speaking. “So, Una must have seen some of your records from back in America, then.” “Must have.” “I don’t get how such a shoddily researched article ever made it to print. Wouldn’t her boss have made sure it was all true before giving the green light to publish it?” “More lies are printed than truths, Watson. I think we both know that. And perhaps her boss is just as much of a degenerate as she is.” “A degenerate?” I question curiously. “She’s not the only one who’s done some snooping. In fact, I probably know more about her than she does about me.” I get up now and go to sit beside him, asking seriously, “What do you know about her?” He rubs his chin. “Well, now, let me see. She’s addicted to prescription meds. Oh, and plastic surgery. Her husband divorced her because she had an affair. She lives alone with her pet Chihuahua. She’s abusive towards her housekeeper. She gets a manicure every Friday morning. She attends church every Sunday, you know, to keep up appearances. And, last but not least, she’s been sleeping with her boss on and off for the last sixteen years.” “What?! Her boss at the newspaper?” “Yup.” “Oh, my God.” “Like I said, I’ve been getting my ducks in a row for a while now.” “Yeah, but you can’t use any of that information in court, Jay. Especially if you came across it illegally.” Suddenly, I remember the time when he’d gone to speak with that shiftylooking man in the bar after Simon Silver’s seminar. There had been an exchange of envelopes. Was he a private investigator or something else? “I doubt I’ll need to. This shit always comes out in one way or another, and Una Harris is hiding too much shit to keep buried. Sooner or later it’s going to hit the proverbial fan.” Again, I get the impression that there’s far more he’s not telling me. I don’t push him, though, don’t feel it’s my place. “I’m sorry she’s been spreading lies about you,” I say, putting a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. Jay’s eyes travel to my hand and stay there for a moment. Then he reaches up and puts his hand over mine. “And I’m sorry that you had to go through everything you did. That you were alone in the world,” I continue. “I wasn’t alone — I just chose to be. At the time I’d rather live on the streets than with a lunatic uncle. I’d already suffered enough madness with my father before he died.” This is a rare moment of candour, and I want to know more, so I ask in a

whisper, “Your dad was crazy, too?” “Not in the same way. Dad used physical violence. Uncle Killian’s was all psychological. He liked to mess with my head.” He seems younger as he tells me this, like he’s reverting back to the boy who was mistreated by the adults who were supposed to care for him. I rub his shoulder, because I don’t know what else to say, but I want to comfort him. We stay like that for a long time, quiet as we look out the windows into the dark night. He squeezes my hand and gets up, breaking our contemplative silence. When he leaves the room, I spend a long time wondering about the boy he once was as I pack away my materials.

SIXTEEN

hen I get back to work after lunch on Friday, I find Dad’s office door closed W and voices coming from inside. I put my ear against the wood and listen, picking

out Jay’s recognisable cadence. God, I love his voice. I think I’m ruined for all other accents now that his is the one I hear every day. Wondering what he’s here for, I turn my computer back on and start completing the tasks I need to finish before the end of the day. About a half an hour later, Dad’s office door opens and the two men emerge, shaking hands. Jay has an ecstatic look on his face, and Dad looks pretty happy, too. “Here’s to a successful endeavour,” says Dad cheerily as he lets go of Jay’s hand and turns to go back inside his office. “We’re going to win this thing, Hugh, you mark my words,” Jay calls after him. Dad chuckles as he waves Jay off. Does this mean Dad’s gone ahead and accepted the case? I try to act nonchalant as I type and Jay comes to perch himself on the edge of my desk. “Guess what?” he beams. “Dad’s taking your case?” I smile at him. “Yeah! How’d you know?” he says, all playful and hyper. “I think you might be psychic, Watson. I should incorporate you into my act.” “Oh, my God, you really are delighted about this,” I say, shaking my head at him but unable to stop smiling. “Yep. The plan is back on track.” “Plan?” It takes him a second to answer. “To show Una Harris she messed with the wrong magician.” “I thought you preferred illusionist,” I laugh. “I do, but the two ‘M’s just made the sentence sound sexier.” “If you say so.” I continue working, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping on the screen. Glancing at him, I notice that, despite his invigorated mood, his eyes are a little tired. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and hear him pacing around in his room. I haven’t mentioned it to him,

though. “What time do you get off work, John?” “John?” “John Watson, Matilda. Goodness, keep up.” I shake my head at him. “I get off at half past five. Why?” “I want you to come somewhere with me. I promise a fun time will be had by all.” “And where is this fun taking place?” Instead of answering, he thrusts his phone at me. It displays a tweet that contains a time, a date, and a place. The date and time are for today, and the place is a well-known meet-up area in the city centre. “I didn’t know you had a Twitter account,” I say, swiping to his profile. My jaw practically drops when I see he’s got more than 100,000 followers. “Wow, Jay, you’re, like, hugely popular.” “You sound surprised. Should I be offended?” he teases. “No, of course not. It’s just unexpected, that’s all. What does the tweet mean?” He takes the phone back from me and shoves it in his pocket. “I have a lot of teenage fans who aren’t old enough to get into the venues where I perform, so sometimes I do random outdoor meet-and-greets with them.” My smile grows wide. “You do that? That’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard.” “Well, these kids mean a lot to me. I look at them, and I see myself at that age. I wanna give something back, you know?” I stare at him, feeling myself growing fonder and fonder of this man by the second. “So, will you come?” he prods. “Jessie will be there, too. She’s going to film it for YouTube.” “Yes, I’ll come,” I say eagerly. “Great, I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.” He bends over the table to ruffle my hair, and then he’s gone. When I’m finished with work, I spruce myself up a little, letting my hair down out of the twist I’d had it in and changing from my heels into the reliable flats I always carry in my bag. If this thing is outdoors, I’m guessing there’s going to be a lot of standing involved. “Knock knock,” I hear Jessie call as I quickly swipe on some lip gloss and leave the office bathroom. As I walk out, I see she’s holding a small video camera. Jay’s standing to the side of her, just out of range of the lens. “Swit swoo, hot stuff coming through,” she whistles, and I shake my head at her, blushing. Jay’s repeatedly flicking a die high up into the air and catching it effortlessly. “Stop filming me,” I say, self-conscious. Hitching my bag up on my shoulder, I wave goodbye to Dad, who’s still in his office. We leave down the narrow staircase and out onto the street, but Jessie keeps

on filming. “I swear to God, I’ll sue you if I see myself in this YouTube video,” I warn her. “I work in a solicitor’s office, so you know I’ll do it.” “Oh, come on. We need a bit of eye candy to get the teenage boy demographic interested,” Jessie jokes. “I’m sure they don’t want to look at Jay’s ugly mug the whole time.” Jay’s mug is far from ugly, but no way am I admitting that out loud. “Yeah, Watson. You’ve got to do this. It will help my career,” Jay agrees, a smug look on his face as we walk. He throws his arm around my shoulders and gives them a squeeze, then looks behind to Jessie. “Make sure you get a few ass shots in. Matilda has a rear end deserving of online attention.” I shove him with my elbow, and he laughs. “If you film my arse, I swear to God, I really will sue.” He raises his eyebrow at me, and I can’t help the tiny smile forcing its way onto my face. Then he takes things a step too far when he leisurely slides his hand down my back to my bottom. I let out a tiny gasp when he gives it a good, firm squeeze. Immediately, I swipe his hand away. “Don’t do that again,” I warn, annoyed by the charming grin on his face, and the fact that I still find it charming after what he just did. Jessie’s having a good old laugh as she trails behind us. “Oh, come on. Don’t be pissed,” says Jay, trying to placate me. “We were talking about your ass, darlin’. I couldn’t myself.” “He’s an arse man,” Jessie puts in, nodding her head in agreement. I scowl at the both of them, but I can’t stay angry for too long. A few minutes later we come into view of the meeting spot where Jay’s fans are waiting, and I have to keep my jaw from dropping. There’s at least a hundred people, maybe more. Jay sticks his finger in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle as we approach; heads turn in his direction, and they all start cheering. He climbs up onto the high wall surrounding a nearby business and gives them all a theatrical bow. I stand off to the side with Jessie as she captures it on film. She’s not the only one, either. Half the kids here have their phones out, recording videos. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” says Jay loudly from above. Funnily enough, the acoustics are pretty good, so he doesn’t have to shout to be heard. “Wanna see something cool?” he asks, taking out the die he’d had back in the office. With it resting between his thumb and index finger, he flicks it dexterously up into the air. We all watch as it goes up and then comes back down, and I wish I hadn’t blinked, because somewhere on the way down one becomes two. The crowd claps loudly, whistles ringing out, while Jay takes the two dice and flicks them the same as before. They multiply again, becoming four, and he starts juggling them. They continue to multiply, moving in a circle through the air, his hands as quick as lightning. Soon he’s got about ten of them on the go, and I can’t figure out how he did it. I didn’t see him slip any out of his sleeves, or slide them from his pockets.

They literally appeared out of thin air. When he has too many to handle, he starts tossing them, one at a time, to random members of the crowd. Dozens of teenagers dive for them, eager to have a little keepsake from their favourite illusionist. Jay pulls out a deck of cards and begins doing an elaborate trick with a girl named Sarah who volunteered. She seems at once mortified and delighted to have been selected. Jay walks through the crowd, shuffling the cards and detailing what he’s going to do. He’s close to the entrance of one of the businesses that surround the area, fronted by large glass sliding doors. The sliding doors open as three women in office attire leave the building. Jay is walking backward as he speaks, and steps just inside the glass doors. He’s still talking as they shut in front of him, and as the glass closes over his body, he vanishes. The doors open again as more workers come out, and he reappears, still going on with his spiel as though he didn’t just make himself disappear. All around me the teenagers go crazy, clapping and cheering. A few men in suits come out of the building then, and Jay bumps into them by mistake. It all happens so quickly. He apologises, patting one of the men on the shoulder, and I don’t know how I catch it, but I think I see his other hand slip inside the man’s pocket for a split second. It’s all so fast that I can’t be sure it actually happened. The men continue on their way, but something about the whole thing niggles at me. The man Jay patted on the shoulder looked familiar, and I have to wrack my brain to remember where I’ve seen him before. Then it hits me. He’s the same old guy Jay had been eyeing up in the casino that time, the one Jessie warned him to stop staring at. What the hell is going on here? When I look back at the building, a sudden feeling of unease comes over me as I recall the business it houses. No, not a business, but a publication. The Daily Post, to be exact. I’d like to think that this is a coincidence, but the little I know of Jay would lead me to believe otherwise. He’s too clever to have overlooked this. Why on earth would he stage his gathering outside the place he wants to sue? The cards he’s using today aren’t a regular deck of cards, but a deck of tarot cards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a magic trick that involves tarot cards before. Sarah, the girl who volunteered, picks a card. Jay gives her a pen and instructs her to sign her name on the back of it, tear it up, and stick the pieces in her bag. She does so quickly. “I’m going to guess your card, but I’m not going to tell you what it is,” says Jay. “I’m going to show you.” There’s quiet among the gathering for a few short moments, the city sounds of people and traffic washing over us. “Okay, the card is somewhere on the street. Can anybody spot it?” They all get excited, running around trying to find the card, but I have a feeling it’s not a physical card they should be looking for. I peer about, trying to spot it,

when Jessie elbows me and nods up at the newspaper building. There on a window on the fourth floor is the outline of a picture in what looks like red chalk. Even though I’m clueless about tarot cards, I’d know this image anywhere. Anybody who works in law would recognise the symbol of Justice, sitting with a sword in her right hand and scales in her left. Wow. I’d been looking at the building closely earlier when I realised what it houses, and I definitely hadn’t seen this image on the window. My eyes would have been drawn to the colour; the red is too vibrant for it to have escaped my attention. Finally, one of the teenagers spots it and starts shouting at everyone to look. Sarah puts her hand over her mouth in shock, not saying a word, while her friends all yell and squeal with excitement. Jay sits perched on the edge of the wall, smiling indulgently down at his fans, his chin resting on his palm. His eyes sparkle with glee as he soaks up their reactions, savouring the effect his trick has on them, the thrill it gives them. In his gaze I see him reliving a childhood that was taken away too soon, like he said to me that time in my garden. “Was I right?” he asks Sarah. “Was Justice your card?” All she can do is nod, words still failing her. As the crowd starts applauding him, several people shouting to know how he did it, the window on the fourth floor opens, and a woman sticks her head out. She looks all around, probably trying to figure out where the image came from and how it managed to get on her window in the first place. Then she looks down and pauses for several moments, her eyes zoning in on Jay. Just as her expression turns angry, I recognise her. It’s Una Harris. Fucking hell. What does Jay think he’s doing? I mean, who puts Justice on the office window of the woman they’re planning to sue? I’ve always thought it dumb when characters in movies let their enemies know they’re gunning for them. It’s like, why give them the head start? Harris retreats back inside her office, and I let out a long breath. Perhaps that will be the end of it, and she won’t react to Jay’s blatant taunt. Several minutes later, though, as Jay’s signing autographs for the crowd, she comes marching through the front door of the building, her arms crossed over her chest and a skinny man wearing a shirt and tie at her side. “I want that mess cleaned from my window immediately,” she demands shrilly. Jay casually cocks his head toward her, a momentary look of satisfaction on his face before he wipes his expression clean. He lifts his hand into the air, gesturing to the window. “Already done, Miss Harris.” Harris turns on her heel and stares up to see that there’s a window cleaner sitting on a crane, scrubbing the image from the glass. Jessie and I both laugh. He really does think of everything. “You think you’re so clever,” says Harris. “But if you don’t vacate the area right now, I’m calling the authorities.”

“This is a public meeting space, Una. Can I call you Una? Since you’ve gotten all up in my dirty laundry, I feel like we should be on first-name terms.” “No, you may not call me anything,” Harris spits. “And I said you need to leave.” “It’s not illegal for us to be here.” “You’re causing a disruption, and you’ve put graffiti on my window.” “And it’s being removed. Look, your window is all shiny and clean now. If anything, I’ve done you a favour.” “This is harassment!” Jay gives her an amused look. “Are you angry, Una? I can’t seem to tell. Your face doesn’t move all that much these days.” The put-down about her penchant for Botox gets a laugh out of the crowd. I think she’s finally realised she’s not going to win here, especially with all of Jay’s fans around. The man who came out with her tugs on her arm, quietly urging her to leave it alone. “You won’t get away with this,” she fumes, and then links her arm through her companion’s before sashaying back inside. Jay says something under his breath then, a dark expression on his face, but I can’t hear him. Once she’s gone, he continues signing for his fans. A couple of minutes into it, he pauses and scratches his head, seeking out Sarah again. “Hey, Sarah. You know what — you never showed everyone your card to prove I got it right. I know I told you to tear it up, but can you show them the pieces?” She rummages in the pocket of her bag where she shoved the ripped-up pieces, coming up empty. “I…I can’t seem to find them,” she says, checking every pocket thoroughly. Jay pulls something from his own pocket. “Wait a second, what’s this?” It’s a folded piece of paper. Jay unfolds it and smooths it out, then holds it up for everyone to see. It’s the tarot card for justice. He turns it over, and there on the back is Sarah’s signature. “No way,” she breathes. “Yes way.” Jay grins, handing her the card. “Is that your handwriting?” “Yes,” she goes on, taking the card from him with a shaky hand. “How…ugh, I know you’re not going to tell me, but this is just incredible. I tore this card up. I know I did.” Lots of kids clamour forward with questions and more things to be signed. About half an hour passes before two Garda officers show up. “You’re going to have to move along,” one of them calls to Jay over the heads of the fans surrounding him. “We received a complaint about the noise.” “We’re just finishing up now,” Jay replies with a charming smile before turning to the crowd. “Okay, everybody, it’s time for me to go.” He takes the backpack he’d been wearing off his shoulder and pulls out a long black sheet. “But before I do, I need you all to back up so I can show you one last trick.” They all move out of the way so there’s a space of several feet around him. He’s standing on the wall again,

and the Garda officers have stopped to watch. They look more interested in seeing what Jay’s going to do than in getting him to leave. The long sheet is actually a cape, and with an over-the-top flourish, he swings it around his body. At one point it completely covers him, and then he’s gone. The cape drops to the ground. He just disappeared into thin air.

SEVENTEEN

J

essie pans her camera over the crowd as they all applaud Jay’s big finish. Then she shuts it off. “Okay, how the fuck?” I say, shaking my head in confusion. I seem to be doing that a lot these days. Jessie laughs. “Out of everything he did today, that one was probably the simplest, and yet look at them all. I think some of them actually believe he really is magic.” “Simple?! He just made himself disappear. There’s nothing simple about that.” “Look at where he was standing, Matilda,” says Jessie, deadpan. “He was standing on the wall.” She gives me a glance like I’m slow. “Yeah, so he just did a bit of fancy messing around with the cape, obscuring himself enough so that he could drop to the other side. You don’t have to be a genius to figure that out.” I slam my palm to my forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” “He’s a flashy bastard. Most people are so dazed by the flash that they don’t see the trick. Come on, he’s probably waiting for us.” She starts walking, and I follow her lead. “Hey, I thought you were under a contract not to reveal any of his secrets?” “He won’t mind me telling you that one. It’s kid’s stuff. The more complicated ones, now, if I told you about those he’d probably have my balls in a blender.” I don’t point out the fact that girls don’t have balls. Although, if there was a girl to change that, it would definitely be Jessie. We walk down a side street to find Jay leaning casually against the wall of a building, smoking a cigarette with a big smile on his face. As soon as I reach him, he throws his arm around my shoulders. “Well, what did you think?” “You were amazing,” I tell him shyly. Jessie snorts. “Now I know why you like having her around so much. She strokes your ego no end.” “That’s not all she strokes,” says Jay, giving her a cheeky wink. “Oh, my God, you did not just say that!” I look to Jessie. “He’s lying. Tell her you’re lying.”

“Now, why would I lie and tell her I’m lying?” he teases, his grin deepening by the second. God, I hate him sometimes. “Ugh, don’t listen to him. There has been no stroking between us.” Jay’s deep chuckle makes me shiver, and I know what I’ve said isn’t technically true, but whatever. “Okay, now that that’s all cleared up. Who wants pancakes for dinner?” “Number one,” says Jessie. “You’re in Europe now. They’re not pancakes, they’re crepes. And number two, unless we’re talking the savoury kind, who eats crepes for dinner?” “I still call them pancakes,” I put in. “You can do either, really. Plus, I love dessert for dinner.” Jay’s hand moves to clasp my neck, giving it a tender squeeze. It takes me by surprise because it’s such an intimate place to touch someone. Involuntarily, I shiver. “You see. Watson agrees with me. Pancakes it is.” I have to try hard not to react too much to his hand placement, but there are goose pimples running all the way down my spine. His thumb brushes back and forth over my skin, giving me tingles. When we arrive at a nearby crepe café and go inside, we get a table by the window. I order peanut butter and Nutella crepes with no small amount of delight, and Jay is so taken with my childlike glee that he goes for the same. Jessie asks for a BLT, not indulging in my “dessert for dinner” idea. “Okay,” I say after we’ve been served our food and I’ve stuffed down half of mine already. I need a breather before I can finish it all. “I really, really, really would be forever indebted to you if you just revealed how you did one trick. Just one, that’s all I’m asking for.” Jay wipes his mouth with a napkin, his lips forming a smirk. “When you say ‘forever indebted,’ just what are we talking about here?” Jessie makes a foreboding sound. “No way, sweetheart. You don’t want to do that. This fucker’s a slave driver when you owe him.” “Okay, well, maybe I won’t be forever in your debt. Perhaps I was getting a little carried away with myself. If you tell me one trick, I’ll owe you one thing in return. You can decide, but it has to be reasonable, like washing your car or something.” Jay leans forward and steeples his fingers in front of him. “Will you wash my car topless?” he asks huskily. My cheeks colour, and Jessie lets out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, now, that is a good idea.” “Okay, let me amend my offer. I will owe you, but it can’t be sexual.” “Topless isn’t sexual,” says Jay. “Topless is natural.” “I second that,” Jessie adds. “How about braless?” Jay goes on. God, these two. Why do I even bother? “Fine. I retract my offer,” I huff, sitting back in my seat and folding my arms.

“Hey, now, I never said I wouldn’t agree to nonsexual. How about this? I’ll tell you how I did one trick, and in exchange you have to come work with me the next time I do some shows in Vegas?” I stare at him for a long time. “Uh, how is that payment? That’s a free holiday.” “A working holiday,” Jay amends. “Okay, you don’t have to threaten me with a free holiday twice,” I say, smiling widely. “It’s a deal.” I reach out and we shake on it, Jay clasping my hand tight. “It’s a deal, darlin’. Now, tell me which trick you want me to explain.” “Oh, my God,” says Jessie. “This is new. You never told me any of your secrets until I’d signed on the dotted line.” “Matilda made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” “Of course she did.” Ignoring their banter, I try to think of which trick I want explained. It feels like there are so many. “All right, I suppose what I really want to know is how you got the Justice card drawn on Una Harris’ window. It definitely wasn’t there beforehand, and it was up way too high for you to reach.” Jay rubs at his chin, looking around the café. “Ah, now, that one is elementary, my dear Watson. I think I’m gonna need some props for this explanation, though.” He gets up from his seat and walks over to the service counter, having a word with the guy on duty. Then he comes back carrying a shaker of paprika and a squeezy bottle of honey. Yuck, does he plan on putting those together on his pancakes? Jessie looks a little disgruntled when he starts pushing all our plates out of the way to clear the table. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Just watch.” Popping open the bottle of honey, he starts to pour it onto the surface of the table in quick movements. When I look down I see that he’s actually writing my name in stylish lettering. Pretty cool, but I still don’t get it. Next, he unscrews the cap on the paprika and pours some out into his hand before scattering the red spice all over the honey. Lastly, he bends down and blows hard. The excess paprika scatters away, leaving only the bits that have stuck to the honey. And there’s my name written in red. “Okay, fancy,” I say, looking at him again, a niggling idea of his point forming in my head. “That’s basically how I did it, though I’ll admit I had help. You remember meeting Sharon, who does wardrobe for my show?” I nod. “Well, she’s also a really great artist and works in unconventional mediums. Early this morning I paid the same guy you saw clean Harris’ window today to bring us up on the crane. Once there, Sharon drew an outline of the Justice card on the glass in washable glue, invisible unless you’re looking really closely. Harris’ office window is at an angle with the building next to it, so we bribed our way into the room facing Harris’. While I was holding the attention of the crowd, Sharon was

there with a tube full of powdered chalk. She blew it out the window and it stuck to the glue, thus highlighting the image. The wind blew away the excess dust in only a few seconds, so the next time the crowd looked at the window, the image was there.” Oh. That’s so fucking cool! It’s actually all very practical when explained like that. But you know what, I think I preferred not knowing. The mystery is part of the thrill. Well, at least I didn’t agree to wash his car topless. “Happy now?” Jay asks. “It’s certainly very clever. I don’t know how you think of these things. They’re just so slick.” He grins. “Why, thank you.” “But why do it on Una Harris’ office window? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?” “Hey, I’ve kept my distance for long enough. She needs to know I’m not going to lie down and play dead while she stomps all over my career.” “I think she’ll get the message once you file the lawsuit,” I say, and a sad thought hits me. If Dad really is going to represent Jay, then he’s probably going to have to move out. I completely forgot about that. “You’re thinking about something you don’t like. What is it, Watson?” I glance up at him, startled by how clearly he can read my thoughts. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff.” “What kind of stuff?” Looking down, I run my finger over the rim of my glass. “Well, if all this goes ahead, then you’re going to have to move out, and I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around,” I admit quietly. He grabs my hand, taking it into his big warm palm. “Hey, we’re besties now, aren’t we? I’ll still be around all the time. So much you’ll probably be sick of the sight of me. Also, I won’t be moving for another few weeks until I find someplace else.” I cough, embarrassed now. “Okay.” “I thought I was your bestie,” Jessie teases. “You are. I can have two besties,” Jay replies. He holds onto my hand for another few seconds before letting it go. “Well, look at this. You didn’t want me to move in, and now you don’t want me to leave.” “No need to be so smug about it,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him and trying not to smile. THE NEXT MORNING I get up early to help Dad pack. Every couple of months he and his friend Marcus go on golfing weekends down the country. Usually I don’t like being alone in the house, but since Jay is going to be here, I’m not so down about it. In fact, I’m really looking forward to being alone with him. What? I own a vagina and he’s Jay Fields; therefore, I’m allowed to be excited, even if nothing’s going to happen.

After Dad leaves, I make a trip to the fabric shop in town to stock up, planning a long weekend of dressmaking. I even have two new online orders to work on. Arriving home, I find Jay in the garden, working out. I leave him to it for a while, then decide to go and see if he wants anything to eat. I’m being brave because it’s hard not to get all flustered when he’s sweaty and topless. Just as I’m about to walk out the door, he’s walking in, and we clash. He’s holding an energy drink, and it spills all over my top. I gasp loudly when the cold liquid hits me. “Shit, sorry!” Jay goes to grab some paper towels and comes back to help dry off my top. I stand there, speechless, as he dabs at the wetness. It’s one of those surreal moments where I can’t believe what’s happening is actually happening — mainly because the spillage is in the general vicinity of my boobs, and therefore, Jay is touching my boobs. I breathe quickly when his thumb accidentally brushes my nipple through my thin bra, and his hand pauses. Every second feels like an eternity. I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. He looks…hungry. When his hand moves again, it isn’t a dab, it’s a caress, and a strangled whimper escapes me. The paper towel falls from his hand as he full-on feels me up, still maintaining complete eye contact. If I wasn’t consumed by nerves, I’d probably slap him for being so brazen. There’s a question in his gaze. Can we…? His hand cups my breast, and I let out a quiet, barely audible sigh. I close my eyes. “Matilda.” His voice is low, gravelly. “Hmmm?” “Look at me.” I look at him. His other hand comes up and starts caressing my other breast, slowly, carefully, as though he’s savouring every moment. Both hands move down in unison and pinch each of my nipples. I moan loudly, and his face hovers over mine, his mouth open as though swallowing the sound. Then he speaks. “This top is ruined. Let’s get it off you, darlin’.” He starts to pull it up over my head, and I don’t stop him. It’s the oddest moment for me to think of yesterday, when he’d slipped his hand inside the businessman’s pocket. I hadn’t seen him take anything, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. I’m standing in front of him in only my bra now as his eyes drink me in. My chest heaves, but the question niggles at me, pushing to be asked. “Jay?” “What is it, Matilda?” he purrs, stepping forward as I take a step back. When my back hits the wall, he stops, his chest a bare inch away from mine. “What did you steal from that man yesterday?” His brow furrows, and his head tilts to the side. “What man?” “The one outside the newspaper building who you bumped into. I saw you slip your hand in his pocket. I remember him from the casino, you know. You couldn’t

stop staring at him.” He swears under his breath, his hand coming up to caress my face as he whispers, “You weren’t supposed to see that.” “But I did. So tell me what you took.” “You really are my little Watson, aren’t you? Nothing escapes these baby blues,” he says, and it feels like he’s trying to distract me with the compliment. “Jay, I want to know what you took. You can’t go stealing from people who work for the newspaper when you’re trying to build a lawsuit against them. Any tiny detail could go against you in court.” “What if I told you no one will ever find out about it?” “I’d still want to know. I don’t like lies.” “This isn’t a lie. It’s a secret. One I need to keep for now, but I will tell you… someday.” I purse my lips, suddenly irritated by the sticky energy drink that’s coating my skin. I frown and sidestep him, grabbing the top he just took off me and walking to the door. “I need to go take a bath and wash this crap off me,” I mumble. “Matilda.” “It’s fine. You can keep your secrets, Jay. Just don’t expect me to fully trust you so long as you do.” There’s an odd expression on his face as I walk out of the room, a strange mix of frustration and hurt.

EIGHTEEN

pstairs, I close the bathroom door and lock it before exhaling a long breath. U Once I’ve gathered myself, I fill the tub. After what just happened, I don’t trust Jay not to waltz right in while I’m bathing. I’m still annoyed at him for being secretive, but I’m also regretting putting a stop to whatever it was we were doing. These days it feels like I need his touch like I need air to breathe, and it’s so seldom that I actually get it. I strip off once the tub’s full and step in, the warm water soothing my nerves. It’s like every single one of my muscles is wound up tight. I stay there for a long while, my eyes closed, trying to forget about Jay’s hands on me. It was so unexpected, and I can still feel him touching me, how it made me ache, made me instantly wet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man, and even then he wasn’t really a man, just a boy. My ex-boyfriend (and only boyfriend) was the same age I was. Neither of us really had a clue what we were doing half the time. I can’t imagine it being like that with Jay. Granted, he’s only four years older, but he seems so much more…experienced than I am. I feel like he could teach me things I couldn’t even fathom. I see him in my head, out in the garden doing pushups on the grass, his muscles moving, flexing, sweat dripping off him. It’s times like these that I wish I owned a vibrator. Christ, I feel like I didn’t even own a libido until Jay came into my life. Now my mind is just a churning bucket of frustration and sexual thoughts. I remember the night he’d offered to go down on me. He probably puts just as much dedication into the act as he does everything else. My skin tingles just thinking about it, my nipples hardening in the water. My hand rests innocently on my belly, but as my erotic thoughts take over, I start to stroke my skin, breath whooshing out of me as I imagine Jay’s hand doing it. My thighs fall apart as my fingers move lower, dancing whisper soft over my sensitive flesh, my clit throbbing to be touched. A second later I jump in fright when someone knocks on the door. “Darlin’, can we talk?” comes Jay’s deep voice. I have to bite my lip not to moan at the sound of it. Feeling daring, I seek out my clit, rubbing it slowly. I mean, the

door is locked. He’ll never know. A little thrill goes through me. Finally, I answer quietly, “This isn’t a good time.” I hear his body slide down the door, his bottom hitting the floor as he sits. “I’ll stay out here. I don’t like fighting with you, Watson. We’re supposed to be besties, remember?” “I’m — I’m taking a bath, Jay. We can talk later,” I manage, trying to sound normal, but my breathing is far too laboured. I shouldn’t be touching myself with him right behind the door, but I can’t seem to help it. Reaching up, I mould my breast in my hand and pinch my nipple, sending tremors all throughout my body. I realise that Jay’s been quiet for far too long. I didn’t make any noises, did I? No, I know I didn’t. I’m not that reckless. “How’s your bath going?” he asks. His voice sounds different now, lower. “I said we’ll talk later. Can you go?” I croak, unable to help sliding my fingers inside myself, my walls clenching tight around them. There’s a smile in his voice when he goes on, “What are you doing in there, baby?” “Nothing,” I answer, a little too quickly. “Okay, you keep on doing nothing. I’ll just sit here while you’re at it. This spot is surprisingly comfortable.” Bastard. I want to tell him to leave again, but I know he’s not going to. I’m on the cusp of coming, that crazy place where you’re too full of pleasure to stop. You want the release so badly that for those few insane moments you don’t care if somebody’s listening. If they know exactly what you’re doing. Embarrassment is a land far, far away. I pinch my nipple again as I rub at my clit fast now, my foot braced against the end of the tub. I’m so close to coming, but it’s Jay’s voice that sends me over the edge. “You making yourself feel good?” he asks, his voice a quiet, rumbling caress. A tiny moan escapes me before I can stifle it, and I come on my hand, my entire body pulsating with the pleasure. “Yes,” I answer softly, coming down from the high. My heart jolts when the doorknob turns. I remember that I locked it, though, and I breathe evenly. “What are you doing?” I demand. “I want to come in,” he murmurs, still behind the closed door. “I’m in the bath. Naked!” “Exactly,” he answers. I can tell the exact smug expression he’s got on his face right now, even though I can’t see him. There’s a curious scratching sound at the lock, and I wonder what he’s up to. When the knob turns again and the door starts to open, I dive out of the tub, slamming my body against the door to keep it shut. Keeping my body against the door, I reach over and grab a towel to cover myself. “Did you just pick the fucking lock?” I gasp, wrapping the towel around my body.

“Another of my many talents,” Jay replies. “You’re overstepping the line.” His tone is dark — reprimanding, almost. “Oh, so now there’s a line. You just let me listen to you masturbate, darlin’.” Okay, so when he puts it like that, it’s kind of hard to argue with him. Still, my immediate response is to deny everything. “I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about, but you need to get away from the door and leave me alone.” I open it just a sliver and peek my head out to show him I mean business. Unfortunately, when his eyes lock on mine, I melt. He sucks in a breath when he sees me, his hand reaching through the crack to touch my chin. Then his thumb moves up and brushes my bottom lip. “Fuck, look at you,” he growls. I’m so caught up in the way he’s staring at me, like he could devour me whole, that I forget to keep my hold on the door. He pushes it open easily and pounces on me, lifting me up into his arms, my legs straddling his waist, and carrying me into my bedroom. He settles me down on the mattress, moving to brace himself above me. “Such a temptation,” he whispers, like he’s reprimanding himself. “How the fuck do I resist this?” I’m not anticipating it when his mouth descends on mine, taking my lips in a hard, frenzied kiss that I feel all the way to my toes. My skin grows hot and feverish. I moan into his mouth as his tongue plunders inside, tangling with mine, sliding in and out. My legs fall apart, and he pushes into me, his erection grinding hard into my sex. I feel empty, aching to have him inside me. He hums as he kisses me, possesses me with his mouth. The sound vibrates low in my belly. When he breaks the kiss a moment later and pulls back, he looks down and swears profusely. I follow his gaze to see my towel’s fallen open and I’m 100percent, no-holds-barred naked. His mouth goes to my neck, licking and sucking, sending shivers down my back that culminate at the base of my spine. I could come again just from that. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into my skin, and my heart stops. No one’s ever called me beautiful before. I’ve had pretty (from Dad), but not beautiful. Hell, I’ve never really felt beautiful until this moment, with his mouth on me, making my every pore come alive. One hand teases my nipple, the other moulding my hip. “Hold onto the bed frame,” he says past a groan. “W-what?” I ask, hardly able to form the word, I’m so lost to him. He clears his throat, his eyes blazing into mine. Instead of elaborating, he takes both my wrists into his hands, raising my arms and wrapping my fingers around the wooden bars at the top of my bed. Oh. Now I get it. “Hold on tight,” he tells me, his gaze dark as he starts to plant kisses all the way down my body. “If you touch me, I can’t promise I won’t fuck you.” Pleasurable shivers run down my spine. He shouldn’t have said that, because

now I want to touch him. See what will happen. I know I’m being reckless. I know he’s keeping secrets from me, but the fact is, in this moment I can’t bring myself to care. His touch makes my brain go on holiday, a long, long holiday in a faraway country. And I want him more than I want to know what he’s hiding. He’s at my lower belly now, and I have a feeling I know where he’s headed, my anxiety ratcheting up and making me tense. I’ve never had this before, don’t know what to expect. Will I even like it? When he reaches my mound he stops, nuzzling me with his nose and breathing in deeply. He holds himself up on his elbows, his eyes shining as he looks his fill. “Relax,” he says tenderly, rubbing at my belly. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.” “Don’t be. You’re going to like this. In fact, you’re probably going to love it.” He gives me a devilish grin and then dips his head, his lips meeting my quivering sex with fervour. I cry out at the contact. Then he starts to lap at me with his tongue. It’s all wet and soft and absolutely heavenly; my entire body feels like it’s melting. “J-Jason,” I say, my voice more air than sound. He groans as he sucks my clit into his mouth. He looks so into it, like he’s enjoying this even more than I am, and that’s a massive turn-on. I want to let go of the bed and latch onto his shoulders, but he sees me move and gives me a heated look that says no. Starting at my clit, he licks a line to my entrance, his tongue slipping inside, flirting with the possibility. At this point I’ll take any part of him that he wants to put inside me. The absence of him makes me crazy, and I haven’t even had him yet to know what I’m missing. He tongues me like that, penetrating me, like he’s actually fucking me, and I let the floodgates open, moaning with abandon. I’ve always been self-conscious about making noises during sex, but with Jay there’s no hope of holding back. He makes me lose my mind to the point that I barely recognise the needy, sex-crazed person I’ve become. I can’t tell how much time has passed when he moves back to my clit, flicking his tongue in rapid movements that I didn’t even know were possible. God, I never want this to end. He’s looking up at me like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and I need it to be real. I need this be about more than just sex to him. More than just an itch he wants to scratch. “You look so fucking sexy right now. Come on my mouth,” he rasps, his hands going quickly to my hips and lifting. It takes me by surprise when he kneels up on the bed, my body at an angle with the mattress as he holds me up, his mouth still going to work on my clit. The angle makes it better, more intense. I never would have thought to do this. His big hands splay out over my hips and lower belly, hot like fire on my skin. “Look at me,” he demands, coming up for air. Our eyes meet, lock. A coil tightens deep inside me, becoming more and more intense. He takes my clit between his teeth lightly then, and it shocks me how good

it feels. I yelp and moan at once. Then I’m coming, long and hard, while he keeps on sucking, dragging out each tremor for all it’s worth. I whimper as the pleasure subsides, and he wraps me up in his arms. His face rests in the crook of my neck, nuzzling behind my ear. “Wow,” I breathe, finally finding enough strength to form words. Jay’s quiet, affectionate laughter makes my belly flutter. “Now do you get what all the fuss is about?” he asks, his voice a soft caress. “Mm-hmm.” He moves his nose against my earlobe. “Good.” We stay like that for a long time, a bizarre place where I’m naked in Jay’s arms with the freedom to enjoy the feel of his warm, bare chest pressed against me. I adore the heat of his skin, love the look in his eyes as he ate me out. Time passes slowly, like caramel dripping luxuriously off a silver spoon. Unfortunately, the moment is broken too soon by three loud knocks on the front door. I’d almost fallen off to sleep when the noise jolts me awake. I look at the clock, remembering Michelle had said she’d drop over today. Jay’s arms reflexively tighten around me when I try to move. “Ignore it,” he says, eyes closed, voice sleepy. “I have to answer it. It’s Michelle. She knows I’m here. I told her I would be.” “Fuck.” I smile at how annoyed he is by the prospect of breaking the little moment we’re sharing. “You need to go shower anyway. You’re still all sweaty from your workout.” His eyes heat up as he moves to lean over me. “You love it.” All I can manage in response is a shy smile. Placing a soft, sweet kiss to my lips, he rolls off me and stands up. “A shower it is, then,” he says before leaving the room. I quickly grab some yoga pants and a Tshirt, throwing them on and hurrying downstairs to answer the door for Michelle. She’s ringing the bell now, getting impatient. My hair is still wet when I open the door. “Sorry, I was in the bath,” I say as she comes inside. She gives me a look and laughs. “Bit of a weird hour for a bath, but each to their own. Let’s go sit out on your patio. It’s a lovely day.” I make us a selection of sandwiches and fill a jug with orange juice, bringing them all out to the deck furniture in the garden where Michelle is currently lounging. She’s wearing a yellow halter top that showcases her small but pert boobs, probably hoping to get a bit of a tan. The warm sun hits my feet, and I realise I’ve been going around barefoot, frazzled as I am by the day’s strange turn of events. “So, any news?” Michelle asks, picking up a sandwich and taking a dainty bite. Oh, I have news, all right. I’m not sure I want to broach the subject right now, though, not with Jay just upstairs anyway. “Not really. You?”

She shrugs. “It was a slow week at work. Ooh, but I did see Michael Fassbender go by when I was leaving the office yesterday, so that brightened things up a little.” “Really? Who was he with?” I ask curiously. Michelle has the uncanny luck of randomly seeing famous people in her everyday life. It’s weird. One time she was in the same queue as Gabriel Byrne in the supermarket. “Just some old guy. At least, I think it was Michael Fassbender. It could have easily been a lookalike.” At this Jay steps out into the garden, his hair damp and his clothes changed. Michelle eyes him as he pulls up a chair and sits. “You read my mind, Watson. I’m starving,” he says, grabbing a sandwich and eating it in one huge, hungry bite. I stare at his mouth, all too aware of where it’s just been. The heated look he gives me in return tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Oh, yeah, help yourself,” I say sarcastically. I don’t really know what way to be around him now. “Don’t mind if I do,” he replies, giving me a loaded stare. When I glance at Michelle, I see her looking between the two of us, a smile tugging at her lips. “So, you both just had baths at, hmmm” — she glances down at her watch — “two o’clock in the afternoon.” I pretend not to get what she’s getting at, frowning. “What? I had a bath. Jay had a shower. He has his own en-suite. And why are you so concerned about our personal hygiene habits?” Jay’s smirking, but he’s not looking at me, focusing mainly on seriously depleting our sandwich situation. I know why he’s smirking, too. I just got a little overly defensive at Michelle’s statement. “O-kay,” says Michelle, taking a sip of her juice. “I was only making an observation.” She pauses and dusts some crumbs from her lap, then asks randomly, “So, is Jessie coming over today?” Now it’s my turn to get curious. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in her tone that’s different. Like she’s trying too hard to sound casual. I look to Jay. “Is she?” He shakes his head, his hand moving sneakily to rest on my thigh under the table. I gasp in a tiny breath but try not to make a big deal of it, not wanting Michelle to notice. “Not that I know of, darlin’.” His voice is slicker than usual, lazier. Is this what he sounds like after making women come? He seems so…satisfied. “Oh, well, that’s a shame. She was so much fun last week after your show,” says Michelle. Jay raises an eyebrow, looking at Michelle in an intense way for a second. “That’s interesting.” “What?” she asks, sitting up straighter. Oh, no, is he reading her? “Your pupils dilated when you were talking about Jessie,” Jay explains casually.

“Do you know what that means?” “My pupils weren’t dilated,” says Michelle in a rare moment of selfconsciousness. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this before. She scratches at her neck. “They were. They got fucking huge, honey.” He leans in on his elbow. “It means you were aroused. You like Jessie, don’t ya?” I nudge him in the side. “Leave her alone, Jay.” “We’re having a friendly conversation, Matilda,” he replies, moving his hand up my thigh and squeezing hard. I clench my fist to keep from physically removing it. “You two are being weird,” Michelle observes, picking up another sandwich. “What’s going on?” Her questioning makes me mildly defensive. “We’re being weird?” I reply, laughing. “You’re the one whose pupils got dilated at the mention of a girl. I thought you left your experimental days behind you when you finished college.” She sighs and slumps back in her seat. “Whatever. I like to think there’ll always be a part of me that’s fond of the ladies. Like ten percent of my vagina is into clam while the other ninety percent likes a good sausage.” I practically choke on my laughter. Trust Michelle to always know how to put me in my place. “I can’t believe you just said that.” “Jessie got you back to her place last week, didn’t she?” Jay surmises. Michelle gives him a demure look. “She might have.” “What!?” I interrupt in a fake voice of insult. “Something happened between you two and you didn’t tell me? This is an outrage!” “Oh, calm down, Jemima. Not much happened. We had a little…fumble. That’s all. I enjoyed it, though. Wouldn’t mind a round two.” “Jessie likes to turn the straight ones,” says Jay to me. “It’s her thing.” “Well, she can turn me for a night any time,” says Michelle, licking her lips. “Just don’t go leading her on,” I say, frowning now. Jessie might have a thing for turning straight girls, but Michelle has a thing for playing with the mice she catches before she eats them alive. “Pffft.” Michelle waves away my concerns. “I couldn’t lead that woman on even if I tried. She’s a total stud. Probably has a new girl every night.” “You’re not too far off,” says Jay, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Speaking of which, here she is now.” He answers the phone and steps away to talk. “Don’t tell her I was talking about her,” Michelle whisper-shouts at him. He gives her a wry nod and starts talking seriously on the phone. I wonder what that’s all about. Before I have the chance to ponder it further, Michelle grabs my wrist and practically yanks me across the table. “Okay, I want to know everything that’s going on with you and Mr Magic Hands, and I want every last detail.”

NINETEEN

even myself when I decide not to tell Michelle what happened I surprise between Jay and me. Here’s my reasoning: I want to save face, just in case it

turns out that all this was to him was a roll in the hay. Michelle knows about my quest for epic love, and I don’t want her to judge me for letting my newfound libido lose the run of itself. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know she wouldn’t judge me, but let’s face it, talking about sex is embarrassing. She’s always been the one to tell me about her bedroom adventures, not the other way around. To put it plainly, I have no problem talking about other people having sex, but talking about me having sex, well, that’s a whole other kettle of uncomfortable collar fiddling. I wouldn’t know where to begin in explaining to her just how spectacularly Jay managed to rock my world after what must have been a record-breaking dry spell. “Nothing’s going on. He’s just flirty. He flirts with everyone,” I answer dismissively. “Eh, no, he doesn’t. He hasn’t so much as given me a backward glance since I first met him, and that’s probably because he’s too busy giving you all his backward glances to even notice that other women exist.” “Oh, shut up. You’re reading too much into it.” “I am not, but if you want to sail your pretty little rowboat down the Nile and take in the scenery, then I’m not going to be the one to stop you.” “Has anyone ever told you that you use twenty words when five will do? I thought they were supposed to teach you the opposite of that in marketing school.” “Ah, now she’s getting bitchy. She always gets bitchy when she’s being defensive.” “She would prefer not to be referred to in the third person, thank you very much.” “She just did it herself.” “She was trying to make a point.” “Her point has been made.” We look at each other for a second before we both burst into laughter. “God, I fucking love you, Matilda, but I swear you’re the most neurotic girl I

know.” “Glad to hold the title.” A minute later Jay returns, telling us he has to go out for a while, but he’ll be back later. He gives my shoulder a small, meaningful squeeze before he goes. Michelle and I watch a movie for the rest of the afternoon, and then I retreat to my sewing machine once she heads home. It’s ten o’clock when I decide to call it a night. I furrow my brow, noticing that Jay still hasn’t gotten back yet. Worrying the screen of my phone, I hesitate over whether or not to call him and see if he’s okay. In the end, I decide not to. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need me checking up on him. In bed I toss and turn, as I usually do when I’m alone in the house. When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares about being kidnapped in my sleep and taken away by bad men all dressed in black. I’d wake Dad up constantly, screaming my head off until he came and calmed me down, reassuring me that it was just a dream. Over the years the nightmares faded, and I know Dad was glad that they did. He never said it, but I could tell he worried the nightmares were because of what happened the night Mum got killed. The kidnappers in my nightmares were always the same men who shot Mum. A little while later, I hear Jay arrive home. He comes upstairs, and I hold my breath as I listen to him walk in the direction of my bedroom. Not knowing what else to do, I pretend to be asleep. My door opens, and the house is so quiet that I can hear him standing there, breathing, watching me for the longest time. I can’t help holding my breath expectantly. Is he considering coming inside? He doesn’t. Instead, he closes my door and goes to his own room. What was that all about? He moves around in his room for a while, doing his usual pacing that I tend to hear him do at night. The pacing is oddly reassuring to me, and I find myself drifting off to the sound of it. Hours later, I wake up. It’s still dark, and when I glance at the alarm clock on my bedside dresser, I see it’s three in the morning. My heart is racing, and I can’t tell why until I hear what it is that woke me up. Loud, pained sounds are coming from Jay’s bedroom. I jump out of bed and hurry to his room, worried that he’s somehow been hurt. When I get to him, though, he isn’t hurt. His body is curled in on itself in the foetal position as he clutches his knees to his chest. I’ve never seen such a huge man look so small. Switching the lamp on low, I go to his side, finding he’s still asleep, in the midst of what seems to be a bad nightmare. It’s odd that I’d only just been thinking about my own experience with nightmares earlier tonight. He’s wearing boxer shorts and no top, sweat glistening on his skin. I hover over him, not sure if I should wake him up or leave him alone. He’s a fully grown man, but in this moment it’s like he’s reverted back to a child. Hesitantly, I place my hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jay, wake up. Jay, you’re having a nightmare.”

His body jerks and his eyes snap open; he grabs the hand that’s touching him tightly, painfully. “Jay.” I wince. “Let go. It’s just me. It’s Matilda.” At hearing my name, something seems to jolt him. Instead of letting go of my hand, he pulls on it, though more gently now. He drags my body onto his bed, pulling the covers over us both and wrapping his arms and legs around me. I’m trapped, but I don’t mind. “Matilda,” he whispers. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me wonder if he’s awake, or still half dreaming. His arms are warm and comforting around me as he presses his lips to the back of my neck. “Stay,” he murmurs. I inhale the heady scent of him, feeling like I’ve been encapsulated in a bubble of Jay, and I probably couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. His breathing evens out after a while, and he’s sleeping deeply again. Only a short while later, I drift off, too. The next time I wake up, I’m alone in the bed and it’s morning. I can hear the pan sizzling downstairs, the smell of bacon making my mouth water. Getting up, I pay a quick visit to the bathroom before going down to the kitchen. “Morning sleepyhead,” says Jay with a smile as I sit down at the table and pour myself some juice. “Morning,” I reply, not looking at him. He comes over and slides some bacon onto my plate. “So,” he begins smugly, “you snuck into bed with me last night. That was a nice surprise.” My heart thumps at his words. “What?” “I woke up with a beautiful woman in my arms. Not a bad way to greet the day, especially considering I went to bed alone.” He winks. “You don’t remember,” I say in realisation, inwardly purring at him calling me beautiful for the second time. I could get used to that. He takes the chair opposite me and sits, his brow furrowing. “Don’t remember what, darlin’?” “I woke up because I could hear you having a nightmare. It sounded bad, so I went into your room to try to calm you down. Then you pulled me onto your bed and wouldn’t let me go. Me being there seemed to help you sleep, so I stayed.” He scratches his gorgeously sleep-ruffled hair. He seems embarrassed for the first time ever. “Ah, yeah. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It’s a problem.” “Do you have insomnia?” “You could call it that. Basically, my brain won’t shut down enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. It goes on for weeks, and then I’ll conk out for an entire day from exhaustion. Then the cycle will start all over again.” “That sounds awful. Have you tried medicating for it?” “I’ve tried lots of stuff. None of it works 100 percent. If I take sleeping pills, they make me drowsy, but they don’t make me sleep. Basically, I’m awake but more tired than I would’ve been if I didn’t take the pills. I have a technique that works

most of the time.” “A technique?” “Yeah, I pace, reciting lists in my head. All of the things I’ve achieved and all the things I plan to achieve. Listing them relaxes me enough to sleep most nights. The problem is, if I haven’t completed something, it niggles at me when I recite the list, which screws everything up and keeps me awake.” Oh, so that’s what the pacing is about. It’s a little concerning that he needs to do something like that in order to sleep. Still, I don’t want to be critical, so I reassure him. “Ah, yeah, I get that. You know, that’s a really good technique. I read somewhere once that we replay the day in our heads before we go to sleep. It gives us a sense that everything is done and dusted.” Jay looks at me for a long minute, so long that I start to get self-conscious. “I sleep better when you’re with me,” he says, voice low. I try to make light of his seriousness, ignoring the tingles beneath my skin. “Like in a pile? You’re such a big kid.” Something tugs at his lips. “Doesn’t have to be a pile. There are a number of positions I’m partial to. You want me to show you?” His tone dips low on the word “positions,” and I focus on chewing the salty, crispy bacon he cooked for me. “No need for any show-and-tell.” Jay chuckles, and we eat in quiet for a minute. “Are you doing anything later on?” he asks then. “I’d like to take you somewhere.” “Not really. I’m going to do some sewing today, then I’m free as a bird. Where do you want to take me?” “It’s a surprise.” “Hmm, I’m beginning to think you might be just as partial to annoying secrets as you are to positions, Mr Fields,” I joke. “Yeah, well, it’s not my fault I love those little gasps you make when you’re surprised,” he answers brazenly, a taunting gleam in his eye. I point my slice of toast at him. “You’re in rare form this morning.” “I’m glad my form impresses you.” “You would be glad, you…peacock.” A bark of laughter erupts from him. “Peacock?” “What? I’m tired. I’m not good at thinking up witty comebacks when I’m tired.” “You know, I do like the way your lips move when you say ‘peacock.’” I look at him, my mouth forming a surprised “O.” When I find the words to speak, I give him a flat, “Shut up.” “Finish your breakfast and get some energy into you, tired Tilly,” he says, looking at me fondly. I stab a piece of bacon with my fork. “Don’t call me Tilly.” He raises his hands in the air, laughing. “Okay. You don’t like Tilly. Duly noted.”

IF THERE’S one thing that I love doing with Jay, it’s riding with him…in his car. Minds out of the gutter, please. He gave me strict instructions not to eat any dinner, and when we were leaving, he tucked a large duffel bag in the trunk. I thought he might be taking me out to dinner, but the duffel bag threw me. So now I haven’t the foggiest where he’s taking me or what he plans on doing when we get there. I mess around with my seat, reclining it so I can relax and let the wind rush through my hair, the window open beside me. Jay parks in a Georgian area of the city and helps me out, retrieving the duffel bag. “You don’t have a bunch of murder weapons in there, do you?” I joke as he leads me down the street. He only gives me an elusive smile. “Nope.” We near a small park, and there’s a line of people queuing up outside the gates. Jay takes my hand in his, our fingers intertwining as we join the queue. “If you don’t tell me what this is, I’m going to ask the people standing in front of us,” I push. “Do it and face the consequences,” he warns. I scowl and resign myself to not knowing until he decides it’s time to reveal his plans. The queue moves forward slowly, and when we reach the gates leading into the park, I crane my neck to see inside. I can’t see much, but I do notice some pretty fairy lights hung through the trees. They look magical. Jay hands the girl at the gate two tickets, and she stamps our hands with red dots. Pulling me inside, Jay leads me through the trees lined with fairy lights and into an open grassy area where people are setting down blankets and picnics. At the top of the open space, someone has set up at huge projection screen, and that’s when it all clicks into place. Outdoor cinema! I’ve never been to an outdoor cinema before. How wonderful. “Jay,” I whisper to him, touched. He turns his head to me slightly, but keeps walking, searching for a good spot to set up. “Yeah?” “Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.” He smiles tenderly. “The movie hasn’t even started yet.” “What is it?” He gives me a shiver-inducing look. “The Piano.” His answer makes me blush like crazy. Trust him not to forget about me telling him how much I, uh, enjoy that film. He doesn’t draw out my embarrassment, but instead pulls a fleece blanket from the duffle bag and spreads it out on a patch of grass close to the back of the park. The sky is starting to darken, somewhere in between day and night, and a terrible sense of romance clutches at my chest. He planned all of this. For me. For us. Um, yeah. That’s just a cough that’s catching in my throat. It’s not emotion, I swear. Gesturing for me to sit down, he takes some plastic food containers out of the

bag and a small chill box containing a bottle of wine. Hmm, is he planning on getting me drunk? The food is an array of sandwiches, chips, and dips. The perfect picnic combination. “This is nice,” I say, giving him a curious smile. “You planned all this yourself?” When he looks at me, it’s not what I’m expecting. He seems guilty for some reason, and almost…sad. It’s a swift turnaround, and it takes me by surprise. Reaching to his neck and scratching, he replies, “Yeah, I wanted to do something for you, something you’d like.” He hands me a paper plate with some sandwiches. “Here, eat up.” “Thanks,” I reply, still eyeing him. There’s something off about him all of a sudden, but I can’t put my finger on it. Once it gets completely dark, the movie starts up, and Jay pulls me to sit between his legs, my back resting on his chest. The nearness makes me remember yesterday, his mouth on me, how incredible it felt. He runs his fingertips up and down my arms, noticing my skin pimpling with the cold. “It’s getting chilly. I brought another blanket,” he says, pulling one from the bag and covering us both with it. I sink into him, feeling his breath tickle the back of my neck. A little into the movie, he pours us some wine into the plastic cups he brought. I sip on mine, savouring the moment, watching one of my favourite movies with a man my feelings are latching onto. When I’m finished drinking, he takes the cup from me and sets it aside, wrapping both his arms around my middle and holding me tight. The scene I’d described to him comes on, and I close my eyes, unable to handle the intensity of watching it while he’s holding me so close. I want him tonight. I want him to make love to me right here under the stars. I don’t care how cold it is or how short a time I’ve known him. Toward the end of the film, I turn my face to his, and his lips are right there. Bravely, I lean in to kiss him, but he moves away, and I can’t tell if he does it to avoid my kiss or if it was an accident. He moves his nose to my temple, nuzzling. I accept the touch, even though it feels like a consolation prize. The film ends, and a long sigh escapes him. We stay in our spot even while the people around us are packing up to leave. “This is the difficult part,” says Jay in a low voice. I turn in his arms to face him properly. “The difficult part?” “Yeah,” he says, his mouth a bare inch from mine, his eyes full of emotion. “The part where I keep from touching you more. Touching you everywhere.” I stare at him for a long time before replying in the tiniest voice, “You can touch me if you want to.” His look is agonised, but I don’t understand why. “If I ask you to do something for me, will you do it and not ask questions? Just accept that this is how it has to be right now?” Some kind of apprehension takes hold in my gut. “I’ll try.” “I need you not to touch me, not to try to kiss me like you did during the movie. I

know it’s hypocritical, given what’s been brewing between us lately, but it’s not in my power to explain yet. I need you to be my friend, Matilda, to spend time with me. But please don’t push for more, even if it feels like I want you so badly it hurts, even if I’m the one doing the pushing, because if you do, I might just have to be selfish and take you.” He pauses before finishing in a hushed voice, “and you’d destroy me.” I’d destroy him? How ironic is it that it feels like he’s destroying me in this moment? “You don’t want me?” He doesn’t answer immediately. Then he says, “You should be running in the other direction, darlin’.” I study him, trying to figure him out. Finally, I realise what’s going on. He’s trying to let me down gently. He’s saying nice things but mixing them with bad things to make me feel less rejected, because, let’s face it, that’s what this is. A rejection. Yesterday when we were together was a lapse of judgement on his part. He was satisfying a need, and that’s all. I allowed myself to get carried away, I guess. I gather my reserve, blinking back the tears that want to come out. “So, you’re saying you just want to be friends?” The tears are in my throat now, too, and it’s impossible that he can’t hear them. He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tight. “I want you to be my best friend.” Steeling myself, I say, “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to lessen the blow.” He squeezes my hand to the point of pain now. “I want you to be my best friend, darlin’. I’m not lessening the blow. That right there is the truth.” I want to just stay quiet, but I can’t help it. The verbal diarrhoea comes spewing out. “Is there….” I stop and take a breath, biting back more tears. “Is there something wrong with me?” “Jesus Christ, Watson, no. You’re perfect.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me so hard it steals the air from my lungs. I’m not perfect. He’s lying. If I were perfect, then this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. I hate how much I love the feel of his body wrapped around mine, and then comes the anger. Abruptly, I push away from him and get to my feet. “Who brings a girl to see a movie like that and then tells her he doesn’t want to be with her? That was really shitty of you, Jay.” “Can’t,” he says, standing up, too, and walking toward me. He stops when his chest brushes mine, completely invading my personal space. “What?” I ask, my voice snappy. “Can’t, not doesn’t.” “You’re not making any sense.” “I will one day.” “Oh, for God’s sake, can you just be straight with me for once? On second thought, forget it. I’m going home.” At this I turn and stomp away from him, but he catches up to me, stopping me in

my tracks when he forcefully grabs my elbow. “You’re not going home alone at this time of night,” he growls in my ear. “Watch me.” I yank my elbow out of his hold and make a run for it. In this moment I’m so consumed by feelings of embarrassment and hurt, and I just don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to look at a person I want this badly but who doesn’t want me back. A minute later I’m airborne as he catches me and grabs me around my middle, lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder. “Jay! Let me down!” I squeal, wiggling in his hold. He doesn’t put me down until he reaches his car and sets me in the back. I’m about to crawl out when he slams the door shut and locks it. I try the handle, but it won’t budge. “It’s for your own safety,” I hear him say through the glass as he goes back inside the park. Oh, my God, I couldn’t be any more pissed off right now. He just locked me inside his car. My anger trickles away after a minute, though, being replaced again by hurt feelings. I feel hideous. It’s the worst time for me to dwell on the fact that Owen still hasn’t called, which is the cherry on top of Jay’s rejection cake. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me that men just don’t seem to want me? Maybe I’m just too boring? Okay, self-pity, I’m going to say good night. Soon Jay returns, sliding into the driver’s seat and throwing the packed-up duffel bag in the back. He doesn’t say a word. I hate him not talking to me even more than I hate him not wanting me. Liquid leaks from my eyes, unable to hold back anymore. I dab at the tears with my sleeve and try not to sniffle, not wanting Jay to know I’m crying. In the end it doesn’t matter, because he looks at me through the overhead mirror and lets out a gruff breath. “Darlin’, don’t cry.” Now I do sniffle. “Don’t call me darlin’. I’m not your darlin’. I’m your friend.” I put as much animosity into the word as I can muster. A tiny smile shapes his lips, and I feel like smacking him for it. “Really? It doesn’t sound like you’re my friend. It sounds like you hate my guts.” I make eye contact with him, and everything inside me deflates. It’s my own fault for thinking there was something big between us. I’ve just never met anyone like him before; he got under my skin so quickly. I think he might have ruined me for all other men already. How sad is that? “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Nothing to be sorry about, Watson,” he says, turning the steering wheel as he rounds a corner. “There is. I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum. I just — I really like you, and you hurt my feelings. I’ll get over it. I’m your friend.” I pause and add, “I promise to be your friend.” Because even though he’s made me feel like shit, I sense something desperate in him, some part of him that needs me as his friend more than anything, even if we have only been in each other’s lives a short time. It’s odd, but

it feels like I’ve known him forever. He fit himself so perfectly into my and Dad’s lives, like he’d always been there. The look he gives me is startling, equal parts self-loathing for himself and affection for me, but that can’t be right. It confuses me. “Thank you, darlin’,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “I need a friend like you.”

TWENTY

couple of days go by. Dad returns from his golfing break looking refreshed, A which makes me happy. There’s an atmosphere between Jay and me, though, and

that doesn’t make me happy. I just feel so exposed with him now. It was fine before when I could go around all blasé and pretend like I had no interest in him, but now he knows I like him, and it’s just so mortifying. I feel like a little kid at school whose crush has been exposed. I wish nothing had happened between us at all, because it’s even worse knowing what I’m missing. I’m just waiting for the day when he brings a girl home. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it if he does. I overhear him telling Dad he’s organised a new place to live, but he won’t be able to move in for another fortnight. Air catches in my lungs. That’s all I have left. Two weeks, and he’ll be gone. I know I’ll see him around, but it just won’t be the same. Most evenings he and Dad lock themselves away in Dad’s tiny home office, discussing the particulars of Jay’s case. Dad’s decided to take on most of the admin work himself, so that Will and I can focus on the rest of the firm’s cases. One good thing about all this is that it seems to have injected a whole new lease of life into Dad. It’s like he’s twenty years younger, a reflection of the man he was before Mum was stolen from us so violently. And that’s why I’m grateful to Jay and so glad he walked into our lives, even if he has hurt me. I haven’t seen Dad so invigorated in a long time. Towards the weekend I get a text from Jessie, which reads: Hey, lady! I’m throwing myself a birthday party this weekend at my place and you’re invited. You can bring along your blonde friend, too ;-) P.S I’ve attached that list of dating sites I promised you. See you Saturday! I smile to myself at the idea of her arranging her own birthday. Then I frown, knowing that Jay will be there. It will be a social setting, and I’m sure there will be girls throwing themselves at him, even if the majority of guests will probably be batting for the other team. The idea makes me anxious. I really want to go, because I like Jessie. I want to stay friends with her. But I need to think of something that will make me less

heartbroken if Jay does happen to bring a date, or start chatting women up when he’s there. I scroll through the list of dating sites that Jessie sent, no real intention of joining any of them. I’m kind of disillusioned with my quest for romance right now. But still, it puts an idea in my head. If I bring my own date, then it will show Jay that I’ve moved on. That his rejection was nothing but a blip on my radar. Even though Owen hasn’t tried to make contact with me, I decide to throw caution to the wind, sending him a quick text asking if he’d like to come to the party with me. I get a reply soon after. Owen: Hi, Matilda! I’d love to go with you. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. It’s not because I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t sure if you liked me. But I’m really happy you’ve decided to touch base. Looking forward to the party. His response stirs a pang of guilt in my chest, because I’m essentially using him. But I do like him; I’m just not sure how much. He’s a nice guy with a good personality, and that’s not a bad start. On Saturday afternoon, Michelle comes over to get ready for the party at my house. She’s been extremely enthusiastic about seeing Jessie again, which makes me want more details about what happened between them. So I ask her. “Let’s just say, the woman knows what she’s doing, and I’m talking downtown,” she replies in a saucy voice. I burst into laughter. “Did you just quote The Simpsons?” She shrugs, smiling. “Maybe.” “So, is this a new era in the love life of Michelle Malone? No more men, just women.” “No more meat, just fish.” Michelle chuckles. “No way, Matilda. Jessie might as well be a fella, you know what I mean? I like men, and sometimes girls who act like men. Keeps things interesting. It’s no big deal.” “I guess not.” There’s a knock at the door, followed by Jay asking, “Can I come in? Are you ladies decent, indecent? I hope it’s the latter.” “My mind is indecent, if that counts,” says Michelle. Hearing his voice makes me jump. “Come in,” I reply, wondering what he wants. He ducks his head in the door. “You two heading to Jessie’s party?” he asks. His eyes sweep over me, and his posture immediately stiffens. I wonder if it’s because of the dress I’m wearing. It’s red with a sweetheart neckline that frames my cleavage; the rest of it hugs every curve of my body. It feels like he’s trying not to look at me even though he’s addressing me, which inadvertently feels like a triumph on my part. Take that, rejection. I can look amazing, and I don’t care if he doesn’t want me for me. I know that he likes my body, which is probably why the little fumbles we had happened in the first place. “Yeah,” I answer, trying to sound just as standoffish as he does. “Want a ride there?”

“We’d love one,” Michelle purrs. Jay nods and leaves just as quickly as he came. “You should have said no. I told Owen we’d pick him up in a taxi. Now I’m going to have to get Jay to bring us to pick him up.” Michelle eyes me. “And why would that be a problem?” I scratch at my arm. “It just is.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Can you please just tell me what’s going on with you two? I don’t understand why you’re being so tight-lipped. We usually tell each other everything.” I sigh. “That’s usually because I don’t have anything to tell.” “But you do now, so spill.” I look at her for a second, feeling bad for keeping secrets, and then finally I give in. I tell her everything from start to finish. By the time I get to the part where Jay told me he just wanted to be friends in the park, Michelle is jumping up from her seat by my dressing table, exclaiming, “What an arsehole!” “Calm down. I’m the arsehole for letting myself get my hopes up.” She points a hairbrush at me. “You are most definitely not the arsehole, Matilda. I could murder him right now. God, I have such a hard time convincing you how lovely you are, and then he goes and ruins all my hard work.” Despite her angry tirade, I smile at her. “You think I’m lovely. Why Michelle, I had no idea.” “Shut up and stop being a smart-arse. You’re the loveliest person I know, even if you do have a habit of hiding it behind sarcasm.” I go to her and give her a hug around the shoulders. “You’re being very complimentary this evening. Are you sure Jessie’s lesbianism isn’t rubbing off on you? Because personally, I think you might have a crush on me.” She gives me a little shove. “Shut your face.” I laugh and step away before going to put the finishing touches on my makeup. Half an hour later we’re both in Jay’s car, me in the passenger seat and Michelle in the back. When he starts driving in the direction of Jessie’s apartment, I say, “Um, we need to pick someone up first. Is that all right?” “Sure, darlin’. You bringing another one of your friends along? If you are, make sure to keep her away from Jessie. Don’t want her corrupting any more of your pals,” he says, winking at Michelle through his overhead mirror. Michelle narrows her eyes at him and sticks out her tongue in a playful manner. I fidget. “Sort of. I asked Owen to come.” Jay’s jaw tightens at my words, and his hands flex firmly around the steering wheel. Great. I had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like this. He’s been mean about Owen from the beginning. “You asked the douche chef to come,” he says, his voice low and irritable. “Yes,” I answer. “Is that a problem?” It takes him several beats to reply, and when he does, his mouth is tight. “Nope. No problem.” The drive is silent as we go to pick up Owen. He’s standing on the street outside

his apartment block, waiting for us and holding a little basket. I step out of the car and get a surprise when he comes up to me and gives me a hug. “Hi. How are you?” I say pleasantly as we break the hug. “I’m great. You look beautiful. Here,” he says, thrusting the basket at me. “I know you like our restaurant, so I thought I’d bring you some of our homemade breads.” I smile at the gesture. “Wow, thanks. That’s so nice of you,” I say, taking the basket from him. There’s a tiny niggling disappointment in my belly, because when he’d called me beautiful, it didn’t feel the same as when Jay did it. It didn’t feel epic; it just felt…nice. Is nice going to be good enough? Owen gets into the back with Michelle, and I return to the passenger seat beside Jay. I make all the introductions and am thankful that Michelle is being her usual charming self, because Jay’s reception is somewhat frosty. He glances at the bread basket in my lap, and there’s that jaw twitch again. When we reach Jessie’s building, Jay parks and Michelle leads Owen to the entrance. I’d almost forgotten that she’s already been here before. I think she does it on purpose, too, sensing that Jay and I need to have a word. “Can I leave this here?” I ask, gesturing to the bread basket as he pulls a small wrapped gift from his glove compartment. I didn’t know what to get Jessie, so I just got her one of those One4all gift vouchers and a card. “Whatever happened to buying chicks a bunch of flowers?” he bites back, annoyed. “I think it’s nice. I like bread. And anyway, what’s your problem?” I question. I stare at him, communicating unvoiced words. You only want me as your friend, so why do you care if I have a date? He takes the basket from me and sets it in the back. It seems like he’s trying to calm himself down. God, this man is complicated. I don’t get his psychology at all. “You like bread,” he says, repeating my own words back at me and staring at me for the longest moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t look away. Finally, he breaks our staring competition. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nice,” he says. “Thank you,” I whisper. We go inside, taking the elevator up to the top floor. It turns out that Jessie lives in the penthouse. Her place is nothing like what I expected. First off, it’s huge, the kitchen and living room all open plan, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the room. The furniture is sleek and modern, with lots of hip, funky paintings hanging on the walls. A lot of arty nudes, too, all female. “This place is amazing,” I say to Jay as he stands beside me. I’m all too aware of his hand softly touching my lower back. “How the hell can she afford this working in a casino?” “She plays poker on and off. She does even better than I do most of the time. The winnings helped her to buy this place. There was a time when Jessie didn’t

have a home. Her family cast her out, so owning somewhere that’s hers is a big deal.” “Oh,” I say, taken aback by his candour while imagining what Jay looks like playing poker. Not sure why I find the image appealing, but I do. “You didn’t have a home at one time, either. Is it a big deal for you, too?” His gaze is meaningful. “More important than anything. But home for me isn’t about a roof and four walls — it’s about people. My real family is dead, so I’ve got to make my own.” The way he says it makes something catch in my throat. Has he made his own yet? A strange feeling takes hold in my gut, because more than anything I’d like to be a part of that family, even if it is just as a friend. Our moment is broken when Jessie comes up to us wearing her usual jeans and baggy T-shirt, with the addition of a party hat and a big birthday badge that reads 94. “Happy birthday, Jess,” says Jay, handing her the present he brought and giving her a tight hug. “Yeah,” I add, giving her my card and grinning. “Happy birthday. I had no idea you were so old.” “The surgeons can work wonders these days,” she replies with a wink, looking between the two of us. “Glad you both are on speaking terms again.” She gives Jay a pat on the shoulder and then goes to greet more guests who have just arrived. I turn to him. “You told her what happened?” He cocks his eyebrow and gives me a challenging stare. “Like you didn’t tell Michelle.” I’m not sure why, but I find his expression rather attractive, even if he is being argumentative. It’s kind of…sardonic and sexy. I don’t say anything for a second, then grumble, “Fine.” I walk away from him, over to the window to join Michelle and Owen, who are getting along quite well. We all get some drinks and go to sit out on the balcony, which is huge and goes around the entire corner of the building. I have to admire Jessie for being so determined to have a place she can call her own. When I was little, before Mum died, we used to live in a wonderful old house on a patch of land just outside the city. It was where my mother grew up, and there was so much love put into it. I like our house now just fine, but there was something about that old place. It was special. Close to the life of the city but with the tranquillity of the countryside. It was home. It was the happiest place on earth until all the bad luck came. It felt like all of a sudden a dark cloud had descended, blocking out the sun. We used to have these neighbours; they had two sons who I played with almost every day. One was my age and the other a little older. I can hardly remember what those two boys looked like anymore; they’re just a hazy memory. I was only a kid, but my latest obsession had been motherhood, so I used to pretend they were my babies and I’d take care of

them, making them food and giving them toys to play with. I was a little weird. Anyway, long story short. Their house caught fire one night, and the family didn’t survive; only the older boy did. Then he went away, probably to live with relatives or a foster family. It was so long ago that I can’t remember. After that the dark cloud moved to our house. The burglars broke in and killed Mum, beat up Dad, and gave me a scar I’d never get rid of. Soon after, Dad sold the house. It’s not even there anymore. Now there’s a swanky five-star hotel where my dream home used to be. Somebody touches my hand. “Matilda, are you okay?” Owen asks, concerned. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just having a little daydream.” He smiles, his eyes interested. “Really? What about?” I suddenly realise he thinks I was daydreaming about him. Hmm, how to answer? “Nothing much, just memories.” We’re interrupted by loud clapping, and I look inside the apartment to see Jay surrounded by party guests as he performs his complicated card tricks. He’s like a light, always attracting people to him. He gives them a bow and goes to grab a beer. Somehow his eyes meet mine and lock before focusing in on Owen’s hand on my hand. He swallows some beer. I look away. Michelle has caught the attention of a twenty-something blond guy. She’s sitting on Jessie’s deck furniture and flirting with him. I nod to Owen, and he follows me over to join them, sitting close beside me. A minute later, I can practically sense Jay’s presence as he steps out onto the balcony, taking the seat directly in front of me. Michelle laughs loudly at something the blond guy says, and I’m glad for the sound. It covers up the tension of Jay’s silence. What the hell is his problem? “Hey, I saw you doing card tricks in there,” says Owen to Jay. “Is that a hobby of yours?” Jay cuts his eyes to him, no expression on his face. “Nah, not a hobby. It’s my living.” “Oh, wow, really. That’s great. Do you get much work out of it?” Jay rolls his shoulders. “A bit.” Owen finally seems to catch on to the fact that Jay doesn’t want to talk him, so he turns his attention back to me. “You know, Matilda, I really love your dress. Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?” Jay throws his eyes to the heavens, shakes his head, and knocks back a slug of beer. “Thank you. I made it myself, actually,” I reply quietly. “Really? I’m impressed. You know, I was so happy that you wanted to see me again. I was beginning to lose hope.” Jay lets out a long, exaggerated sigh before muttering under his breath, “You could have called her.” My eyes cut to him. “What was that?”

He gives me an innocent look. “Nothing. Did I say something?” “Yeah,” I snap. “I think you did.” “Well, I think you’re mistaken.” His eyes gleam, like he’s enjoying my reaction, like he’s goading me. I decide to ignore him, focusing my attention on Owen. He’s looking between Jay and me, seeming confused by our sniping. I try to make conversation with him, get to know him more, but Jay sits there the entire time, making various noises to ruin the atmosphere. When Owen tells me he likes to play tennis, Jay snorts. When he expresses an interest in the history of the ancient Greeks, Jay starts chuckling quietly to himself. In the end I get so annoyed with him that I jump up from my seat, the metal squealing against the floor. He’s being completely rude, and I can tell that Owen is upset but is trying not to show it. “You’re…you’re being a dickhead,” I burst out before grabbing Owen’s hand and leading him away with me. Jay’s expression at my outburst isn’t shock or guilt; it’s satisfaction. He wanted me to get mad. Stopping when we get around a corner that leads from the main section of the apartment to the bedrooms, I put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and apologise profusely. “I’m so sorry about him. I think he might be drunk.” Jay isn’t drunk in the slightest, but it’s the only excuse I can come up with for his terrible behaviour. Owen’s cheeks are red with embarrassment. “It’s okay. I think I might call it a night anyway,” he says. “I’ve got work in the morning.” “You don’t have to leave.” “Nah, I should go. I’ll call you. We’ll do something else soon. Just the two of us.” I smile at him. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” My smile is half-hearted, though, because I have a feeling Owen isn’t going to be calling any time in the near or distant future. Jay made sure of that. He leans down and gives me a reluctant peck on the cheek, then a quick hug before leaving. I stand there, trying to tamp down my fury. I have a good mind to march right back out to Jay and give him what for. In fact, I think that’s what I will do. Striding through the apartment and back out onto the balcony, I find Jay in the same spot I left him in. He’s lounging back in his chair, nursing his beer and smoking a cigarette. I stop a foot or two in front of him and fold my arms, my eyes narrowed to slits. “The douche chef gone already?” he asks with a big grin, leisurely blowing out smoke. I want to smack the expression right off his stupid handsome face. “Yeah, no thanks to you. What the hell were you playing at? You were so…so mean. It’s not like you at all.” Another swallow of beer and a shrug. His lack of a response infuriates me. “You hurt his feelings, and he was nothing but nice to you. I don’t like this side of you, Jay. What’s gotten into you?”

He looks away, gracing me with his gorgeous profile. God, does he have to be so attractive? It doesn’t help my situation one tiny bit. He sets the bottle down on the table and stubs out his smoke, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. When he looks up at me, his eyes are dark, angry, almost. “I don’t like him.” “He’s done nothing to you.” Jay lets out a joyless laugh. “Oh, I beg to differ.” We stare at each other for a long time, our eyes battling it out. “Is everything okay?” Michelle asks, walking over from the railing where she and the blond guy had moved their conversation, probably to escape the tension between Jay and me. “Owen’s gone home,” I tell her, finally breaking our stare. “Oh. Well, not to worry. He was probably just tired.” “Nope. Jay was acting like a right arsehole,” I snap, my eyes on Jay the entire time. “That’s why he left.” With that I turn on my heel and stomp away. Behind me I can hear Michelle chewing out an uncharacteristically silent Jay. I make my way to the kitchen, where Jessie is currently doing shots with two attractive brunettes. “Hey, Matilda, you want one?” she asks, offering me a shot glass of dark liquid. Without a word I take it from her and knock it back all in one go. It tastes vile, like chemicals and liquorice. Still, when she gives me another, I drink every drop the same as the first. “Have you got any vodka?” I ask, and she locates a small bottle. I take it from her and go in search of orange juice, pouring both into a glass. “Are you all right, honey?” Jessie asks, concerned. “Jay’s a dick.” She laughs. “Yeah. I love that man like my own flesh and blood, but he has his difficult moments. I put up with them because it’s only one percent of him. The other ninety-nine percent is pretty fucking amazing.” And isn’t that the truth. Right now I can’t stand him, but at the same time he’s probably the best person I’ve ever known. I hate fighting with him, but I really can’t let him get away with his behaviour around Owen. He needs to know he can’t treat people like that. Michelle shows up then, petting my hair. “Don’t let him ruin your night, honey. Come on, we’re going to dance that frown upside down.” I muster a smile and allow her to drag me away. She leads me over to the open space that’s been designated as the dance floor. One of Jessie’s friends is DJ-ing over in the corner, loud dubstep music filling the apartment. I close my eyes and just go with it, dancing to the beat. A while later the guy Michelle had been talking with and one of his friends join us. We all dance as a group, but soon Michelle pairs off with her guy, and the friend sets his sights on me. Usually, in a situation like this, I’ll figure out some way of keeping the dancing friendly. But not tonight. Tonight I’m out to erase my crush on Jay once and for all. The guy I’m dancing with is tall and dark-haired. He puts his hands on my hips and

leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’m Stuart.” “Matilda,” I reply, and he smiles. The music seems to get louder as we continue dancing. After a while, his hands stray from my hips. It feels like they’re everywhere. Sliding up and down my back, grazing my bottom. All the while there’s an itching beneath my skin. I can’t lie to myself and pretend that I like this. In fact, I kind of hate it. I want his hands off me right now. I’ve never been one of those girls who can let men do things because I’m feeling reckless. Even when I’m reckless, if I don’t like the guy, then there’s this weird little bubble of steel deep in my gut that won’t allow me to take things further. As I dance, I curse myself for having that steel bubble. It ruins everything. I don’t have to politely tell Stuart that I’d prefer it if he kept his hands to himself, though, because all of a sudden those hands are being ripped away from me.

TWENTY-ONE

the punch connect before I recognise who’s doing the punching. Then I I see notice the familiar tattoos on the arms, and I know it’s Jay. Oh, my God.

“Keep your fucking hands off her,” he fumes, clutching Stuart’s shirt in his fist. “What the hell, man? We were only dancing!” “Yeah, I don’t give a fuck what you were only doing,” Jay spits. At this moment Jessie saunters over, throwing an arm around Jay’s shoulder and crooning “John, I’m Only Dancing” by David Bowie into his face. Obviously, this is an effort to diffuse the situation. The second Jay hears her, his anger dissipates, and he almost smiles. His jaw is still set tight, though. He lets go of Stuart’s shirt, and Stuart backs away, looking at Jay like he’s nuts. “You’re crazy,” he mumbles, smoothing out his shirt. Jay smiles at him, showing teeth. “That’s what they tell me.” My brain can’t comprehend why that just happened, and my cheeks are flaming red. Did Jay think I was letting myself down by allowing Stuart to essentially maul me while we danced? I turn on my heel and hurry away, finding myself back in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Needing a moment alone, I open the door to one of them and step inside. It’s mostly empty, with just a bed and a few sparse bits of furniture. It must be Jessie’s spare room. Letting out a sigh, I flop down onto the bed and cover my face with my hands. This entire night has been a huge disaster. I take deep breaths, trying to calm down and push away my embarrassment. A familiar scent hits me when I turn my face into the bed sheets. They smell like Jay. He must have spent the night here at some point, and that’s why they smell of him. Trust me to pick this room of all rooms to seek refuge in. I want to get him out of my head, but somehow he keeps worming his way back in without even having to try. Minutes tick by, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying myself a little too much. Secretly relishing Jay’s scent, remembering what it felt like to sleep in the same bed as him, his big arms wrapped around me. God, I’m so ridiculous. I cover my face with my hands again just as I hear the door to the room open and

shut so quietly I almost miss it. Something inside me knows that it’s him, a sixth sense alerting me to his presence. Slowly, I remove my hands from my face, my heart jumping a little when I see he’s standing over me right at the foot of the bed, a torn look on his face. The top half of my body is lying flat, while my legs dangle off the edge. “I don’t want to see you right now,” I practically whisper, my eyes becoming watery. His head tilts to the side, his gaze trailing hotly down my body before returning to my face. “Why not?” I sit up quickly, gesticulating furiously. “You just punched Stuart for no reason! What the hell was that about? Do you have anger-management issues?” His jaw ticks. Yeah, I’m definitely starting to recognise that as a sign he’s not happy. “Oh, it’s ‘Stuart,’ is it? Your date just left, and you’ve already moved on to someone else? That’s real classy, Watson.” “Are you serious? I’m the classless one? You started all this with your snide behaviour toward Owen, so let’s not pretend this is my fault.” “I told you I don’t like him. And I don’t like that Stuart guy, either. You need to be more selective about who you let put their hands all over you.” His words make me jump up from the bed. It seems to surprise him, because he steps back a little. I march toward him, glaring up at him and pointing my finger hard into his chest. “You shouldn’t care about that, Jason! You only want me to be your friend, remember?” Swiftly, he grabs the finger I just pointed at him, holding it to his chest. The warmth of his hand makes some of my anger dissipate. A quick breath escapes me. Now he starts to move forward with purpose, backing me up against the wall on the other side of the room. “I care,” he says harshly, voice low, threatening, almost. It’s confusing that such a voice can still give me chills all down my spine. Good ones. “Friends care about their friends.” Something inside of me deflates. “That’s all it is? A friend looking out for another friend?” I ask, needing him to say no, praying that he doesn’t say yes. “Yes,” he murmurs, then swears under his breath. “No. Fuck. I didn’t think this would be so difficult.” “What?” He doesn’t tell me, just keeps staring intensely into my eyes until I think I might melt into a puddle on the floor. “I don’t want you to date Owen.” “Why not?” “I don’t want you dancing with fucks like Stuart, either.” I lick my lips, and his gaze zones in on the movement. His body is pressed right up against mine, and I can feel his thick length harden against my thigh. His arousal turns me on. Fizzy bubbles pop in my belly. “Why?” I ask again, whispering now.

His hands, which are braced against the wall on either side of my head, slam down into the plaster with frustration. My entire body jumps, and my lip quivers. He leans his face in agonisingly slowly, then tells me in a gravelly, possessive, stomach-flipping voice, “Because you’re mine.” I gasp. His lips descend on my lips, hard and frenzied, and I can feel every ounce of his passion. I moan into the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth with intent, caressing mine, claiming me. His hands cup either side of my face, his thumbs brushing the hollow of my throat, tantalising my nerve endings and making me feel it all the way down between my thighs. I’m not entirely sure of what’s happening, but I’m incapable of proper thought. My body is in charge now, my brain instantly forgetting the events that brought us here, to this moment. And really, I don’t care. I want him more than caution would deem wise. I’m so taken aback by his kiss that I press my palms flat against the wall behind me, too afraid to touch him. Frightened that touching him will make me wake up from the dream of him telling me that I’m his. I once read that people who have imaginary friends never reach out to touch them. There’s some part of their brain that subconsciously knows it will break the spell. That’s what it feels like with Jay. He entrances me in a way that makes me feel like he must not be real. Someone so incredible could only be a figment of my imagination. But he isn’t. His erection grinding hard into my thigh is evidence of that. Bravely, I grip his shoulders, breaking past the barrier. I could stay in this kiss forever. Stay in this room where there’s only the sensation of our battling tongues and the noise of our frantic, heavy breathing. He plunders every inch of my mouth, nibbles on my lips, murmuring hot words, his voice reverent. His thumbs continue to stroke at my throat, so erotically I feel like I could come without him having to so much as venture any lower. A harsh cry of pleasure rumbles out of me, and he moves his mouth down my chin to my throat to join his dexterous thumbs. He nuzzles and sucks and massages, and I feel like I’m going to burst. “Christ, I need you,” he swears. “If you don’t stop me now, I’m going to fuck you, darlin’.” He licks a line from my neck to my earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking, his tongue flickering. “Jay.” I moan his name, and an appreciative groan rumbles up out of his chest. “Yes. Please.” He growls with satisfaction as I urge him on. His hand travels under the hem of my dress, sliding up my leg to my inner thigh. I whimper when he cups me right between the legs — hard. He moves his face down to my chest, whispering his lips over the crest of my cleavage, pressing

needy, feverish kisses to the tops of my breasts. His other hand cups my breast as his mouth returns to my lips, licking and nibbling. Locating my nipple, he bites it hard through the fabric, and I cry out. I’m completely breathless. Without warning he picks me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. He carries me to the bed and lays me down, then goes over to the door and turns the lock. “Don’t want anyone interrupting us,” he says in a dangerously sexy voice. I’m practically panting. He comes and settles himself between my thighs, his hands braced on the bed to hold himself over me. “These sheets smell like you,” I say, unable to help myself. My words seem to surprise him. “You like that?” I can only nod in reply. “I used to live here, before Jessie decided she wanted her place to herself. This was my room.” “Oh,” I breathe. We lock eyes for a long time, and one of his hands goes to my mouth, fingers brushing tenderly at my bottom lip. One finger slips inside a little, and I suck gently. Jay swears. “Those fucking lips. So soft. So perfect.” My cheeks heat up “I’ve never seen a more exquisite sight than you when you’re all turned on, darlin’. You know that?” I avert my eyes, but he takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. “You want me?” he asks, swallowing. “Yes,” I answer, my voice barely audible. My eyes flicker back and forth between his, my heart fluttering. When his hand travels from my mouth and back to my neck, he grips me, his big hand practically going all the way around to my nape. I turn completely boneless beneath him. As he bends down, his mouth meets mine again harshly. He claims me with his tongue. Our chests rise and fall with our rapid breathing. I break the kiss and nuzzle my nose below his ear, finally mustering up the courage to tell him what I want. “Make love to me,” I whisper. Emotion catches in my throat. “I want you inside me.” He pulls back to look me in the eye, and I’d swear he’s trying to see right into my soul. “Once we do this, you’re mine. There’s no going back.” “I’m yours,” I tell him fervently before reaching down and pressing my hand to the erection straining against his jeans. He shudders. I go for his fly, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. All the while he’s just breathing over me, holding still, on the verge of losing control. I want him to lose control. Sliding my hand inside his jeans, I’m greeted with the feel of his hot, hard, silky flesh, and I moan. I move my hand up and down, relishing how big he is and how he groans appreciatively when I touch him. He grips the elastic of my underwear on

either side of my hips and yanks it down so hard I think I hear a tear. My shoes got lost somewhere along the way, because my knickers glide easily over my bare feet before he throws them onto the floor. His cock presses against my sex, and I shiver. Skin to skin. “Fuck,” he mutters, biting his lip. He holds his cock in his hand, rubbing it up and down my wetness, teasing at my entrance. “What?” I ask, breathless. “Forgot to bring Johnnies.” “Oh.” “I’ll just eat you out,” he suggests, already moving down my body, but I grab his shoulders. “No. It’s okay. I mean, I don’t have anything. You don’t have to worry about that. And I’ve been on the pill since I was a teenager.” “Jesus, don’t offer me something like that, darlin’. I might just take it,” he says, eyes not leaving mine. “Please, take it, Jay.” One eyebrow rises. “You trust me that much?” I nod. “You’re clean, right?” “Of course.” “Then I trust you.” “Fucking hell.” He pushes the rest of my dress up and over my head, then makes short work of getting rid of my bra. His eyes feast on my naked breasts as he moves his head down to suck each nipple into his mouth. “Hey, girls,” he says, talking to my boobs with a wicked grin curving his lips. “Missed ya.” Oh, God. I didn’t think a man talking to my breasts could be such a turn-on, but when Jay does, it really, really is. He lavishes them with attention for a long time, so long that I’m on the verge of begging him to fuck me. He slips off his jeans and boxer shorts, then pulls his shirt off over his head. His expression is serious when he looks back at me. His hand goes between my legs, a couple of his fingers slipping inside me. I arch my back at the pleasant invasion. “Jesus.” I bite my lip. “Is there something wrong?” “You’re so wet, and fuck, you feel incredible.” My skin breaks out in goose bumps when I see the dark look in his gaze. “Tell me the truth. Has a man ever made you come before me?” It’s ridiculous, given that I’m naked beneath him, but I blush. He stares at me. “Ah, there it is. I was the first. I fucking love that.” He pulls his fingers out, making me feel empty. It only lasts a second before he positions himself, locks eyes with me, and then slowly pushes in. It’s nothing like having his hand there. He’s so much bigger, thicker, my walls clenching tight around him. His hands cup my face as he fills me up, and then when he’s

completely inside me, he goes still. “Fuck.” He stares at me for a long time. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.” And those are the most beautiful words that have ever been said to me. I feel like I might cry. Too many emotions are building up in my chest. The way Jay’s looking at me makes me feel like what’s happening right now is so much bigger than I can possibly know. There’s worship in his every movement, every touch. I’d thought I was just an attraction to him. I’d thought he just liked my body. But that can’t be all there is. This feels like coming home, and my brain can’t comprehend why. He rocks his hips once and I shudder, pleasure ripping through me with the movement. He does it again, and I grip his upper arm tightly. “That feel good?” “Yes.” “You want more?” “Please.” He moves his hips again, this time faster and more than once. He rocks in and out, his breaths quickening, the two of us growing frenzied. “Jason,” I moan. His thumb brushes my lips. “Love hearing you say my name, especially when my cock’s inside you.” I get lost in his eyes, in the feel of him. Music and party noises drift in from outside, but I barely notice. In here there’s just us, and it makes my heart hurt. I need some reassurance that he isn’t going to disappear into thin air like when he’s on stage. This feels too good to last. “Please don’t pull away from me again. I couldn’t take it,” I whisper, but I’m not sure if he hears me. He’s too lost now, moving in and out of me, pumping so hard it shakes the bed, his expression fierce. I feel myself tightening, building to something I’ve never felt before. Just as it hits me, the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt, Jay’s movements start to slow. “Shit, are you coming?” he rasps, staring down at me. “Yes,” I breathe. “I think. I don’t know.” “God. I can feel it. You are. Incredible.” He speaks in short, jagged sentences. The next thing I know, he’s coming, too, pouring himself into me. He kisses me long and deep, his chest falling into mine, his heavy weight surprisingly pleasant on top of me. “That was…incredible,” he murmurs, all out of breath, his lips in my hair. His hand wanders down between my legs, finding my clit and rubbing slow, lazy circles. His come is all over me, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. I laugh. “God, how are we ever going to clean ourselves up? We’re a mess. Everyone in the party is going to know.” “So what? Fuck ’em.” He rolls off me, his back hitting the mattress, and I snuggle into his side, tracing the lines of his tattoos, the six of hearts in particular.

“Tell me what this one means,” I whisper. “Six hearts. The six people I care about most in the world,” he answers without hesitation, surprising me. I’d expected him to avoid revealing his secrets like he usually does. “Some of them aren’t in the world anymore, though,” he goes on sadly. “Oh,” I breathe, wondering if I’m one of those six. I can’t be. He got the tattoo long before he ever knew who I was. The realisation saddens me. More than anything I’d like to be one of those six people. “Can you have only six?” I ask. He doesn’t say anything, just studies me. I hate it when he does this, because I don’t have the courage to ask again. “You look sleepy. You’re gorgeous when you’re tired.” “I am?” “Yeah. So fucking gorgeous.” He leans down and kisses the side of my mouth, then pulls away. Getting up from the bed, he pulls on his jeans, commando style, then grabs his shirt. “Where are you going?” “I’m just going to get us some stuff to clean ourselves up with. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute.” He leaves, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling. I just had sex with Jay. My body knows it’s a fact, but my brain can’t work its way around the idea. I’ve never known sex could be like that. So intense you practically forget your own name. The door opens, and I quickly pull the covers over me, startled. It’s just Jay, though, returning with a damp cloth. “Come here.” He crooks his finger at me, and I crawl to where he’s perched himself on the edge of bed. His sexy eyes meet mine. I let my thighs fall open, and he uses the cloth to clean me. My heart hammers at how he does it, so careful, so full of affection. It’s the weirdest thing, yet so completely heart-warming. While his attention is focused on my body, the alarming sensation of falling comes over me. It’s not exactly surprising. Jay is so easy to fall in love with, even if he can be difficult, like Jessie says. I want to ask him why he called things off when he took me to the outdoor cinema, but I can’t. I’m too frightened of the answer he might give me. I want to stay in this moment, hearing his words over and over in my head and letting them be my truth. Because you’re mine. It might not be wise, but allowing myself to be his feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. I move to go in search of my clothes, but he stops me, getting them himself and dressing me. He slips on my knickers, then clips me into my bra. “Decided to wear nothing but red tonight, huh?” he asks huskily, referring to my underwear set, which matches my dress. “You like?” A smirk, his eyes on the lace. “I do.”

“Good.” “Was that the intention?” “Perhaps.” His grin makes me tremble. “Not that it doesn’t kill me to go back out to the party, but I’ve got to give Jessie her birthday cake. You want to help?” “Sure,” I reply, standing and smoothing down my dress. Later on, after we’ve presented Jessie with her cake and the party guests start to trickle out, I find Jessie and Michelle on the couch, Jessie whispering seductively into Michelle’s ear. I seriously would love to know what she’s saying right now. As soon as they see me approach, Jessie asks blatantly, “What in the fuck’s been happening with you and Jay?” I stand a little straighter and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Nothing.” Michelle giggles and wags her finger at me. “Your makeup is virtually nonexistent, and you’re sporting a different hairdo than you were earlier. I’m thinking a lot more than ‘nothing’ happened, Matilda.” “Okay, Mother.” “Oh, she’s blushing,” says Jessie. “A blush like that only indicates one thing.” “A good old-fashioned rogering,” says Michelle. “Jay serviced your pipes,” Jessie adds. I scrunch up my face. “Oh, God. Can you two please stop? I dislike both of those phrases. And I refuse to believe I have anything that resembles plumbing, thank you very much.” “But you two did…you know,” says Jessie, forming a circle with her thumb and index finger and then inserting another finger through the hole. “Okay, Danny Zuko. Thanks for that delightful visual interpretation,” I deadpan. Both she and Michelle burst into laughter. “What visual interpretation are we talking about?” Jay’s husky voice asks from behind as he tugs me down to sit on his lap. Okay, now it’s pretty obvious that there definitely was some plumbing being serviced. I wouldn’t be sitting on his lap if there wasn’t. What? The plumbing image is stuck in my head now. “The old finger through the hole,” Jessie explains once her laughter has died down. Seriously, I don’t think what I said was that funny. Perhaps it was the way I said it. “Oh, you decided you’re not offended by the idea of sucking a cock anymore?” Jay asks, teasing her. I’m glad I’m no longer the one being teased. “Eh, nooo,” Jessie exclaims. “And the hole is clearly a vagina, not a mouth.” “This is the conversation we’re having, really? I must have forgotten we’re all thirteen-year-old boys now,” I say, talking mostly to myself. Jay’s hand massages my hip as he pulls me in closer to his body. He kisses my temple, then asks, “You want to get out of here?” “And go where?”

“Home.” “Dad’s at home.” “We’ll be quiet.” I cock an eyebrow at him. He chuckles. “Okay, well, I do have a pretty fucking awesome car.” A laugh sputters out of me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You know.” His hand is on my neck, his thumb massaging my throat again. Seriously, it’s probably the most erotic thing he could do to me in public without being obscene. My eyes flutter closed, and a heavy breath escapes me, my head falling to the side to rest on his shoulder. “I’m kind of tired,” I say. “You should probably just take me home.” His voice is tender when he replies, “Okay, darlin’, I’ll take you home.” Helping me to stand, we say our goodbyes and then take the elevator back down to the lobby. When I’m settled in the passenger seat of his car, I promptly fall asleep. A little bit later I wake up. The car has been pulled into the side of the road, and Jay’s outside, pacing and talking to someone over the phone. I look around. The only light is coming from the headlights of the car. Where are we that there are no streetlights at all? Nowhere on the route home, that’s for certain. I must be dreaming. And with that thought, I fall back asleep.

TWENTY-TWO

wake up until just before midday the following morning, in my own bed I don’t and stripped down to my underwear. I smile at the visual of Jay carrying me

from his car up to my room and then pleasing himself by removing my dress. After my long hours of sleep, I feel rested. I’m a little disappointed that Jay didn’t stay with me, but that’s probably just because Dad’s home. I’m not sure how I’m going to broach the subject of being with Jay to Dad, but it’s early days yet. Perhaps we can spend a little while longer just enjoying the newness of it before we have to make any decisions about what exactly is going on between us. I get up and hop into the shower, wondering how I’m going to handle it when Jay moves out in a week’s time. I won’t have any more of his breakfasts or his flirting over breakfast. I won’t have the fizzy feeling in my belly of knowing he’s asleep on the other side of my bedroom wall. I wish there was some way that he could stay. I blow-dry my hair once I’m out of the shower and get dressed. As I’m about to head downstairs, I go by Jay’s room, and his door is open. When I look inside, I see he’s camped out on the floor again, books open all around him and a million papers scattered across the carpet. On the other side of the room, there’s an entire deck of cards spread out neatly, face up and sporting random numbers written in marker pen. Curiouser and curiouser. I don’t bother to ask him what he’s doing because I know he isn’t going to tell me. When I spot the bread basket beside him, which, might I add, he’s casually eating from, I fold my arms. “Is that the bread basket Owen gave me?” I ask in disbelief. His eyes travel to me, wandering up my body in appreciation before landing on my face. “Yup. You left it in my car. Possession is nine-tenths and all that. Want some? It’s good, too.” “You’re unbelievable,” I say, shaking my head at him but unable to keep from smiling. “That’s what you said last night,” he quips. “I did not.”

“Maybe not, but we both know you were thinking it. Don’t be a stranger, darlin’. Come here.” He opens his arms to me, and I can’t resist going to him. I lower myself to the floor, and he pulls me into him, hugging me tight. “Morning. Did you sleep well?” he asks softly. “I did.” His hand moves up under my top, caressing my belly and lower back. Tingles go through me, and I can’t suppress a small shudder. Jay lifts some herby bread to my mouth, and I take a hesitant bite. “Wow. That really is good. I feel bad about Owen,” I say, frowning. Jay’s mouth flattens into a straight line. “Why would you feel bad? Do you like him?” “I don’t not like him. He’s a nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be used like that.” One eyebrow shoots right up. “Used?” Oh, God, did I just say that? My face goes bright red. Impossible to disguise, since I’m almost in his lap. His thumb brushes my cheek as I let my eyes fall to the floor. “Were you playing a little game with me?” he whispers, his mouth close to mine. “You rejected me. I didn’t want to go to the party by myself in case you brought a date. I would have felt awful seeing you with someone else,” I force myself to admit. “I don’t date. And I’m sorry for pushing you away. That was a shitty decision.” I look up, biting my lip. “Why did you push me away?” He pulls back a little and runs his hand through his hair. “Ah.” His face makes me backtrack. “No, wait, you don’t have to tell me. If the answer is bad, then I’d probably prefer it if you didn’t. I know I’ve probably been giving you puppy-dog eyes these past few weeks. It’s just difficult for me not to like you. I’m sure it’s difficult for any girl not to like you.” He smiles. “Don’t stop. I’m enjoying this speech.” I give him a light smack in the chest. “In all seriousness, though, it was nothing to do with not wanting you,” he goes on, his voice deep and rumbly. “It had to do with getting lost in you so quickly I was forgetting myself. I have a lot going on right now — you must know that. This case is taking all of my concentration, and when I’m with you, I want to give all of my concentration to you.” I tug at the collar of his shirt, a massive smile shaping my lips. “Don’t stop. I’m enjoying this speech.” He leans into me and gives me a soft, wet kiss. “Think you’re clever.” I don’t say anything, just kiss him back. He breaks it a minute later and continues talking. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I wanna be with you, Matilda. Fuck, do I want to. I mean, I’m all in, you know what I mean?” He pauses and scratches at his neck. “Shit, I’m saying this all wrong.”

My heart is in flutters. I never knew how cute he could be when he’s nervous. “You’re saying it right. Keep going.” “So, basically, I’m probably going to be contradicting myself with this next bit, but I want to take this slowly. I want to romance you, Watson.” He grins wide, and I clench my thighs. “Give you everything you deserve in a man.” “I like the sound of that, but you just said you didn’t date. And last night was anything but slow.” “Last night I was a being a jealous fuck, and I had to stake my claim. I don’t date, but I will with you. You’re the exception.” He bounces me a little in his lap, and I giggle. “Then I agree to your proposal, Jason,” I announce, holding out my hand to him. We shake on it. He squeezes my hips and pulls me astride him. “Yeah, ya do.” We kiss, and it’s real slow, his tongue sliding along mine, making me think wholly inappropriate thoughts for the hour of the day. I practically leap from his lap and to the other side of the room when I hear Dad come out of his home office and walk toward the staircase. I end up over by a shelf housing Jay’s music collection as Dad calls “hello” to him and continues his way downstairs, none the wiser about his daughter hiding within and her slatternly ways. Yeah, I’m bringing back the word “slattern.” Deal with it. “Not ready to tell your old man about me yet, huh?” Jay asks, smirking. Blushing, I shake my head and turn my attention to his CDs to try to distract myself from that kiss and how it sent my hormones into overdrive. I smile, noticing that he practically owns Eminem’s entire back catalogue. We have something in common. Jay must have gone through a rap phase, too. “You like Eminem,” I say as he comes over and sits behind me, pulling me between his legs. “I was an angry young man in the year 2000. Of course I liked Eminem,” he says. “Still do. The man’s a genius.” “I agree. I used to buy his albums and listen to them in secret because Dad never let me buy anything with a parental warning sticker. What’s your favourite song?” He makes a little humming sound in the back of his throat as he thinks about it, his hand brushing my inner thigh. His breath whispers across my nape, giving me tingles, and then he starts to sing the chorus to “Hailie’s Song” in a gorgeously low, husky voice. Oh, God. If I thought that kiss sent my hormones into overdrive, it has nothing on what Jay’s singing is doing to me. There’s something so incredibly appealing about his tone. My heart practically stops beating. He sings about feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and it steals a little piece of my heart. When he’s done, he kisses my neck, and I let out a heavy breath. “That’s the one about his daughter, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite. Kind of reminds me of you, actually.” “It does?” I ask. He has paternal feelings towards me? “That’s, um, okay.” “The sentiment, Matilda, the sentiment. When I look at you, my head clears. Most times there’s a storm up in this brain of mine, but then you walk into a room and I can focus.” “Jay,” I breathe. “What?” “Make love to me again.” He chuckles. “Your dad’s right downstairs.” “I know, but…God, you can’t say stuff like that to me when Dad’s home. Please make a note for future reference.” He salutes me. “Noted.” “I should go.” “Why?” “Because I still want you to make love to me. And Dad’s downstairs.” He growls and pinches my bottom when I move to stand up. “Go on, then, Watson. Leave before you ravish me like the sexy bitch that I am. Are we still on for our sewing date tonight?” “You mean are we on for you lounging on your chaise longue and watching me while I make dresses? Very weird, might I add, but sure. We’re on.” His laughter follows me out the door. THAT NIGHT IN BED, I toss and turn. After spending two sexually frustrated hours in Jay’s company while I worked on my dress designs and he gave me heated looks, I’m not exactly feeling ready for sleep. I’m ready for other things that involve a bed, though. And that’s the problem. I agreed with him to take things slow. Does that mean no more sex? A floorboard creaks outside my room and the door opens, revealing Jay in a Tshirt and sleep pants. Without a word he crawls into bed beside me, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me into him, my back flush with his front. “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask softly as he presses a kiss to my neck. “Nope. I will now, though,” he replies, and snuggles into me. It takes a couple of minutes for his breathing to even out and for him to fall asleep. I follow soon after. THE NEXT DAY at the office, upon Dad’s request, I’m working on transcribing his notes from his interviews with Jay. I’m finding it all very intriguing, but something niggles at me. It looks fine on paper, but I have this weird feeling that there are blank spots, pieces of the story that have been intentionally left out. My suspicions are instantly forgotten when I get an unexpected visitor. We don’t have any appointments until after lunch, so I glance up to see who just entered the reception area. My anxiety elevates when I recognise who it is.

Una Harris saunters in wearing fire-engine-red high heels, matching lipstick, and a tight grey shift dress, a designer handbag dangling from her arm. If I didn’t dislike her so much, I might give her a compliment for looking so hot for a woman who must be well past her prime. It’s kind of difficult to determine her true age, due to the amount of Botox she’s sporting. I clear my throat. “Can I help you?” She pulls off her Gucci sunglasses and levels her green eyes on me, studying me for a long time. Then quite randomly she gestures to my neck, the side that’s scarred. “I know an excellent doctor who could fix that right up. Would you like his number?” she asks casually, eyes moving to scan the room. I rub my neck self-consciously. “Um, thanks, but that’s okay. Do you have an appointment?” I know she doesn’t have an appointment. Of course she doesn’t. I just can’t think of anything else to say. “I don’t. This is just a flying visit. I was rather upset to arrive at work this morning and be told by my boss that we’re being sued because of a few articles I wrote. I wanted to come and check out what we’re up against. Now that I’m here, it’s laughable, really. I mean, does Jay Fields actually think he can win this thing with representation from a shoddy two-bit firm like this one?” I stare at her, open-mouthed. “I was actually worried for a second. Now I see this is all just a pathetic joke.” Getting up from my seat, I put a hand on my hip. “Are you for real?” She purses her lips and moves her catty eyes back to me. “I’m always for real, my dear. Don’t take offence. I’m sure this is hardly your dream job.” She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. “This is my dad’s practice,” I tell her, jaw tight. Her eyes widen, and a little smirk forms. “Oops. In that case, no offence.” “Too late for that. If you only came here to look down your nose at us, then you should leave.” “That’s not why I came here. I wanted to speak to, well, to your father. Ask him if he knows what kind of man he’s representing.” “A better man than whatever kind of woman you are, I’m sure.” Her tittering laugh makes me clench my fist, and I’ve never been a fistclencher. I’ve hardly got a violent bone in my body. It’s funny, the things Una Harris’ mocking laughter can bring out of people. “Oh, dear, do you have a little crush on him? I get it, really, I do. Jay Fields is sex on a stick, but he’s also a dangerous man with a God complex. Have you ever read any of his fan websites? They all think what he does is real or some other such nonsense, and that’s not a good thing for someone with as big a following as he has. Don’t you remember the People’s Temple and Jim Jones? Oh, you’re so young, so probably not.” “I know who Jim Jones is.” She glances at her well-manicured nails. “Well, then, you’ll also know how precarious Jay’s influence is on all those young people who follow him. I’m sure

that if he told them to jump off a cliff, they’d all do it.” Jesus, this woman is deluded. “He’s a performer. He’s not trying to start up his own religion.” “Yeah, and the only one who’s been drinking Kool-Aid around here is you, Una. Your own. What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” asks Jay, stalking angrily into the office. There’s something in his gait that puts me in mind of a panther that’s about to attack. “Why, Mr Fields, what a pleasant surprise,” she purrs, and struts over to him, running a long, sharp fingernail down the front of his shirt. His eyes are stormy when he takes a measured step back, recoiling from her touch. “Get. Out,” he fumes. “You have no business being here.” “I was just having a little chitchat with the lovely receptionist. You know how it is with us girls — we love to gossip.” Her emerging smile denotes how pleased she is with Jay’s anger. He needs to calm down and not allow her to get to him. I make an effort to defuse the situation with humour. “Yeah, Miss Harris offered to give me the number of her plastic surgeon. I’m thinking of going up a few cup sizes. You know, get myself a nice pair of beach ball boobs.” Jay’s mouth twitches, his eyes gleaming with affection when they land on me for a second. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. “You don’t need a boob job,” says Una, her disinterested gaze on my chest before moving to my neck. “It’s that god-awful scar that’s the problem.” She says it like she’s telling me she enjoys sugar in her tea, the barb barely registering on her radar, but Jay’s reaction to her words is the exact opposite. He takes two strides toward her. “Oh, you really need to get going, Una. I’ll never hit a lady, but I’ll slap a bitch.” Her pouty mouth falls open as a huff of outrage escapes her. “Is that a threat?” Jay rolls his eyes. “Just get the fuck out.” “Fine,” she hisses. “I’m leaving, but just know that this little case of yours is never going to get to trial. Mr Scott will offer you a sum of money during mediation, and you, Mr Fields, will take it.” “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” She slams the office door shut behind her, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Jay’s eyes connect with mine, and I can’t help it — I burst out laughing. “Did you just use the phrase, I’ll never hit a lady, but I’ll slap a bitch? Oh, my God, Jason, that was classic! You are officially my new hero.” He rubs at his neck and walks over to sit on the edge of my desk, grabbing my hand and placing it on his chest. He rubs my palm over the fabric of his shirt. “Sorry. I need your touch to erase the fact that she had her demon claws on me. And I was only trying to piss her off by saying that. I don’t hit women, not even thoroughbred bitches like Una Harris. And don’t listen to her, by the way. There’s nothing about you that needs changing.” The sincerity in his eyes makes me catch my breath, but I can’t address the

compliment. It makes me feel too much. “I can’t believe she came here. What is she on?” “A whole medley of uppers and downers, if my detective work is anything to go by,” Jay deadpans. “Anyway, let’s forget about her. I came to take you to lunch in the park. This day is a sight for sore eyes.” He goes out to the hallway, and retrieves a brown bag with sandwiches and two takeaway coffee cups. “Oh, you really do know the way to a woman’s heart. The double-C: caffeine and carbs.” “Yes, yes, I do. Now get your cute ass out of that chair and come with me.” “Is this…what do you call those things that you don’t do, but for me you’ll make an exception? Oh, yes, a date. Is this a date, Jason?” I love teasing him. His mouth curves in an almost smile as he brings his hand to my neck and gently squeezes. “It might be.” He offers his arm, and I take it. Instead of driving, we walk to the park, finding a clean picnic table to sit down and eat at. “Who’s Mr Scott?” I ask as I sip on my coffee. Jay gives me a sideways glance. “Say again?” “Una Harris said that Mr. Scott will offer you a sum of money to drop the case. Who is that?” “Right, yeah. Brian Scott. He owns the newspaper.” “I’ve heard that name before. He’s like Ireland’s answer to Rupert Murdoch or something, isn’t he?” “Or something.” “Is there any amount of money they could offer you that you’d take? Just out of curiosity.” His mouth draws into a thin line, his answer immediate and final. “Nope.” “There’s probably no point in bothering with mediation, then.” “Probably not. But we’ve got to go through the entire process, Watson. Let them think they can take us. You know, like in a freak fight when some little rangy guy gets into the ring with a big hunk of muscle. Everyone thinks the muscle will win, but then the little guy turns into a fucking tornado and surprises the shit out of everyone.” I smile at his analogy. “So, are you the little guy?” His arm slides around my shoulder, tucking me into the side of his body. “In comparison to The Daily Post, yes, I am.” I melt at his closeness and take a slow bite out of my sandwich before glancing up at him. “You know what, Jay, I can’t wait to see you turn into a tornado. I think you might have it in you to surprise us all.” His only response is a small, knowing smile, and we eat the rest of our lunch in companionable silence. On the way back to the office, Jay gets recognised by a couple of women as they pass us by. “Disgraceful what he did to that poor man,” one of them tuts, her snooty nose raised high into the air.

“He should have been arrested,” another one adds. I lace my fingers with his, running my thumb along the inside of his wrist. “Ignore them.” “I am.” “Everyone thinks their opinion is the most important, even when they have no clue about a situation.” “I know.” As the women go by us, I pull him into an alcove by the shop next to our offices. His eyes are on the retreating women for a minute before he focuses on me, his pupils dilating. I remember him telling Michelle that was a sign of arousal. Hmm, I think I like that. “Hey,” I whisper. He runs his fingertips over my collarbone. “Hey, Watson. What’s up?” “Can I have a kiss before I go back to work?” I ask shyly, licking my lips. He grins and bends his head to me. “That depends.” “On?” “What are you making for dinner?” I wrack my brains for ideas on what he might find appealing, settling on the most obvious man food. “Steak.” “Good answer. Okay, you can have a kiss. Just one, though.” His licks a line from my jaw to my earlobe, sending my pulse hammering. Then he grips my chin and sinks his tongue into my mouth. My breathing accelerates as I clutch at his shirt. His tongue moves in and out, and it’s a little lewd for a daytime outdoor kiss, but in the moment I don’t care. I moan, and his other hand grabs hold of my hip. Drawing away too soon, he nips at my mouth, and I whimper. “What’s wrong?” “I shouldn’t have asked for a kiss.” “Why not?” “Because now I’m not going to be able to focus on working, and I have a lot to get done.” He laughs and slides his arm around my waist, guiding me inside and up the stairs. “You should let go in case Dad’s around,” I say quietly. “Am I your dirty little secret, Watson?” he whispers deviously in my ear. I use one of his own comebacks against him. “You love it.” His response is adamant. “Yeah, I do.” Inside, I settle back into my desk, and Jay goes to use the bathroom before he leaves. His jacket rests on the edge of my desk, and I only become aware of it because his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. Without thinking, I slide my hand in and retrieve the phone. A text message runs across the screen from an anonymous sender. Tonight. Nine o’clock. The usual place. My brain goes into overdrive as I quickly shove the phone back in his pocket and try to make his jacket look like it hasn’t been interfered with. What the hell is that

message about? I come to the nauseating conclusion that it sounds a lot like a booty call. A night time meet-up. The usual place. God, is Jay seeing someone as well as me? Instantly, my heart plummets from the lofty heights to which it had previously been soaring. A second later he walks back out, grabbing his coat and shrugging into it. Leaning across the table, he gives me a soft, momentary peck on the lips before telling me he’ll see me later for dinner. I don’t even have the capacity to worry about Dad seeing the kiss because I’m still focused on the message. It takes a couple of deep breaths for me to gather myself and sneak a peek into Dad’s office. He’s furiously typing into his computer, oblivious to the world, so it’s likely he didn’t see the kiss. For the next few hours I mindlessly complete my work for the day, but the question about the text remains at the forefront of my mind. I need to know what it was about. I need to know it’s entirely innocent and that I have nothing to worry about. So I decide there’s nothing else for it. I’m going to have to follow him.

TWENTY-THREE

s soon as I get out of work, I head for the bus and call Michelle. I haven’t spoken A to her since Jessie’s party on the weekend.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she croons into the phone. “Hey, how are you?” I reply, trying to sound chirpy. “I’m okay. Well, I’m still a little hung over, actually. I ended up spending the entire weekend at Jessie’s place. I’m telling you, that girl knows how to keep a lady occupied. I know I’d had my sights set on the blond guy. Ben, I think his name was. But he vamoosed with his friend Stuart after Jay punched him for dancing with you, so that was a dead end. Anyway, I only left her place this morning and had to go straight to work. One of my colleagues pointed out that I had ‘freshly fucked’ hair. I was, like, mortified dot com.” “Michelle.” “Yes, Matilda?” “That’s a delightful story, but please don’t use mortified dot com ever again.” She laughs loudly down the line. “Fine. So, what happened with you and Jay? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I swear to God, if you say ‘nothing,’ I will find a way to teleport through this phone so I can strangle you.” “Stuff happened, but we’ve agreed to take it slow. I really like him,” I gush, unable to hold back. “Well, well, well! The girl who doesn’t like any man finally finds a man she likes,” says Michelle, sounding a mixture of smug and pleased. “I didn’t not like any men. They just didn’t like me.” “Oh, shush. None of that matters. Now you’ve got the bad-boy hunk to end all bad-boy hunks, so who cares about past failures? I have to say, I’m feeling a touch of the green-eyed monster coming on.” “I thought you were all loved up with Jessie?” “Loved up? Please. It’s just sex with the two of us. She knows it. I know it. We’re both fine and dandy with the concept. Now, back to you and Jay. Has he gone down on you yet?” “Michelle!” “What?”

“Where are you right now?” “In the queue at Boots. I had to stock up on shampoo and conditioner. Why?” “This is not a phone conversation you should be having in the queue at Boots. So, let’s wait until we see each other in person to talk about…those sorts of details. Right now I need your advice on something else.” “Okay. I’m intrigued. Continue.” I tell her about THE TEXT. Yes, over the past few hours it has become such a huge issue in my head that I now have to refer to it in all caps. Michelle listens and then mulls it over for a moment. “Okay, I don’t think you should follow him.” “Why not? It’s the only way I’m going to find out.” “Eh, how about asking him?” she suggests, and I decide to let her sarcasm slide. “Because, that would require me to be a mature adult, and it would also require me to admit to snooping on his phone. I’m not prepared for any of that. At least if I follow him, I’ll know for certain. If it’s a booty call, I can be all, We are over, sir! I said, good day! And then flounce off to nurse my wounded pride. If it’s something normal, like he’s meeting up with an old friend for tea and crumpets, I can nod approvingly to myself and scurry home happy that all is well with the world. Jay will be none the wiser of this highly bunny boiler activity that’s going on with me right now.” Michelle groans. “Oh, God, Matilda. Please don’t follow him. It’s only going to end in tears.” “Saying stuff like that only makes me want to follow him more. It makes me want to know why there will be tears.” “Can’t you just take my word for it?” “I will consider my options. My bus is coming now, so I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.” “You’re going to do it. I can tell.” “’Bye!” I hang up before she has the chance to dissuade me further. I’m doing this. I’m going to live up to the nickname Jay gave me, and I’m going to do some sleuthing. If anything, it’s his own fault for coming up with the nickname in the first place. After dinner Dad offers to wash up, and I go to catch some soaps on the television. Jay saunters in and drops down beside me, too close, considering Dad could walk in at any moment. And yes, I’m quite aware of the fact that I’m an adult. It’s just that Jay is such an obviously sexual person, which means if I tell Dad we’re together, he’ll know we’re doing sexual things together. Just the thought of it makes me feel like crawling out of my own skin. Yes, when it comes down to it, I’m a baby. A big, stupid, embarrassed baby. Jay sits there all casual for a minute before randomly leaning in and licking me on the face. I laugh and wipe at my skin. “What was that for?” “Just felt like it.”

“Okay.” “I have to go out for a little while soon,” he says, his voice lowering a notch. “Can I come visit you later?” “You mean like how you visited me last night?” I ask, one eyebrow raised, a half smirk on the go. “Kind of like that. Perhaps there’ll be a little more activity this time.” Well, I don’t need to be a sex addict to know what that means. This is good news. If he’s planning to “pay me a visit” later, then it’s likely that the mysterious meetup isn’t a booty call. Shivers break out on my skin when he leisurely runs a finger down my arm. “Maybe you can visit me then,” I tell him quietly. Dad walks into the room at that moment, and Jay quickly draws away. Dad doesn’t notice a thing, sitting down in his armchair and flicking through the channels with the remote. Later on, I put on some dark clothes and find an old knitted hat to wear on my detective adventures. You know, so that I’m inconspicuous and all that. I have a taxi idling by the curb just as Jay leaves. I follow soon after him and hop into the taxi, telling the driver to follow Jay’s car. The driver is a nosy one. “Well,” he declares, “isn’t this all very mysterious.” If I’m not mistaken, there’s a touch of dry humour in his tone. I scoff. “You don’t get out much, do you” — I crane my neck to look at his I.D. stuck to the dash — “Mr Paul Donnelly?” He eyes me through the mirror and goes quiet then. I’m satisfied that I won the sarcasm war. The journey isn’t long. Jay drives out toward the docklands, finally turning into an old abandoned building site left over from the Celtic Tiger days. When the recession hit, there were a bunch of building projects that got left halffinished, effectively creating a sort of spooky ghost-town vibe. “You can let me out here,” I say, handing the driver some money. He gives me a concerned look. “Are you sure? There can be a lot of dodgy types out here, love.” “I’ll be okay,” I assure him, and he finally takes the money, not without a few grumbles under his breath, though. The cold air hits me as soon as I exit the vehicle. It was a warm day today, but the temperature always drops at night, and it’s even worse out here so close to the sea. I sneak around the corner of a building and watch as Jay parks his car and gets out. I quietly follow him as he walks across to another building, down the side, and around to a secluded corner. I hover by the other end of the building, and that’s when I see the men. There are about four of them, but only one steps forward to greet Jay. The others hang back, their postures belying some sort of security or bodyguard work. The main guy is wearing a suit, but I don’t let that fool me. He’s got the look of a bad egg, a shoddy neck tattoo peeking out of his collar. This isn’t what I’d been expecting at all. I’d been expecting something bad, but I

think this might be worse. There’s no mistaking the dangerous, criminal air about the men Jay’s meeting with, and the mysterious, anonymous nature of THE TEXT makes it that much more worrisome. Words are exchanged, but I’m too far away to hear. Everything seems to be going well, despite the shady location and nature of the meeting. But then it looks like the conversation is turning heated, Jay’s stance growing defensive as the man he’s talking with starts gesturing with his hands. The bodyguards move closer to the two, surrounding the man who I’m imagining is their boss. Jay puts a hand up in a gesture that I’m thinking says calm down, then reaches inside his pocket. I catch my breath, because when he does, all three of the bodyguards whip out their guns. Guns! My pulse is going ninety. Jay doesn’t bat an eyelid, and when his hand emerges from his pocket, he hands something to the main guy that looks like a credit card or a key card of some sort. The man takes it and says a few words, and then he and Jay shake on it. It seems the meeting is over when the men turn to leave in the opposite direction that Jay came from. When Jay turns around to return to his car, my heart jumps, and I scurry to find a hiding spot. Without thinking, I rush inside the abandoned building and hide behind a stack of wooden crates. I put my hand to my chest, willing myself to calm down. I stay like that for about five minutes, waiting to make sure Jay’s definitely gone. It’s so dark in here that I can hardly see a thing. Getting up from my crouched position, I pull my phone from my pocket, hoping the light from the screen will illuminate my way out. When the light comes on and I hold the phone up in front of me, I let out a startled yelp to see Jay standing there, watching me with a furious expression. I’ve been caught. Note to self: Never try to out-trick a trickster. The look in his eyes is murderous, and for some reason I don’t feel safe. I guess that’s because he’s associating with men who carry guns, which means he’s not the person I thought he was at all. Does he carry a gun? “WHAT.THE.FUCK? What are you doing here, Matilda?” His voice is deep, raspy, and thoroughly pissed. He takes several long strides toward me, backing me up into a wall before slamming his hands down on either side of my head. “I, uh…I came to ask if you, eh, if you saw my calculator anywhere. I seem to have lost it.” “Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, and I wince at my ridiculously obvious lie. “Did you follow me? How did you know to come here?” I close my eyes and answer shakily, “I’m sorry. I read your text. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” He exhales a long breath, and I open my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I would never hurt you.” “That’s…that’s good.”

“But coming here was a seriously stupid thing to do, and I can’t pretend I’m not angry.” “Who were those men?” I ask, swallowing. Jay cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, no way. You’re the one in the wrong here. You don’t get to ask questions.” “They looked shifty, like criminals. I don’t understand why you would be meeting up with people like that.” “Necessary evils are everywhere in this world, Watson. And I’m not explaining this to you. Not now. You shouldn’t even be here.” I move to walk away, but he blocks me, his hand clasping my shoulder. “Oh, no, you don’t.” “I’m going home.” “Yeah, but I’m taking you.” His hand slides from my shoulder to my neck, gripping me tight and guiding me away from the wall. My anxiety levels skyrocket as he silently guides me out of the abandoned building and toward the spot where he parked his car. “There are all sorts of low-lifes around here, Matilda. Junkies, homeless people. The kind who wouldn’t think twice about hurting an innocent woman when she walks brainlessly into their territory. Shit, anything could have happened to you.” We’re at his car now. He reaches around me to open the back door before guiding me in, his hand still on my neck. He slams the door shut and then walks around to the front, sliding into the driver’s seat. “I saw the text you got earlier, and I thought it sounded like…like a booty call or something. That’s why I followed you. I had no idea it was going to be something like this.” I pause, my voice growing hushed, frightened. “Those men pulled guns on you, Jay.” His eyes grow soft for a moment when he looks at me through the mirror. “A booty call? You thought that?” I shrug, embarrassed now. “I jumped to conclusions. I do that sometimes.” “I’m not that kind of person.” “I know that now.” The question is, Jason, are you another sort of person? The sort who doesn’t bat an eyelid when a firearm is pointed at them. And that brings about a whole other barrel of connotations. The problem is, not one of those connotations changes the strength of my feelings for him, and that’s the scary part. He stares at me for a long moment before continuing, “And about the other thing, it was just a little misunderstanding. They weren’t going to shoot me. And I’ll say it again just in case you’ve forgotten. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He slams his hands down on the steering wheel, growing angry again. “Fuck, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.” His eyes meet mine, and something inside me melts. “You’re so important to me, Matilda. More than you know.” I sniff and look away, unable to deal with the emotions his words evoke in me.

All I can manage is another, “I’m sorry,” and, “I’ve learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.” The next thing I know, he’s climbing through the gap between the two front seats and crowding me into the back. I shimmy away, unsure of his intent, until my head hits the window on the other side. He cages me with his body, lifting my thighs so he can fit himself between them. His hot breath hits my ear when he murmurs, “Nah, I don’t think you’ve learned it yet, but you will.” And then, quick as a flash, he flips me over so that I’m lying face down. He grinds his obvious erection into my rear, and I gasp in surprise. “Jay,” I exclaim, half indignant, half turned on. “What?” “We’re in your car. In public.” “It’s hardly public here, but yeah, we are in my car. In fact, I really like being in my car with you.” His fingers slip under the waist of my black jeans as his other hand pulls off my hat, my hair falling out. “Look at this fuckin’ outfit. Could you be any cuter?” “Whatever you’re doing, stop. This isn’t happening. Not here,” I protest, my voice far too breathy for my liking. I should be focusing on the fact that he still hasn’t told me what he’s been up to. I can’t focus, though, not when he’s got his hands on me. He pinches my hip and continues yanking down my jeans. When he reaches around me to harshly stroke between my legs, my brain shuts off, and I moan. “Wet,” he says, like he’s just won something. “Hmm,” I murmur. “And soft.” “Jay.” “Sweet, too.” “We can’t.” “Oh, yes, we can.” He tugs my jacket off me and pushes up my shirt, pressing kisses to my spine and biting softly, playfully. He licks the small of my back, and I pant. “I like you to like me to lick you,” he rasps. “Hmm?” Jay purrs, a low rumbly sound. “Never heard that song?” “What?” “Never mind. Don’t look it up. My feelings for you are the opposite of that song.” “Jay, you’re rambling. Just touch me.” “My pleasure.” My jeans are halfway down my legs when he wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me up so that I’m on my hands and knees. He caresses my bottom, then gives me a light spank. I yelp, and he rubs it better. One hand moves up my body, over my ribs, and cups my breast. He tweaks my nipple, and I bite my lip.

There’s some impatient fumbling behind me as he undoes his belt buckle and fly, and then I feel his hard, silky flesh rubbing against my cheek. Holding his cock, he rubs it over my arse and then lowers it, sliding across my wetness. Nudging against my entrance and slowly pushing himself inside me, he growls, “This is the best feeling, being inside you.” He rears back and then slams into me from behind, his thrusts hard and fast. Pleasure erupts through my entire system, my moans filling the small space. When he leans over me and bites my neck, I gasp. His hand grips my nape then and pulls me up, his hand going across my chest to hold me there as he juts into me. The pleasure is sharp and all-consuming. He manoeuvres my body, and I’m his to possess. My heart beats fast, my pulse thumping in my ears, so loud it practically drowns out the erotic sounds of his groaning. Emotion catches in my throat, feelings bubbling up inside that I don’t want to acknowledge. I love how he so thoroughly consumes me to the point where the entire world fades away. His hand still gripping my neck, he reaches around with the other, seeking my clit. I whimper when he finds it, rubbing fast circles, bringing me closer to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Come on my cock,” he rasps into my ear, his lips on my skin. “I….” Words fail me. His sculpted chest is pressed into my back, his hips jutting in and out. Warmth spreads all through me. I feel fevered, reckless. “Your body drives me crazy,” he growls, biting down on my shoulder, his fingers digging into my neck. I clench around him, my orgasm close. “Wow, you like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you?” “Shut up,” I manage, and he laughs tenderly. My body jerks as I come, the pleasure intense, consuming me. His thrusts slow down as he turns my head back to him and captures my mouth with his. His tongue plunges in, licking, caressing. Then I feel him coming hot inside me. My body goes limp, and he gently pulls me on top of him as he reclines backward, holding me tight in his arms, his release giving him a satisfied glow. My face rests on his shoulder, where I place soft, worshipful kisses on his skin, sighing at the simple pleasure of lying in his embrace. We stay like that for a long time, absolute darkness surrounding us. There are no street lights here, just the vague light from the city in the distance. When I move to find my clothes, a deep, rumbling growl emanates from his chest. “Don’t,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. “We can’t stay here all night,” I protest. “Can’t we?” “I don’t sleep in cars, Jay.” “Hey, now, this car is worth more than some houses,” he jokes, his grip on me

loosening. “But fine. Go put some clothes on, you little seductress.” I give him an amused look as I clip on my bra. “Me? I think you’ll find you’re the one who did the seducing.” A sardonic eyebrow goes up. “Did I? You follow me here, all brazen, dressed in that cute little outfit like you’re playing detective, pissing me off and getting my blood up. You’re lucky you got away with a quickie. I have a good mind to make sure you can’t walk straight in the morning.” “Jay!” His laughter fills the car as I slap him lightly on the arm. We dress ourselves, and then Jay climbs to the front again. I stay in the back, thinking. Now that I’m not overcome by the crazy lust I have for him, I can think more clearly. “You still haven’t explained what tonight was about,” I say as he starts the engine. He shoots me a serious look, his playfulness forgotten. I bluster on, “I mean, I’ve let some things slide already, but I’m not sure I can ignore this. What are you doing, Jay?” “I’m driving us home,” he answers casually. It infuriates me. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” “What did you mean?” I fold my arms. “Fine, you want me to tell you what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that all is not what it seems. I’ve been reading through the files for your case, and you know what? It all just feels a little too perfect, like everything is fitting itself into a neat little package. And real life isn’t neat. It’s messy and frustrating, and there are always roadblocks.” “You think it’s neat that Una Harris has been trying to destroy my career? Yeah, Watson, that’s what I call a real perfect scenario right there.” “No, I don’t think it’s neat. I think it’s awful, and I think she’s an awful person. Having met her, I’ll be honest and say the woman gives me the creeps. There’s something not right about her, and it’s not just the fact that her face is more plastic than flesh. But at the same time, I feel like your anger at what she’s done is… questionable. You act pissed, but then there’s a hint of pleasure masked behind it. Almost like you want her to bad-mouth you, like every word she prints is more ammo in your arsenal.” “You’re right. It is. It’s ammo for the case, Matilda.” The movement is minuscule, but I see his jaw twitch. Yeah, I’m definitely on to something here. Jay pulls the car out of its spot and starts driving back home. He doesn’t breathe a word, and I don’t take my eyes off him. We’re almost to the house when I whisper, “Don’t you trust me?” His gaze draws away from the road to meet mine. A long sigh escapes him. “I trust you. It’s not about trust. It’s about the fact that if you knew the truth, you might not want me anymore, and I couldn’t live with you not wanting me.” My breath leaves me in a rush. His eyes are shining in the darkness. I know he’s telling me the truth now — I can just feel it. He pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. We sit like that for a moment, neither of us saying anything.

“I think you underestimate my ability to accept you, Jay, even your bad bits.” “You can’t say that, Matilda. You can’t say that until you know everything.” “Will you ever tell me?” “Yes, I plan on telling you it all. You just need to wait. Please wait.” We stare at each other for what feels like forever. He needs me to wait, and there’s a desperation in his plea that makes me want to do that for him. My feelings for him are so strong that I want to put my trust in him and let him tell me when he decides the time is right. So, with a small nod, I show him that I’m prepared to do things his way. His breath leaves him in a relieved rush. I won’t question him until it’s time for him to give me the answers. I believe myself to be patient. I also believe that some things are worth waiting for, and Jay is certainly one of them. When I finally break our locked gaze, weariness hits me like a sledgehammer. Dealing with all of this emotional turmoil is so draining. We go inside, each to our separate rooms. When I finally get to bed, I find myself staring at the ceiling and wondering. What has he done that’s so bad he thinks I wouldn’t want him anymore?

TWENTY-FOUR

he next morning Michelle shows up to have breakfast with me before work. T I’d completely forgotten that we’d organised to do this last week. Jay isn’t up yet

when I answer the door to her. We sit and chat for a while. Dad comes in and grabs something quick before leaving for an early morning meeting he has scheduled. Then Jay saunters in, looking sleep-ruffled and delectable. His hair is messy, his T-shirt crumpled. And really, there should be a rule against him wearing boxer shorts around the house. His thighs are just so flipping…glorious. All muscle and sinew and sexy, sturdy strength. Those thighs were meant for plundering, and let me tell you, they plunder. Michelle waggles her eyebrows at me when he walks in, and I give her a look to keep quiet. We still haven’t had the chance to properly discuss what’s been going on with me and Jay, and I can tell it’s killing her. Her waggling eyebrows turn into narrowed brows when her gaze focuses on my neck. “What’s that?” she asks, leaning in curiously and tugging down the collar of my blouse. “Is that a bruise?” she continues. I put my hand to my throat self-consciously. I didn’t see any bruises when I was getting ready this morning, but then again, I was rushing a little, so I didn’t really have the chance to study my appearance. Jay, having just poured himself a cup of coffee, turns around, taking a sip from his mug. “I think it is a bruise,” says Michelle, confirming it. I get up from the table and go to look in the mirror. And, just like she said, there’s a small grey bruise on my neck. In fact, there are three small bruises all in a cluster. A vision of Jay gripping my neck in the back of his car last night flashes in my head. Oh, God, he really had been rough with me. “Yeah, looks like you’re right,” I say quietly, tugging my collar back up. “I’m always getting those mystery bruises, never know where they come from.” “Oh, yeah?” says Michelle. There’s a twinkle in her eye that makes me wonder if she suspects I know exactly where it came from. I glance at Jay, and there’s unmistakable heat in his expression. He’s remembering, too.

I blush. He must notice, because he comes to my rescue by focusing his attention on Michelle. “So, I hear you and Jessie have been bangin’ pocketbooks again. What’s up with that?” I swear I almost spit out the mouthful of orange juice I just drank. “Hahaha!” Michelle says loudly. “That’s a good one. I’m going to use that. And yeah, we have been. We’re having a little sex affair. It’s all quite exciting.” Jay strides across the room and comes to sit down at the table with us. He takes a bite out of my half-finished bagel like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I give him a look of mock outrage, to which he gives me a cheeky wink. “A sex affair?” he asks nonchalantly. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” Michelle’s lips tighten infinitesimally. “Yes. Why do you ask?” He shrugs. “I just get the feeling you like her more than you care to admit.” Michelle gives me an exasperated look. “God, Matilda, tell him. I don’t get attached. And if I were to get attached, it would be with a man. No offence to Jessie or anything.” “Oh, so you’re just using my friend? That’s lovely. You should be very proud of yourself.” Jay’s tone is on the verge of being pissed, but there’s something off about it. Like he’s feigning anger to get a desired result. Michelle’s posture deflates, and her eyes grow guilty. Her voice is quiet when she replies, “No, that’s not what I’m doing. Please don’t tell Jessie I said that.” “Why do you care if I do? You said yourself you’re not attached to her.” “Yes, but it’s just…okay, look, you know how sometimes you have this ideal of the person you want to be with? For example, you always go for hunky metrosexuals. But then you meet a work colleague who’s sort of nerdy and doesn’t know a thing about style or looking good. You immediately dismiss this person as a romantic interest and put him in the friend zone. But then you get to know him better, and as time passes by, you start to form a crush, because his personality, or something about him, like, his inner soul or whatever, just gets to you. And then all of a sudden you find yourself developing serious feelings for this person, feelings you never expected.” “So, Jessie’s the work nerd?” says Jay, his mouth curving into a pleased smile. Michelle’s eyes widen, like she can’t believe she just said all that. “What? No. That’s not what I meant.” All Jay does is raise an eyebrow, and she’s done for. Her fluster gets the better of her. “Okay, okay, so maybe Jessie is the nerdy work colleague. Not that she’s nerdy or anything like that. But God, the girl is just so cool, and she makes me laugh so much. I’m starting to think that we don’t fall for looks or gender in the end. We fall for the person as a whole. We fall for their souls.” Well, that was quite…deep.

I slam my cup down on the table. “You’re falling for her?” Michelle groans and covers her face with her hands. “Jesus, how the hell am I admitting all this?” She drops her hands and points a finger at Jay. “You’re a fucking sneak. You did this. You knew I was hiding something.” Jay sips on his coffee. “Hey, I was only making conversation. I had no idea what the deal was, thought you were just a lesbi-tourist.” “I prefer the term ‘bi-curious,’ if you must know.” Jay laughs into his coffee cup. “Sounds like there was a lot more than curiosity going on.” She looks at him with annoyance for a moment before turning her tortured gaze to me. She takes my hands in hers. “Oh, God, Matilda, how the hell has this happened? I’ve spent years going out looking for men, and in the end it was a woman who got to me. I feel like I’m going crazy.” “It’s ironic, really,” says Jay, deadpan. I give him a silencing look before turning to Michelle. “This isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a great thing. To have genuine feelings for another person is wonderful. Doesn’t it feel good? It must feel good. Who cares if she’s a woman?” I can feel Jay watching me intently as I say this, and yes, in a way I am talking about having feelings for him. Michelle lets out a trembling sigh. “It feels like the best thing and the worst thing all at once. I don’t know what to make of it at all.” I rub her hands in mine and turn to Jay. “You’re Jessie’s friend. Do you think she should tell her how she feels?” “Sure. Go for it.” Hmm, I’m not certain if that’s the best advice. Michelle draws away, sitting up straight in her seat. “No, I’m going to wait for a while. I don’t want to rush things. Besides, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel, what’s going on with me.” She glances at her watch. “Oh, crap. Look at the time. I have to get going.” “Okay, well, let’s meet up after work and talk some more, ’kay?” “Yes, that sounds good,” she says, standing and leaning down to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.” And with that, she’s gone. I turn my attention to Jay, who’s sitting back now and watching Ellen and Portia as they chirp at him from their cage by the window. “Well,” I sigh. “You certainly have a talent for getting people to tell the truth. It’s a pity I don’t have that skill.” He turns his head to face me and grips my knee, running his thumb back and forth over my tights. “You said you could wait, darlin’.” I sniff, remembering the decision I made last night to be patient with him. “I can.” “Well, then, stop trying to guilt-trip me. It won’t work.” “Fine.” His handsome eyes probe me before moving down to my neck. Reaching out, he

runs his thumb over the bruise. “Sorry about this. Don’t know my own strength sometimes.” “It’s okay,” I whisper. “No harm was done.” A moment of eye contact ensues between us. I break it when I go to grab my bagel and see that it’s all gone. “Oh, my God, you ate all my breakfast,” I say, trying to hold back a grin as I push his shoulder. He grabs the hand I pushed him with and drags my body into his. Our mouths are close, and I think he might kiss me. Instead, something passes behind his eyes and he lets go, backs away. “I’ll make you something to replace it. What do you want? Eggs?” I study him, wondering why he didn’t kiss me, wondering what the thought was that I saw come over him. “Yeah,” I reply. “Eggs sound good.” THE NEXT DAY as I’m sitting on a bench, eating lunch in the park close to the office, a man comes and sits down beside me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, thinking I know him from somewhere but not being able to put my finger on where. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” he says casually. “Yeah, it’s great,” I say, and take a bite out of my sandwich. I don’t really like it when strangers try to make conversation with me. The next thing I know, the man is taking a strand of my hair and smoothing it between his fingers. I startle and move away quickly, turning to look at him properly now. My hair falls through his hand. It’s the man Jay met up with in the docklands, the one in the suit with the neck tattoo. My eyes widen as I take him in. His being here doesn’t feel like a coincidence. “What do you want?” I ask, standing up from the bench, my lunch instantly forgotten. “You recognise me, don’t you, love?” says the man in a strong inner-city accent. I repeat my question, stammering this time. “Wh-what do you want?” “I know you followed your boyfriend the other night. I know you saw me. That was a mistake on your part, love. You tell your boyfriend that I know who you are now, and if he tries to mess me around again, I’ll be coming for ya.” I stare at him, open-mouthed, as he gets up from the bench, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He doesn’t say anything more, simply walks away. That evening when Jay comes home, I practically drag him into my room so that we can talk. Speaking nervously, I tell him about my encounter with the man in the park. He watches me the entire time, brows furrowed, before letting out a string of curse words. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears, clenching his fists, the tick in his jaw starting up. “Do you think we should call the police?” I say, worried. I know I agreed not to ask him any more questions, so I refrain from asking who exactly the man is. He walks away from me, pacing the room, then comes back and tenderly runs a

hand down my face, his eyes drinking me in. There’s a storm in his expression, turmoil. “No, he won’t come near you. I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry.” Looking back at him, I swallow hard and nod.

AS THE WEEK PASSES, I get less and less sleep, and not for a good reason. Every night I lie awake, my heart pounding as I will Jay to come to me. He doesn’t, though. In fact, he seems to have backed off substantially. He hasn’t said a word about breaking up, but he’s been distant, and it’s killing me. Does he not want me anymore? Has this got something to do with the man in the park? I only get to spend time with him in the evenings when he comes to sit by me as I design and sew. I see him at breakfast and dinner, but Dad is usually there, so it doesn’t really count. We can’t talk about things with Dad there. It’s Friday and Michelle’s meeting Jessie, so we’re not doing our usual night out. She hasn’t told Jessie the depth of her feelings yet and has decided to play it by ear. Since she’s unavailable, I plan an evening of dressmaking. I’m working on a new tea dress design that I plan to make in several different sizes and with several different patterned fabrics. I found it in one of my mother’s old design books, and got really excited as I thought of ways to put my own spin on it. When the dresses are done, I’ll hang them on my mannequin, photograph them, and put them up on Etsy. This is an ambitious project. Normally I make things to order, or I just make one dress, a unique design for one person to own. With the week I’ve had, though, I’m feeling the need for something that will consume more of my brain space. That way I won’t have the chance to think about Jay. Speak of the devil. He walks into the room as my pencil scratches at the paper of my design book, scribbling down measurements. He sits on the other side of the table, grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl, and starts to eat it. I glance up once and instantly regret it. His eyes are dark with a look I’ve come to recognise as need. His jaw moves as he chews on a bite of apple, and I look away quickly. There’s something about the hard lines of his jaw working that I find extremely difficult to resist. A long, tension-filled minute passes. “What ya doing?” “Working on a new design,” I answer, voice tight. When my eyes meet his for a second, his lips start to curve at the ends. I want to slap him for finding me amusing. “Cool. You want to model it for me when it’s done?” “Not particularly.” “Well, okay, then.” The loud crunch of him biting into the apple fills the room. I put down my pencil and sigh. “Could you go eat that somewhere else? I swear,

you must be the noisiest apple eater in the history of time.” One shoulder goes up in a shrug. “I like it here. And I love eating apples.” The way his voice lowers on the second sentence gives off the hint of an innuendo. It riles me up enough to respond harshly, “I’m sure you do, Jason. I’m sure you love eating all different sorts of apples.” Jesus Christ, did I just say that? Kill me now. “Actually, I’m loyal to just the one apple,” he counters. The way his eyes dance and shine makes me want to laugh. I hate how he does this to me. Our conversation right now is verging on the ridiculous. Still, I don’t let it drop. “You can’t be loyal to only one apple. Once it’s eaten it’s gone, and you need to go find a new one.” “Oh, I could eat my apple over and over again without ever feeling the need to find a new one.” “Maybe your apple doesn’t want to be eaten. Maybe your apple is tired of your apple-eating ways.” He leans forward, one elbow resting on the table, his gaze growing even darker. “On the contrary, my apple loves to be eaten. In fact, my apple is a little cranky right now because she hasn’t been eaten in a while.” The bloody cheek of him! I want to reach across the table and give him a good, hard slap. Instead, I calm myself and school my expression into a neutral mask. I remember his words from that night at the outdoor cinema. Please don’t push for more, even if it feels like I want you so badly it hurts, even if I’m the one doing the pushing. Is this what he’s doing now, pushing? “I didn’t realise apples had genders and emotions.” “Yeah, well, you learn something new every day.” I don’t say anything more. Instead, I pick up my pencil and return my attention to the paper in front of me. Even though I’m not looking, I can practically feel the amused grin on Jay’s face being levelled directly at me. I sketch an outline of the dress. All the while I can feel his gaze on me like a hot touch. Jay continues eating his apple, and it irritates the hell out of me to know he thinks he won our little veiled argument. A period of time passes before Jay starts to speak again. “I’m moving into my new place tomorrow.” His words surprise me. Somehow I’d managed to forget he was moving out. I’d been more focused on the incident with the man in the park and the fact that he’d withdrawn from me. A sudden and excruciating pain hits me right in the chest. I put my hand there, trying to rub it away. “Oh, right. Where are you moving?” I don’t look at him, because if I do, my strength might crumple. “Grand Canal Dock.” “Ooooh, very fancy!” I declare, trying to cover up my pain with a joke. “Are you

going to get yourself a job at Google, too? That way you’ll be a stone’s throw from the office. You can enjoy all the perks of being a minion of the evil empire with excellent dining opportunities right on your doorstep.” He laughs. “You know what, that sounds an awful lot like the spiel the estate agent gave me.” I shoot him a wary smile. “I can imagine. So, are you having a housewarming?” “It’s a penthouse apartment, and yes, I’m having a barbecue on the terrace on Sunday. You and your dad are invited. I think Jessie’s bringing Michelle.” In the back of my mind, I find it odd that he’s going from one room to an entire penthouse all to himself. I mean, why not just get the penthouse in the first place if he could afford it? Perhaps he’s come into some money recently. I glance at my nails. “Well, I’ll have to check my very busy social calendar and get back to you on that one.” I expect him to find what I’ve said funny, because we both know I spend most of my spare time in the solitary occupation of dressmaking. Although it hasn’t been so solitary since Jay came into my life. Instead, he narrows his eyes and studies me seriously. “You got a hot date or something? Has Owen called?” The way he says the name is like he’s trying to swallow glass, and admittedly I take a small piece of satisfaction from that. “No, I don’t have a hot date. And yes, he has called, which surprised me, given how disastrously our second date went, no thanks to you. However, I explained to him that I’m not in the right place for a relationship right now. He was very gracious about it.” He’s silent, sitting back and folding his arms. I become self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, so I decide to pack up my things for the night and hit the sack. “Don’t go,” he says, reaching out to grab my wrist when I pass him. “I’m tired,” I reply, moving on, and his hand falls away as I leave the room. It’s after midnight, and I still can’t sleep, tossing and turning. I yank off my pyjama pants, feeling too hot. Dad’s loud snoring echoes down the hall from his room, and I envy his slumber. I can hear Jay pacing next door, but unlike how it usually soothes me, now it just irritates the hell out of me. In the back of my mind, I know it’s not irritation, but heartache. When he leaves tomorrow, I’m going to miss him like crazy. I want to grab him and hug him so tight, let him know how hard it is for me to let him go. Soon his pacing slows down, and there’s silence. I hear him flick the light off, hear the sound of his mattress creak as he climbs into bed. The clock on my bedside table ticks loudly in my ears. The more I focus on it, the louder it gets, as though taunting me. Counting down the seconds until Jay’s departure. If I were brave, I’d sneak into his room right now and give him something to remember me by. In fact, I think I might be feeling a little brave, because my body moves of its own accord. I barely make a sound as I open my door and take the few short steps down the hall to Jay’s room. The door hinges make a tiny noise as I go

inside, the room encased in darkness. Placing my hand on the wall, I feel my way to the foot of his bed. There’s some movement, then Jay whispering, “What are you doing, darlin’?” “I couldn’t sleep.” I’m on his bed now, tugging the covers down. He clears his throat and puts his hands on my shoulders as though to stop me. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I make out his naked chest, the little trail of hair that leads from his navel down into his boxer shorts. I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and cotton pants. Jay’s gaze eats me up in the same way mine is devouring him. “You shouldn’t,” he murmurs, but his eyes tell me that I should. Hovering over him on my knees, I lean down and place a soft kiss to his pec. His body shudders at the touch. It’s been a week since we last had contact, and somehow I can tell he’s been craving me just as much as I’ve been craving him, even if he did force himself to stay away for whatever unknown reasons. I crawl in between his legs, my thighs braced over one of his, as I take his nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, wet and hot. “Fuck,” he swears, his hand going to my forehead and brushing my hair back. I grind myself into his thigh, needy, kissing my way from one nipple to the other, then down his perfect chest and abs. I nuzzle his hipbone when I reach the elastic of his boxer shorts, and his chest rises and falls quickly, his breathing growing frantic. “What ya doing?” he growls, and the sound pleases me. I like that I’m torturing him. “Tasting you,” I whisper, my tongue sneaking out to lick his skin. “I’ve missed you so bad.” His body jerks. “Yeah, you’d better start tasting real soon, or I’m gonna have to fuck you.” I moan. His words thrill me. When I tug his shorts down, his gorgeously hard cock springs free. I nuzzle it, and he cups my cheek, his eyes shining down at me. I kiss the tip, and he groans, swears profusely. “You were put on this earth to torture me, I’m certain of it,” he breathes. I open my mouth and take in an inch of him. His hand on my cheek grips tight. I move my head down, taking his full length slowly inside. His body becomes a rigid coil, his mouth a fountain of lovely profanities, as I bob up and down, sucking him, flicking my tongue around the seam of his head. He seems to like that one a lot, so I do it a lot. Gripping his hard thigh with one hand, I cup his balls with the other, and a spurt of salty pre-cum fills my mouth. I increase my speed, and he fumbles for me, his hands reaching down, sliding inside my top to cup my bare breasts. I moan around his cock when he pinches my nipples, and the most masculine sound erupts from him, half growl, half purr. Pure sex. Hot liquid spurts into my mouth as he comes, and I keep sucking him, draining every last drop. When he’s done, the rigidity falls away from his body, and he’s spent. The way

he gazes down at me, rubbing his thumb over my lips, the adoration beaming out of him, makes feel like I’ve done what I set out to do. He won’t be forgetting this any time soon. He pulls me up and settles me into the side of his body, my head resting on his chest. I allow my fingers to trace the lines of his tattoos. I study them, feeling like they tell a story, but that story is hidden to me. I wish I could somehow flick a switch and illuminate the words. His breathing evens out, and I think he might have fallen asleep, but then his hand starts to move down my thigh. With his deft fingers he parts my legs, rubbing along my sex before finding my entrance. He plunges two fingers into me, quick and hard. I whimper. His mouth goes to my breast, capturing it, his eyes glued to mine. He fucks me with his hand, his thumb pressing down on my clit, making me feel like I’m teetering on the edge. My vision goes hazy with pleasure. “Yeah, you come for me, darlin’. Wanna see those shakes,” he murmurs, his mouth releasing my nipple as he comes up for air. It doesn’t take long. With one fierce, hard thrust of his fingers and one deep circle of his thumb on my clit, I fall apart. My orgasm lasts for a long time. I lose count of how many waves go through me. Jay keeps his fingers buried deep inside, now leisurely moving in and out. His mouth hangs open slightly, and I sigh. “I can’t come again so soon,” I plead with him. “I’m not trying to make you come. I’m just enjoying the feel of you.” A minute passes, full of my tiny moans and his growls of approval. “Why have you been so distant this week?” I ask, hating the needy sound of my words. “Been trying to stay away from you until all this is over. That incident in the park was too much of a close call, and I can’t put you in danger like that again.” I gasp as he pulls his fingers out, sliding them along my sex before pulling me close to him, surrounding me with his arms. “Until what is all over?” “The court case. Everything.” Placing a hand on his chest, I draw away from him, startled by what he’s telling me. “The court case could be a year from now. You’re going to keep me at a distance until then?” I say, emotion catching in my throat. He tries to pull me back to him, but I move farther away. Before I’d been too hot. Now I’m way too cold. Finding my underwear, I pull them back on. “Darlin’, I can’t let you get caught in the crossfire again. It’s too dangerous. The fact that I’m forcing myself to wait should show you how much I care.” I gesture furiously. “If that’s the case, then why let me come in here tonight?” “Because it’s so fucking hard to resist you. I’ve been trying, but when you come in here and offer yourself to me, it’s impossible for me to say no.” “Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not. Please understand that I fucking adore you, but this isn’t our time, baby. Not yet.” He reaches out for me and takes my hand in both of his, a pleading look in his eyes. I swallow hard as I steel myself, his tender words melting some of my resolve. Tears gather in the back of my throat, but I manage to whisper, “Okay. It won’t happen again.” Turning on my heel, I leave the room just in time before I start to cry. “Matilda,” he calls after me, his voice strained, but I don’t turn back.

TWENTY-FIVE

he next day, Jay’s busy moving his stuff out of the spare room and packing it T into his car. We eat breakfast together, but aside from a few probing, intense looks,

he doesn’t mention what happened the night before. And really, I’m glad. I’m feeling a touch emotional at the moment, so I’m not sure I could handle such a discussion anyway. I’d probably just burst into tears. Before I know it, Dad and I are standing on the doorstep, waving Jay off. Dad seems just as unhappy for him to be leaving as I am, but I can tell he’s trying not to show it. For a while, our little family of two had become three. Jay stares at me for a long time, then surprises the both of us when he pulls me into a tight, prolonged hug. Dad looks at me with an odd expression afterward, but I try to ignore it. I think he suspects something’s been going on between us, but he hasn’t mentioned it yet. Jay pats Dad on the shoulder and shakes his hand, then heads for his car. Dad calls after him that he’ll see him tomorrow at the barbecue. I’m still uncertain if I’m going to go. The idea of being around him for however long it takes for the drama of his court case to be over, but not actually be with him, makes my heart feel like it’s breaking. In the end, I do go to the barbecue. Mostly because Dad would probably think something was off if I didn’t, but mainly because even a day without seeing Jay feels like torture. I need another fix. We arrive at his new place with a bottle of wine. He buzzes us through, and we take the elevator up to the top floor. The building is just as fancy as I expected, the front all made of glass and steel. Jessie answers the door when we get there. “Ah, come in, come in,” she welcomes us. “Jay’s just outside firing up the barbecue. I hope neither of you are vegetarian.” At that Dad laughs boisterously. Obviously, the idea of not eating meat is hilarious to him. I expected Jay’s place to be packed with friends, but it’s just Jessie, Michelle, and a couple of the people I met the night of his show. I almost laugh when Jessie goes to give Michelle a kiss on the mouth and Dad does a double-take. “Well,” he says under his breath. “Well.” I nudge him with my elbow. “Don’t make a big deal.”

Dad nods, and that’s all that needs to be said. Like me, Dad doesn’t really care much about what people decide to do in their own private lives. I take a look around the apartment as Dad goes to sit on the couch with the others. There isn’t much furniture yet, just a few bits and pieces. I wonder why Jay didn’t bring the chaise longue with him, but I’m kind of glad that he didn’t. Perhaps it means he’s still going to come over and hang out with me from time to time. Although really, I’m not sure if that would be a good thing for me emotionally. I find my way into the kitchen and put the wine in the fridge to chill. When I turn back around, Jay’s standing a couple of feet away from me, and I jump. His lips curve. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” I put on a brave face, even though seeing him hurts. “Well, my host wasn’t anywhere to be found, so I took it upon myself to find my way.” He full-on smiles at me now, though there’s a touch of sadness to it. “Oh, yeah? You look beautiful.” I glance down at the simple dress I have on and shrug shyly. He strides toward me, and my breath catches. He doesn’t touch me, though. Instead, he reaches around me, opens the fridge again, and retrieves a tray of burger meat covered with cling film. “You want to help me?” he asks, unsure. “Okay.” Relief floods his features. “Great. Go grab the burger buns.” I do as he says and follow him out to his terrace. It’s a lovely sunny summer’s day, with a great view out over the water. Jay starts to cook the meat on a fancy new barbecue that he must have bought especially for this housewarming, or else it came with the apartment. There’s a deck table and chairs, so I make myself busy by setting out plates and napkins. When I’m done, I turn back around, and Jay’s standing by the barbecue. He’s not focused on cooking, though. He’s focused on me. The look he’s giving me turns my tummy into pure butterflies. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say, frowning and rubbing at my chest. He has this habit of making my heart sore, making my lungs feel like there’s not enough air. He tilts his head attractively, which only makes matters worse. “Like what?” “Like you’re molesting me with your eyes,” I blurt out. His answering laugh is long and deep. I can barely handle the affection in his gaze. “Okay, I’ll try to stop. But if it all gets to be too much for you, this apartment happens to have a very nice bathroom. You can go rub one out again to take the edge off. I’ll come listen, too, if that will help.” There he goes again, pushing me. I do a slow blink at him before coming out with a rather masterful comeback. And when I say “masterful,” I mean shit. “Why don’t you go and rub one out?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t rub out, darlin’. I jack off.” “Oh, my God, shut up!” I suddenly giggle, looking back inside to make sure nobody was close enough to hear.

“You are way too fucking cute when you’re embarrassed.” I stay silent. Talking with Jay only seems to get me into trouble. The kind that requires a change of underwear. Yes, I said it. A couple of minutes later, he calls everyone out, and the food is served up. We sit and talk and drink wine, and generally just soak up the nice atmosphere. I find I’m enjoying myself, too, even if I do have to studiously avoid Jay’s penetrating stares. I wish he’d stop, because sooner or later somebody is going to notice. As the evening draws to a close, Dad decides it’s time to call it a night. I don’t want to leave yet, so Jessie offers to drive me home later. Once Dad’s gone, I feel a little less tightly wound. At least now he won’t be here to notice the weirdness between me and Jay. I sip my wine and let the conversation drift over me, staring out at the view. My relaxation is short-lived, because a minute later a chair moves beside me, and Jay drops down into it. “So, do you like my new place?” I nod. “Yeah, it’s lovely. Great location, too.” He chugs back some beer and stays quiet for a moment, then asks, “You think you could ever see yourself living in a place like this?” There’s a touch of insecurity in his voice, which is so out of character. “I’m sure I could. It’s hardly a shanty town. But I think I’ll always stay with Dad. He’d be lonely by himself,” I answer without thinking. When I see Jay’s expression, I suddenly realise the meaning behind his question. He wants to know if someday I’d live with him. Here. After all the madness is over and he can finally tell me all the stuff he’s been holding back. Wow. Just…wow. And there’s the chest ache again. Only this time it’s a good kind of hurt. Sort of. This man is seriously hazardous for my heart. He just keeps on surprising me at every turn. “You have to move out some time, Matilda. You know, see the world. I’m sure your old man wouldn’t want you staying with him just because you feel it’s your duty.” “That’s not why I stay. I like living at home. It’s comfortable. And besides, me and my dad, well, we’re all each other has.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Living with Dad is a comfort blanket, one I’ve always been too scared to let go of. Sometimes I think I convince myself he needs me more than he really does. Jay grabs my hand then and squeezes softly. “You’re not all each other has.” His tone is serious, fervent. I suck in a breath. More chest pangs. “So, you mean to say we have you now, too?” “Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. Air catches in my lungs.

“It doesn’t feel like we have you. In all honesty, I don’t know where I stand with you from one day to the next. You want to be with me, but you can’t be with me. For all I know, you could be gone in a heartbeat, back to America to perform in Las Vegas or some other glamorous location.” “Oh, yeah? Well, you do remember our little agreement, don’t you? We made a deal you’d be coming with me the next time I have shows there, so you see it’s not true. You’ve got me, Matilda. You always have.” He pauses, and his voice lowers. “You’re mine.” I close my eyes, his words too much for me. “I miss you,” I whisper. “I miss having you sleep on the other side of my wall, hearing you pace.” His eyes go sad. “I’ve only been gone a day.” “And that’s why it’s scary. I shouldn’t miss you this much.” “It’s not gonna be forever. Trust me.” His thumb brushes soothing circles to the inside of my wrist, and I melt. We sit like that for a long time, the day drawing to a close around us, city noises drifting in from nearby. It’s after dark when Jessie comes and tells me she can take me home. “It’s fine. I’ll drive her,” Jay interrupts. I look at him, stare down at our intertwined fingers, before pulling my hand out of his. “I should go. It’s late, and I have work in the morning.” He gazes at me, his expression probing. “You sure?” “Yeah,” I say, breath whooshing out of me. “I’m sure.” We hug tight, and as I go, I can feel him watching me the entire way to the door. I’VE ALWAYS FOUND mediation to be an uncomfortable process. Two opposing parties get together to try to find a solution to their disagreement, with a neutral third party hired to play the middle man between the two. It’s often a measure taken early on in an effort to save money. If an agreement can be made, then everyone can avoid the high costs of going to court. I knew from the start that the session organised to take place between Jay and Una Harris was going to be a tumultuous affair, and I wasn’t wrong. I was also aware that Jay wasn’t going to accept any offers from the newspaper. This was all a part of the dance for him, a part of whatever strange secrets he was keeping, and we had to go through the motions. The morning it’s scheduled, Dad’s in fine form, a swing in his usually stunted step. He’s been enjoying every moment of working on this case, and I think he has high hopes that a conclusion can be reached today. I don’t have it in me to shatter his optimism. I’m not keen on attending, but Dad insists I be there to take notes and the like. We arrive at the conference room early: me, Will, Dad, and Jay. The mediator is there waiting for us. A man named Jon Snow. Yes, I’m not joking. Jay and I both

give each other a giddy look as we meet him. We both know the significance of his name. I think back to that first night Jay had moved in, when we’d had dinner and he’d teased me about my Game of Thrones T-shirt. A pang of nostalgia settles deep in my belly. Anyway, Jon Snow the mediator looks nothing like Jon Snow from TV. More’s the pity. We sit down at the long table and start to prepare for the session. Jay takes the chair beside mine, and when he sits down, his hand finds my knee, giving it a squeeze. The look I give him says, stop that. The look he gives me in return says, nope. His hand is still on my leg when Una Harris and what can only be described as an entourage arrives. She has at least four solicitors with her. I absently scan the generic-looking men and women in their designer suits before my gaze meets with a recognizable face. My eyes travel from that face and straight to Jay. When one of the solicitor’s mentions the man’s name, my suspicion levels hit the roof. Jay has some serious explaining to do. Among Harris’ party is Brian Scott, owner of The Daily Post. That shouldn’t be surprising. I knew there was a good chance he’d be here. What I hadn’t expected was to recognise him. He’s the old businessman Jay was staring at that night at the casino. The same man who’d left The Daily Post offices while Jay had been doing his street show, the one he stole something from. Jay gives my knee one last squeeze before letting go. He knows that I know. Obviously, he knew I was going to remember Mr Scott. He could have at least given me some warning, even if he wasn’t fully prepared to explain everything. That way my mouth wouldn’t be hanging so ridiculously open right now. I try to regain my composure by picking up some of the files in front of me and settling them into a very neat stack. The formal introductions are made by the mediator, and he outlines how the session is going to be run. Jay’s eyes are narrowed almost to slits as he looks at Brian, who’s sitting directly across from him on the other side of the table. Jesus. If looks could kill, Brian Scott would be gutted and chopped up into very small pieces, and those pieces would be carefully wrapped and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I finally understand what Jessie meant when she spoke about the “white shotgun” look in Jay’s eyes. He certainly has a way of making people uncomfortable without having to move a muscle or say a word. I can’t understand the ferocity of his hostility toward the man. I know he owns the newspaper and everything, but it’s Una who’s been slandering him. Speaking of Miss Harris, my eyes meet hers very briefly from across the table. I’m not sure why she’s looking at me, but I make quick work of focusing my attention elsewhere. As I said before, the woman gives me the creeps. Today her hair is up in a French twist, her lips are red, and she’s wearing a black leather dress. I’m not joking. Altogether, the look is very femme fatale. Quite fitting for her,

actually. The session progresses, and one of Brian Scott’s solicitors puts an offer on the table. “We’re prepared to make a once-off payment to Mr Fields in the amount of 25,000 euros to make up for any losses he might have made in his career due to the articles published. Miss Harris is also prepared to write an article retracting her claims about Mr Fields, alongside an official apology in the form of a letter. In exchange, Mr Fields will drop all legal proceedings against Miss Harris and the publication.” If I’m not mistaken, I think I hear Jay scoff. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his palms together. “I think I’ll pass.” “We should discuss this first,” says Dad. “No need. I’m not interested in their twenty-five grand or Miss Harris’ apology,” says Jay, his tone dismissive. He says “apology” like it’s a dirty word. Brian Scott whispers to his solicitor, and then the solicitor amends the offer. “We will increase the pay out to fifty thousand, and Miss Harris will schedule an interview on Radio One where she will make the apology over the air.” At this Una shoots a highly disgruntled look in Brian’s direction, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Clearly, she’s not happy with the radio interview idea. Brian’s look in return is bland. In person, he seems like a fairly ordinary, inoffensive old man, but there’s something nefarious beneath the surface. Something that suggests he’s not someone you’d want to get on the bad side of. “Wow, Brian,” says Jay in a fake friendly voice. “You really don’t want this shit to get to court, do you? I’m trying to figure out how a dick could have such a gigantic pussy.” I think every single person in the room draws in breath at the same exact moment. I bite on my lip, in all honesty, trying not to laugh. Trust Jay to say something like that in what’s supposed to be a formal, professional environment. Dad coughs loudly. “Mr Fields, that language is highly inappropriate.” He shoots a conciliatory look at Brian Scott. “I’m sorry for my client’s behaviour.” “I’m not sorry,” says Jay, eyeing Brian fiercely. “No need to apologise,” says Brian to Dad with a dismissive wave. “I know what kind of white trash I’m dealing with.” Oh, my God. “Well, would you look at that.” Jay leans farther over the table, studying Brian closely. Then he turns to Dad. “You know what that look means, Hugh? The everso-slight raising of the upper lip? It shows disgust. Do I disgust you, Brian? Do you find me distasteful?” Brian’s eyes slide past Jay before landing on Dad. “Could you control your client, Mr Brandon? He’s letting his emotions get the best of him.” “You know what I find distasteful?” Jay goes on, eyes darkening. “Degenerate old fucks like you.” Okay.

“Seriously,” Una exclaims. “We should not have to deal with this type of behaviour.” “She’s right,” Jon Snow finally puts in. “Mr Fields, you need to be more respectful. This session is not about throwing barbs back and forth. We are trying to reach a conclusion satisfying to both parties.” Jay sits back, his arms falling to his sides. I reach over and lace my fingers through his beneath the table, unable to help myself. Despite everything, I need to show him my support. He squeezes back tightly. “Why should I be respectful when Brian’s showing me none?” Jay asks casually. One of the solicitors speaks. “I apologise for my client’s comment. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand.” “I’m not talking about him calling me white trash. I could give a fuck about that. I’m talking about the way he’s looking at me.” Letting go of my hand, he leans forward again, talking to Una this time. “You know all about me, don’t you, Una? Why don’t you tell Mr Scott how I know what he thinks of me?” “Oh, yes,” says Una, seeming pleased to have an opportunity to speak. She turns her head to Brian. “Mr Fields was raised by his uncle, Killian Fields, one of the foremost behavioural science academics in the United States. That’s where he gets his little…mind tricks from.” She says the last part with a tone of disdain. “Ah,” says Brian, for a brief moment looking uncomfortable before the bland expression is back in place. “Well, that’s very interesting. But I’d like to get back to business. I haven’t got all day.” “Oh, in that case, you can scoot right along. I’ve decided I’m not interested in a settlement. I’ll see you in court,” says Jay, folding his arms. I think he might also have his middle finger ever so subtly sticking up where it rests on his arm. Brian stares at Jay for a long moment, and Jay stares right back, his gaze never wavering. Jay has hardly paid any attention to Una since she arrived, and it makes something click into place for me. I don’t think Harris is the one Jay is targeting at all, despite all the horrible things she’s written about him. I think his real target is Brian Scott, and I have no idea why. Una rises from her seat and goes to link her arm through Brian’s. “Come on, let’s not waste any more of our time on his charade.” Brian nods to her and allows her to lead him to the door. Jay chuckles harshly as he watches them leave. “Yeah, you go on ahead. The ideal fucking pair, a garbage bag and a trash can.” I immediately put my hand to my mouth when he says it, laughter bubbling up, because Una’s black leather dress does look an awful lot like a bin bag. And the sad fact is, she probably paid more than I earn in a month for it. Dad’s staring at Jay with disapproval, and Will is sitting sternly in his seat. I don’t think either one of them is happy with how Jay is behaving. Now I feel bad for not warning them, because I’d expected this all along. We leave the room quietly, Jay walking behind me. When we get out onto the

street, he asks, “So, lunch anyone? My treat.” “No,” says Dad. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now. But thank you for offering.” “Me, neither,” says Will, and they both start walking in the direction of the office, not far from our current location. I’m left standing alone with Jay, the sounds of afternoon traffic passing us by. “Well, they aren’t happy with me,” he observes. “Nope.” I try to suppress a grin. I shouldn’t want to smile, but there was something so hilarious about Jay mouthing off to Una and Brian. I mean, those two are probably never spoken to like that. I bet they spend half their lives having their arses licked. Jay sticks his hands in his pockets. “Well, are you going to come to lunch with me, Watson? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” I glance at him, and it all becomes too much. The laughter bubbles forth, and it just won’t stop. I clutch at my belly, I’m laughing so hard. Jay grins. “What? What are you laughing at?” “It’s just,” I manage, followed by more laughter. “The look on Brian’s face when you called him a pussy. He really wasn’t expecting it.” Jay throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a funny fuck. We’re going for lunch.” I think, but I’m not certain, that I see Una Harris and Brian Scott sitting in a fancy car by the side of the road, watching us as we walk away. I just about manage to calm myself down by the time we reach the café.

TWENTY-SIX

onths go by. After a couple of weeks of keeping a painful distance from me, M Jay starts coming over to the house. Almost every other evening he shows up and

we sit together, each of us focusing on our own tasks. He’s creating a brand-new show from scratch, which can apparently take a really long time to put together. It seems magic and illusion doesn’t come easy. It takes dedication almost to the point of obsession. My little dressmaking business grows, and Jay even helps me set up a website. The man is a genius with computers. He also helps me with orders, packing, and doing post office runs, which kind of melts my heart. We rarely touch, but when we do there are fireworks. Silent explosions. And all from an innocent hand on my elbow. Our arms brushing absently against each other. Sometimes he’ll gently pull my hair out of the messy ponytail it’s in and redo it for me. I love when he runs his fingers through my hair. I always thought that in order to have a relationship, there needed to be sex. But really, that’s not the case. I’ve grown closer to Jay without sex than I ever had when there was sex. Not that the sex lasted very long, anyway. Still, I ache for him. I long for the day when he’ll allow his touches to linger, to transform into something more. I patiently wait for the circus that his court case has become to be over. The newspapers in both Ireland and the UK have caught on to the case, and in the weeks coming up to the court date, it gets a lot of attention. As the day draws near, I notice something building in Jay, a kind of electricity. The anticipation of relief for it all to be done with. A week before the trial, I get home late. I’d spent a couple of hours at Michelle’s house, hanging out with her and Jessie. Yes, over these past few months their sex affair has transformed into something of a permanent thing. I’m not sure if either of them ever broached the subject of having a relationship, but that’s what seems to have happened. They’re happy together, and I couldn’t be any more surprised by it all. I just hope the day never comes when Michelle decides she wants to go back to men.

It’s dark out on a cold January night as I try to locate my house key in my handbag. I’m rooting away when a gloved hand slides roughly over my mouth and a strong body presses me hard against the door. I feel something sharp dig into my belly, just before a male voice threatens, “Scream, and I’ll cut you.” My heart pounds fast, sweat breaking out all over my body. I don’t scream. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m in too much shock to react at all. The hand covering my mouth goes to my hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling down hard. A strangled whimper comes out of me, but it’s barely audible. In my head, I wonder if this is the man from the park finally come to make good on his threat. “You’re gonna give Jay Fields a message,” the voice continues, the very sound of it grating on me. All I can do is nod. “You tell him that if he shows up at court next week, we’ll come for you again, and the next time we’ll leave a mark.” “We”? Is there someone else with this faceless person? I nod again, and the pressure is gone. I stand in place for several seconds, unable to turn around, but I think I can hear the click of high heels alongside the boots as they walk away. A car engine starts up somewhere nearby, and my body finally kicks into action. I turn and swiftly run out of the driveway just in time to see a black vehicle speed by. The windows aren’t tinted, and I’m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me when I see Una Harris staring at me from the passenger seat, a sick grin on her face. What the hell? It wasn’t the man from the park at all. My hands are shaky as I try to find my phone. I take it out and quickly pull up Jay’s number. “Watson,” he answers, his voice warm. “I need you,” I say, and there’s no mistaking my fear. “You at home?” he asks, serious now. “Yes.” “I’ll be there in ten.” I try to be quiet as I step inside, knowing Dad’s asleep upstairs. I’ve just been through one of the most frightening experiences of my life, second only to when Mum was killed, but there was barely a sound made. It all happened so quickly, without much needing to be said at all, and I can still feel the knife the faceless man had pressed into my belly. There’s certainly much more to Una Harris than meets the eye, because the woman I saw just now was definitely no stranger to seeing people scared out of their wits, to threatening them to get what she wants. On unsteady legs, I close the front door and walk into the kitchen, turning on the light and sitting down at the table. I don’t know how much time passes when the door opens again, and Jay strides in with purpose. He sees me sitting there,

white as a ghost, and instantly he’s kneeling before me, taking my hands in his. “Watson, what happened?” he asks, looking like he wants to hurt someone. “I…somebody attacked me as I was coming home. They had a knife.” His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen them before, his grip tightening. “What? Are you hurt? Did you get a look at their face?” His hands start to move over my body, looking for injuries that aren’t there. Una Harris’ sadistic grin flashes in my mind, and my heart pounds. I’m just about to tell Jay about how the man threatened to hurt me if he shows up in court next week. But I look into his eyes and suddenly realise that I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. If I do, then all these months working toward the trial will be for nothing. He won’t be able to clear his name and might never be able to get his career back on track. I won’t do it. Somehow knowing that Una Harris would go to the lengths of getting some thug to threaten me with bodily harm makes me more determined to see her get what she deserves. “They didn’t hurt me. I think they were just trying to scare me.” I pause, thinking on my feet. “They tried to grab my handbag, but then a neighbour’s car drove by, and they ran. I’m okay now.” Lying to him feels awful, but, as Jay once told me, necessary evils are everywhere in this world. He pulls me into his embrace. “Jesus. You shouldn’t be coming home this late on your own. Next time, you make sure someone is with you. Or hell, call me, and I’ll escort you home personally.” He’s too flustered to read me, which is a good thing, because if he did, he’d see I was lying through my teeth. Something in my chest clenches at the fact that me being in danger has made him this way. He’s just always so on. I’ve rarely seen anything escape him. Until now. “Yes, I will. I just didn’t think.” He hugs me tight. “Don’t let it happen again. I’ll kill someone if anything ever happened to you. You’re the only one keeping me grounded.” His words slide over me, like a warm caress, while I try to push down the guilt of being dishonest with him. We stay like that for a long time before Jay helps me up to my room. He says he’ll sleep on the couch for the night, just in case the thug decides to come back. The next morning when Dad finds him there, Jay tells him everything that went down. Dad insists that we call the Gards. I don’t want to involve the police, because then I’ll have to lie again, but there’s no getting out of it. Luckily, over our months spending time together, I’ve been delving into Jay’s book collection. Most recently I read one about body language, so I know enough about lying to pull it off when the officers arrive at the house. Still, I can’t stop stressing about the threat. They said if Jay goes to court, they’ll hurt me. My mind tracks back to the day of the mediation, when Jay and I had been laughing together on the street. Both Una and Brian had been watching us, and

they must have seen something. Something that indicated Jay cares for me. Otherwise, they wouldn’t bother to threaten me. I’m just the legal secretary, after all. Over the course of the next few days, I make a fine collection of weapons to protect myself with, including a rape alarm, pepper spray (totally illegal in Ireland), and a Swiss army knife. I also spend time practicing self-defence videos on YouTube. Don’t laugh. If Una Harris and her thug come for me again, I’ll be ready. The most important thing, I remind myself, is never to be alone. They won’t attack me if I’m with someone. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Unfortunately, all the stressing out and anxiety takes its toll, and the day before Jay’s court date, I fall ill with the worst flu of my life. And I’m not talking about one of those bad colds that people call a flu. I’m talking about a real flu. The kind that makes every muscle and bone in your body ache, the kind where you’re barely lucid enough to remember your own name, and when people try to talk to you, you’re replying with nothing but fevered gibberish. Dad organises for a temp to fill in for me, because obviously I’m not going to be of any help in court in my current state. I don’t mind too much, though. Court is usually hours of tedium followed by a few minutes of something interesting. Jay doesn’t hear about my illness until the morning of the trial. I’m lying in bed, wrapped up in blankets and wearing my cosiest pyjamas, when the front door opens and shuts. Dad left the house about an hour ago, so there’s only one person it could be. Jay’s footsteps sound on the staircase as he makes his way to my room. He knocks on the door first. “Don’t come in,” I call weakly. “I’m contagious, and you can’t afford to be sick this week.” “Fuck that, darlin’,” Jay replies, stepping right inside and coming to sit on the edge of my bed. He puts his hand to my forehead to feel my temperature, his face a picture of concern. “Shit, you’re burning up.” “I know,” I sniffle. “You need to go. Seriously. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you caught this.” He frowns and takes my clammy hand in his. “I really wanted you to be there today. I feel braver when you’re with me.” “You’re the bravest person I know, Jay. You’ll do fine. Hopefully I’ll be better in a few days. That way I’ll be there for the verdict.” Jay ploughs a hand through his hair, and I look him over. He’s wearing a fancy light grey suit, a blue tie, and a white shirt. He looks drop-dead gorgeous. “You look amazing,” I manage, and his eyes grow warm. “Thanks, so do you.” He leans in and places a soft kiss to my forehead. I choke out a weak laugh. “I’ve never looked more amazing, I’m sure.” “You always look amazing, Matilda,” he says, and then takes his leave. I don’t have a television in my bedroom, and after spending two hours reading, I

become restless. I want to know what’s happening in court. I know the news channels will be covering it, so with great effort I manage to relocate downstairs to the living room. I make a bed out of the couch and lie down. After that ordeal, it takes me another twenty minutes just lying there before I have the energy to find the remote and turn on the TV. I flick to the main twenty-four-hour news channel and wait for the trial to come up. When it does, the reporter gives a quick rundown of the case, with some footage of Jay arriving at the High Court with Dad. Unlike most people arriving at court who try to avoid the press, Jay flashes a dazzling smile at one of the cameras. Even his TV smiles make my heart go gaga. My anticipation builds, because after all this time, once this case is over, there’s a chance that Jay and I can finally be together. Then there’s a clip of Una and Brian arriving, and my anger rises to the surface. If that bitch thinks she can scare me, she’s got another thing coming. I would have loved to see her face when she realised Jay had shown up, that her threatening me didn’t work. I watch every second of the news channel that day while Michelle pops over at lunch to feed me soup. Later that evening, I go back to bed and conk out, sleeping straight through until the next morning. When I wake up, I feel more refreshed. I stretch out my limbs and glance to the side, startled to see Jay sitting there, his chin resting on his hand. “Hey,” I whisper. “What time is it?” “Half-past seven,” he answers. He’s wearing a different suit from yesterday, this one navy, and he looks freshly showered. The scent of his cologne hits me, and I breathe it in deep. “How did court go yesterday?” “Uneventful. Today will be more exciting, though.” “Oh, yeah, why’s that?” “Watch the news. You’ll see,” he answers mysteriously. He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he helps me downstairs and makes me breakfast, though all I can manage to get down is some dry toast and a cup of sugary tea. He and Dad leave together, and I’m faced with another day on the couch, mindlessly staring at the television. Despite Jay’s instructions for me to watch the news, I don’t think I can manage more hours of repeated headlines, so I decide to pop on a box set instead. After a couple of episodes, I check in with the news, and I only have to wait a few minutes for the case to come up. The prim blonde newsreader sits at her desk and reads out her spiel. There has been a shocking discovery in the court case of Jay Fields and The Daily Post. Today the jury heard how journalist Una Harris used illegal research methods for her articles about the American illusionist. There was no evidence found to back up many of her claims about his background, but, most pertinently, it came to light that Miss Harris hacked into Mr Fields’ phone and email accounts in order to glean

information about his private life. Representation for Mr Fields showed evidence of Miss Harris’ activity and even provided proof that she had been trying to bug the apartment that he had been living in with his friend, a Miss Jessica Hanlan, at the time. Jessica Hanlan was called forward as a witness to explain how she discovered the bug while cleaning her home. She stated she didn’t know what it was, but later sought out a professional to identify the object. Many are now posing questions as to the integrity of The Daily Post and whether this kind of practice is common among its employees. A jury of six men and six women has been selected to determine a verdict, and it is predicted that the trial will end sometime next week. Wow. I’ve only been working on Will’s caseload these past few months, since Dad’s been spending all his time preparing for the defamation trial, so a lot of this is new to me. This kind of scandal could absolutely kill the newspaper, not to mention lead to other cases being brought against them in the future. I slump back on the couch. I wish I was there today. I can just imagine Jessie being called up to the witness stand. She was probably delighted to be the centre of attention. That evening, Dad and Jay arrive back at the house with Chinese takeaway. I sit at the table and slurp on my chicken noodle soup while they discuss the day’s events. Judging from Dad’s constant smile, I’m gathering that things are going well so far. After I’m finished eating, Jay helps me up to my room so I can take a nap. He kisses my forehead and tells me to rest up. Then he and Dad shut themselves away in Dad’s office so they can prepare for tomorrow. I doze for a while and then wake up, desperately needing to go pee. I hurry to the bathroom and do my business. When I’m leaving, I notice that the light in Dad’s office is on, and both he and Jay are still in there. In fact, it sounds like they’re having an argument. What the hell? I shuffle to the door and listen. “This is unacceptable, Jason. How could you keep something like this from me? We’re two days into the trial. Two days! You should have talked to me about this months ago,” says Dad, sounding distraught. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him address Jay by his full name before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry before, either. “I couldn’t tell you. You know I couldn’t,” says Jay. He sounds a little calmer than Dad, but only just. “Of course you could. You’re my client, and we’re bloody well suing a national newspaper. You were supposed to tell me everything!” “Okay, okay, think about it this way. If I had told you everything from the very beginning, would you have agreed to take my case?” “Of course not! For Christ’s sake, half the things you’ve just explained to me aren’t even legal. I don’t care what happened in the past. This…this is…I don’t do things like this. This is not the kind of man that I am.”

“I know that,” says Jay. “You’re not wired like me. You’re a good guy. You can let things go. I can’t.” He pauses, and there’s such emotion in his voice that I can hardly bear to listen. “I need this, Hugh. And despite what you might think, you need this, too. You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this victory.” What on earth are they talking about? There’s a long stretch of silence, and I think I can hear Dad quietly weeping. Jesus. I’m just about to go in there and break things up when I hear him speak. “Come here, son,” says Dad shakily. Another silence, and then Jay speaks, his voice heavy with emotion, “I’m not just doing this for me. I’m doing this for you and your daughter, too.” “Okay,” says Dad, still shaky, before letting out a long sigh. “I understand. I do. And I’m in too deep now to back out. We started this together, so we’ll finish it together. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, son. We’ll take these… these awful, awful people down, I promise.” Um, what? I nudge the door open the tiniest bit, quietly so they don’t hear, and peek in. What I see surprises the hell out of me. Dad and Jay are embracing. They pull apart, and my heart thuds. I scurry back to my room as quietly as I can manage and get back into bed. A few minutes later, I hear Jay leave Dad’s office. My bedroom door opens and I hold my breath, keeping my eyes shut and feigning slumber. I can practically feel him standing there, just watching me. Then I hear him let out a long, harsh breath before closing my door again and leaving the house. I lie there for a long time, running their conversation through my head again and again. I sleep the rest of the night through and wake up early feeling much better. My throat is clear, and my muscles are no longer sore. My head isn’t dizzy anymore, either. Today, I’m determined to go to the trial. I shower and dress in a shortsleeved cream blouse and a navy pencil skirt, blow drying my hair straight. I put on a little more makeup than normal, my natural complexion looking a bit washed out after my bout of illness. When I go downstairs, I find Dad sitting in his usual chair, reading the paper and drinking coffee. There are bags under his eyes, and it looks like he didn’t get a wink of sleep. His conversation with Jay comes back to me. Whatever it was about, it obviously kept him up all night. I’ve had my suspicions for a while that Jay’s been doing some things that aren’t entirely legal. I’m not sure why, but I trusted him with it. Making myself believe that he knew what he was doing. He must have confessed to Dad, confessed everything, all of the things he refuses to tell me until some unknown date in the future. But I promised him I wouldn’t ask questions, and I like to think I stick by my promises. “Morning,” I say, stepping into the room and popping some bread in the

toaster. “Matilda,” Dad replies, mustering up a smile. “You look great. How are you feeling?” “Much better. I already called the temp and told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore. I’m raring to go.” Dad frowns. “Are you sure? This case has become very…complicated. I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to sit it out. A lot of unseemly things have come to light.” “You mean about Una Harris and hacking into Jay’s phone? I heard it on the news.” Dad’s lips draw into a thin line and his expression turns frosty, though it isn’t directed at me. “That is not all that woman has done, honey. It seems she has been relentless in her ambition over the years, and Jay has proof of all of it.” I stare at him. “How?” “He’s been a very busy man, did his homework,” is Dad’s only answer. There’s something sad in his tone, something sad and…affectionate. Like he feels for Jay for some reason. My bread pops up out of the toaster, startling me. I turn away from Dad and go to find the butter. After breakfast, Will shows up and drives us all to the courthouse, parking along the quays when we get there. The press is everywhere, like ants over a lump of sugar. Jay is waiting for us just inside, alone. His eyes light up with happiness and relief when he sees me. Unfortunately, after eavesdropping on him and Dad last night, I can’t say I feel the same way. I need to know the truth. And right now I might as well be wearing a blindfold. I just hope that when it comes off, I can accept whatever is revealed to me. “Watson! You’re better,” he says, gathering me into his arms and giving me a warm, thankfully friendly hug, given Dad and Will’s presence. When we go inside the courtroom, I sort through the files for the day, muttering my annoyance at the crappy job the temp did. Nothing is where it’s supposed to be, and it’s going to take forever for me to fix her mistakes. We have to wait for the judge to arrive, which could take God knows how long. My eyes wander to Brian and Una as they come in, flanked by their legal team. Unlike Jay, who specifically requested for Dad to represent him in court, Brian is using a barrister, a middle-aged guy I actually recognise. Thomas Jenkins. Most people in the law profession in this city know him because he’s one of the most talented men in the business. I study Brian, my gaze narrowed. There must be something about him, something beneath the ordinary exterior that would cause Jay to hate him so much. “You okay, darlin’?” Jay asks, breaking through my thoughts. He obviously saw me staring at Brian. I glance at him and then down at the papers in front of me. “Yeah, it’s just — there’s something off about that guy, you know. I can’t figure it out because he just seems so normal.” Jay strokes at his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “Have you ever

read any Hannah Arendt?” I must look lost, because he explains further. “She’s a political theorist.” I shake my head at him. “No, I never went to college, Jay. People who haven’t been to college don’t generally read political theorists.” I’m not sure why I snipe at him. It’s probably because I know that he knows exactly what it is that’s “off” about Brian, but he won’t tell me. “Neither did I. But yeah, I get what you mean. Anyway, she wrote this book about the trial of a Nazi lieutenant named Adolf Eichmann in the 1960s. Arendt was a Jew who left Germany during Hitler’s reign, and during the trial this guy had to face up to all the atrocities he committed. Things only a monster could conceive of. However, he was examined by psychologists, and it was determined that he wasn’t a psychopath, that in fact he was entirely normal. This left Arendt to determine that perfectly ordinary, everyday people were capable of crimes normally associated with only the most depraved, wicked members of society. She called it the banality of evil. That’s what you see when you look at Brian Scott, Matilda. He is mundane, run of the mill, humdrum, looks like a carbon copy of every other professional man his age, and yet….” He trails off and looks away. I feel like I’m holding my breath. “And yet what, Jay?” I ask eagerly. “The judge is here,” he says, turning back and rubbing his hands together. “Looks like this party is about to get started.” Dad swoops in then, talking hurriedly to Jay, so I don’t get the chance to question him further. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jessie sitting in the gallery, and she gives me a cheerful smile and a wave. I wave back and settle into my seat. I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long and interesting day.

TWENTY-SEVEN

ad’s going to call a witness to the stand, a woman named Emma Feelan who D works as Una Harris’ P.A. I’m actually stunned that they convinced her to be a

witness. And really, I’m not sure if Una was aware of this, because when Mrs Feelan is called forward, her mouth falls open in surprise I watch her expression of shock turn to one of fury as she levels her catty green eyes on her employee. Or should I say, “former employee”? At least, I’m sure she will be before the day is out. I watch the woman as she takes the stand and the registrar has her swear the oath. It takes me a discombobulated minute to realise that I know this woman. It’s the cougar. The one Jay and I had to rescue Jessie from when she’d tried to get her to have a threesome that included her husband. What. The. Eff. Is. Going. On? Gone is the jewellery and semi-slutty outfit she’d been wearing the first time I saw her at the casino. Now her hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and she’s wearing a very respectable pantsuit. Immediately, my head whips back to Jessie where she’s sitting in the gallery. She gives me a mischievous wink as I mouth, What the fuck? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, because seriously, I don’t believe for one second that this is a simple coincidence. I try to catch Jay’s attention, but he’s staring stoically forward. Dad stands up for the examination in chief. He holds his head high, even though his limp is evident and his suit is worn and inexpensive. For a second, I forget about my suspicions. In this moment, I’m simply proud to see my dad, a man who’s been through so much and spent so long working crappy small-claims cases, step forward to represent the plaintiff in one of the most high-profile lawsuits this country has seen in years. I’m so incredibly proud of him. “Where do you work, Mrs Feelan?” asks Dad. “I’ve been personal assistant to Una Harris for the past six years,” Emma replies, holding her hands firmly in her lap. “Would you call yourself a content employee?” She furrows her brow. “Excuse me?”

“Are you happy in your work?” Dad elaborates. Emma glances at Una for the briefest of seconds. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” When I look at Una, I see her mouth draw into a severely tight line. Someone is definitely not pleased. “Are you unhappy in your work?” “In a sense, yes.” “Why are you unhappy?” It takes a long time for Emma to answer. She leans forward into the mic, the word on the tip of her tongue before it finally comes out. “Because of how my boss treats me.” There are murmurings among the jury, and then Dad goes on, “What kind of treatment are you referring to?” “Well, she can be harsh at times. Sometimes she’s threatening and verbally abusive. She also makes me carry out tasks I’m uncomfortable with.” “Can you explain what these tasks are and why they made you uncomfortable?” “She would make me collect her prescription medication on a regular basis. It made me uncomfortable because it’s not in my job description. My duties are mainly administration.” Una lets out an audible huff of annoyance from her place in the courtroom. When I look at Jay, he has his arms folded, and there’s the slightest touch of a smile on his face. Then I study Emma, and there’s no denying that she’d rather be anywhere else than on that witness stand right now, no matter if she is unhappy in her job. Somehow, Jay has coerced her into being here. I can just tell. Dad walks over to the desk and picks up several sheets of paper. He hands them to Emma. “Are you familiar with these documents, Mrs Feelan?” “Yes.” “Where have you seen them before?” “Miss Harris had me regularly visit her doctor and collect these prescriptions before going to the pharmacy to have them filled.” “Was there any money exchanged?” “Yes.” “How much money?” Emma scratches at her arm before answering, “Anywhere between two hundred and five hundred euros.” “Did you find this unusual?” “I did, but it wasn’t my job to question it. I carried out many tasks for Miss Harris. She’s a very busy woman.” “I have no doubt. Did you also pay money to the pharmacist who filled the prescription, that is to say, over and above the usual cost of the drugs?” “Yes.” Oh, my God. Several people in the gallery gasp in surprise. It’s quite obvious where Dad is going with this, even if on the surface the topic might seem

irrelevant. “In your personal experience, is this usual when collecting medication?” “No. I have never paid for medicine for myself in this way.” “In your experience dealing with Miss Harris, did you know her to have any long-standing illnesses that would necessitate the kind of medication she was having you collect for her?” “Not that I’m aware of.” “And in your personal opinion, would you say that Miss Harris was having you procure these medications because she was addicted?” “I don’t know. Sometimes she would act unusually irritable or confused at the office, but I put it down to stress.” “Objection,” Thomas Jenkins interrupts. “There is no evidence to prove that my client is not sick, and this line of questioning could be incriminating the witness.” Dad picks up the prescription papers again and hands them to the judge. “I will bring your attention to the amounts that were being prescribed each month. Even if Miss Harris was severely ill, no law-abiding doctor would prescribe these levels of medication.” “Overruled,” says the judge. Dad returns his attention to Emma. “Did you ever try to refuse to carry out Miss Harris’ bidding?” Emma swallows. “Yes. On several occasions I refused and she threatened to sack me from my job. She also said she’d make certain that I couldn’t find another one.” “How did that make you feel?” “I was in fear for my livelihood.” “One final question. In your personal opinion, do you think that Miss Harris could be trusted to carry out properly researched journalism while under the influence of the kind of medication she was taking?” “No.” “Thank you, Mrs Feelan.” Thomas Jenkins steps up for the cross examination, and although he does an extremely good job of questioning Emma and salvaging some of Una’s reputation, Dad’s point has been made clear. Una Harris is an addict, unfit to carry out her job, and therefore none of what she has written about Jay can be considered credible. Dad even brings a medical professional to the stand to give evidence of how the drugs Una was taking could hinder her, physically and mentally. When the court adjourns for a break, I rise out of my seat with purpose. I want to talk to Jessie. I catch up to her as she moves to leave the gallery, grabbing her by the arm and practically dragging her outside with me. “Hey, easy does it, Matilda!” she exclaims. “You’re gonna pull my arm out of the socket.” “I want to talk to you in private,” I tell her, leading her to the ladies’ disabled bathroom farthest away from the courtrooms. We go inside, and it’s thankfully empty.

I let go of her arm and put my hands on my hips. “What’s going on here?” “What do you mean?” “The flipping cougar is Una Harris’ assistant, Jessie! Did you and Jay think I wouldn’t remember her? I’m not stupid.” “Listen….” she begins, but before she can say anything more, the bathroom door opens and Jay strides in. “Leave us, Jessie,” he says, his voice commanding. “We’re having a conversation. And if you hadn’t noticed, this is the ladies’. You’re not allowed in here,” I snap. Jay doesn’t even look at me. “Jessie. Go.” Without another word she hurries from the room, leaving me alone with Jay. All of a sudden, I feel suffocated. His very presence sucks up all the air in both a good and a bad way. We stand in silence for a moment before he turns and goes to flick over the lock. When he looks at me, his eyes are dark with temper. “You need to calm the fuck down, Watson.” “Why should I? First I overhear you and Dad arguing last night, and now the cougar from the casino is Una Harris’ assistant? Not only that, but she’s standing as a witness. I know I promised not to ask questions, but things are just getting ridiculous. You can’t continue to keep me in the dark.” Something shifts in Jay’s expression. “You overheard me and your dad?” “Yes,” I reply, exasperated. “Not that any of it made much sense.” He moves toward me then, backing me up into the wall. His hand goes to my cheek, stroking downward before settling on my neck. “I thought you were sleeping, darlin’.” Tingles break out where he’s touching me, and I swallow. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who can pretend.” He looks me dead in the eye, his expression fierce. “I never pretend. Not with you. You want me to tell you the truth? Okay, here’s the truth. Jessie and I targeted Emma Feelan a long while ago. Jessie started up a thing with her, took a few embarrassing pictures, and recorded what happened the night she and her husband invited her to have a threesome. Jessie then suggested to Emma that if she didn’t stand as a witness in the trial, those pictures and that recording might fall into the wrong hands. That’s it.” “That’s blackmail. And illegal. I believe where you come from they call it ‘fruit of the poisonous tree.’” “We’re not using the blackmail as evidence. We’re using blackmail to get her to give genuine evidence. The proof of Una’s drug use is all legit. In fact, Mrs Feelan handed it over quite freely. The persuasion technique used is a necessary evil.” I let out a joyless laugh. “‘Persuasion technique’? Okay, if that’s what you want to call it. So, just how many of these necessary evils have you committed, Jay?” “A few.” “Shit.” He smiles. “I like it when you swear. Just so you know, big fucking turn-on.”

“Are you being glib right now? Seriously?” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He grabs my hand and rubs his thumb gently down the centre of my palm. “Don’t hate me yet. Just give me a couple more days. A couple more days, and I promise you, no more secrets, yeah?” “How can you justify this? That poor woman is probably going to lose her job now. Do you even care?” For a second, a strange expression comes over him. He ignores my question but simply replies, “Just wait, Matilda. Wait for the bigger picture.” I stare at him for a long moment, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his eyes. I let out a long sigh. His thumb on my palm makes me tremble. This is the closest he’s gotten to me in a while, and I can feel every inch of his big, hard body pressing me into the wall. “Fine. I’ll wait. But I swear, this better be good.” He rubs his hands up and down my arms now. “I promise it will be.” A quick breath escapes him, his eyes looking back and forth between mine. “I really want to kiss you right now.” I communicate to him silently that kissing wouldn’t be wise. He communicates right back that he accepts the challenge. “Fuck it,” he curses. “I’m kissing you.” Before I can try to move away, his lips are on mine, his tongue sliding its way into my mouth. A deep moan escapes me, and he cups my face in his hands. It’s been so long since I’ve had this, and I can feel his kiss everywhere. Between my thighs, in my hardening nipples, on the tips of my eager fingers as they clutch tightly at the lapels of his suit. Of their own accord, my hands start to undo the buttons of his shirt, reaching inside to feel his skin. I wouldn’t normally give in so easily, but I need this. I haven’t been able to touch him in so long. We’d grown close, and yet there was a wall between us. He groans when I touch him, sliding my palm over his chest. His hand moves down between my legs, hitching my skirt up and cupping me right there. I moan loudly. The door handle moves, somebody on the other side trying to get in, and we pull apart, our breathing laboured. I let go of him and run a hand through my hair. “We’d, um, we’d better go grab a bite to eat before we have to be back.” The dark, hot look he gives me lets me know that’s the last thing he wants to do. But we both know this is the last place we should be doing this, so he finally replies, “Yeah, let’s do that, then.” I tell him I’ll catch up with him, and he leaves, but not before murmuring in my ear, “I fucking love the way you taste.” I shiver at his words and his hot breath on my skin. Then I lock the door after him, making quick work of using the bathroom and straightening up my appearance. As I’m making my way back out, I turn a corner and almost bump into Una Harris. Her normally coiffed hair is slightly dishevelled, and it looks like she bit so hard on her lip it started bleeding. Also, her pupils are completely dilated.

“Looking at me like she thinks she’s better than me,” she slurs, and a waft of alcohol hits my nose. If my assumptions are right, she’s on something and she’s been drinking. Jesus, she picked the worst possible place to unravel. “I’d rather not look at you at all, Una,” I say, raising my chin. She screws up her mouth and wags her finger at me. “Oh, the other night didn’t scare you, did it? You should be scared. It would be very wise on your part to be scared.” She reaches out and runs her hand down my scar. “How did you get this again?” I immediately recoil from her touch. “I don’t recall telling you. Now please, get out of my way.” “Una, that’s enough,” comes the hard voice of Brian Scott. He walks toward her and sleekly slides his arm around her waist. Jessie’s at my side then, asking, “You okay, Matilda?” She shoots a sharp glance in Una’s direction. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Who the hell are you?” Una asks, slurring her words again. “Uh, none of your fucking business,” Jessie answers, folding her arms and levelling her eyes on Brian. “You’d wanna go get her cleaned up. She’s a hot mess right now.” “Yes,” says Brian, voice steely. “I have every intention. Goodbye, ladies.” He steers Una away, as she swears her head off. “Fucking leave me alone, Brian. I can walk perfectly fine on my own.” “Bitch has more issues than Vogue,” Jessie mutters under her breath, and I laugh. The rest of the day moves fairly slowly, and there are no more big revelations. I leave the courthouse with Dad and Jay, the press hounding us with questions, to which they receive a firm “no comment.” We quickly locate Jay’s car, and he drives us home. Unlike yesterday, he doesn’t stay for dinner, but instead leaves right after he’s dropped us off. The next day of the trial goes as follows: Una’s second PA (yes, the woman actually has two assistants) takes the witness stand. This one is a guy, and he basically goes against everything Emma Feelan said the day before, painting Una as the perfect, most generous boss a person could ask for. Then Dad calls Una to the stand, and that’s when things start to get interesting. “Miss Harris, in 2004, did you write an article exposing the private life of government TD Victor Nugent?” Una narrows her eyes at Dad. “Yes, I’d been covering politics at the time and discovered that Mr Nugent had been procuring the services of prostitutes.” “And how did you come by this information?” “I have informants,” Una replies sharply. “All journalists do.” “Did you tap his phone or hack into his computer like you did with my client?” “How is this relevant?” Thomas Jenkins objects. “We are not here to talk about past articles. We’re here to talk about the articles Miss Harris wrote about Mr

Fields.” “I assure you, my line of questioning is extremely relevant, Justice,” says Dad to the judge. “Continue,” says the judge with a casual gesture of his hand. “You can answer my question, Miss Harris,” says Dad, turning back to Una. Her one-word reply sounds strained. “No.” “Mr Nugent took his own life a few months after you broke the story. Are you aware of this?” “Of course I am.” “Do you hold yourself responsible?” Her eyes narrow to slits. “No.” “Do you think that if you hadn’t written the article, Mr Nugent would still be alive and well today?” “I can’t know that. But I will say that Victor Nugent was supposed to be an upstanding member of society, and the things he was doing needed to be exposed.” Really, the irony here is just laughable. Una Harris judging someone else’s tawdry private life after everything that’s come to light about her. I guess everyone’s the hero of their own story. “And did you go to great lengths to expose them, Miss Harris?” “I don’t know what you mean by ‘great lengths,’” Una states, her voice hard. “Did you hack into his private email account?” “No.” “Thank you. That will be all, Miss Harris.” Una leaves the witness stand and returns to her seat, while Dad picks up a folder and offers it to the judge. “Here I present records of Victor Nugent’s personal email account being accessed from Una Harris’ home computer in 2004. The emails accessed are also included, alongside a copy of the article Miss Harris published in The Daily Post several days later. As you can see, information from these emails has been used, almost verbatim, in the article.” I seriously have no words. I really wish I had been working with Dad on this case instead of with Will these past few months, because seriously, I don’t think I can take any more surprises. The next few days are absolute madness. All across the country, people are in an uproar over The Daily Post, and every television channel, radio station, and newspaper is calling for the publication to be shut down. Una has been branded a devil and Brian the one who gave her a platform to work from. The biggest surprise, though, is still to come. And even though there isn’t any magic involved, I like to think of it as Jay’s prestige. His big finish. And, inarguably, the final nail in the dual coffin of Una Harris and Brian Scott.

TWENTY-EIGHT

the second-to-last day of the trial. Tomorrow the jury will decide on a I t’s verdict. I’m fairly confident that Jay is going to get some serious

compensation, but there’s always the chance that things could change. Despite all of the evidence brought forward against them, Brian and Una’s legal team have still managed to salvage some of the case. Dad is to call forward one more witness. Reporters had shown up at our house this morning, looking for statements from Dad, so we were all in a fluster to get to court on time. By contrast, Jay is cool as a cucumber. He’s wearing my favourite suit, the light grey one, and looks as handsome as ever. There’s a peace about him, like the turmoil inside his head is all coming to a conclusion. I’m so busy admiring his gorgeous profile that I don’t listen when Dad calls his final witness. There are shocked gasps from those in the gallery, and the men and women in the jury. Brian is getting up from his seat, running a hand through his greying hair and looking entirely discombobulated, while Una has gone pale as a ghost, her expression distraught. “What the hell’s going on?” I ask Will, who’s sitting beside me. “Haven’t you been listening?” he whispers animatedly. “David Murphy is the witness.” “Huh?” “David Murphy. Jay’s volunteer. The one Una reported had died of a heart attack.” I swear to God, it really is too early in the morning, because my brain refuses to comprehend what he’s telling me. “I don’t understand.” “Christ, Matilda. Didn’t Hugh tell you?” “No. He and Jay have actually been very tight-lipped about the particulars of the case,” I say somewhat shakily. “David Murphy is alive?” “Yes!” says Will excitedly. I don’t understand how this can be possible. I mean, Una might be underhanded, but I didn’t think she could be this dumb. She must have had some kind of proof of

the man’s death before she decided to break her story, right? And Jay! My God. He’s been playing everyone this entire time, never once correcting anyone when they spoke of David’s heart attack. This is fucked up. This is…amazing. I can’t believe the sneaky, clever, trickster bastard managed to pull this off. And now I have no words. Finally, I manage to pull myself together enough to become aware of the fact that all hell has broken loose. Una is standing up and yelling at Jay, who’s sitting back calmly in his chair, one sardonic eyebrow raised and the ghost of a satisfied smile on his mouth. “This is outrageous. The man sitting in the witness box cannot be David Murphy. I held his death certificate in my own two hands!” Her previously pale complexion has now turned red with fury as she points her finger at Jay. The judge slams his gavel down hard and calls for Una to contain herself. “Are you sure about that, Una?” Jay asks casually, flicking a coin through his fingers with expert precision. “David Murphy is a pretty common name in this country. Perhaps you were confusing him with somebody else.” “I am not confused. I saw it! You did this. You knew all along that he wasn’t dead.” “Miss Harris,” says the judge. “Please sit down.” It takes another few minutes for order to be restored and for Dad to begin his examination. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I suppose I should begin by asking you to clarify who you are?” David smiles. He’s actually quite handsome, probably in his mid-thirties, with a mop of thick brown hair. “I’m David Murphy.” “The same David Murphy who took part in Mr Fields’ television show as a volunteer?” “That’s right.” “And you are alive?” A chuckle. “I should hope so.” Dad picks up a passport, birth certificate, and driver’s licence, handing them to David. “Are these documents yours?” “They are indeed.” The judge requests to see David’s identification documents before Dad can continue with his questioning. “Have you any idea how Miss Harris might have come to the conclusion that you were dead?” “No. Right after I finished filming with Jay, I emigrated to Australia for work but recently returned home. I haven’t been around, but I certainly haven’t been dead.” “Thank you, Mr Murphy. That’s all I wanted to ask.” Brian and Una’s barrister, Thomas Jenkins, rises swiftly from his seat, clearly eager to bombard David with questions.

“Mr Murphy, before my client published her article, she had collected several pieces of documentation to show that you had died of a heart attack. These documents have subsequently gone missing from the secure location where they were being stored. Even the soft copies and the original government and hospital records have vanished without a trace. Do you know anything about this?” David leans into the microphone. “No, I do not.” Hmm, even if he doesn’t, I’m sure Jay does. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, my gaze narrowed in wariness and just a little bit of awe. “Did Mr Fields recruit you to fake your own death?” David laughs loudly now. “No, of course not. This isn’t a movie, Mr Jenkins.” I notice a couple of members of the jury try to suppress their smiles. Thomas Jenkins’ mouth forms a thin, displeased line. “My client, Miss Harris, was led to believe that Mr Fields paid a large sum of money to your mother for funeral expenses. Do you know anything about this?” “Yes, I do. Jay did give my mother money, but it wasn’t for a funeral. It was a loan for home renovations that has now been paid back in full. I’m not sure where your client got the idea it was for a funeral.” Dad steps forward and provides all the required evidence for the loan. Brian and Una’s barrister throws a few more clever questions at David, but he has foolproof responses to all of them, even slyly hinting that Una never had the documents she claims she had in the first place. After the lunch break, Thomas Jenkins calls a witness, a guy named Blake who apparently worked as a cameraman on Jay’s show, and who Una claims has been an informant of hers for the past two years. She also claims that Blake was the one who originally informed her of David’s passing. They all seem confident that Blake is going to prove that something was amiss and that Una had been tricked into believing David was dead. However, when Blake takes the stand, he denies all association with Una and firmly states that he never told her that David Murphy had died. Una claims that all of her dealings with Blake had been in person, so she has no proof that the meetings actually took place. Again, Jay’s trickery is stamped all over this. I’m almost starting to feel sorry for Una. I’m also starting to wonder if Jay had been planning this entire thing since before she ever wrote a single word about him. Which only brings forth a whole bucketful of other questions. The judge asks the jury to retire to the jury room and consider their verdict. I have absolutely no doubt that they are going to decide in Jay’s favour. It seems like a forgone conclusion, really. Waiting for the verdict is not what has my heart pounding in apprehension. If I know anything about Jay by now, I know that there is a reason for everything he does, and what I really want to know is why he orchestrated all of this. Why did he want to destroy Una Harris and Brian Scott?

TWENTY-NINE

he jury’s deliberation carries on through the night and most of the next day. T We all arrive in court the following morning bright and early for the verdict. Jay and

I haven’t spoken much, but there has been a lot of meaningful eye contact going on, mine full of unanswered questions. Brian Scott is there with his team, but Una Harris is nowhere to be found. Early this morning there were news reports claiming that after the scandal of phone and email hacking, The Daily Post is going to be shut down. And it wasn’t even Jay’s story that was the catalyst. It was the story of Una exposing Victor Nugent’s private affairs, which was shortly followed by him taking his own life, that has incited the anger against the publication. The fact that Una came by her information illegally has had the entire country in uproar, with readers boycotting The Daily Post entirely. If the newspaper does close down, over one hundred people are going to lose their jobs, and I’m not sure how well that sits with me. By the judge’s request, the forewoman of the jury stands up to give the verdict. A clerk asks her if the jury has reached a verdict, to which she replies with a simple, “Yes.” “Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?” asks the clerk. “Guilty,” replies the forewoman. “Is that the verdict of you all?” “Yes.” Well, surprise, surprise. And when I say “surprise,” I mean no surprise. Dad and Jay shake each other’s hands and pat one another on the back in victory. I’m delighted for them, really I am. Dad just seems so happy, and it’s incredible to see that. I haven’t seen him smile like this since before Mum died. Brian Scott beams rays of hate across the courtroom at Jay with nothing but his eyes. Jay doesn’t notice, though, and that’s mainly because his attention is fixed firmly on me. He seems…apprehensive. As I said, the guilty verdict is no surprise. What is a surprise is the sum of money that gets awarded to Jay. Two. Million. Euros. No, I’m not joking. That’s a lot for this country. I’d expected one hundred thousand, maybe two, but two million?

Wow. As soon as he can, Jay makes his way to my side, his hands in his pockets. “Watson, we need to talk.” “I’m…I’m not feeling very well. I think I might still have a touch of the flu. I’m going to go home and lie down.” “But I’m treating everyone to a celebratory lunch. Come on, I want you there.” Looking into his eyes, I can’t bring myself to say no to him, so I nod weakly. He puts his hand to the small of my back and leads me from the courthouse. The press are waiting in their droves, and Jay insists I stand by his side as he gives a statement. I’m in a bit of a daze, because normally I wouldn’t agree to be on television like that. Jay’s statement is going to be on every news channel this evening, I’m sure. And I will be right there with him, probably wearing a comically confused look on my face. Everything that happens after the verdict feels like a blur. Before I know it, I’m sitting in a nice Italian restaurant with Jay, Dad, and Will, eating spaghetti carbonara and trying to figure out why my brain feels like it’s turning to mush. I feel like I’m trapped inside one of those swirly optical illusions that make you dizzy just looking at them. There is information in some dark recess of my brain, just dying to break its way out, to help me understand what’s really going on. Jay has barely stopped staring at me, his gaze probing and intense. Dad and Will chat amiably about the success of the trial as I push back my seat and stand up, excusing myself to go to the bathroom. I don’t go to the bathroom. Instead, I walk right out of the restaurant and hail a taxi to take me home. When I get there, the prospect of going inside is too suffocating, so I decide to take a walk to clear my head. I cross the road and walk toward the promenade. When I find an empty bench, I sit down and stare out at the water. I’m not sure how long I’ve been there when something drops down beside me. I glance to my left to see a stack of old letters tied together with some string. I can feel somebody looming over me. Jay. I don’t turn to look at him. “What are these?” I ask curiously, picking them up and setting them in my lap. “Letters written by my mother,” he answers. “Why did you run out of the restaurant like that? We were worried about you, and you weren’t answering your phone.” I face-palm. “Damn. I’m sorry. It’s on silent. I just needed to get some air. Letters?” He walks around the bench and lowers himself to sit, his arm resting across the back of it. I can feel his heat. “Yeah, I want you to read them. When I was just a kid, I used to think she was writing in a diary, but that wasn’t it. She was writing letters to my uncle. She used to write to him every week without fail, and the prick never

wrote her back. He’d read them and then set them aside. I think he was using it as an experiment to see how long she’d keep writing without ever receiving a reply.” “That’s a little cruel. Is this the uncle in America? The one you went to live with?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the touch sending shivers through me. “Yeah. Just read them. They’ll paint a clearer picture for you. Then I’ll explain the rest.” I look down at them again. “Okay.” He smiles at me, sad and affectionate. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” Linking his arm through mine, he helps me up. “Why do you look so sad?” I ask, stopping and putting a hand to his chest as I stare up at him. His words are a whisper, a faint watery shine in his eyes. “Because I’m afraid of losing you. And if you decide you don’t want me, I’m not sure if I can let you go.” Emotion catches in my throat. “Jay.” “Just read the letters,” he pleads. I gather myself, nod silently, and we walk back to the house. Jay stands on the doorstep as I put my key in the door. When I step into the hallway, I turn back to him, but he’s vanished, ever the magician. Wanting privacy, I go straight to my room and undo the string that’s keeping the letters held together. I flick through them, noticing that they’ve been stacked in order of date. Carefully, I open the first one and unfold the paper. Dear Killian, I haven’t heard from you in months. I know you enjoy your solitude, but I miss our talks. We used to be so close as children. Do you remember? We made Dad move your bed into my room so that we wouldn’t have to sleep alone. I miss those days. Childhood feels so hard, but then you look back and realise they were the easiest days of your life. We moved into a new house last year. It was a fixer-upper, but with a little TLC we managed to do it up nicely. It’s still nothing amazing, but the area is wonderful. So quiet. Peaceful. The neighbourhood has actually become quite sought after. Just the other day a property developer came and made an offer to buy the place. I invited him in for tea, and he told me about his plans to build a brand-new hotel right where our house is. He was a lovely man. Sometimes I forget that there are nice men out there. I spend so much time with Luke that it feels like they’re all monsters. I’m not sure how much longer I can take being married to him. It’s not just me he hurts anymore. He’s started in on Jason and Jack now, too. I want to sell the house, take my half of the money, and get away from him, take the boys with me. When I told Luke about the offer, he called the man up and told him he’d sell him the house for double. He’s being entirely unreasonable, and I really can’t see him getting that amount of money for the place. God, it feels so good to tell you all of this. To vent. Please write me back if you

have the time. I’d call you, only Luke still hasn’t had the telephone connected, and I hate using public phones. Anyway, I heard about your new teaching job at the university. Aunt Moira visited a few weeks ago and told me. It must be very exciting. I’d love to hear about how you’re getting along there. Your loving sister, Phillipa. Out of the whole letter, the part I fixate most on is, It’s not just me he hurts anymore. He’s started in on Jason and Jack now, too. Tears make my eyes grow watery. I read the next few letters. They mostly detail Phillipa, Jay’s mother’s, struggle with depression and dealing with her husband’s physical abuse. They mention the property developer coming over to the house while her husband is at work on several occasions. I get the sense of their friendship growing until it becomes something more. Phillipa never mentions his name until the seventh letter. She’s terrified of her husband finding out, but the property developer is keen for them to continue their secret affair. And that’s when she finally does mention his name. Brian. I stare at the name for a long time, trying to figure out if it’s just a coincidence, or if this means something. Then I pull out my phone and Google “Brian Scott.” Sure enough, his Wikipedia page details how he came from a lower working-class background and that it’s rumoured he was a loan shark in his younger years before he ventured into property development, shortly followed by the launch of his newspaper, The Daily Post. Christ. Jay’s mother had an affair with Brian Scott. I move on to the next letter, noticing how they become more and more desperate for advice. It seems that Brian is not the fairy-tale prince she originally thought. Apparently, he is now threatening to reveal their affair to her husband if she doesn’t somehow convince him to sign the papers and sell their house. She also mentions that Brian’s girlfriend showed up one day, shouting and screaming at Phillipa to stay away from her boyfriend. It’s all becoming too much for her. She tries to get her husband to sign the papers, but he’s a stubborn, greedy man, and refuses to sell the house unless Brian is prepared to pay an inordinate sum of money for it. Brian does not succumb to this. It seems that he, too, is a stubborn, greedy man. Philippa is considering taking what little money she has hidden away and leaving with her two boys. She cannot take much more of what is happening. She wants to disappear. And that’s when the letters end. My heart is racing. What occurred between Phillipa’s last letter and her death? Judging from the dates, they can’t have been written very long before Jay’s family died and he went to live with his uncle. I just have to know.

I slip on my shoes and call a taxi, instructing the driver to take me straight to Jay’s apartment. He gave me a spare key a couple of months ago, saying it was only fair since he still had a key to my place. I take the elevator up to the top floor and get out, walking down the hallway and stopping when I get to Jay’s place. I don’t need to use my key, because the door has been kicked in. My shock lasts only a moment before I force myself into action, taking out my phone and dialling emergency services. I whisper down the line just in case the person or persons who broke in are still there. The woman on the other end assures me that the Gardai are on their way. I should go outside and wait for them to arrive. That would be the logical thing to do. But I’m not feeling very logical, it seems, because I step right past the kicked-in door. I still have the rape alarm, pepper spray, and Swiss army knife in my handbag. I dig out the pepper spray, which, might I add, is not exactly legal in this country. And when I say “not exactly legal,” I mean illegal. I had to order it online, deciding that breaking the law was a necessary evil in order to protect myself. There’s that phrase again. Perhaps Jay and I are more alike than I thought. It’s quiet when I first step inside, but then I hear the voices, loud and desperate. They’re coming from the terrace balcony. Moving through the apartment slowly, I make my way to the door that leads outside, but stop just on the threshold, hiding myself behind the doorframe. If my heart was racing before, now it’s catapulting into the stratosphere. Jay is standing just by the railing that surrounds the terrace, and before him is a crazed-looking Brian Scott, a gun held out in front of him aimed directly at Jay. “Why did you do it, huh? Why?!” Brian demands. The professional way in which he’s holding his weapon leads me to believe this is not the first time he’s threatened someone at gunpoint. However, there’s a crazed air about him that is far from professional. I have no doubt he’s mad enough right now to use the gun. “Put that fucking thing down and I’ll tell you,” says Jay, his voice sharp, yet way too calm for the current situation. He looks at Brian, who isn’t putting the gun down, cocks an eyebrow, and goes to sit on a deck chair. “No? All right, then, you keep on pointing it at me if it makes your dick feel bigger.” “You’ve destroyed my business, my career, my life! I will use this. I swear I will,” Brian yells. Jay looks at him like he’s a hysterical housewife who just had her clean carpets trodden all over with mucky shoes. “I don’t doubt you, Brian. A man left with nothing has nothing left to lose, right?” he says, and there’s a vicious tone to his words. Jay pulls a cigarette from behind one ear and a match from behind the other. Striking the match off the side of his boot, he brings it to the end of his cigarette and lights up. He exhales a long puff of smoke as he stares at Brian. When he does this, his eyes are different; his face is transformed into something hard and inscrutable. Undiluted hatred seeps from his pores, all directed at the man standing

before him. I’ve never seen him look like this before. A chameleon that can become someone else with nothing but a change in its facial muscles springs to mind. He looks dangerous. For the first time, I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of the tortured, pained soul that’s been hidden beneath the surface. And it is just as real as the witty charmer I’ve come to know. “I suppose I should start off with the simple part,” says Jay. “Fields was my mother’s maiden name. Do you wanna hazard a guess at what my birth name was?” “I don’t have time for guessing games,” Brian spits. Jay exhales another puff of smoke and flicks off the ash. “No, I don’t suppose you do. My birth name was McCabe. Jason McCabe, ring a bell?” Brian’s eyes widen, and his hold on the gun falters for a second before he rights himself. “You’re lying.” “Nope. You wanted to buy my parents’ house back in the day. Dad was being a prick about it, so you decided you’d start up an affair with my mother, then use it as blackmail to get her to push Dad to sell the house. You didn’t bank on what an evil shit my dad could be, and when he started making demands, you got angry. You wanted to do something that would force my family out of that house, and that’s when your little girlfriend, Una, began whispering in your ear. “I like to think of her as your own personal Lady Macbeth, but with a much lower IQ. Una was jealous of the time you’d spent with my mother. In fact, she despised my mother for taking your attentions away from her. She wanted her out of the picture, so she convinced you that setting fire to our house would be a good idea. That the fire department would arrive in time to save our lives, but that once the house was destroyed, my parents would sell the land to you in a heartbeat. So, like men who let their cocks lead them the world over, you did as Una suggested. Only the fire department didn’t get there in time, did it, Brian?” Jay stands now and takes a step toward him, his passion growing by the second. “You orchestrated all of this because that fire killed your family?” Brian responds, and takes a step back, the wind gone out of his sails. “Yes, but wait, there’s more,” says Jay. “You got our house, but there was another one you needed to buy up in order for your building project to go ahead. The family who lived in this neighbouring house were just as adamant not to sell, because they loved their home too much to move somewhere else. You were no stranger to threatening people to get what you wanted, so you had your men break into the house one night with the intention of putting the frighteners on them. One of your men took things a little too far, though, and shot the wife. Do you know whose wife that was, Brian?” “This was all a long time ago,” Brian mutters, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d remember, which only proves you deserve everything I’ve done to you. I know we’re not the only ones who’ve suffered because of the things

you’ve done. You’ve fucked up so many lives that you can’t even keep count anymore. It made you rich, I’ll give you that. But you know what they say, Brian, behind every great wealth is a great crime, and your crimes are insurmountable. Still no idea whose wife it was?” Brian lifts the gun higher. “Fuck you. I don’t care. I don’t bloody care. You’ve completely fucked me.” Jay stubs out his smoke and gets up from his seat. What he says next makes me feel like fainting. “It was Hugh Brandon’s wife. The same man who represented me in court. The one who brought down your entire newspaper, everything you’ve built by being a selfish, evil degenerate. It’s all quite poetic, isn’t it?” I turn around and sink to the floor as the puzzle pieces fit themselves together in my head. When I was little, my neighbours’ house burned down, and Jay was that boy, the one I used to play with and take care of. Una Harris and Brian Scott were the reason that house burned down. They were the reason my family was torn apart by my mother’s death. The reason why Jay did this. He did this for us. For my family and for his. Tears fill my eyes, grief and gratitude melding into one. Brian’s voice is calmer now, but not in a good way. I try to pull myself together enough to pay attention to what’s happening. Slowly, I stand back up, scanning Jay’s apartment for anything that resembles a weapon. I still have the pepper spray clutched in my hand, but I’m not sure if it will help. What if Brian pulls the trigger as a reflex when I spray him? Unfortunately, if what he says next is anything to go by, he’s going to pull it anyway. “Thanks for clearing that up for me, Jason. Now I can do what I came here to do,” says Brian in a dead, monotone voice. “You gonna shoot me? Go ahead,” says Jay, and that’s when his eyes move to mine. He knew I was here all along! He makes some sort of subtle nodding gesture to the spray I’m holding, but I don’t know what it means. Does he want me to use it? Not use it? I only have seconds to decide, and right before Brian pulls the trigger, I dive out onto the balcony, aiming right for his eyes. Brian wails when the spray hits him, and the gun goes off. Jay jumps right over the edge of the balcony, and I gasp in shock. I think the bullet still hit him. Brian lets the gun drop as he clutches his face, and I grab it. Sweat is pouring out of me and my heart is racing, my chest heaving. I have never held a gun before in my life, but I point it at Brian just as several uniformed men burst into the apartment. They take the gun from me, and I let them, shock kicking in. They handcuff me, but I don’t have words to explain to them what happened. I’m staring at the railing Jay just jumped over, but then I notice a pair of hands holding onto the edge. Relief floods me as he pulls himself back up onto balcony.

He didn’t jump. He’d been holding onto the bar. There’s blood on his shirt from where the bullet grazed him. I focus on that as he talks angrily to the officers, instructing them to take the handcuffs off me right away. He goes on to tell them that the gun belonged to Brian and I was only defending myself. Once I’m uncuffed, Jay walks me over to his couch and sits me down, rubbing soothingly at my shoulders and staring at me with soulful, expectant eyes. I hear him telling the officers that there’s a security camera out on the terrace, and they’ll be able to see everything that happened in the footage. Time passes. I remain in my place, trying to figure out how the skinny, uncared-for young boy I used to play with as a child could be the same man I’ve come to know. How did I not recognise him? I know he doesn’t look anything like he used to, but I like to think there would be something in his eyes that would make me remember. Something in his mischievous smile. Because when I think of that smile, I suddenly realise that it’s the very same smile he often gave me when we played as kids. The tears spring forth again, my heart pounding. He hadn’t been in my life for long, but I’d cared for him so much. Had always looked back on him as one of the most important childhood friends I’d ever had, both him and his brother. His poor little brother who’s dead and gone, all because of Brian and Una. The moment I’d first laid eyes on him that day at the office, I’d felt a connection. I never fathomed it could be because I’d known him all along. And he’d known me. Now I understand everything. I understand why Jay did all this. I understand his need for retribution. But why didn’t he tell me from the very beginning? Why keep it a secret all these months? Before I know it, the apartment has been cleared, Jay has jimmy-rigged the door until the repair man comes in the morning, and we’re alone. Silently, he comes and wipes my tears away with his fingertips. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper, moving my eyes to meet his. I want to stare at him for hours, just soak up the contours of his face. For a brief minute in time, I’d thought he was dead out there on that balcony. A moment of silence elapses. He stares at me until I look at him again, then starts to speak. “Because I wanted you to see me, the real me. I didn’t want you to remember a beat-up, skinny, sad little kid with a dead family when you looked at me.” “I liked that kid. And I like the man, too. It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Jay runs a hand through his hair and gets up from his seat. He walks across the room before coming back to sit with me again. He takes my hands firmly into his and looks deep into my eyes, too deep, almost. “If I told you who I was, then I’d have to tell you my entire plan. You never would have gone for it. You have too much honour, and I didn’t want to involve you in any of the shady things I had to do to make the trial happen. That’s why I’ve kept you at a distance, too. I didn’t want what was between us to be built on secrets,

secrets I couldn’t tell you. You’d have told your dad, and then he never would have agreed to represent me in court. And I needed him to do it. I needed him to be the one to take down Brian and Una, because they were the ones who ruined his family, destroyed his life. I did a lot of research on your dad, you know, before I ever came back here. He graduated top in his class, won some very high-profile cases before your mom passed. Then it all went to shit. His confidence plummeted. I wanted to give him back something of what he’d lost.” I stare at him, mouth open, heart clenching. He did that for my dad. I never thought anyone really cared about us but each other. But that wasn’t true. There was a boy who grew into a man who cared enough to fight for us. And now I feel like crying again. “Hush, don’t cry, darlin’,” says Jay, the tears in my eyes upsetting him. He brings my hand up to rest on one side of his chest where the six of hearts tattoo is drawn. He’s still topless after the paramedics came and bandaged up the wound where the bullet grazed him. He takes my finger and places it on one of the hearts. “This one is you, Matilda.” He moves it to the next one. “This one is me.” And the next. “This one is my brother. This one is my mom. This one is your dad, and this one is your mom. Six hearts, remember? Six people I care about most. I did this for all of us.” He moves my hand again, bringing it to the other side of his chest, where the cubist design is drawn. He traces my finger over it in the shape of an “M,” and I suddenly see that the tattoo is an illusion, and hidden within the illusion is the first letter of my name. “This one is you, too, the most important one,” he murmurs, and I gasp. “You got this for me?” I whisper, hardly able to believe it. “I did, Matilda. I might tell you that you’re mine, but you need to understand that it goes both ways. I belong to you, too.” My heart hammers. I can’t think of a thing to say. He brings his hand to my neck, to my scar, and starts to rub. “Those letters I gave you? They’re only half of them. The rest have far more details about Una and Brian. I found them one day in my uncle’s study when I was searching for money to run away with. I took them with me when I ran, and after I read them, a black pit started to grow inside me. I knew I had to do something to fix what happened to my mom and my brother, to punish the people who did it to them. They had been my whole world. I didn’t give a fuck about my dad. He could burn in hell for all I cared. The anger festered inside me for years. Then I started doing magic professionally and got back on my feet. I began looking into Brian and Una, seeing where they were now, and I knew I had to take them down. They were on top, and from what I could tell, they’d ruined a lot of people to get there. “Then I remembered your family, how spending my evenings at your house were some of the happiest times of my life. So I got curious and looked you guys up. What I discovered was a newspaper article about the break-in, detailing how your mom was shot, and you and your dad beaten and injured. I pictured you as this little

nine-year-old girl being attacked by a grown man, and it made me so angry I could kill someone. I investigated further and saw that your house had been sold to Brian’s company, and I knew he was behind the break-in. So then my plan grew. I wasn’t just getting revenge for myself anymore — I was getting it for you and your dad, too.” He’s still rubbing my scar. “Dad knows, doesn’t he? That’s what you both were arguing about the other night.” Jay sighs. “Yeah. I had to tell him. It had gotten to the point where half the evidence I had wasn’t making sense to him anymore, so he had to know.” “You should have told me.” “You know I couldn’t. This needed to run smoothly. I couldn’t risk it.” I pull away from him. “That’s bullshit. I wouldn’t have told anyone. I would have kept your secret.” He ignores my anger and instead continues talking. “The first time I saw you since you were a kid was about two years ago, on the street outside your dad’s offices. You were carrying a bunch of takeaway coffees, struggling to keep a hold of all of them. God, you were so fucking beautiful. I wanted to go and help you, introduce myself, but I had to wait. I watched you a lot after that, finding reasons in my head to go and check up on you. You never saw me, not until the day I came for my appointment. I found my feelings for you growing. In the beginning, I thought I cared for you like a sister, but then I saw you as a woman, and I was done for. You were beautiful…and I was drowning.” “You…you followed me without my knowledge?” He clears his throat. “I’m not saying it was a logical or good thing to do. But I had to see you, even if it was from afar. I became addicted. And then I really knew I couldn’t tell you about my plan until it was all over. I couldn’t take the chance. I needed you to fall in love with me, because I was already so deeply in love with you.” My heart stops, just literally stops beating. “What?” I whisper. “I was in love with you,” Jay repeats. “I am in love with you. I think I’ve loved you since I was a kid.” Staring into his eyes, I see the sincerity of his words. Epic love. All of a sudden, it comes to me. The epic love I’ve always wanted was with me all along, and it’s nothing like what I imagined. It’s better, because it’s real. It’s not perfect or pretty. It’s full of mistakes and sacrifices, and sometimes even ugliness. All of a sudden, I know that none of the bad things Jay has done in the past matter. My feelings for him are what matter, and there’s nothing on this earth that could change them. Words fail me again, and I’m shaking. Jay rambles on, “If I told you who I was and what I was doing straight off the bat, you might not have wanted anything to do with me. So, I became your housemate. I became your friend. We got to know each other. And even though you won’t admit it to yourself, I know you love me, darlin’. I can see it right there in those gorgeous

baby blues.” He takes my face in his hands now, his thumbs stroking just under the line of my jaw, his voice hushed. I tremble. “After my family died in that fire, I came to stay at your house. You probably don’t remember this, but I was crying into my pillow. You came into the room, crawled into bed beside me, and held me the entire night. I’ll never forget it. We were just kids, but I think you stole a piece of my heart that very night.” Tears start to fall down my cheeks, but he wipes them away. “I do remember. I could hear you crying. I thought you were having a nightmare, so I went inside to check on you.” “I never have nightmares when you’re with me, Matilda,” he says. “I….” My throat catches. “I have so many questions.” His eyes go sad, and for a second I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing. The sadness vanishes quickly, though, and he tugs me farther onto the couch to sit on his lap. “Ask me, then.” We stay there for hours, and he tells me everything. How it took him years to conceive of his plan. How in the beginning he never actually thought he’d go through with it, but just the idea of revenge, of relief, was soothing to him. The possibility that he would one day make things right. He’d pace each night before bed, reciting his plan, sometimes adding on new bits, and it helped him to sleep. Then came the hard part. He knew that some of the things he needed to do would require the help of some questionable individuals, so he sought to make a connection with a man named Seamus Crowley, a powerful crime lord in the city. This was the same man I’d seen him meet up with that night at the docklands with the shifty-looking bodyguards. The one who came to me in the park. Jay paid Seamus to help him forge the documents he needed to make it look like David Murphy had died. He also helped Jay ensure those documents went missing before the case got to trial. And that’s why he took something from Brian Scott that day outside The Daily Post offices. It was his access card, and Jay needed it to get into the newspaper’s file rooms. The idea of Jay having associations with a crime boss makes me worry, but he assures me that his debt to Seamus has been paid in full. Seamus threatening me that day was him flexing his muscles, ensuring that Jay paid his debt to him. Both David Murphy and the cameraman, Blake, who was acting as Una Harris’ informant, were in on the plan. Like Jessie, they had been good friends of Jay’s for years, owed him for many favours he’d done for them, and so they agreed to help him. Blake started working as Una’s informer long before they started filming, gaining her trust in order to ensure she’d believe him about the death. In regards to the TV show, Jay had only a small number of people working on it with him, people he knew he could trust with the secret that David Murphy wasn’t dead. The television executives only put a pause on the show after Una Harris’ article had come out, and Jay let them believe her, simply never correcting them

that David was, in fact, still alive. Since it was mostly his own money invested in creating the show in the first place, the channel didn’t lose much in finally cancelling it several months before the trial. So, how did he know Una would even pick up the story in the first place? Now, that I’m under strict instructions not to reveal. But I will say this: My dad’s sudden interest in renovating our spare bedroom and renting it out was NOT his own decision. Neither was it the decision of the three volunteers at Jay’s show to write down the band, book and painting that they did. It’s all very clever and the power of subconscious suggestion is a fascinating thing. So no, Jay is not actually magic, nor does he possess “godlike super minding-reading skills.” (Jerry Burke, 2013, Hotmail.) Let’s just say, if you could crack open the man’s brain and take a look inside, it would be a truly illuminating experience. My head actually hurts by the time he’s finished telling me everything. “I can’t believe how much time you invested in all of this,” I tell him. “How much effort. I feel unworthy.” Jay’s arm rests along the back of the couch. He runs his hand through my hair. “Never doubt your worth to me, Matilda. My whole life, my entire career, is investing vast amounts of time for one single result, a result that sometimes only lasts a moment. Every illusion takes hours, weeks, months of planning, and each one is worth the time. In a lot of ways, what I did to get justice for our families was a mirror of that process, and I don’t regret a single moment. You know why?” “Why?” I whisper. He locks eyes with me. “Because every step brought me here. To you.” His mouth is so close to mine I can practically taste him. Our breaths mingle, full of need that we’ve been suppressing for months. I lick my lips, and he watches the movement hungrily. Between that second and the next, his mouth descends on mine, and he’s kissing me with a fiery passion. My body melds to his, my hands grasping for his belt, wanting his pants gone. “Been a real long fucking time,” he murmurs as he sucks on my neck. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you, taste you, these past few months?” I moan. “A lot.” “Yeah, a lot,” he rasps. “So much I’ve now got a master’s in masturbation.” Giggles burst forth. “Jason, please never use ‘master’s in masturbation’ ever again.” “Why not? It’s got a good ring to it.” His hand goes between my legs, up under my skirt, and straight past my underwear. I whimper when he slides his fingers deep inside me and swears loudly. “I don’t like it.” “You love it.” One pump. “Do not.” Another one. “Yeah, ya do.” His fingers move fast now, in and out, and I don’t want to be talking anymore. Still, I can’t let him have the last word. “Don’t.”

“You do. You fucking love it, and you love me, too.” I gasp, and our eyes lock. He stares at me, still finger-fucking me. “Try to deny it. I dare you,” he goes on with a dark, sexy look. “I do….” He puts his other hand to my lips to shush me, then picks me up and carries me into his room. I’ve only been in his bedroom here a handful of times, and it thrills me when he lays me down on the bed before stripping off every last item of clothing I have on. I lie there, chest heaving, as he moves away from me. Seconds later, he’s gloriously naked and crawling back up my body. He spreads my legs, his mouth going straight for my sex. I cry out the second his tongue makes contact with my clit. Jay’s right. It has been way too long. He works on me in a frenzy, the both of us desperate for each other. He looks up at me, his eyes smouldering, and my cheeks heat. I love how quickly he can strip me bare, literally and figuratively. I brush my fingers through his hair in adoration, my heart so full it could burst. My body coils tight, and I know I’m going to come soon. The orgasm hits me hard and quick, and as the pleasure is shattering through me, I blurt out a fervent declaration, “I love you, Jay. I love you so much.” He smiles up at me, a crooked, dashing smile, and replies, “Yeah, ya do. Love you, too, Watson.” “Come here,” I murmur, and pull him up my body, dragging his mouth to mine. Our tongues collide as his erection teases between my legs. With one swift, hard thrust of his hips, he’s deep inside me. We break the kiss, and our gazes lock. His hand cups one side of my face, his eyes reverent. “You’re my home, Matilda,” he breathes, his words a vow. “I feel at peace now. You’re mine.” I moan as goose bumps break out all over my body. “Say it,” he demands. “I’m yours,” I choke out, feeling like I’m fit to burst with the love that runs through me for this man. “I’m yours.” A glorious smile splits his lips as a sheen of sweat forms at his temples. His mouth is over mine as he whispers, “Yeah, you are, and I’m yours.” For hours he consumes me with his body, his passion overwhelming, his soul the perfect match for mine. He makes love to me until the sky starts to brighten, marking a brand-new day.

THIRTY

couple of days later, a letter arrives in the post for me and Dad. I immediately A recognise the handwriting on the envelope, the frenetic, messy scrawl that belongs

to Jay, and it makes me smile big. It also makes me even more eager to open it and see what’s inside. The tiny heart stamp with a six inside on the corner of the envelope is also a dead giveaway. For several days he’s been a man of mystery, setting up some kind of show. In all honesty, I’ve been dying to know what it’s all about, and I’m imagining whatever’s inside this envelope is going to be a clue. Opening it up, I pull out the small square card. It’s an invitation. Miss Matilda Brandon and Mr Hugh Brandon are cordially invited to join Mr Jason Fields for an exclusive evening at The Paint Cellar this Saturday, February 8th, at 8 p.m. I turn the card over, but it’s blank. The Paint Cellar is the same venue where he had his show the last time, but the invitation doesn’t mention a performance, so I’m not entirely sure what we’re in for. Dad glances over my shoulder. “Ah,” he says, “a mysterious invitation from your boyfriend. I wonder what he has in store for us.” I turn to Dad and grin. The other day I sat down with him and told him that Jay and I are together. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I certainly didn’t expect his one-word reply to be, “Finally!” I think that when it comes to me and Jay, Dad has always seen far more than he let on. He squeezes my shoulder and takes the invitation from my hand, turning it over to see if there’s anything on the back, the same as I did. He lifts his head then and smiles at me whimsically, the faint sheen of emotion in his eyes. “Young Jason will take you on an adventure, Matilda. Promise me you’ll let yourself enjoy every moment of it.” I stare at him, trying to decipher his meaning, before squeezing his hand and replying simply, “I will.” My whole life I’ve been careful, never fully letting go. I think this is my dad’s way of telling me to throw caution to the wind. Ride the roller coaster.

And I plan on relishing every up and every down. ON SATURDAY we arrive at the venue promptly as requested. There are only about thirty or forty people in the audience, scattered out in random seats. Unlike the enthusiastic droves of fans I encountered at his first show, these people don’t seem very happy to be here. In fact, there’s an atmosphere of grudging acceptance among them. I spot Jessie and Michelle sitting a few rows back from the stage, so I link my arm through Dad’s and lead him over with me to join them. “Hey, you two,” I say, taking the seat beside Jessie, “any idea what this is all about?” Jessie shrugs. “He’s kept me in the dark about this one, actually. So I’m just as clueless as you are.” I nod at her. “And what about these people? I get the feeling they aren’t too happy to be here.” Jessie grins. “Yeah, I get that vibe, too. I’m sure all will be explained once Jay decides to show his face. Oh, and by the way, did you hear that Brian’s being charged for attempted murder, and charges are being filed against Una for the whole computer hacking thing?” “Really!” I exclaim, my jaw dropping. “Really,” says Jessie. Some strange satisfaction forms inside of me. It feels inherently right that those two are finally getting what they deserve after all the lives they’ve destroyed. And I have Jay to thank for it. Before we can talk more, the house lights dim, and a video is projected onto the screen at the back of the stage. The video that plays is for last week’s lottery numbers, a pretty blonde presenter coming on and calling out the selected balls. There are murmurings among the audience, and then the short video is over. Another video starts up, this one showing Jay standing in the living area in his apartment. He looks into the camera and begins to speak. “So, I guess you’re all wondering why you were invited here tonight.” A man in the front row snickers disdainfully. “Yeah, you’d be right about that.” “I suppose it’s accurate to say that I’m not your favourite person. You all lost your jobs because of me. My court case had your newspaper shut down, and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, so I’ll make this quick. I investigated each and every person who worked for the newspaper, and the thirtythree of you are the only ones who came up clean. So, the question that I’m going to ask you all now is, did you play the lottery last week? I’m guessing you’re going to say no, or that you did but didn’t have much luck. Well, I actually beg to differ on that. All thirty-three of you played.” A few surprised sounds come from the audience, but mostly everybody’s still sceptical. Video Jay pulls a small piece of paper from his pocket and holds it up to

the camera. “You see these numbers. Anybody recognise them?” I let my eyes drift over the paper. It’s a lottery ticket, and the numbers selected are the exact numbers called in the previous video. The winning numbers! Gasps of disbelief fill the room. I stare at video Jay in awe, not understanding how this can be real. It’s not possible to predict the lottery. It just isn’t. Almost every single person is confused. Video Jay’s smile reaches Cheshire cat territory as he goes and picks up the camera. He carries it over to his kitchen table, where there are dozens of envelopes spread out neatly across the surface, all containing addresses and stamps. Jay pans across the envelopes and continues talking from behind the camera. “Anybody recognise these locations?” he asks. One woman speaks up, rising from her seat. “That’s my address!” “If you look real closely,” says video Jay, “you’ll see that each envelope is addressed to those of you in the audience. Inside each envelope is a check made out to the receiver. Last week’s lotto amounted to just over four million euros. Since you all played and won, each of you is now one hundred and twenty-five thousand euros richer. I hope this makes up for the stretch of bad luck you’ve all been having lately.” He puts the camera back down so that it’s on him again. “If you look to the bottom left-hand corner of this video, you’ll see that I filmed this yesterday, and I am now going to pay a visit to the post office. Tomorrow morning, check your post — you might just find a little surprise waiting for you.” He smiles into the camera, and then the video shuts off. The audience bursts into animation, exclamations of disbelief filling the venue. By some strange feat, Jay has just won the lottery for all of them. That’s some magic trick. Or was it a trick at all? I want to ask him how he did it, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. Then, as if by magic, I sense somebody’s eyes on me. Turning around, I see Jay standing at the back of the venue. He smiles, gives me a nod to follow him, then turns and walks down the hall that leads outside, his back to me. I rise from my seat and hurry after him. Jay walks slowly to let me catch up, stepping out onto the cobbles of Temple Bar. The Saturday-night crowds are out in droves, filling the streets with their drunken shouts and excited laughter. He turns to me, his eyes lit up with their trademark post–magic trick mischief. I beam up at him, shaking my head. He links his arm through mine. “Good evening, Watson. Care to take a stroll?” Silently, I nod, and we walk down the street until I stop and turn to face him again, placing my hands firmly against his chest. “Okay, I have to ask. Was that real? Did you really just magically win the lottery for all those people?” He grins. “I’d like to hear your theory.” “Hmm, I was thinking maybe you used the money from your settlement, but that was two million, not four.” One eyebrow raised, he tells me, “I’m actually donating my settlement money to

a charity for victims of domestic abuse.” I gape at him. “You are?” He swipes his thumb over my chin. “Yes. I’m certain some of your goodness must be rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, almost absently, as his eyes trace my features. “Don’t give me that. You were always good. Too good. But please, tell me if what I saw on that video tonight was real.” Jay looks at me for a long moment, eyes shining brown and green under the street lights. “Do you really want an answer?” he asks back. “Isn’t it more exciting not knowing, just letting the possibilities be endless? Like, maybe I’m a genius and figured out some mathematical formula of probabilities to predict the lottery. Maybe I bribed the ball guy to rig the system.” He pauses to laugh and pulls the same ticket he’d shown on the video out of his pocket. “Maybe I faked this ticket, and I’m just giving them my own money. Maybe I’m psychic. Maybe I had a real good time at the poker tables. The maybes could go on forever, Watson, but we both know that mystery is better than the truth. So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.” He gives me a devilish wink. I shake my head at him, unable to keep my smile from growing wide. I point a finger into his chest, beaming up at him. “You, Mr Fields, are insufferable.” He laughs. “That’s a lie. You find me charming. I know when you’re lying, remember?” “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate that?” “You don’t have to,” his voice is full of affection. “I can tell when you hate it, too.” Something pops into my head, and I wag my finger at him. “A-ha, but I lied to you once, and you never knew.” “Oh, yeah,” he says indulgently. “And when was this?” “The night I was attacked by the thug. It wasn’t random. Una was there.” Slowly, his smile grows wider. “I knew you were lying then, too. Didn’t you notice my knuckles were fucked up the next morning?” “No, I didn’t. And what does that mean? You spent the night on the couch.” “Not the whole night. I snuck out, found the fuck Una paid to threaten you, and made sure he wouldn’t be doing it again.” I stare at him, awestruck. “How did you know?” “I asked you a few innocent questions, watched your reactions, and figured the rest out for myself. It takes a lot of practice to be able to lie to me.” He pauses, voice going soft and sexy. “And I’m too obsessed with you not to know every single one of your tells.” That answer both endlessly pleases and irritates the hell out of me at the same time. “That’s…okay, that’s kind of cool.”

He chuckles tenderly as his arms go around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. I press my face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “And I love you,” I whisper. He lifts my chin and takes my mouth in a slow, lingering kiss before coming up for air. “Yeah, ya do.” Several people wolf whistle and shout encouragements at us as they pass by. He’s holding me so tight that I can feel his phone start to vibrate in his pocket, interrupting our little moment. I giggle, breaking the kiss. “Is that a vibrating phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” He gives me a crooked smirk as he pulls out his phone to answer it. “A bit of both.” He doesn’t let go of me through his conversation. I’m not sure who he’s talking to, but his end consists of a lot of yes and no answers, before ending with a, “Great, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon, then.” I watch as he tucks the phone back in his pocket and pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my temples. “Who was that?” I ask. His answering grin makes me shiver, in a good way. “That was my agent over in the States. You’re about to cough up on that agreement, darlin’.” “Huh?” “I just got booked for a string of shows. We’re going to Vegas, my dear.” I stare at him, open-mouthed, remembering the time when he told me how he did one of his tricks, and in exchange I’d have to go to America with him the next time he had shows there. It seems I really am going to keep my promise to Dad and let Jay take me on an adventure. I swallow hard, shivers breaking out all over my skin, and reply excitedly, “I guess we are. I can’t wait!”

EPILOGUE SEVERAL MONTHS LATER. LAS VEGAS, NEVADA.

as I accidentally prick myself with the needle. The suit I’m designing for I curse Jay to wear during his next performance is almost complete. Up until recently,

I’ve only ever designed dresses, but since I’m now a permanent member of his style and wardrobe team, I’ve been inspired to create something truly original. Something that represents him completely. If Mum is up there somewhere looking down on me, I think she’d be proud. I’ve taken the things she taught me and turned them into a career. It took me a couple of weeks to train a new secretary for Dad, but now I’ve finally left my solicitor’s office days behind me. I get to give style advice and create my own designs for a living. For me, it doesn’t get much better than that. This final part of the suit needed to be hand-stitched, a tiny red heart in the corner of the left lapel, and I was concentrating so hard that I managed to prick myself, drawing blood. I stick my finger in my mouth as I go in search of a BandAid. Finding one, I quickly wrap it around the cut and return to my sewing. I run my hand over the beautiful, midnight blue fabric, truly proud of the work I’ve done. I can’t wait to surprise Jay with this. I’ve been sneakily taking his measurements the past few weeks, ensuring that the suit will fit perfectly, but he has no clue what I’ve been up to. As I go to thread the needle again, I suddenly become aware of something cold on my skin. Glancing down, I gasp, my hand going to my mouth in surprise. Right there on my finger is the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I’ve ever seen, and it definitely wasn’t there a second ago. I stare at it for what feels like forever. Standing up again, I walk over to the mirror by my bed and stare at my hand through the glass. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Jay standing in the doorway, a smile on his mouth and love beaming from him. This is the way of things when your boyfriend is an illusionist. He has a habit of appearing out of thin air, and deep down he’s just a big kid who thrives on mischievous pranks and coming up with elaborate ways to surprise people. His childhood may have been stolen by adults, but he claims that childhood back with each new trick he creates. For months now I have been completely under his

spell. “What is this?” I ask, turning and thrusting my hand out to him; my heart is hammering and my brain is refusing to believe the very obvious meaning of the diamond currently residing on my ring finger. “It’s yours,” the mercurial bastard replies, all matter of fact, while my heart is zinging with a thousand mushy, fuzzy, lovey-dovey emotions. My eyes grow instantly watery with love and my cheeks flush pink with nervous excitement. “Jason, I’m not going to make you explain how you got this ring on my finger, but I must insist that you tell me why y-you’ve put it there,” I stammer, my voice jittery. He strides towards me and takes both my shaky hands into his. He lifts them and places them on his chest, while looking down at the ring as he rubs his thumb over it. “I want you to belong to me. I want to tell the world that you’re mine. That’s why I’ve put it there, Watson.” I blink away a tear and keep my eyes closed, whispering, “You have to ask the question.” His hot breath hits my cheeks as he leans in. He kisses away my tears, then nuzzles his nose into my temples. “Will you marry me, Matilda?” he asks softly. I open my eyes then and look up into his, replying instantly, “Yes, oh my God, yes.” He takes my face into his hands then, and kisses me until I’m tugging on his shirt and trying to figure out the quickest and most efficient way to rid him of his clothes. I don’t have to think for very long, because he pulls away, his eyes twinkling as he begins to undress himself with abandon. I watch, eating up every inch of skin that he reveals. Once he’s naked, though, he doesn’t come to me. Instead he walks over to the where I’ve left the suit. Turning back to meet my gaze tenderly, he asks, “For me?” My heart squeezes. “Yeah, Jay, it’s for you.” He grins when he sees the tiny outline of a heart I’ve stitched into the fabric, rubs his finger over it, but doesn’t breathe a word. His silence speaks volumes. Next he starts to try it on. A minute later he’s fully dressed and I come to stand in front of him and smooth out the collar. “You look good, husband-to-be,” I smile up at him. He smiles hotly and growls with satisfaction as he scoops me up into his arms before throwing me onto the bed. He crawls up my body, his eyes dark with lust, “I want to be your husband now. I don’t want to wait.” I giggle. “How soon do you think we could get Dad and Jessie over here? You know they’d go crazy if we had a wedding without them.” Jay tilts his head to the side, like he’s thinking about it. “Hmm, a couple of days maybe?” “That’s frighteningly soon, Jay. Are you sure about this?” He leans down and bites lightly on my neck. “Never been surer about anything

in my life.” His words make me melt. “Okay, then. I only have one rule.” “And what’s that?” he asks, not really paying attention as his mouth works its way down my neck. “We’re not getting married by Elvis,” I state firmly. He pauses and chuckles loudly, looking at me now. “Okay, it’s a deal. Sooo…how do you feel about ministers who wear deerstalkers?” I point a finger into his chest, a laugh bursting forth. “We’re not getting married by Sherlock Holmes either, Jason. No way in hell.” His smile deepens. “How about I go as Sherlock and you go as Watson?” “You’re trying to annoy me on purpose now,” I scold but I can’t stop smiling. “Clothes are my business. I’m going to wear a beautiful dress to my wedding, Jay. There will be no compromises.” “I suppose I can live with that,” he murmurs in my ear, his hand inching up under my skirt. “At least I can look forward to stripping it off you.” When he buries his face in my chest, I forget all about wedding dresses, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Elvis, and randomly appearing diamond rings. I lose myself in this glorious man who’s turned my life into an adventure and shown me wonder in the miraculous. With Jason Fields by my side, the world is a pretty magical place. END.

Continue the journey with the next book in the Hearts series Hearts of Fire. The Circus Spektakulär is proud to present Jack McCabe: Fire-breather, knifethrower, risk-taker. My house burned down when I was just a boy, robbing me of both my parents. Now I breathe fire, eat the poison that almost killed me. Crowds come to see me night after night. Men for the spectacle, women for the thrill. I’m an oddity to be stared at and desired. With each flame I spit, I risk my life. I wear scars on my body that will never go away, but the scars inside my head are far more difficult to overlook. My brother doesn’t know me, and if I have it my way he never will. Life was going exactly the way I’d planned until Lille came along. She wanted to run

away with the circus, have an adventure, but this world was never meant for her. I try to keep her safe, because she doesn’t know the dangers that are out here on the road. She doesn’t know the monsters that lurk behind the bright lights of the ring. In truth, I could be considered one of them. We were fashioned from different cloths, never intended to mix. So I watch her. I try not to touch, even when her eyes invite me. Join us in the Spiegeltent and let us give you a show. Allow my Lille to draw a picture for you in paint and sweat and skin. The truest love is always the hardest to let in.

HEARTS OF FIRE

Copyright © 2015 L.H. Cosway All rights reserved. ISBN-13: 978-1508535638 ISBN-10: 1508535639 Cover designed by RBA Designs. Editing by Indie Author Services. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

PLAYLIST

Dear reader, If you’d like to listen to the playlist for Hearts of Fire CLICK HERE.

For this world of readers and writers. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you. May we all have an adventure just like Lille’s, in the pages and in our minds.

I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list. — SUSAN SONTAG.

ONE

JACK AND LILLE MET ON A HILL

list. I hadI awas trying to tick one thing off it, but I was having trouble convincing

Shay to assist me. In the small Wexford town where I lived, there was only one tattoo parlour, and Shay Cosgrove owned and ran the place. He was several years older than I was, and I had a tiny crush on him, but that was another matter entirely. Right then, I was trying to convince him to give me a tattoo, and he was having none of it. “I’m sorry, Lille,” he said while crossing his tatted-up, muscular arms across his chest and giving me a placid look, “but if I put ink on you, your mother will have my guts for garters, and going up against Miranda Baker is not on my bucket list.” “But getting a tattoo is on my bucket list, and I adore your work, and I don’t want to have to drive all the way into the city to get it done, and….” He cut me off when he placed two fingers on my lips to shut me up. I swallowed and blinked, momentarily forgetting everything I was about to say because, as I mentioned earlier, I had a crush on him and his fingers were on my lips. Gulp. My eyes got all big and round, and my breathing accelerated. Shay smirked knowingly as he withdrew his hand from my mouth. Smug bastard. The sad thing was, he was well aware of my crush, but he found me about as attractive as a flat, lifeless piece of cardboard. All of the girls in this town fancied Shay, but he only went for the sexy, sassy hot chicks who were no doubt wild in the sack. I was not sexy or sassy, and my clothing was as plain Jane as you could get (thank you, Mother) — ergo, not hot. I was the arty girl with her head in the clouds, and it was not considered cool to be seen with me. In fact, it was considered the complete opposite of cool. But I was an artist, just like he was, so I thought we could bond over our shared loved of canvas and paint. That never happened. At best, Shay tolerated me. At worst, he wished I’d bugger off and quit pestering him with questions about tattoos. How does the gun work?

What kind of ink do you use? How often does the skin get infected? Can I have a go of the gun? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever tattooed on someone? So yeah, I was a question-asker. Most evenings I’d find a reason to stop by the parlour and admire his drawings, which were hung up all over the walls. I’d try to show him my own stuff, but he was uninterested. Shay was into dark art, like Giger and Kalmakov. I was into Pop art, like Warhol and Lichtenstein. I was all about colour. Anyway, back to my list. It only contained ten items so far, and getting a tattoo was one of them. I’d designed it myself. It was a multi-coloured, paint-splashed hot air balloon. I’d wanted to get the tattoo first, because most of the other items on my list were about having an adventure and breaking free. For me, nothing symbolised an adventure more than a hot air balloon. Where would it take you? What would you do when you got there? Who would you meet? And since hot air balloon rides also had a chance of ending in disaster, I thought it was all the more appropriate. After all, there’s no point to an adventure if safety is guaranteed. The whole purpose is the unknown, the danger. I craved it more than anything. Shay had gone back to his sketching table, his back turned to me, when he said, “I’m not doing the tattoo, Lille, so you might as well get going.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and headed for the door. Just before I stepped outside, I turned around and said, “If you’re afraid of someone as ridiculous as my mother, then you must work so hard on all those muscles to hide the fact that you’re a massive wimp, Shay Cosgrove.” I sounded like a petulant child. Plus, I was being hypocritical, because if anyone was afraid of my mother, it was me. Still, I felt the need to put Shay in his place. He thought he was so hip and cool, but really he was just a pretentious small-town arsehole. Wow, I think my crush just disappeared. Cowardice was a surprisingly big turnoff. “Lille,” he began in an annoyed tone, but I left before he could get the last word in. I had to get to work anyway. I muttered my annoyance to myself as I struggled up the hill to the restaurant. Everywhere in this town you were either going up a hill or down a hill. It was like whoever built it was having a good old joke on behalf of all its future inhabitants. While I was on my summer break from college, where I was studying for a degree in business (at my mother’s behest), I was working part-time at a small restaurant in town. I was scheduled for the Sunday afternoon shift, and the place would be packed with families having dinner. I liked this shift best because my boss, Nelly, let me do face painting for the kids while the parents enjoyed their meals.

On a normal day I was a waitress, but on Sundays I got to be an artist. Well, as much as turning little boys into Spiderman and little girls into fairies counted as being an artist. I especially liked it when the girls wanted to be Spiderman and the boys wanted to be fairies. I was all for breaking the mould. And I loved kids. In fact, I felt far more comfortable talking to five-year-olds than I did talking to adults. Kids told you exactly what they were thinking. Adults said one thing when they really meant another entirely. It was confusing. I had a hard time connecting with most people. My curiosity and endless questions tended to turn them off. Mum said I came across too eager, and that I had to work on being more aloof and unattainable, whatever that means. I thought on this as I went inside the restaurant and began to set up my face paints at an empty table by the door. I smiled as I heard several little girls squeal in delight when they saw me. I was known as the face-painting lady around these parts and elicited much excitement in children. I waved hello to Nelly, who was standing by the service counter, and then let my eyes drift over the patrons. I recognised all of the regulars, but two tables down sat an old woman and a young man I’d noticed a couple of days ago. They’d been in every day since, and caught my interest mainly because the woman must have been in her sixties, and her hair was as red as a Coca-Cola can. She also wore about a hundred necklaces all tangled around her neck. The man had long, wavy dark brown hair and brown eyes. His skin was tanned, and he wore a battered old T-shirt. His equally battered brown fedora hat sat on the table in front of him. He reminded me a little of a sexy gypsy, though less of a My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding gypsy, and more of a Johnny Depp in Chocolat gypsy. He was tall, and his muscles made Shay’s look like puppy fat in comparison. Plus, there was the man bun his hair was messily tied up in. I was a swooning mess for a man bun. Always had been. In other words, he was hot…and I was staring. I’d found myself staring at him a lot this past week, but never caught him staring back (much to my disappointment.) The woman he was sitting with caught my eye and gave me a mischievous wink. I smiled to myself and looked away. There was a queue of kids lining up to have their faces painted, so I tried to focus on my job rather than the odd couple sitting two tables down. A little while later as I went to grab a glass of water, Nelly took me aside and asked, “See those two in there?” I nodded. “They’re from the circus, the one set up just outside of town. I think the woman is the owner. She’s a strange-looking character altogether.” I absorbed this information with another nod. I was well aware of the circus. In fact, tonight was its last show before it moved on, and I’d been saving up a little cash to go see it. My mind was awash with possibilities. I wanted to see clowns, elephants, lions, and acrobats. I wanted to see it all. I’d asked my sometimes friend

Delia if she wanted to come, but she’d given me the brush-off. I say “sometimes friend” because sometimes she ignores me, especially if her other friends are around. I think she really only tolerates me because my mum runs this big important tech company, and she wants to get in good with the local high-flying businesswoman. Really, I should be offended, but when you live in a small town in the southeast of Ireland, you kind of have to take what you can get in terms of friends. As the evening wore on, most of the diners trickled out, and the odd couple, as I’d started to refer to them in my head, were the only ones left in the restaurant. I was passing through the kitchen when John the cook had to run to the bathroom and asked me to keep an eye on some eggs. I nodded, and he hurried off. It was my own fault that I wasn’t paying proper attention, because I went to grab the handle and instead burned my hand on the side of the pan. “Ouch!” I screeched, loud enough to wake the dead. I held my hand to my chest, wincing at the pain. Half the inside of my palm was burned raw. A moment later, both Nelly and the odd couple came rushing into the kitchen to see what the racket was about. “What happened?” Nelly asked breathlessly. I bit my lip. “Burned my hand. Sorry about, uh, the screaming.” “I thought an axe murderer had broken into the place,” Nelly said. “Come here and let me see.” Taking a step toward her, I glanced at the dark-haired man. His deep, almost black eyes were fixed on my hand. His face was unreadable. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of this,” Nelly said, waving them both back outside. Now the man was staring into my eyes, and I got a little shiver down my spine, though it wasn’t unpleasant. They both went back to their table, and Nelly put some burn cream on my hand and wrapped it up. A few minutes later, the restaurant door opened, and a mother and daughter walked in. The little girl was eager to know if the face-painting lady was still around. I mustered a smile and went to ask her what she wanted to be. Since it wasn’t my dominant hand that had been burned, I could just about manage painting. “I want to be a pirate,” she declared as she pulled herself up onto a seat in front of me. “Oh, good choice!” I replied. Now I was thinking about Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. I had old Johnny on the brain today. I drew a fake goatee onto the little girl, complete with an eye patch and a red bandana. Then I took things a step further when I did a skull and crossbones on her cheek. When her mother came to get her, she didn’t look too pleased that I’d transformed her child into a hairy-faced marauder, but I just shrugged. It was what she’d asked for. “She looks like she wants to make you walk the plank,” a voice said just behind me. I turned to see the Coca-Cola-haired lady standing there. Her accent was

London cockney at its finest, and when she smiled, she had a million wrinkles around her eyes. They weren’t ugly. In fact, they were beautiful, full of character and experience. I wanted to colour them in with every shade of the rainbow. “Hmm, well, I am in the mood for a swim,” I replied humorously, and her smile widened. A shadow fell behind her as she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a flyer for the circus. The shadow belonged to Mr Tall, Dark, and Exotic. He stood there, unfathomable eyes on me, causing me to blush. All at once I felt sweaty, hot, and strangely self-conscious. It was like his eyes were taking the sum total of my parts, but I had no clue as to the result he’d settled on. The woman continued, “You should come see the show tonight, girly. It’s our last one.” “I’d already planned to. I can’t wait,” I exclaimed, picking up the flyer and folding it into a neat square. “I’ll wait for you outside, Marina,” said the man gruffly, his eyes meeting mine once more before he moved by us and walked outside. I watched him as he stopped, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit up. His grey T-shirt showed the muscles in his arms and his tanned skin. Quite like Marina, I would have liked to paint him, too, but for very different reasons. I’d been surprised to hear his deep Dublin accent. I was expecting something…I don’t know, foreign. I heard Marina laughing and brought my attention back to her. “If I were from the American south, I’d say he was a mighty ornery bastard,” she chuckled. “Never did manage to learn any social niceties, that one.” I swallowed and couldn’t help but ask, “Is he a part of the circus?” “Oh, yes, Jack’s a fire-eater. He’s a big attraction with the ladies, as you might guess. A pity he never mastered the art of charming them.” Her words made me imagine Jack sitting at a dinner table, knife and fork in hand, ready to dig into a plate of fire. “Oh, well, I suppose when you look like that, you don’t really need charm.” The words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to censor them, and Marina let out a loud guffaw of a laugh. “I like you. You say what you think. I hope your hand heals up fast,” she said, and patted me on the shoulder before following Jack out the door. I twisted in my seat and watched them say a few words to one another before walking down the hill away from the restaurant. When I arrived home after my shift, I wanted to run straight upstairs, take a shower, put on something nice, and head out to the circus. Unfortunately, Mum was waiting for me when I got there, her arms crossed over her chest, face stern and an opened letter in her hand. I narrowed my gaze when I saw the letter had my name on it. “Did you open my mail?” I asked indignantly. I should have been more surprised, but I was used to her control-freak behaviour by this stage. “Yes, and I’m glad I did. These are your end-of-year exam results, and I have to say they leave a lot to be desired.”

She walked towards me and shoved the letter into my hand, her designer heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I unfolded it and took a look. I’d gotten mostly Cs, a D, and a couple of Bs. They certainly weren’t the worst results in the world, but Mum expected perfection. “Considering I never wanted to do this degree, I think these results are pretty good,” I said bravely. Abruptly she turned, walked back to me, and slapped me hard across the face. I gasped and clutched my cheek in my hand in shock. Mum wasn’t often physically violent — words were her weapon of choice — but every now and again she’d strike me. It usually meant something hadn’t gone right for her at work, so she was taking that frustration out on me. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch!” she shouted. “After all the money I’ve spent on your education, you go and say something like that.” I stood there, speechless, as she grabbed my hip, pinching her fingers into the fleshy part. “And look at this. You’re putting on weight. I’m going to have to start controlling your calorie intake again.” Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give her that victory. And the fact of the matter was, there was nothing wrong with my weight. My mother simply possessed a talent for seeing flaws where there weren’t any. She was so miserable that she couldn’t see any of the beauty in the world. She wanted straight boring lines, and if anyone dared to veer away from them, she would make their lives hell. All my life I felt like I’d been living in quiet desperation. Following my mother’s rules and biding my time, waiting for the moment when I could finally break free. The thing was, I was twenty-one now, and my time still hadn’t come. I had a disturbing image of me still living under my mother’s roof at thirty, still keeping to her straight lines, never walking on the cracks, and it made me feel like screaming. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned calmly away from her and walked quietly up the stairs to my bedroom. I felt like my refusal to respond to her actions showed more strength than weakness. I would not sink to her petty level. Once there, I sat down at my dressing table, stared into the mirror, and took a calming breath. Then I opened a drawer and pulled out the folded piece of paper where I’d written my list, letting my eyes trail down the numbered items. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Dump Henry Jackson. Get a tattoo. Have sex with a stranger. Do something dangerous. Visit a place I’ve never been before. Fall in love. Make a new friend. Quit my degree. Become a real artist. Move out of my mother’s house.

I felt a small stirring of pride that I’d already completed number one several weeks ago before college let out for the summer. Henry was the son of one of my mother’s business associates and had been enrolled in the same course as me. Mum set us up on a date during my second year of studying, and we’d been conducting a dull, chemistry-free relationship for the last two years. Quite like the subject we were studying, the sex was all business. So I’d decided it was finally time to put an end to it. Mum was furious when she found out, and I could tell she was already plotting a way in which to get Henry and me back together. It wasn’t going to happen. As I went to change out of my work clothes, the flyer for the circus slipped from my pocket. I picked it up and read the little section at the back that gave a snippet of its history. Apparently, the Circus Spektakulär was thirty years old and originally set up by a German named Konrad Eichel. When he died seven years ago, Marina Mitchell, who had previously been the circus’s fortune-teller, took over as ringmaster. The circus was held not in a traditional circus tent, but in a Spiegeltent, which was a large, colourful structure dating from the late 19th century made from canvas and wood. Apparently, there were only a small number of Spiegeltents left in the world, which made the Circus Spektakulär something of a rare experience. Already I was imagining what it might look like so that I could paint it. Hurriedly, I pulled on a light summer dress and some boots, grabbed my coat, and sneaked out of the house as quietly as I could manage. A little rush of excitement ran through me when I got around the corner and speed-walked toward the edge of town. I could see lights flashing up into the sky as I got closer, could hear distant music. When I reached the usually vacant field where the circus was being held, I had to dodge some bits of mud where the grass had been trodden on too frequently. Old vaudevillian piano music played from speakers that had been set up all around, making you feel as though you were stepping through a portal back in time. I nodded hello to a few families I knew from town and stepped in line to buy a ticket. After I paid, I went to a stand that was selling popcorn and candyfloss. A girl with short brown hair wearing a T-shirt with a cat’s face on it smiled at me and asked what I’d like. I bought some popcorn in a paper cone and made my way inside the Spiegeltent. On the outside, it was a circular structure with a dome-like roof and was painted in red, blue, and yellow. The primary colours. Mix red with yellow, and you get orange. Mix red and blue, and you get purple. Mix blue and yellow, and you get green. I had always been interested in the very simple science of it all. When I was painting, sometimes I liked to mix random colours together to see what would happen. Often I’d discover a wonderful new shade of pink or purple, while at other times I’d discover that mixing too many colours just gave you an ugly brown or grey. I thought maybe that was a good philosophy for life. Experiment with your colours, but don’t experiment too much, or you’ll destroy the natural beauty.

It’s like that saying – too many cooks spoil the broth. The inside of the tent was circular in shape. The stage was a sturdy round platform in the centre with the seating surrounding it. Red and blue stripes lined the ceiling and gathered up towards the dome of the roof. I’d never been anywhere like this before, and I was fascinated. Sitting down on a seat three rows from the stage, I munched on my popcorn and waited for the place to fill up. Children’s excited laughter rang out over the chattering of adults and the vaudeville piano. I heard more mature giggling then, and turned my head to the side to see Delia and three of her friends looking in my direction. So much for her not wanting to go to the circus. Obviously, they were mocking the fact that I was there alone. My mouth formed a straight line as my gut sank. I felt a momentary flicker of self-consciousness. Was it weird to go to stuff like this on your own? All around me people seemed to be in groups of family or friends. Perhaps it was weird. Still, my resolve hardened. Delia really wasn’t my friend at all, was she? I needed to add an eleventh item to my list. Unfriend Delia. I pretended I was unaware of their mocking and focused my attention straight ahead. After a few minutes, I was almost out of popcorn, and the lights started to dim. I immediately recognised Marina’s voice as she announced over the speakers that the show was about to begin. Then a drumroll started up as she walked out onto the stage, wearing a top hat, a red coat with tails, tight black trousers, boots, and her trademark assortment of necklaces. Her lipstick was bright pink, and her eyes were lined with silver and gold eye shadow. However, the most interesting thing about her was that there was a little capuchin monkey sitting on her shoulder. A monkey! He had cream-coloured fur on his head and brown fur on his body, and when he jumped off Marina’s shoulder and headed towards the audience, I heard a number of children squeal with delight. “Welcome, everyone, to the Spiegeltent and the Circus Spektakulär! My name is Marina Mitchell, and I’ll be your master of ceremonies for the evening. The little guy currently running amok amid the audience is Pierre, my trusty capuchin sidekick. Please keep an eye on your belongings — he has habit of taking shiny things that don’t belong to him.” She paused to wink at a boy in the front row. “We are a small, independent circus and pride ourselves on giving audiences a unique and magical experience. We have been travelling around Europe, Ireland, and the UK for the past thirty years. Tonight you will see wonders to delight, astound, and thrill. You will see men tame beasts. You will see women dance in the sky. You will see bodies accomplish impossible feats. And yes, you will laugh until your bellies ache as our clowns act out the comical and ridiculous. But first, I give you our Elephant Men, Jan and Ricky.” Applause rang out as Marina took a bow and clapped her hands, and Pierre came running to climb back onto her shoulder. A moment later, two short men with dark

hair walked out onto the stage. They were bare-chested and wore matching silk trousers with intricate designs. When one of them made a small gesture, two elephants came trotting out. I smiled widely, my eyes going big as I stared at the magnificent creatures. Playful music came on, “Pink Elephants on Parade” from Dumbo. They marched around the stage in a circle, lifting their legs gracefully when prompted or throwing their trunks high into the air. During the act, the men led the elephants to go up on their hind legs, and at one point, Jan, I think it was, climbed up onto one elephant and sat on its back. Once their act was over, Marina was back out, introducing the Ladies of the Sky, three red-haired acrobats who I thought must be sisters, they resembled one another so closely. They hung from silky coloured ribbons, twisting, twirling, and diving. My hands itched for a paintbrush as the colours swirled above me. I could have sat there for hours detailing the orange glow of their hair and the lithe, graceful movements of their limbs. I was certain that my Gran, who had been the one who first taught me how to paint, would have loved to be here right now. Unfortunately, she died when I was ten, but I always remembered her teachings, always tried to live by her philosophies, which were so opposite from my mother’s. Make mistakes, Lille. Walk on the cracks. Break the rules that were made to be broken. Somebody sat down in the empty seat beside me, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see the girl from the popcorn stand. She was holding a stick on which was spun a massive cloud of pink candy floss. When she saw me looking at her, she smiled wide, her bright blue eyes sparkling, and asked, “Want some?” I nodded and eagerly plucked off a wisp before sticking it into my mouth. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome. I’m Lola.” “Lille.” “Pleased to meet you, Lille. Are you enjoying the show?” Again, I nodded, this time more fervently. “Absolutely.” “I’m on my break. Thought I’d come in for the best part. Jack’s on next.” Instantly, I recognised the name, and something both nervous and excited squeezed in my gut. Still, I feigned ignorance and asked, “Jack?” “He’s the fire-breather. He also does knife throwing. I swear, every time he throws a knife at someone, I can’t be certain whether or not he means to hit or miss. There’s this air of danger about him, you know.” I swallowed, more questions on the tip of my tongue, but the low, thrumming rock music that came on interrupted me. The bass hit me right in the pit of my stomach, and the crowd began to cheer. Marina made a passionate introduction for the Jack McCabe, fire-eater extraordinaire, and then he was walking out onto the stage, two long metal torches in his hands, the tips blazing with fire. My skin prickled with awareness, and somehow I just knew I was in for something truly amazing.

TWO

THEY CROSSED A SEA OF WATER

wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way that his large muscular frame moved H emesmerised me. He was all hard, toned muscle underneath gorgeous tanned

skin. I leaned forward in my chair, because it looked like there was scarring all along his shoulder and half of his back. “Are those….” “Burn scars?” Lola interjected casually. “That’s what they look like, but nobody knows for certain.” I glanced at her, unsure yet if I was comfortable with this girl. I was by contrast wary and delighted with her instant camaraderie. I’d never had a stranger come up to me and randomly act like we were already friends. For once, I wasn’t the eager one. Then again, I thought Lola and I probably came from very different worlds. Perhaps she did this kind of thing all the time. Thinking of Jack’s scars, I wondered if that was why he’d been staring at my burned hand so intensely today. Perhaps it brought back a traumatic memory for him. My eyes grew wide as he walked to the centre of the stage, holding out the two blazing torches. The crowd applauded when he began to swing them around dexterously, and my body got tense. He swung the torches in swift figure-eights, creating glowing swirls of orange in the dim light of the tent. I was both fascinated and worried that he might hurt himself, or worse, lose his grip on one of the torches. His movements were almost like dancing. He ran the fire along the length of one arm, and it blazed across his skin before flickering out. He licked at the other flame, then brought the entire torch into his mouth and swallowed the fire. Whoa. Sexily, he lifted a bottle to his mouth, took a drink, tipped a torch to his lips, and spat. Huge, billowing flames exploded outward, making it look like he was breathing fire. It held a terrifying sort of beauty. I heard quiet chuckling next to me and turned to see Lola grinning, “You’re fucking hilarious.” I frowned, unsure whether I should take offence. “What?” “You act like you’ve just seen a miracle.”

“Well, I’ve never been to a circus before, so….” Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s mad.” Then she dropped her face into the candyfloss and bit off a big chunk. She ate it like a three-year-old would eat a birthday cake, face first. Hearing delighted noises from those around me, I brought my attention back to Jack to see he was now swinging around pronged metal wheels, the tips all lit with fire. He reminded me of an ancient tribal warrior performing a victory dance, and it was sexy as shit. I felt a chill cover the surface of my skin, my pores prickling. There was something irrefutably carnal about this man, and I was shocked to discover how much he could arouse me without so much as a touch. Well, “shocked” was probably too strong a word. Since my mid-teens, I’d felt like I was a little preoccupied with sex. I mean, I had an active imagination and daydreamed about it all the time – probably because I had yet to find a partner who truly satisfied me. I was desperate to sate the foreign yet familiar hunger inside me. I’d always had this urge to explore, to experience something outside the realms of the normal. I’d had more than enough normal with Henry. Now I wanted more. Just…more. Marina came back onto the stage, declaring that Jack would need a volunteer from the audience for the next part of his act. Needless to say, I was dying to throw my hand up and offer myself, but I had no idea what volunteering would entail. If it was something embarrassing, then half the town would be here to witness it. I shuddered to think of the news getting back to Mum, and I’d already defied her tonight with my backtalk. So yeah, I craved sticking it to her like nobody’s business — I just had to formulate the actual courage to do so. One step at a time, I told myself, just as Lola shouted out, “Marina! Over here! I have a volunteer for ya!” She took hold of my arm and swung it into the air. “No!” I whisper-hissed, but she only winked at me and pushed me up out of my seat. Before I knew it I was standing, and a spotlight had landed on me, alongside Jack’s dark, indecipherable gaze. I stood frozen for a moment, uncertain of what to do, and then Marina was calling me to the stage and my feet were moving one after the other, the traitorous bastards. Okay, so maybe I was going to stick it to Mum sooner than I thought. And really, it was oddly liberating. Jack held his hand out to me when I reached him, and I placed my palm in his. Without realising it, I’d given him the hand that had been burned. When he gripped it, I hissed in a tiny breath at the sting. “Sorry,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound sorry. “It’s okay,” I replied as he led me to an upright wooden panel. Taking my shoulders in his big, warm hands, he gently situated me against it, my back flush with the wood. “I hope you’re good at holding still,” he said, and his breath hit the side of my neck. “Why?” I practically whispered. He was incredibly handsome, even more so now

that I was seeing him up close, and I felt a little drunk on it. The edge of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smile. With one hand braced above my shoulder, he leaned in as he replied, “Because, blondie, I’m gonna be throwing knives at you, and I’d really hate to make you bleed.” Again, he didn’t sound like he meant what he said at all. And I didn’t think there was a single pore on my body that wasn’t tingling. I remembered items number three and four on my list: Have sex with a stranger and do something dangerous. Perhaps if I could get Jack McCabe to do me, then I could kill two birds with one stone. I hadn’t noticed before, because I was too busy staring at him, but there was a belt attached to the wood. I stood there as Jack took it and buckled it extra tight around my waist. He gave it a firm tug once he was done and smirked. I’m not sure why, but the action caused me to tremble. I think he noticed, too, because his eyes grew darker, if that was even possible. Surprising me, he placed his flattened-out palm on my belly. I had to try my hardest to concentrate on his words rather than the fact that my libido (the little slut) was willing his hand to move lower. “This is your core. Visualise it. Focus on it. Keep your body in this exact position, and everything will be fine.” There was the tiniest edge of a smile tugging at his lips, and it made me wonder if he was enjoying this, if maybe he was trying to make me nervous. Sucking in a breath, he continued randomly, “You smell like turpentine.” Then he drew up to his full and impressive height, and walked to the other side of the stage. I knew I smelled like turpentine because I often used it to clean my paintbrushes, and sometimes the smell got into my clothes. That wasn’t the part that preoccupied me; that part would be the fact that he’d taken the time to smell me, and I didn’t know whether I should be weirded out or turned on. Okay, so I knew which option my libido was going for. And really, maybe I was just as much of a weirdo, because what I’d wanted to reply was, “You smell like kerosene.” Jack gathered a selection of small throwing knives from the floor and demonstrated the sharpness of each by flinging them one by one into a block of solid wood, where they embedded themselves as though slicing through butter. My heart began to race, and I could feel adrenaline starting to flood my system. I was shaking very slightly all over as I remembered Lola’s words. I swear, every time he throws a knife at someone, I can’t be certain whether or not he means to hit or miss. I was hoping it was the latter. Perhaps I was crossing my “something dangerous” off the list after all. Damn my life. Why couldn’t it have been the sexy danger? Jack didn’t even announce that he was starting when he stood at least ten feet away from me, flipped a knife in his hand, caught it, then lunged with his whole body and flung the knife right at my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, and a hollow thud sounded at my ear where the knife had, thankfully, hit the board.

Sounds of nervous excitement and clapping came from the audience as Jack continued his assault on me. He moved his body with the kind of skill that only comes from obsessive practice. Adrenaline drowned me, my chest rising and falling rapidly. A small squeak of fright escaped me when he threw a knife at my hip and it barely missed. In fact, I could feel the hard edge of the steel pressing against me. I was surprised it hadn’t cut into the fabric of my coat. Jack prowled around the stage, gaze on me, calculating his next throw. Everywhere his eyes looked, I felt positively laid bare. Molested by disinterest. I might as well have been a sack of potatoes for all the care he showed as to whether or not he might cut me. Deciding I couldn’t take any more, I kept my eyes closed until it was over and all six knives had been thrown. Thud. Thud. Thud. When I finally opened my eyes, Jack was standing before me, unbuckling the belt that held me in place. I didn’t move even after I’d been released, still trying to come to terms with the terror I’d just endured. All of a sudden, Jack McCabe was more scary than sexy. “That was a close one,” he said as he pulled out the knife that had landed just below my ear. I glanced to the side to see a tiny lock of my hair fall to the stage floor. Oh, my God. “You cut off my hair,” I gasped. “Only a small bit. Don’t worry — I didn’t leave a bald patch.” He chuckled darkly. I didn’t know what to say, but I was momentarily appalled at how cavalierly he was taking all this. “I could sue you,” I said, and then instantly grimaced. I sounded like my mother. It was only hair, after all. He leaned in, and I thought I saw him bare his teeth for a second. “Go ahead, pumpkin.” He said “pumpkin” with all the disdain most people would put into the word “bitch.” I didn’t feel safe right then, so I quickly scrambled off the stage and returned to my seat. In all honesty, I felt a bit like going home and having a nice private little cry. Get all the fear and sexual frustration out, you know. “Have fun?” Lola asked when I reached her. “Oh, yeah. Big time. Thanks for offering me up for sacrifice, by the way,” I said, annoyed. She laughed loudly. “It’s the sexiest thing that’s happened to you all year, admit it.” I snorted. She was dead right, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know it. Forcing myself to get back into the show, I watched the rest of the acts. They included a contortionist named Violet whose eyes and hair matched

her name. She had to be wearing contacts. There was also a husband and wife duo of lion tamers, two clowns, and a group of three stuntmen, two of whom stood on the shoulders of the third as he drove a scooter around the stage. By the time it was all over, I’d just about gotten past the adrenaline rush of having knives thrown at me. I watched as Delia and her girlfriends walked by, giving me snotty looks as they did so. “Shit, did you shag one of their boyfriends or something?” Lola asked, amused. I’d almost forgotten that she was still sitting next to me. “Nope. I think they might be jealous that I got to have a near-death experience and they didn’t,” I deadpanned. “Ah, I see. Near death at the hands of Jack McCabe is certainly something to envy,” she joked, and nudged me with her elbow. I laughed despite myself. Lola stood and gestured for me to follow. “Come on, you look like you could do with a drink.” I stood, and she linked her arm through mine. Again, her familiarity was odd, but I went with it. I kind of liked her oddness. She brought me through a side passage that led backstage, and I saw the three stuntmen packing up their equipment. Lola waved to them. “Hey, Lola, who’s your friend?” a short, handsome one called. “My friend is none of your business, Pedro, so you can stick your eyeballs back in their sockets,” Lola replied, and gave me a conspiratorial grin. “Pedro’s from Brazil,” she explained. “He always uses the accent to get women into bed. You don’t want a slice of that venereal-disease-ridden action, believe me.” “Oh,” I said, lost for words. She laughed. “Oh, my God, has anyone ever told you that you have the best facial expressions?” “Um, no,” I said while she opened a door and led me out the back of the tent. There were motor homes parked all about, two large trucks, and a big open-air gazebo with rows of tables and benches. Lots of the performers had gathered there, drinking and eating. Some people I didn’t recognise, but I guessed they were the ones who worked behind the scenes. It must take a good deal of manpower to set up the tent and transport everything from one location to the next. Lola was still linking me by the arm when she brought me to a table where Marina sat with Jack and the husband and wife lion tamers. “Everybody, I want you to meet my new friend, Lille,” Lola announced, pushing me forward to sit in the empty space beside Jack and directly across from Marina. I felt kind of buzzed to be sitting next to him, but was disappointed when he didn’t acknowledge me. The red-haired ringmaster (mistress?) smiled. “We’ve already met. Nice to see you again, Lille. How’s the hand?” I touched my good hand to the bandage and shrugged. “Sore.” She nodded and introduced the lion tamers. “This is Winnie and Antonio, and

you know Jack.” I smiled politely at Winnie and Antonio. Lola poured some red wine into a plastic cup for me and I took it, murmuring my thanks. “Hi, everyone,” I said, feeling stupid, mainly due to Jack’s silence. What was his problem? He was flexing and releasing his hand repeatedly, like he wanted to hit something. I took a sip of wine and tried not to look at him anymore. It was difficult, since he was so flipping beautiful, and as an artist I was drawn to memorising beautiful things. “Give me your good hand, Lille,” said Marina, interrupting my thoughts. I lifted it from my lap, and she took it into her soft, wrinkled fingers. I loved how they felt. Marina had a kind of maternal warmth about her that I’d always longed for in my own mother. And she had a twinkle in her eye that reminded me so much of Gran. She smoothed her fingers over my palm. “You’ve got a good distinctive life-line here. See how it’s deeply indented? It indicates a certain quality — you’ll do lots of living.” “You read palms?” I asked, even though the answer was blatantly obvious. She nodded. “Learned it from my grandmother, the mad old coot.” I smiled. “How long have you been an artist?” she asked, noting the dried paint stuck under my fingernails. “Ever since I was little. Funny coincidence, just like your gran taught you to read palms, my gran taught me how to paint,” I answered. I thought I could sense Jack looking at me then, but since I was determined not to make eye contact with him again, I couldn’t be sure. “You should come to France with us,” Marina went on, like it was a perfectly natural continuation of what we’d just been talking about. “Um, I don’t….” “You can do your face painting with the children. The punters will love it, and you’ll make enough money to live off of. I’ve been meaning to set up something fun for the kids before they come in to see the show. What do you say?” “France?” I said, blinking, heart racing. This night was moving way too fast for me. It was confusing. “We’re leaving by ferry at nine in the morning, so you’ll have to make a decision soon.” “Oh, my God! You have to come,” Lola put in. “I’ve been dying for someone new to hang out with, and Violet’s so bloody annoyed with me all the time. Oh, oh! You could sleep in our camper. We’ve got a spare bed.” “Shouldn’t you consult Violet about that first?” said Jack, finally speaking. Lola waved him off. “Pffft, she’ll be fine with it so long as Lille doesn’t get in her way.” “Violet’s the contortionist?” “And just about the crankiest woman ever to grace the earth. Seriously, Lille,

you’ll be doing me a huge favour. I’m gonna crack if I don’t get a new roommate soon.” I was flabbergasted. “None of you even know me.” “Ah, but you’ve got the heart of a traveller,” said Marina. “I can see it in those stormy grey eyes. And that’s good enough for me.” “Look at you,” said Lola, wearing the biggest smile I’d ever seen. She was all lips and teeth. “You’re dying to say yes, aren’t you?” “Well, I’d have to run it past my mother first,” I said, eyes downcast, and I heard Jack make a sound of derision. “And I have my summer job at the restaurant in town.” Why was I being hesitant? This offer was my hot air balloon ready and waiting to bring me on an adventure, and yet I was making excuses. I think I was just suspicious of the randomness of it all. Plus, the sad fact was that I’d probably have said yes right away if it weren’t for Jack. He clearly didn’t want me around, and I’d just end up feeling awkward every time I saw him. I wasn’t sure how obvious it was to him that I fancied him something rotten. Perhaps that was the reason for his disdain. He didn’t enjoy being ogled by some dumb girl. He probably had a girlfriend. Probably had several. “I’m going to go find Violet and ask her what she thinks. She’ll say no, of course, but I’ll talk her around,” said Lola, rising from her seat with a wink. “The men are taking down the tent tonight so that we can leave first thing in the morning,” said Marina. “You’d better go home and start packing.” “I haven’t agreed to come yet,” I replied. She only smiled and pursed her lips, a glint in her eye. “Haven’t you?” Winnie gave me an encouraging look, and Antonio told me I’d have a great time if I came. As expected, Jack said nothing. Still, the encouragement of the others spurred me on and I rose, determined to go home and tell Mum I was going to France. I felt like I was walking through a dream. Who makes an offer to some random girl to join their circus? It was crazy, and I was happily drowning in the madness. Gran would have been proud. She’d had Mum late in life, and before that she’d travelled the world, met with some amazing people. Even though I was only ten when she passed, she’d already made a powerful impression on me. I wanted to be just like her. She was strong in a way Mum wasn’t, strong through love and kindness rather than cruelty and control. I said goodbye to everyone and made my way out of the gazebo. Just as I turned in the direction of town, a strong hand gripped my arm, and I yelped. Aside from a few dim street lights, it was dark out here, and mostly everyone was gone now. I turned, and my heart stuttered when I found Jack standing behind me, his dark eyebrows drawn into a frown. “You shouldn’t come,” he said, voice low. “Let go of me,” I complained, feeling nervous and trying to pull my arm from his grasp. When he realised how tight his grip was, his eyes widened, and he dropped my arm. I turned and began walking again, more speedily this time, wanting to get

away from him. No matter how hot he was, I didn’t trust being alone on a dark road with a strange man. I could hear his steady, booted pace behind me, and I didn’t know why he was following me. My skin prickled with apprehension, and I pulled my phone out of my bag, pretending to dial my mum and proceeding to carry out a one-sided conversation. “Hi, Mum, it’s me. I’m on my way home now. Yeah. I’m on Frederick Street. See you in a minute.” I’m not sure why I thought letting Jack know that someone was waiting for me would deter him from harming me, but it was the only thing I could think of, and I didn’t have anything on me that could be used as a weapon. Plus, I couldn’t actually call my mother, since I’d sneaked out to go to the circus and she thought I was still in my room, tucked up safely in bed. His deep chuckle sounded from behind me as I slid my phone back into my bag. “Would you like to make a fake call to the police as well?” he asked in amusement. I scowled and stopped walking, spinning around on him. “It wasn’t fake. And why the hell are you following me anyway?” My voice came out high-pitched and frightened. I hated how I sounded. “Do you always walk home alone at night?” He was frowning again. “That’s none of your business. Now, please stop following me. It’s creepy.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m making sure you get home safe. Don’t be so ungrateful. How much farther is your house?” The way he spoke made me feel scolded. I looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to decipher if he was being honest. All I got in return was his smouldering dark gaze and neither honesty nor dishonesty. He was like a vault, locked up tight. I was never going to be able to read him. “You could have told me that in the first place. Don’t you know it’s weird to just randomly start following someone?” He slowly blinked at me and repeated his question. “How much farther is your house?” “We’re almost there. I’ll be fine from here. I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said, and began walking again. He kept up the pace beside me. I sighed. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’d rather you not know where I live. For my own peace of mind, you understand?” He tilted his head down at me, a quizzical look on his face, which made me feel like I needed to explain further. “You’re a stranger. A kind of scary-looking stranger, if I’m being honest, no offence. So leading you right to where I live would be dumb, right?” He almost smiled, and wow, when Jack McCabe almost smiled, it really was something to behold. I wasn’t sure I could handle a full one. “I’m good scary, Lille. The kind that frightens off bad scary.” I was surprised that he’d remembered my name. I’m not sure what possessed

me to say what I did next, and I regretted it instantly. “Pinky promise you’re not a psycho killer?” I held out my little finger to him, and he simply stared at it. “I’m not a psycho killer.” Feeling stupid, I dropped my hand and considered his answer. Perhaps he was trying to be nice and make sure I got home safe. Then another idea struck me. Was he interested in walking me home because he wanted sex? I looked at him as he strode along, gaze straight ahead. It was almost like he’d read my thoughts, because he turned to me then, his voice deep and husky. “If I wanted to fuck you, you’d know about it.” I shivered. I didn’t think a man had ever referred to fucking me before, which was sad. And it was even sadder that the first time it happened it was a man referring to the fact that he didn’t want to. I let out a long breath and tried not to let my feelings be hurt. Tugging my coat tighter around myself as we reached my street, I told him, “Well, you don’t mince your words, do you?” He shook his head. “Don’t see the point.” “Okay. I’m home now. You’ve done your duty.” I opened my garden gate and stepped inside. He called after me. “Remember what I said, Lille. You shouldn’t come with us. You think it’s going to be all fun and games, running away with the circus, but it’s not. It’s hard work with little sleep and shit pay. It’s for people who don’t have homes and mothers who worry about them. It’s not the life for you.” “I’m not trying to make it my life, Jack. And I never even said I was coming.” “Good. Don’t.” “I can make my own decisions.” “So make the right one.” We stared at each other for a long time, almost like we were having a stand-off. I felt triumphant when he was the one to walk away first. I DIDN’T SLEEP a wink that night. When I got to my room, I sat on my bed, rubbing my hands back and forth over the blanket, my mind racing. I was nearly out of time. I had to make a decision. I mean, running away with the circus was all rainbows and lollipops in theory, but what if I couldn’t hack the reality? I had about four hundred euros in savings to my name and little else. Would I make enough money painting faces to get by? I was such a coward. The danger was what I wanted. Adventure was something I craved. I had to quit worrying. Steely determination came over me as I pulled out my suitcase and began packing. Of course, I didn’t quite get over all of my fear, as instead of telling Mum in person, I decided to leave her a note. Yeah, I was that type of gutless wonder. But my mother was scary in a way that few people understood. I wasn’t sure there’d ever be a time when her disappointment wouldn’t cut me to the quick.

I was twenty-one. A fully grown woman. I didn’t need her permission to do anything anymore. Now all I had to do was convince myself to believe it. She was going to blow a gasket when she found my letter. I was hoping I’d be on a ferry halfway to France by the time that happened. I sealed the letter in an envelope and set it down on my dresser. I managed to squeeze the majority of my clothes into my suitcase, and I threw a small duffel with my sleeping bag in it over my shoulder. I wasn’t quite sure what my sleeping arrangements were going to be. If worst came to worst, I could sleep on somebody’s floor, right? I was still wearing the same outfit as the night before when I quietly slipped out of my house at seven in the morning. I could hear Mum moving around in her room, so I knew she’d just woken up. Thankfully, I managed to get out before she noticed. As I hurried down the street, my heart pumped a mile a minute. I loved the thrill of feeling like I was getting away from her. Freeing myself from the prison of quiet desperation I’d been living in. When I got into town, I stopped by an ATM machine and withdrew all of my savings, shoving the notes into my duffle. I called my boss Nelly and explained to her that I wouldn’t be able to work for the rest of the summer. She gave me hell and told me not to come looking for a reference, which I’d expected, but I winced as she spoke angrily down the line all the same. When I got to the circus, it wasn’t a circus anymore. The entire thing had been packed away, presumably in one of the large cargo trucks. All that was left was a field full of camper vans. Marina sat on a step outside her motor home, sipping from a mug of coffee and smoking a cigarette, while Pierre sat on her lap, making cute little noises. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, eyes smiling. I was out of breath when I stopped by her and leaned against the side of the van. I felt like I’d been running ever since I left my house. My heart was still pounding. Mum could be reading my letter right this moment. I could just imagine the vein in her forehead throbbing in outrage. “You sure you still want me along?” I asked, and she laughed. “Of course I do, sweetheart. Wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t. I’ve been watching you work in that restaurant all week, and I know a girl desperate for travel when I see one. You’ll fit right in with us here.” When Pierre saw me, he jumped off Marina’s lap and came ambling towards me. “He’s adorable,” I said. “Don’t let the innocent little face fool you,” said Marina. “He’s as shrewd as they come, is my Pierre.” I knew she was telling the truth when Pierre climbed up onto my shoulder, reached down, and pulled an old bus ticket from the breast pocket of my coat. I laughed as he hopped off with his loot, then disappeared inside Marina’s camper. She stubbed out her smoke just as the door to a smaller camper opened and Lola walked out. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, still wearing her pyjamas. “Lille! You

came! OMG, I’m so happy right now,” she said, and pulled me into a tight hug. I think Marina must have seen the bewildered look on my face when she said, “Our Lola gets attached fast when she likes someone. It’s just her way.” “Yeah, and my way is fucking awesome! Let’s get these bags of yours inside, and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” I followed her as she led me into her camper van. It was really small and had a kitchenette, and a tiny living area with an equally tiny TV. One door led to a bathroom. The other was closed and led to Violet’s room, Lola explained, and then the final one led to Lola’s room, which I discovered I’d be sharing with her. There was about a foot of space between the two narrow beds. It was tidy in a messy sort of way. The beds were made, but Lola had stuffed all of her clothes under them. There wouldn’t be much room for my things, but I didn’t mind. I’d just live out of my suitcase. “So, Violet agreed that you could stay. This van belongs to her, unfortunately, so she makes the rules. You’ll have to pay her sixty euros a week in rent, but you’ll make that easily on show nights. All of her food goes in the cupboard to the left and all of ours goes in the cupboard to the right. We get one shelf in the fridge, and she gets two. If you give Marina forty euros a week you can eat in the gazebo with the rest of us for most of your meals. Oh, and don’t use any of the toiletries in the bathroom because they all belong to Violet, and she’ll go cray-cray if you take anything. I keep all my stuff in a bag and bring it with me when I shower. Keeps things simpler. So yeah, she’s a fucking dictator, but you’ll learn to live with it. Hey, perhaps me and you could save and get a camper of our own. That’d be cool!” I laughed. This girl was mental, but I liked it. “Sure, I’ll just buy a lottery ticket, shall I?” I joked. “Ha -ha,” she deadpanned, and pulled out a smart phone, fingers gliding across the screen so fast they were almost a blur. “Okay, I’m going to include you in our ferry ticket. Have you got cash?” I nodded and rummaged in my bag, pulling out some folded notes. Lola took them and finished up the booking. “Great, we’re all sorted. You want to sit up front with me while I drive?” I told her I would, and followed her to the front of the van. I looked out the window and saw Jack helping to load equipment into one of the trucks. It looked heavy, whatever it was, and the way he worked made me feel all fizzy inside. When he was done, he rubbed his hands on his jeans, looking about the field. My heart thudded when he spotted me sitting in the passenger seat while Lola looked over a map. He seemed pissed off when he saw me. Obviously, I hadn’t taken his advice not to come. I saw him stomp over to the camper that must have been his and slam the door shut. Before I knew it, we were off. Lola informed me that we’d be sailing from Rosslare to a place called Cherbourg in France, and that the ferry journey would take almost an entire day. Violet, the contortionist, came out of her room, said a grumpy hello to me, shook my hand, and then went to make herself some coffee.

“A woman of few words,” Lola whispered to me as she drove. “And excellent hearing,” Violet called to her. “Seriously, I think you forget how depressingly small this place is sometimes.” When we got to the ferry, we parked the camper below deck and got out. Some people had rented cabins to sleep in, but, like me, most had simply booked seats. I was starving, so I went to buy some breakfast before finding the lounge. It was a cosy room with big cushioned seats. Most people were either sleeping or talking quietly. There were even pillows and blankets if you wanted to take a nap. I saw Lola waving to me from where she sat beside Violet, who was listening to music on her headphones. I took my seat with them and tucked into my food. I was sleepy when I finished eating, since I hadn’t slept the night before, and I was losing the battle to keep my eyes open…. I didn’t know how long I’d been out when I woke up because someone was pushing my head off their shoulder. I rubbed my eyes and blinked, seeing Jack staring down at me. Seemingly, he’d booked the seat right next to mine, and I’d clearly just been trying to cuddle up to him. How embarrassing.

THREE

A KING FELL DOWN WHO WORE NO CROWN

“S orry,” I mumbled, and drew away as far as I possibly could, being that our seats were side by side. I noticed that somebody had covered me with a blanket, but it must’ve been Lola. My skin prickled as I wondered how long I’d been resting my head on Jack’s shoulder. Had it been seconds or hours? I was willing to bet seconds, considering he was roughly shoving me off him. “I told you not to come. Why didn’t you listen to me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, a subtle edge to his words. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dad. I forgot you had a say in what I do with my life. Please accept my humblest apologies,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. On the inside, my feelings were hurt. I didn’t need him to be worshipping at my feet, but the least he could do was be civilised. His lips twitched as he arched an eyebrow at me. “So, the little princess wants to slum it for a while. Okay, then. Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes to shit.” “Why would I come crying to you? I don’t even know you,” I said, and got up from my seat. Both Violet and Lola were gone. I felt kind of grimy and needed a change of clothes, so I grabbed the small bag I had with me and went to find the showers. I felt a million times better by the time I was done, and when I went back to my seat, I found Jack had left. And really, I was relieved. The man made me feel all weird and jittery in a way I thought I could become obsessed with. Becoming obsessed with Jack McCabe wouldn’t be healthy for me. It’d be like having a crush on a movie star. They were strutting the red carpet, and you were huddled in the gutter. Deciding to stretch my legs, I went for a walk about the ferry, saying hello to Winnie and Antonio and their two daughters, Carrie and Orla. Apparently, they home schooled them while the circus travelled. I thought that must be such an unusual way to grow up, in equal measures difficult and wonderful. When I reached the doorway that led out onto the deck, I pushed through and was met with a violent gust of wind, my shoulder-length hair going flying all over the place. It was still wet from the shower, so I considered it an unusual sort of blow-dry. I stared out at the waves and the endless sea that surrounded me, feeling a

momentary flutter of pure freedom, and man, did it feel good. Somebody swore profusely from behind me, and I turned to find Jack trying to light a cigarette. The wind wasn’t doing him any favours, and he couldn’t get the flame to stay lit. Not wanting him to see me, I began walking swiftly in the opposite direction. I didn’t get far when he was suddenly behind me. He looped his finger through my belt and practically dragged me to the corner he’d been standing in. “What the fu….” “Stay still,” he ordered. “I need you to block the wind.” I didn’t have any snappy comebacks, so I simply stood there, amazed by his gruffness. Hadn’t anyone ever taught him simple manners? When I looked at him, I thought that maybe they hadn’t. I could easily imagine him as a little Mowgli type, being raised by animals in the jungle. He flicked the lighter and finally got the smoke lit. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling, he watched me all the while. I shivered, and not from the cold. I felt like there was an atmosphere between us, but it was more than likely all on my end. I was good at imagining things, especially sexual tension. And I was well-acquainted with the one-sided kind. “Are my services required further, sir?” I asked with a hint of sass. I mean, I’d been his wind-blocker, and he hadn’t even said thanks. Just like last night, he almost smiled, and I hated that it was wondrous. I could have painted an entire mural of his jaw line alone. He flicked off the ash and leaned back against the wall behind him. “So, you’re staying with Lola?” “Yes, and Violet.” “That’ll be fun.” “Are you being sarcastic?” “Are you?” “What?” “Nothing.” “You’re weird.” He took a step forward and stared down at me, teeth flashing as he spoke. “And I bet I could make you like it.” If anyone else had said this to me, I would have thought they were flirting, but not with this guy. No, with this guy it sounded more like a taunt. I narrowed my gaze at him, deciding I was done with this encounter and my unrequited attraction, and returned to the lounge. I checked my phone for the time, relieved that I couldn’t get a signal out here. I’d bet Mum was wearing a hole on her dialling pad trying to get in touch with me. I had my fingers crossed that by the time I got to France, she’d have calmed down. If my estimations were correct, we had another eight hours of sailing to do. I pulled a sketch pad out of my bag and began to draw the family sitting in front of me. A little kid played with an iPad while the mother snoozed and the father perused a newspaper. I was so lost in the drawing that I didn’t hear Lola when she came to sit beside me.

“You’re really good,” she commented, and it made me smile. At home my art was always something I had to sneak and hide. I never really got to show it to people, so I appreciated her compliment more than she might have guessed. “Thanks.” The hours passed slowly, and when we finally arrived in Cherbourg, I was so ready to set foot on solid ground. It wasn’t to be, though, as we had another hour and a half drive to Caen, where the circus would be stopping to do a week of shows. It was just after two in the morning, so my first impressions of France were shrouded in darkness. When we reached the site where we’d be spending the next week, it was starting to get bright. I was amazed when the men began immediately setting up the Spiegeltent. Where did they get their energy come from? Perhaps they’d slept for most of the ferry journey. I spread my sleeping bag out on the bed and crawled into it, deciding I’d get a couple hours of sleep in. Lola was already there, snoring away. Sharing a tiny room with this girl was definitely going to be an experience. When I woke up, it was mid-morning, and two men were helping Violet connect the camper van to the water and electricity mains on the site. I recognised Pedro, who winked at me (I think because I hadn’t put on a bra yet), and one of the other stuntmen. Lola had told me on the ferry that his name was Luan. I thought she might have a thing for him because she gushed a little about what a nice guy he was. He was tall, with tightly cut dark hair and brown eyes. Apparently, the circus didn’t do any shows on Mondays or Tuesdays, because those were usually travelling days where they moved from one site to the next. That gave me a day to find my bearings. Violet surprised me when she smiled and told me there was coffee inside if I wanted some. I poured myself a cup and took a walk. The newest host to the circus looked like some sort of camping site that was surrounded by trees and greenery on either side. I thought that we must have been situated just outside of town and wondered if we were within walking distance. I would need to buy food and some toiletries soon. Sitting on the grass, I pulled out my phone to find that Mum had tried to call me a grand total of twenty-five times and left eleven voicemails. The very idea made my stomach twist, so I decided to put off listening to them for a while. Instead, I spent a few minutes reading up on Caen. Everything had happened so quickly that I’d hardly had time to research where I was actually going. The frenzied decision to come here made me feel dizzy with glee. I was breaking free from the monotony my life had been, and it felt glorious. It turned out that Caen was in Normandy and was the largest city in the region. The pictures that came up showed some beautiful architecture, and I got excited just thinking about going exploring. Perhaps I’d meet a handsome Frenchman, he’d tell me I was beautiful, and we’d enjoy a whirlwind romance. Of course, it would all end in heartbreak when I had to move on to the next city. The idea was surprisingly appealing. I wanted to get my heart broken. I wanted to live through

every high and low, because otherwise I wouldn’t be living. I rummaged in the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out my list to add one more item. Grabbing the sketching pencil that was perennially tucked behind my ear, I scribbled down number eleven. 1. Get my heart broken. Coincidentally, Jack was walking by, lugging a crate of water bottles, just as I finished writing. He glanced at me, then at the paper in my hand. I quickly folded it up and shoved it back in my pocket, sheepish. Jack McCabe was certainly the heartbreaking type. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I had a chance of getting close enough to him in order to have my heart broken. Oh, well. If worst came to worst, there was always Pedro. Jack frowned and continued on his way. He was always frowning at me. Marina called me over to her camper then and offered me a croissant for breakfast. I took it gladly. “Tell me, Lille,” she said as I sat in the kitchen of her overly frilly motorhome. I swear to God, she had doilies on everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them hanging over her toilet seat, to be perfectly honest. “Are you any good with numbers?” “Numbers?” I asked. “Okay, so I may have had an ulterior motive for asking you to join us.” The phrase “ulterior motive” sounded positively thrilling to me, so I smiled and nodded for her to continue. “You see, I heard your boss thanking you for helping her out with her accounts while I was in the restaurant last week. And I desperately need someone to help me with mine. King usually does it, but he’s been hitting the bottle more and more lately, so I can’t rely on him. Do you think you could have a look at the circus’ finances? Clean up the numbers for me?” Okay, maybe not so thrilling, then. I had no idea who King was, and I didn’t ask. “Oh right. Well, I study business at college. I hate it, really, but accounting is probably the part I hate the least. I’m reluctantly good at it. So yeah, I’d be happy to look over your accounts for you if that’s what you’d like.” Marina smiled widely. “I’d definitely like that.” And that was how I spent the rest of my day, holed up in Marina’s camper, working on spreadsheets. It was a twisted sort of joke. I’d run away with the circus in order to escape all this, and here I was doing exactly what I was trying to get away from. Still, the familiarity of the task soothed me while I tried to get used to the fact that I definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. It turned out that the Circus Spektakulär was actually raking in a decent profit; however, the records of those profits were an out-and-out mess. I still had a lot of tidying up to do, but I told Marina I’d continue working on it tomorrow morning. For now, I needed something to eat and some sleep. It was starting to get dark when I found Violet and Lola back at our camper. They

were sitting on folding chairs outside, eating noodles and drinking wine while listening to the soundtrack from Les Miserables. Before I could feel awkward about asking for food, Lola told me to help myself to the last of the noodles in the pot. There wasn’t a third folding chair, so I sat on the grass and hungrily shovelled down the noodles in my bowl. They were drowned in some sort of soy sauce that tasted delicious, probably because I was starving. “I heard Jack and Marina arguing today in the gazebo,” Violet said, breaking the companionable silence we’d been sharing. She was looking at me, and I didn’t know why. “Oh, juicy gossip. Do you think they’re having a sordid sugar momma/boy toy love affair?” Lola asked with intrigue, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Violet narrowed her eyes at Lola. “Don’t be disgusting.” “What? Those two spend an inordinate amount of time together.” “That’s because she’s, like, his substitute mother figure or something,” Violet said before giving me a pointed look. “And no, they were actually arguing about you, Lille.” I almost choked on a noodle. “Me?” “Yep. Jack was giving Marina hell for inviting you to join us. He said we didn’t need the dead weight. Marina defended you. She said you were hardly dead weight since you were fixing her accounts for her.” I hated to admit it, but hearing that upset me a little. “He called me dead weight?” “Jesus, Violet, have a little tact, would you?” said Lola, elbowing her roughly in the side. “It’s okay — I’d rather know the truth. And I’m not surprised. He’s been mean to me since we first met.” “Don’t take offence,” Lola told me in a soothing voice. “We’ve got a lot of abrasive characters around here, as you can probably tell.” She tilted her head to Violet, who was looking the other way and didn’t see her. “Besides, Jack McCabe’s always had a reputation for being slightly…eccentric.” That piqued my curiosity. “How so?” “I’ve just heard that he’s a bit of a kinky bastard. You know, into all that bondage shit.” “Those are lies,” said Violet. “Jack’s a good guy. People just like to make stuff up to entertain themselves.” She took a sip of her wine. “And then there’s what happened to Vera. Nobody knows who did it. It could very well have been Jack,” Lola went on, her voice hushed. Violet seemed to shudder. “Let’s not talk about that. And being into bondage doesn’t make you a rapist, Lola. For Christ’s sake.” My heart hammered at that, and now I needed to know more. “Who’s Vera?” Lola looked to Violet. “She should know, Vi.” “Fine, tell her.” Violet waved her away and concentrated on her wine glass. Lola sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, so, up until about two years ago, we used to

do some late-night adult-only shows. Vera was a burlesque dancer. People loved her. She was amazing at what she did. Then one day she just disappeared. She didn’t take any of her stuff with her, so we knew something bad had happened. The police got involved, and then two weeks later they found her body buried in the woods. She’d been raped and beaten to death. Needless to say, Marina put a stop to the adult-only shows after that.” I gasped, and my stomach dropped like someone had just dumped a tonne of bricks there. “That’s horrific.” Lola grimaced. “Pretty much. They never caught who did it. Most people think it was someone from the town we’d been in. Or a passing traveller. But you know, it could always have been one of us.” “Don’t say that!” Violet complained. “I won’t sleep a wink tonight now.” Lola only gave her a big toothy smile in response, causing Violet to scowl. My mind was racing, heart beating fast, my skin goose-pimpling. I didn’t like Lola’s insinuation that Jack might be a murderer. Not because I had any sort of affection for him, aside from thinking he was hot, but because I’d been alone with him the other night on a dark, empty street. If he was capable of doing something like that, then I’d been in a terrible amount of danger and hadn’t even realised it. I mean, I craved an adventure, the unknown, but I’d rather the adventure be full of fun and excitement than fear and terror. It didn’t take us long to polish off the rest of the wine, and then we hit the sack. Tomorrow was my first day as a proper circus worker. I didn’t like the word “carnie,” so I refused to call myself one. I made sure I’d brought my face painting kit with me and then settled into bed. I was tired, so I thought I’d sleep right away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vera and what had happened to her. The following morning, I awoke to the sound of voices arguing loudly. Violet was complaining that Lola had used up all the hot water for her shower. I winced at her high-pitched screeching. Obviously, showering in the camper wasn’t going to happen right now, and I needed to wash. So I gathered my things and made my way to the communal showers on site. Even though I wasn’t overjoyed by the idea, I felt a sense of satisfaction to know my mother would be horrified by me using anything that had the word “communal” in front of it. Take that, Mother, I mused, giving her an imaginary middle finger. Yes, I was a dork. The weather was warm, so it wasn’t such a hardship to shower in what was essentially the outdoors. There were individual wooden cubicles, one side designated for men and the other for women. I slipped off my shorts and T-shirt quickly, then stepped under the spray, yelping when it hit me because it was freezing cold. Thankfully, though, it heated up after a moment. I took my time making sure I was squeaky clean, because if I was going to have to shower outdoors for the next week, I wanted this one to last. I was nothing if not economical. When I was done, I reached out and grabbed my towel, wrapping it tightly around my body. It was then that I realised just how many things I’d

neglected to bring with me. I’d only brought one towel and no flip-flops. I dried my feet as best I could and then slipped on my Converse. I was coming out of the showers at an opportune moment, and when I say “opportune,” I mean the worst possible moment, because I tripped and fell over somebody’s feet. My towel slipped off a little, and I had to fumble to secure it back in place before I ended up flashing the entire campsite. And conveniently, Jack’s camper van was parked only a couple of yards away from the showers. He was standing outside, smoking and rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw, casually watching the whole encounter. “What the hell,” I grumbled, and looked down to see who I’d tripped over. A dishevelled-looking man sat passed out against the wall, an almost empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his dirty hand. He was also snoring loudly. I thought I heard a low, quiet chuckle coming from somewhere close by, and I knew it had to be Jack. I was still looking at the sleeping man, wondering who on earth he was. His clothes were in dire need of cleaning, and his long hair was so thick with dirt and grease that I couldn’t tell what colour it was. He also had a beard that covered most of his face. All of a sudden, he shifted, and his eyes began to blink open. I was startled to be met with eyes so icy blue they almost made him beautiful, despite everything else. And God, did those eyes tell a story. They possessed so many layers I felt like I could have spent a lifetime painting the horrors and wonders in each one and still never get to the bottom. “The fuck are you looking at?” he asked, accent posh London, those icy blues shooting daggers. I noted his accent was completely at odds with his appearance as I swallowed and stepped away, because there was something about this man that was positively chilling. As I did, my back hit something hard and unyielding. I didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Jack, because I could smell him. It surprised me that I remembered what he smelled like: smoke, kerosene, and clove oil. The man on the ground began to get up, but he was wobbly on his feet and fell over again. His whiskey bottle dropped to the ground, the glass shattering. “Fuck’s sake!” he grunted, and looked at me angrily again, like it was my fault he was so drunk he couldn’t stand on his own two feet. I felt the weight of a warm hand land on my shoulder just before Jack murmured in my ear, “This is King. He’s Marina’s brother. He’s also a raging alcoholic. You should try to avoid him if possible.” “What did you say about me, you bastard!?” “Call me a bastard again, and I’ll throw you in those showers. We all know you could do with a wash,” said Jack, his voice firm and unwavering. It shut King right up. He mumbled a few choice words that didn’t bear repeating and then stumbled away. I still hadn’t turned around, and Jack was still standing behind me, hand on my shoulder. “Where does he sleep?” I asked quietly.

“Outside, mostly. Marina only lets him stay in her camper when we’re on the road.” “Oh,” I said, and tightened the towel around me again. When I turned, Jack’s gaze wandered from my wet temples, along the side of my cheek, and down my neck before finally settling in the region of my chest. I felt touched. Hot and flushed. I looked up at him from under my lashes, and he met my eyes then. There was something intense about the way he looked at me, but again, it could have all been my active and fatally hopeful imagination. “Got a nice little look at you earlier,” he said, and I seriously thought I might die of mortification. My skin prickled with awareness. “What?” I replied, my voice so, so quiet. He didn’t say anything for a second, just hummed low in his throat, and it was the sexiest sound I’d heard, possibly ever. Then he took my hand in his. I’d taken the bandage off, but I still had a red burn mark down the centre of my palm. Holding it up, he seemed fascinated as he ran a finger down it gently. It only stung a tiny bit, and the combination of him touching me and the sting caused a strange tingling between my legs. Yep, my vagina was definitely on Team McCabe, even if my brain was waving around big red BEWARE signs like a maniac. His mouth moved, and there was something intrigued in his expression, like he’d just figured out he’d aroused me, and it both interested and surprised him. He moved closer, eating up my space…and just stared at me. And man, could he stare. I felt like he was telling me a silent story, and it was captivating. “Could I get by you, please? I need to go get dressed,” I said, breaking the quiet. It could have been minutes or hours that I was standing there, but I’d never know. Time moved in strange patterns when I was around this man. He said nothing, just dropped my hand and stepped out of the way. I hurried off at an unnecessarily speedy pace and practically raced back to the camper. When I reached it, I slammed the door shut behind me and breathed out a long sigh. It took me a second to realise I wasn’t alone. Violet and Lola sat in the living area, Violet painting her toenails violet and Lola eating a packet of potato chips. “You okay, Lille?” Lola asked as she munched, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, just uh….” “Oh, no, what happened?” “Jack McCabe.” “Shit,” she said, glancing away before looking to me again with mischief. “Did you like it?” “Well, not much happened for me to like, but, God, I can’t tell whether he’s indifferent towards me or hates my guts, you know.” Violet let out a little laugh, still concentrating on her toenails. “Oh, in that case, he probably just wants to fuck you,” Lola teased. Now I was getting manic. “How reassuring. Last night you insinuated he might be a murder rapist, and now you tell me this! Can you see how wrong that is?”

“Is it pretty wrong,” Violet put in, agreeing with me. “Hey, I just say it how I see it,” Lola said, raising her hands in surrender. I pursed my lips and went into our room to get dressed. I’d just finished pulling on my jeans and a top when my phone started ringing. And, as though I’d been blessed with a sixth sense, I knew it was Mum. I still wasn’t ready to talk to her, but I figured I should get the agony over and done with. I picked it up and brought it to my ear, answering, “Hello?” “Lille! Where on earth have you been? I’ve been driving myself mad with worry.” “Didn’t you get my letter?” “Oh, I got it all right. I swear, you’re trying to put me in an early grave! I mean, a circus of all things. If you wanted to travel, I would have paid for you to go euro railing. Have you any idea the kind of people who work in circuses? And it’s not even a chain, it’s a flipping independent one, run by some eccentric hippy woman. Bernie from the office told me there was a rape in that circus a couple of years back. A rape, Lillian!” I’d only been on the phone to her for thirty seconds, and already I could feel my throat constricting, my lungs filling with anxiety. This was the effect she had on me. I tried to summon some composure. “It was actually a murder rape, and yes, I know about it. But it was years ago, and everyone’s been perfectly nice,” I said, almost telling the truth. King certainly hadn’t been nice to me, but he was drunk at the time. I was still trying to figure out what Jack was. “That’s even worse! You need to come home right this minute. Where are you exactly? I’ll arrange a flight for you at the nearest airport.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I was in Caen, but I stopped myself just in time. There was no way in hell I was getting on a flight home, and if I told her where I was, I wouldn’t put it past her to come looking for me. Or worse, pay some sort of professional intervention people to do it for her. My mother was a strange lady, and you never knew the lengths she’d go to. “I’m not telling you where I am,” I said, trying to sound as calm and steady as I could. “Excuse me?” “I said I’m not telling you, Mum. I’m not a child, and you can’t dictate my life anymore.” “Fine, I’ll just have the GPS tracker activated on your phone,” she replied, like it was perfectly normal. My voice raised an unnatural number of octaves. “What?” “You heard what I said, Lillian.” “You’re insane.” “I’m your mother, and I care about you. If that’s insane, then yes, I’ll accept the title,” she replied smoothly. My pulse ratcheted up a notch as I stood from the bed, hurrying from the room with my phone in my hand. I could still hear Mum complaining down the line as I

ran to a quiet spot just outside the campsite and smashed my extremely expensive smart phone into the gravel. The screen cracked, but it wasn’t good enough. I began stomping on it until it was broken to pieces. There was no way she could track me now. The thing was practically pulverised, but I still kept going. The more broken it got, the more relieved I felt that Mum wouldn’t be able to find me. My chest was moving frantically up and down when I finally stopped, trying to catch my breath, my hands on my hips. My heart stopped when someone started to speak. “Should I call the nearest madhouse? Because that was the craziest shit I’ve seen in a long time.” It was Jack. Of course it was.

FOUR

AND LILLE’S HEART SURELY DID FALTER

standing several feet away, an amused smirk on his face as he brought H ea was bottle of water to his mouth and drank. I stomped towards him, grabbed

the water from his grip, and returned to the phone, spilling the contents all over the cracked pieces. I felt relatively sure Mum wouldn’t be doing any GPS tracking now. “Did you just steal my water?” Jack asked, blinking at me. “Yes, but it was for a good cause,” I replied. “So what happened? Did the phone call you a bitch or something? Sleep with your boyfriend? Murder your grandmother?” I couldn’t help it — I laughed. There was something hilarious about his completely humourless tone, plus, I was slightly manic. “No, actually. My mother was going to try to track my location on it.” “Is your mother James Bond? And what, you couldn’t just take out the battery and the SIM?” “I wasn’t sure if that’s all it takes.” Jack shrugged and studied me for a long moment. I felt exposed under his watchful gaze, and I didn’t like it. I wasn’t sure if he was going to say anything at all. Then he finally spoke. “Why don’t you want her to find you?” I sighed and walked over to the kerb before sitting down. Jack caught me off guard when he came and sat down next to me, awaiting my answer. There was something very obedient and dog-like about the gesture, which suddenly opened my eyes to another side of him. On the surface he was dark, dangerous, and deeply masculine. But right now, I could see a flicker of an intrigued little boy. “Because she’s crazy and controlling, and the whole reason I took Marina up on her offer to come here was because I wanted to get away from my mother. No, not wanted, needed. Living with her was suffocating me.” He seemed interested as he nodded his head and kept on staring. I didn’t understand why I was telling him any of this. Jack McCabe wasn’t confidant material. I didn’t even think he was friend material, and there was a small likelihood that he was dangerous. Still, I kept on talking. “She’s the CEO for a very successful tech company. I guess the control she has in

her job translates over to her dealings with me, because she dictates my entire life. Tells me what I can and can’t eat, what I can and can’t wear. When I get paid at the end of each week from my waitressing job, she takes eighty percent of the money and leaves me with just enough to get by. If I refuse to give it to her, she threatens to kick me out, and I have nowhere else to go, so I have to follow her crazy rules.” “What about your dad?” “He left when I was a kid. Perhaps he decided to flee just like I did. I haven’t heard from him in years.” Jack didn’t comment. I might have been mistaken, but I thought I saw a flicker of empathy in his expression. It was either that or bemusement. There was a quiet between us that suddenly felt awkward, so I dusted my hands off on my jeans and stood. “Well, I, uh, have to go finish off Marina’s accounts now. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m dead weight around here,” I said before I could censor myself, and winced. Jack’s expression didn’t waver. It rarely did, which meant I never quite knew what he was thinking. It was incredibly frustrating. He remained sitting there the whole time I walked away. Later that day, after I’d borrowed a folding table and two chairs from Winnie and Antonio, I went and set up a face-painting station close to the entrance to the circus. It was a good job I’d studied French at school, because I had decent enough conversational skills in the language to get by. Mostly I just had to ask the kids what they wanted to be. I charged five euros per child and managed to paint ten faces by the time the show began. If I could do the same before every performance, I’d make enough money to see me through the summer. Jack strode by at one point as I was painting butterfly wings onto the cheeks of a little red-haired girl. He paused, tilted his head to see what I was painting, then continued on his way. It was disconcerting that I got chills every time I saw him. He had this aura, though, like you couldn’t tell if he was human or a supernatural being wearing human skin. Inspiration hit me, and I hurriedly pulled my sketch pad out of my bag, scribbling down ideas. I’d have to keep this piece a secret, of course, because if Jack found out I wanted to paint him, I imagine he’d frown so hard he’d break his own face. This picture would be darker than my usual works. Normally, I drew hearts floating out of bodies as two lovers embraced, or raindrops falling into puddles reflecting a woman carrying a brightly coloured umbrella. This picture would show Jack onstage inside the Spiegeltent, dexterously weaving his flames through the air, his tanned skin glistening, as a fire demon that was possessing his body could be glimpsed through the flames. I had goose bumps all along my arms just imagining it. The show had been on for about an hour when I slipped inside the tent. The Ladies of the Sky were just finishing up their act, and again I felt a pang of jealousy at how beautifully they could control their bodies. I’d seen all three earlier today,

stretching outside their camper. Lola had told me that they were all sisters, with only one or two years between each of them. Their names were Mary, Julie, and Molly and they came from America. I’d wanted to go over and introduce myself, befriend them, but I didn’t have the courage. Perhaps another day I’d muster it up. Their act came to an end, and then Jack was emerging in all his fiery glory. Knocking back a mouthful of fuel, he proceeded to blow an explosive blast of fire from his mouth. I wondered what the chances were of him hurting himself, and if there was any long-term damage caused to his body. Surely putting combustible fluids into your mouth meant you inevitably ingested a small amount over time. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask him, and if he were anyone else I would, but when it came to Jack McCabe, I found my brain forgetting all those questions in his strange and heady presence. I’d like to say I went away then, back to my camper for the night, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop watching until his entire act was over. He did the same knife-throwing bit as before, with Marina selecting a volunteer from the audience. I watched keenly, studying his every move, as he interacted with the woman who’d been selected. I was one-hundred-percent sure I didn’t see him place his hands on her shoulders like he did to me, nor did he touch her stomach to calm her or hold her hand as he led her to the wooden panel. Something fizzy and delightful popped in my belly. Perhaps there had been something different about our encounter, compared to the countless other nights he performed the exact same stunt. Perhaps Jack wasn’t as indifferent towards me as I imagined. I delighted in the sense of excitement these thoughts gave me as I went about packing up my face paints and returning the table and chairs to Winnie and Antonio. They told me to keep them, that I’d be doing them a favour, since they had way too much stuff clogging up their small motor home as it was. I thanked them profusely and stored the table and chairs beneath Violet’s van until tomorrow, hoping nobody would steal them. I was sitting in the living area, finishing off the ideas for my Jack painting, when Lola came in looking both tired and energised. She had that way about her. I thought of painting a picture of her, too, with tired grey patches under her eyes and contrasting colourful bolts of electricity spouting from her bobbed haircut. “Hey, you! Everybody’s gathering in the gazebo tonight for a late dinner. Pedro and Luan are cooking feijoada. It’s a Brazilian stew. Absolutely delicious. Come on!” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. My sketchpad fell to the floor and she picked it up, taking her time to peruse what I’d been drawing before handing it back, an amused smirk on her face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad.” “Got what bad?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “You’re too good of an artist for me not to recognise who you’re drawing, Lille. Just take my advice — be careful. I’ve never seen him with a woman, well, other than casual hook-ups every once in a while. You don’t want to get hurt.” Little did she know, I really did want to get hurt. It was irrational and probably stupid, but I wanted to feel the pain of having my emotions stomped all over. All of

the best creative minds in the world had their hearts broken. It’s what made their art genuine, vital, human. It had the potential to elevate me from just a “good” artist into a great one. After closing my sketchpad and setting it on the counter, I allowed her to pull me out and lead me to the gazebo, which I was learning was a sort of eating/drinking/general hang-out area for the circus performers and crew. Luan, Pedro, and the third man in their stunt group, Raphael, were standing by a portable gas cooker, dishing out bowls of stew to those patiently waiting in line. Once Lola and I had gotten ours, she led me over sit on the floor with Winnie and Antonio’s eleven- and thirteen-year-old girls, Carrie and Orla. We chatted with them about their shared crushes on some boy-band star, while Lola braided their hair into identical French plaits. I felt like we were separate from the adults in that moment, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed being able to observe the interactions from my place on the floor. Jack and King sat by a table in the far corner of the gazebo, a bottle of liquor between them. They appeared to be having a deep conversation, and it surprised me. Judging from the way Jack had spoken to King this morning, I wouldn’t have thought they were friends. But it was clear now that they were. Jack listened intently as King spoke, and vice versa. I could have killed to know what they were talking about. I had three glasses of wine with my stew and ended up feeling sleepy, so I went back to the camper and got into bed. It was only ten o’clock. I slept the whole night through and woke up at five-thirty feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. It was a day for ticking an item off my list; I could just feel it. After I had a quick shower, this time thankfully within the confines of the van, I had tea and toast for breakfast. After that it was still only six-thirty, so I decided to stretch my legs. I walked twice around the campsite, stopping and admiring the lions in their cages for a time. They were both sleeping soundly, their purring a deep, melodic rumble that soothed something inside me. I knew that technically these animals were predators, but still, I thought I could fall asleep every night to the peaceful sound of their purring. Their paws were huge and fluffy up close. It was at once frightening and totally adorable. Such beautiful creatures. You could tell they were well taken care of. Not like the lions you saw at the zoo or at one of those chain circuses that looked skinny and malnourished. Winnie and Antonio’s lions were clearly very much loved. I continued my walk. I was just passing by Jack’s camper when I stopped midstride and hid behind a tree. The door opened, and somebody stepped out. I peeked around the tree to see it was Julie, one of the Ladies of the Sky. Her red hair was messy and her makeup smudged. My gut sank. It was clear that she’d spent the night. And it was even clearer when Jack came out behind her. He stood still as she turned back to him, reaching up and sliding an arm around his neck. She murmured something in his ear, gave him a light kiss on the lips, then sauntered away. My heart was thumping loudly now as it simultaneously sank to the bottom of my

boots. It became very obvious to me that I was harbouring a crush on Jack, which was why seeing him with Julie was so disappointing. I bet if someone somewhere did a study on crushes, they’d find that a dishearteningly large proportion of them were unrequited. I willed him to go back inside so that I could scurry away undiscovered, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat down on the deck chair outside his camper and began rolling a cigarette. Just my luck. I was standing glued to the spot, eyes closed, breathing shallowly and waiting him out, when I heard him call, “I can hear you, you know.” My eyes snapped open, but I remained frozen. Did he know it was me hiding here, or did he just think it was a person, any person? I didn’t want to show myself, but there was nothing else for it. He knew someone was here, and he was going to discover it was me sooner or later. Sighing, I came out from behind the tree, and his gaze seemed to sharpen when he saw me. “Sorry,” I said. “I was taking a walk when…God, this is ridiculous. I don’t even know why I was hiding. I just didn’t want to….” Jack stood and walked towards me, lighting up and taking a drag of his smoke. If I was any other person, I’d probably advise him to quit, tell him it wasn’t good for his health. But I wasn’t. I didn’t nag people about their personal choices. That was my mother. I didn’t want to share any characteristics with her. Still, I worried for Jack. Worried about his lungs. Worried about what the fuel he used in his act was doing to his insides. “You just didn’t want to what, Lille?” he asked. His mouth was a straight line, but there was some kind of amusement dancing in his eyes. My belly did somersaults when he spoke my name. “I didn’t want you to think I was spying.” One eyebrow went up. “You didn’t want me to think you were spying…by spying on me?” “I wasn’t! I was just waiting for you to go back inside, that’s all.” He blew out smoke, looked at the ground. His shoulder-length hair was down, and a few strands fell forward, shielding his face. When he looked up at me, he was so beautiful I almost couldn’t breathe for a second. “You’re a strange girl.” “And you’re a strange boy,” I replied. One side of his mouth went up, and my palms got a little clammy to have him almost smile at me again. I got the feeling that Jack McCabe didn’t almost smile very often. “Boy,” he repeated, a statement, not a question. There wasn’t much that was boy-like about him, but I liked how me calling him one seemed to rile him up some. I simply looked at him, not knowing how to reply. “So, what brings you out here so early this morning? Taking another shower?” he asked, his gaze growing softer as he reached out and took a strand of my dark blonde hair in his fingers. “Damp,” he said, voice low. “No, I woke up early, decided to explore the campsite. The lions are just

beautiful.” Jack nodded. “Pip and Skip.” “Huh?” He took another drag. “The lions. Those are their names.” “Oh, right!” I laughed nervously. “Pip, like in Great Expectations. Do you think Winnie and Antonio named him after the character? It’s my favourite Dickens book.” “I don’t know,” he said, withdrawing a little then. There was a moment of silence, during which I struggled with whether or not to go or stay. Yes, I wanted something to happen between Jack and me, however unlikely it was. The problem was that whenever I was around him, I got all antsy, like I was experiencing fightor-flight syndrome and my brain wanted me to flee even though my body begged me to stay. “Have you seen the elephants yet?” Jack asked, surprising me. I shook my head, then jumped a little when he reached out and took my hand. His was big and warm, and I luxuriated in the feeling of his skin on mine, even in such a small way. I tried not to think of what he had just been doing with Julie. I wanted to live in a bubble of denial for a while. He led me to the far side of the campsite, where there was a large grassy field. This was my first experience of feeling not quite right about the way the circus used animals for entertainment. Yes, they were out in the open, the sun was shining, and there were huge pails of water for them to drink from and troughs of cabbage for them to eat. But technically they weren’t free, were they? I couldn’t stop staring at the locks around their ankles. They reminded me far too much of the emotional chains my mother had been placing around me my whole life. Similar to the elephants, I was fed, provided with shelter, but I wasn’t free. Jack saw me frowning and gave me a questioning look. “They’re prisoners,” I said, suddenly realising that although they had seemed peaceful and beautiful to me as they slept, the lions were prisoners, too. “Not prisoners,” Jack replied. “More like property.” “It doesn’t feel right.” “No. Very little in this world is right, Lille. All we can hope for is to make it less not right. See these elephants? They might be chained up, but at least they aren’t in a cage all the time. At least Jan and Ricky only do the basic sort of stunts that don’t require so much cruelty in the training.” I let out a long breath. One of the elephants was drinking water through its trunk. I wasn’t one of those overly righteous people who waxed lyrical about how all animals should live in the wild. I’d never been to an anti-fur protest, nor had I ever given much thought to the cruelty of animal testing. Yet being here, being forced to see their captivity with my own two eyes, made my heart pound. And I was certain it was far from the worst kind of captivity that was out there. I guess it’s easy to ignore things when they’re hidden from your view. Jack was watching me intently, perhaps trying to figure out what I was thinking.

And really, I didn’t want to be thinking about the lives of these elephants anymore. I didn’t want to feel sad wondering whether or not they were happy, so I changed the subject. “Your girlfriend is so beautiful,” I said gently. “I’m completely in awe of her and her sisters. They must have been training to become acrobats ever since they were little.” His eyebrows moved closer together, creating a broody sort of expression on his face. “Julie,” I said, and he stayed silent, so I clarified, “The woman I just saw leaving your camper?” “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied simply. Oh, so it was a temporary thing. I can’t say I didn’t feel a small measure of relief. I should have known, though, since Lola did say she only ever saw Jack with casual hook-ups. “Sorry. My mistake. So, where are you from? Originally, I mean? Dublin?” Christ, I was getting nervous now, thus the sentence of many questions. Jack nodded a yes to Dublin but didn’t give me any details. I decided his moment of chattiness was over, so I sat on a rock and watched the elephants. It was an interesting visual when Jack picked a stalk from their feed and approached one of them. He was wearing a T-shirt that looked like the sleeves had been carelessly cut off, underneath a worn dark brown waistcoat, his tanned, muscular arms showing. He was tall enough that he could reach up and run a hand along the elephant’s large body. Then he held out the stalk for it to eat. Wow. The sight of such a strong, vital man feeding a strong, vital animal was kind of arousing in strange way. Then he started to walk away. I cupped my hands around my mouth and called after him, “Where are you going?” He turned around and shrugged. “For a walk.” I knew it wasn’t an invitation to join him, but I followed anyway. I wasn’t beyond forcing my friendship on Jack. He was mysterious and intriguing enough for me to step out of my comfort zone and be the aggressor. To me, some people feel like the lives they’ve lived are novels. With Jack, I wanted to get my hands on the book and feverishly work my way through the pages until I got to the end. The direction we walked was away from the campsite, where there were fields upon fields that bled out into the distance. A countryside landscape. Silently, I walked side by side with Jack through the grass. The weather was warm and the ground dry, which kept my shoes from getting muddy. I breathed in the fresh, summery air and felt peaceful. Then a fly landed on my shoulder, and I could have been imagining things, but I thought it might have bitten me through my thin T-shirt. I slid my hand under the fabric and scratched at my skin, soothing the itch. I remembered that this was the exact spot I’d planned on getting my tattoo. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about my tattoo! Determination formulated. I would find a parlour in the city and have my tattoo done today. I’d tick an item off my list. There were no Shay Cosgroves here in Caen

to deny me what I wanted. Nobody knew who I was, nor were they afraid of inviting my mother’s wrath. I only realised Jack had been watching me as we walked when his voice broke through the quiet. “What are you smiling so happily about?” I was still smiling when I answered. “I just thought of something fun to do today. Want to join me?” I’m not sure why I asked him that. In all honesty, this was one thing I wasn’t sure I wanted Jack to be around for. It would be scary enough letting a stranger repeatedly stick a needle in me. I didn’t need the added tension of having Jack in the room with his broody eyebrows and intense black eyes, the mask on his face that constantly shrouded his thoughts. He stopped walking and turned to face me, reaching over my head and plucking a leaf from an overhanging tree. His attention was almost unnerving when he looked at me closely and ran the leaf down the side of my face to my neck. It tickled, and something tightened in the pit of my stomach. “Fun?” “You’re acquainted with the idea, yes?” I said, closing my eyes for a second and doing my best not to stammer. He was just so close now, close enough to smell. Close enough to feel his potent energy. He tilted his head to the side. “Are you poking fun at me, Lille, insinuating I don’t know how to have fun?” “Well,” I continued bravely, “generally, people who frown as often as you do don’t have a lot of it.” “Shall I show you how I have it?” he asked, and stepped closer so that my chest was brushing off his. I wasn’t a short person, but Jack McCabe had a presence, a presence that could make someone feel positively tiny. I sidestepped away from him, putting some distance between us, and began walking again, practically tripping over my own feet. I could tell he was just behind me, following. “I’m not in such dire straits that I need to be taught how to have fun by frowning Jack McCabe,” I said, trying for casual. “But if I ever run out of other options, I’ll give you a call. Like, say, if Angela Merkel isn’t available, you’ll be next on my list.” I was pushing my luck now, and I knew it. I really didn’t know what had gotten into me, but I was in a teasing mood. There was a beat of silence, and then I heard him chuckle. It was scary to know how much his reaction relieved me. You just never quite knew with this guy which way he’d react, and there was still that lingering doubt in the back of my mind. The story of Vera and the fact that Jack could have been the one who killed her was unnerving. Ever since Lola told me the story, I’d been trying to convince myself it wasn’t anyone from the circus. That the murderer being a stranger from a nearby town was much more plausible. It was the only thing that allowed me to sleep at night and embrace this adventure of mine. “I’m confused — do you want me to come with you or not?” Jack said. “I still don’t know what it is you have planned. So, you know, feel free to enlighten me any

time.” I looked back at him then. He was still holding the leaf, and he winked. My heart thudded. A wink from Jack McCabe. This morning was turning out to be one for the diary. If I had a diary, which I didn’t. I did, however, have a sketchpad, and I had a feeling I’d be sketching elephants and leaves and winking black eyes for many nights to come. It was like masturbation for artists: draw the thing that turns you on. Not that elephants turned me on….or leaves, for that matter. “I’m going to get my first tattoo,” I told him finally, and he let out a little snicker. “Is this an attempt to defy Mother, Lille dear?” he asked, and I didn’t like the touch of mockery in his tone. “No, actually. I’ve been planning it for a long time. And I’ve just decided I don’t want you there.” “Oh, no, but I want to come now,” he said flatly. Was that sarcasm? I stopped and turned to face him. I didn’t think he was expecting it, because he faltered a little before halting. “Do you know what, Jack? You don’t always have to judge people just because they might have had it easier than you. We’re all struggling in our own way.” “Lille….” he began, but I didn’t allow him to finish. Instead, I brushed past him and strode off, arms folded across my chest. It was obvious that he thought I was some pampered little brat out to slum it with the carnie folk. He probably even thought I looked down on the people who worked in the circus, and he couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I envied them, respected them. When I got back to the camper, Violet was cooking breakfast, and Lola was blowdrying her hair with the tiniest travel hair dryer I’d ever seen. I sat down on a chair and waited for her to shut it off, then asked, “Do either of you want to come into the city with me today?” Violet shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to practice for tonight’s show.” Lola nodded enthusiastically. “I’m in. What are we doing?” I smiled and answered, “I’m getting a tattoo.” Lola clapped her hands together in excitement, and I went to find my hot air balloon drawing. Soon enough, we’d eaten and were on our way into town, walking along the roadside. Cars passed us by, one or two honking at us. I wasn’t sure if they were “get out of the way” honks or “hello, ladies” honks, but it pleased me to believe they were the latter. Then I heard someone call out from behind and turned to see Jack running towards us, waving his hand in the air for us to wait for him.

FIVE

A TATTOO LILLE GOT BUT JACK DID NOT

“W hat the hell….” said Lola in confusion. I took this to mean that Jack wasn’t

normally the kind of man who chased after people. It was more likely that they chased after him…or ran away from him in fear, my brain provided. “I think he wants to come with us,” I replied in puzzlement, perhaps even more confused than Lola. When Jack finally reached us, he bent over for a second to catch his breath before drawing himself upright. “You left without me.” Oh, wow, the way he was looking at me hit me right in the chest, like thump. He was just so striking physically that any extremes of emotion in him were quite…arresting. “I thought you made it clear you didn’t want to come.” One eyebrow went up as he shook his head. “I never said that.” We stared at each other for several seconds, almost in challenge, before Lola interrupted with a laugh that seemed to hold secret knowledge. “Okay, you two. Let’s start walking, or you’ll be having that staring contest all day.” Jack was still looking at me when I fumblingly turned on my heel and followed Lola. Strangely, all the way into town he walked behind us rather than beside us. Lola and I chatted away, and the only sign of participation from Jack was the odd grunt or low chuckle. I really didn’t understand why he was insisting on coming with us, because he’d seemed so sardonic about the whole idea earlier. As we searched for a tattoo parlour, we came by a little curiosity shop selling all kinds of pretty ornaments and trinkets. Lola and I stood by the window, admiring the display. Just behind a big purple vase I spotted a small object and gasped, taking it as a sign. It was a little hot air balloon forged in copper. I pulled out my drawing and unfolded the paper. “It looks just like my tattoo design. See?” I said, holding the picture out for Lola, aware of Jack looking just over my shoulder. “Okay, that’s spooky. I officially have goose bumps. Go ahead, feel my skin,” Lola declared, and held her arm out to me. I obliged her by running my hand over it, and it was true, she did have them. I craned my neck to try to make out the price tag on the ornament. There on the little old-fashioned handwritten price tag it read seventy euros, which was way too pricey, considering I currently had less than four

hundred to my name, and I was responsible for supporting myself for the entire summer. It must have been an antique. “Yeah. I’d buy it, only it’s way too expensive. Maybe if I make enough money before the week is through I’ll come back for it.” I sighed wistfully. “Sounds like a plan,” said Lola before linking her arm through mine and leading me away from the shop window. I turned a little to see Jack still standing there, staring at the ornament. Or maybe there was something else in the display that had caught his eye. A moment later he began following us again. It took another twenty minutes to find a tattoo parlour, where a French girl with a septum piercing and an undercut told me in broken English that she could do the tattoo, but I needed to have something to eat first. We left her to practice sketching my hot air balloon and went in search of food. I was delighted when we came across a crepe stand that also sold waffles covered in chocolate syrup – so obviously I went for the waffles. It also surprised me when Jack ate with us, because it felt like he was there to perform some sort of strange guard duties rather than to actually spend time with us. I think his silence put Lola on edge a bit, because at one point she leaned close to me and whispered, “This is… weird.” I only nodded, not saying anything because I thought Jack had heard her, and in a strange way I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I made eye contact with him for a second, trying to convey that I really didn’t think it was weird. In fact, there was something both soothing and exciting about his presence. He possessed a stoic sort of strength I felt like I could somehow siphon off for myself. I definitely needed some of his bravery if I was going to go through with the tattoo. I was happily full of waffles and chocolate syrup by the time we arrived back at the parlour. When we reached the door, Lola went in ahead of me, but Jack cut me off when he put an arm out to stop me. I turned to see what he wanted and gasped when he lifted his thumb up and dragged it over the corner of my mouth. His lips curved at the edges. “You had some chocolate there,” he explained. I arched a brow. “You could have just told me, and I’d have gotten it myself.” His touch had thrown me off kilter, and I think he knew the effect he had on me, which was why I was getting snippy. It was like he enjoyed the tease, knowing it was never going to lead anywhere. Kind of like the way a cat might toy with a mouse. He had both hands braced on either side of the doorframe now, penning me in. Bravely, I made eye contact with him, holding my head high. Out here in the bright light of day, his eyes looked the colour of whiskey. They weren’t really black at all. They softened, went all “bedroomy,” but you know, I didn’t think he realised just how bedroomy his eyes went at times. I think I might have even seen him giving Marina bedroom eyes the other day. So yeah, he definitely didn’t know. It must have been one of his default settings. “And where’s the fun in that?” he asked, teasingly. Okay, maybe he did know about his bedroom eyes…which only made the Marina thing all the more

unsettling. Did he use them on every woman? “Are you playing with me?” I asked outright. I didn’t want to fall victim to the games of his strange and unexpected flirting. I wanted him to know I was onto him. Because, you know, I was such a cool and experienced woman, and I didn’t take any shit. If only. He feigned a small look of shock. “Me? Never?” His gaze trailed to my lips then, and I recognised a definite expression of interest. “Stop it,” I said. “Stop what?” “Stop…what you’re doing,” I sputtered. “We don’t have time for this, and I – I have a tattoo to get.” “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked before placing a hand on my shoulder and running it down my arm. “Are you sure you want to mark this untouched skin?” “It’s just skin,” I answered, shivering, and then winced, remembering his burn scars. Perhaps he couldn’t understand why someone would choose to mark themselves in this way. Ridiculously, I felt like apologising to him. It was actually surprising when I noted that he didn’t have any tattoos himself, because he looked like the kind of person who would have them. “Skin is important, Lille. Some marks last forever. You have to decide if they’re worth it.” My eyes flickered back and forth between his, somehow feeling like he wasn’t talking about tattoos anymore. I swallowed, mustering determination, and stepped backward, pushing the door open with my bottom and escaping his unnerving closeness. “I believe this is worth it,” I said to him with conviction, then turned to greet the tattoo artist. The parlour had an open-plan layout, which meant you were sitting right there for all to see, rather than in a private room. I thought that maybe they only went to the back room to tattoo bottoms, or penises, or something. I didn’t even have a penis, and I still grimaced at the idea of having one inked. Ouch. Lola sat on a couch, casually flicking through folders of artwork, but Jack didn’t sit. Instead, he stood by the wall, folded his arms, and watched me. Great. Like this wasn’t going to be nerve-wracking enough already. The tattooist, whose name was Jasmine, instructed me to lie down stomach first on a mechanical chair that she’d flattened out for me. I realised the error I’d made when choosing what to wear today, because the only way to expose my shoulder and back was to pull my T-shirt off halfway, holding the front to my chest. It was a good job I could turn my head to the side and face away from Jack to hide my blush. I was probably imagining things, but I swore I could feel his eyes on my body, trailing down my spine, over the flare of my hips. A tingle made its presence known right between my legs. Jack’s attention had such an exhilarating effect, even if

sometimes I wasn’t sure I wanted it. Jasmine cleaned my skin first, then pressed a stencil of my tattoo onto my back just below my shoulder. “You look in mirror, see if you like,” she encouraged me with a smile. I climbed from the chair, holding the T-shirt firmly to my chest. I frowned at Jack in annoyance when he gave me what could only be described as a lascivious grin. He knew I felt awkward being the semi-clothed centre of attention. Perhaps I should have done the wise thing and come alone. “It looks great, Lille,” Lola enthused, looking up at me from her place on the couch as I turned to inspect the stencil in the mirror. I think she saw me glancing nervously at Jack when she said to him, “I don’t have a disease, you know. You can come share this lovely big couch with me. You won’t catch anything.” Jack very subtly arched his brow, arms still folded over his chest. “I’m fine where I am.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake, sit down! You’re putting us all on edge, standing over there like the angel of death.” I sputtered a laugh at her wry expression and made my way back to the chair, telling Jasmine it all looked good. I heard Jack let out a long breath before he finally gave in and took a seat beside Lola. The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun came on, a sound I recognised well after my many days spent hanging around the parlour back home, hoping Shay Cosgrove might offer me a job, i.e., the position of girlfriend. Looking back on it now, my crush felt so juvenile. I glanced at Jack just before Jasmine brought the needle to my skin. Yeah, I’d definitely moved on to bigger and better things. And sadly, more unattainable, too. It was painful at first – a sharp, dragging sort of pain that was uncomfortable but at the same time tolerable. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes, trying to meditate. When I shut them, though, all I could see was Jack’s whiskey eyes from earlier, staring at my mouth and giving me grandiose notions that he might actually have wanted to kiss me. Jasmine was almost done when she asked, “You like your boyfriend fill in the last dot of blue here? Some couples, they like to do that. The intimacy,” she explained as best she could, a look on her face like she was doing me a wonderful favour. I was struck speechless for a second and was about to set her straight as to my boyfriendlessness when Jack spoke up. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” He stood and walked to the chair. What the hell? I glared at him furiously, my expression distinctly telling him no, it wasn’t going to happen. But then he knelt down and put his hand on the base of my spine, and I lost the ability to think. “How are you holding up, baby?” he asked deviously, and I heard Lola let out an amused squawk of laughter. “Just fine,” I bit out, and then Jasmine was presenting the gun to Jack and showing him how to hold it. She was basically doing all the work, her hands on top of his, but I supposed this was something certain couples would class as “fun.” A special moment, even.

A second later it was over, and I had no idea why I didn’t tell them to stop, that I didn’t want Jack to be involved. Maybe in the back of my psyche, I did want him to do it. I certainly knew my libido was a fan. Jack’s eyes blazed when I sat up, because my T-shirt slipped a little, exposing the top of my breast. I was irritated only for a second before Jasmine showed me my finished tattoo, and I gasped. It was beautiful, almost identical to the picture I’d given her, and it bore the distinct mark of my own work. I felt like I’d just painted onto my own skin, and it would last for the rest of my life. Incredible. I was in a daze as Jasmine talked through the aftercare and handed me a card with detailed instructions. She covered the tattoo in cling film, and it stung a little when I reached up to put my top back on. I sucked in a breath, and before I knew it, big, warm hands were tugging the T-shirt down over my head. I stood there, frozen, as Jack set my top back to rights. It was strangely intimate, like we were two lovers who’d just had sex and he was helping me dress afterwards. I thought I might be dreaming when he leaned close, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “You’ve got me under your skin now, Lille.” The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing; his tone was sombre, regretful. And I was shivering again. I widened my eyes, and Lola gave me a look that asked frantically, What? What did he say? I’d never felt more like the mouse in the whole cat/mouse scenario than I did right in that moment. I could hardly meet his gaze on the way back to the campsite. We stopped at a shop to pick up a few items we needed and then continued on our way. Things seemed quiet at first when we arrived back, but as we got deeper into the campsite, I heard someone yelling. Turning a corner around one of the camper vans, we discovered a heated argument going on between Winnie and Julie. Drama practically sizzled in the air, and almost the entire circus was there to witness it. “That lion almost bit my hand off!” Julie screamed, tears streaming down her face while one of her sisters held her back. “He doesn’t bite unless provoked,” Winnie countered angrily. “You provoked him, you stupid, bored little girl! You go poking sticks into my animal’s enclosure, what else do you expect to happen?” “I expect you to have fucking trained it properly so that it.wouldn’t.try.to.attack.me!!” Julie yelled, enunciating each word with a vicious bite. Winnie turned to Marina, who was standing nearby. “She is an immature spoiled imbecile, and I have had enough. This is not the first time I’ve had trouble from her.” “She’s a lying bitch,” Julie cut in, throwing her body forward like she might swing for Winnie, but her sister continued to hold her back. “I’ve been nothing but nice to her.” “Oh, you call trying to seduce my Antonio nice? Yes, I love it when women

pathetically throw themselves at my husband.” Winnie laughed disdainfully. Marina watched the argument unfold quietly, and I couldn’t tell if she was bored or angry, or maybe just amused. Julie gave Winnie the most disgusted look before spitting, “You think I want your husband? He’s, like, a hundred years old, and has more hair on his chest than he does on his head. I’m sorry, but I find that laughable.” “What a load of bull,” Lola, who was standing right next to me, whispered under her breath. Then she stepped forward, siding with Winnie. “I have to intervene here and agree with Winnie. I’ve seen you come on to Antonio with my own two eyes, Julie. We all have.” I glanced at Jack for a second, expecting his attention to be on the women, but he was looking at me, frowning. I wondered if he felt embarrassed that I’d seen Julie leaving his camper this morning, since it was now quite clear she was a just a little bit of a bitch. Beautiful, yes, but also the kind of woman who goes after other women’s husbands and provokes lions. “Thank you,” said Winnie, nodding gratefully at Lola and putting her hands on her hips as she returned her attention to Julie, who proceeded to burst into tears. When she spotted Jack standing there, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him in distress. He stood still, seemingly not knowing what to do for a second. It would almost be funny if it hadn’t made me so jealous. He patted her hair, and I saw Marina give him an exasperated look. He just shrugged and led Julie away. Suddenly, I realised that there was a whole history among these people that I knew nothing about. A whole set of intertwined relationships, feuds, and allegiances. It made me feel a little like an outsider. “Okay, everyone, back to work. The drama’s over. There’s nothing more to see here,” said Marina, shooing the circus workers away. She went and spoke a few quiet words to Winnie, placing a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. When she saw me, her eyes lit up in a smile. “Lille, how are you? I have to thank you for all the work you’ve done on my accounts. Everything’s so organised now, it’s like a dream. Come, have tea with me.” I allowed her to lead me back to her camper, where she sat me down on the couch and went about turning on the kettle. There was a loud thump on the door, and when Marina went to answer it, I heard a gruff male voice muttering to her, sounding annoyed. “You’ll find no alcohol here, King, so you’re out of luck. It’s about time you sobered up, anyway.” I heard rather than saw it when he slammed his hand into the side of the camper and swore loudly. My heart jumped in my chest. “Just give me a fucking drink, Marina. I swear, just one more, and then I’ll quit. Please.” There was a struggle in her voice as she said, “No, I won’t. I can’t enable you

anymore. Now please go. We’ve had enough drama on this campsite for one day.” She slammed the door shut and took several deep breaths before turning back to me. “Sorry about that. He’s my brother. I love him, but the man is going to kill himself if he keeps drinking.” “It must be difficult,” I said sadly. She sighed and walked to the kitchen, lifting the kettle and pouring the boiled water into a teapot. “It is difficult. King’s lived a bizarre life. If you could have seen him in his day, you’d never connect the man he was then to the man he is now. He’s not a bad person, but his addiction makes him horrible to live with at times.” Her words had my mind racing with questions I wanted to ask, but I felt it might be rude. I went with something simple. “King’s a very unusual name. Is it a nickname?” She shook her head and set the teapot down on the table, pouring us each a cup. “No, it’s his surname. His given name is Oliver, but nobody ever calls him that anymore.” “But your surname is Mitchell.” “That’s right. We’re only half-siblings. Same father, different mothers. That’s why there’s such a large age gap between us.” “So you weren’t raised together?” Marina lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip. In contrast to how distressed she’d been a moment ago, she now seemed relaxed and open. “Oh, goodness, no. King and I had very different upbringings. My mother was a lounge girl…King’s mother was a concert pianist. British upper crust. So you see what I mean when I say life used to be a lot different for him.” Well, that was certainly interesting. I wondered what great tragedies must have befallen him to bring him so low. Not that living with the circus was low, but he didn’t even have a camper van. From what I could tell, he slept rough most nights. A small pang of emotion swept over me as I considered the loneliness of an existence like that, the pain he must be going through. I thought back to the first time I’d seen him the other day, and how I’d felt like his eyes held a multitude of experiences, sinner and saint all rolled into one. I was about to ask her more questions when I realised that King wasn’t really the person I wanted to learn about. Jack was just as much of a mystery, one that pulled at my curiosity far stronger than anything else. As we drank our tea, I tried to figure out a casual way to work him into the conversation, but then I didn’t need to. Marina did it for me. “I saw you show up with Jack today while Winnie and Julie were arguing,” she said, and her observation made me self-conscious. It felt like Marina saw a lot more than most people. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, he, uh, came into town with me and Lola.” “Really? Did you ask him to come?” I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but I answered anyway. “Um, yes. Well no, actually. I invited him, but then he was rude, so I withdrew the invitation. Then he

decided he’d come anyway.” “You know,” said Marina, plucking a biscuit from the plate on the coffee table and taking a bite, “I first met Jack a number of years ago in Dublin. He was practically still a boy back then. Had been performing fire tricks on the street for passers-by. His skill at such a young age was incredible. I’d never seen anything like it. So I waited until he was done and expressed an interest in recruiting him into the circus. I tell you, I’d never come across such a mistrustful creature as I did when I first met young Jack.” She paused and chuckled. “He was angry at me, came right out and said he wasn’t a gigolo. He thought I was trying to buy sex from him when I’d made the suggestion of work. It was a terrible misunderstanding. I left, but returned the next day and tried to convince him that I wasn’t a madam or some washed-up old woman looking for sex, but that I ran a circus and I thought he’d be ideal to perform with us. Still, he wasn’t having any of it. I gave him a card with my information, and every time I saw him chuck it in the bin. I knew real talent when I saw it, and I wasn’t going to give up on him. So I came back every day for a week until he finally agreed to have lunch with me. And the rest, I guess, is history. But my point is, Jack doesn’t trust easily. I’ve seen him in your company a number of times now, and it’s heartening. The fact that he’s letting you in means something.” Reaching across the table, she took my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Promise me you’ll be careful with his trust, Lille.” There was genuine affection in her voice, and I knew that, for whatever reason, Marina cared a great deal for Jack. “I will be, I promise.” “Thank you, love.” A moment of quiet went by before I spoke. “You know, he may not be as mistrustful as you think. I’ve seen him with Julie….” Marina cut me off with a sound of derision. “Jack doesn’t trust Julie. I think we both know what that relationship is all about. It’s a friend he needs, not a pair of open legs. You, Lille, are his friend. He needs a friend.” What she said took me by surprise. Was I his friend? I wasn’t sure my feelings for him were entirely friendly. In fact, I was certain they weren’t. Still, there was such hope in Marina’s eyes that I felt I needed to make an effort to be his friend. Whatever had happened to him to make him so untrusting of people must have been horrible, so I supposed, despite his behaviour sometimes, he deserved a friend he could trust. I resolved myself to being that person. It would also allow me to tick an item off my list. I’d thought it contained only selfish endeavours, things that would make me feel better, make my life better, but I was now seeing that wasn’t the case at all. I could use my list as a means to make better the lives of those around me, too. Yes, Jack would be my number seven: Make a new friend.

SIX

JACK’S BROTHER WAS IN THE PAPER

“I

wish I could have a flower for a nose and butterfly wings for ears,” said the little girl whose face I was painting red like a ladybird. Her name was Bea, and she was the daughter of one of the circus workers. She seemed to always be running around the place unsupervised, so I tended to spend a lot of time with her, mainly because I worried she might get lost or hurt if left alone. I was a worrier like that, which was why my lofty dreams of adventure often didn’t pan out. “I don’t like the way noses look. They’re ugly. Ears are ugly, too.” I laughed loudly. How could I not? The things children came out with sometimes were just crazy. “I tell you what,” I said fondly. “I’ll paint you a portrait, but instead of a nose, you’ll have a flower, and instead of ears, you’ll have the prettiest little butterfly wings anyone has ever seen.” She blinked at me and cocked her head curiously. “What’s a portrait?” “It’s a picture of you. Like, the same as if someone took a photograph, except it’s a painting.” This explanation seemed to excite her. “Really? You’ll paint a picture of me? Do you think Daddy will let me hang it up on our wall?” “Maybe. You’ll have to ask him,” I answered as I coloured in the black dot on her cheek. Bea grinned widely and wiggled happily in her seat just as Pedro and two other men stopped by. They were labourers who assisted with various things around the circus. To be honest, I didn’t really like the look of them. They had hard eyes, and their personal hygiene left a little to be desired. Perhaps one of them is Vera’s murderer, my brain put in. I hated that I thought it, because I was judging them purely by the way they looked. “Lily white,” said Pedro flirtatiously. “You look very sexy today. Maybe you’d like to come join me and my friends in the gazebo for a drink.” “I’m busy with Bea at the moment, but maybe some other time,” I replied, nervousness formulating in my gut. I was uncomfortable and just wanted them to move along. There was something about the interest in Pedro’s eyes that unsettled me, like he’d already stripped me naked, had his way, and disposed of me all in the space of a moment. It kind of made my skin crawl. Also, he and his friends were

drinking cans of beer in the middle of the day, which just felt off to me. Not to mention one of them was smoking what was clearly a joint. I tried to focus back on Bea, wishing they’d just leave, but they kept standing there, bantering back and forth. “I have to go pee now,” Bea said, and hopped off her seat. I’d finished painting her face, but I’d been drawing it out, hoping to look busy to Pedro & Co. I swore under my breath when one of the men grinned and said, “Looks like you’re free now. Come on, let’s go have some fun.” “That’s very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you,” I replied politely, focusing on putting away my paints. Pedro chuckled and looked to his friends. “She’s so fancy, isn’t she? We don’t get fancy around here very often, Lily White.” I swallowed, fiercely disliking the nickname he’d given me, but didn’t comment on it. I felt like engaging them in any way would only lead to trouble. “I like fancy,” said one of the men. “Nothing tastes sweeter than fancy pussy.” He smacked his lips together, and I cringed inwardly. Coming from a small town and living with an overbearingly strict mother, I wasn’t used to lewd talk, especially lewd talk directed at me. A sick feeling grew in my belly. Stuffing all my things in my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and made a move to leave, but Pedro stopped me. I was actually a couple of inches taller than he was, but he had muscle on his side, and there was something distinctly intimidating about him despite his smaller stature. He gripped my arm, and it wasn’t friendly. In fact, his fingers dug into me in a painful way. Cocking his head, he asked, “You think you’re too good for us, huh?” I swallowed. “Of course not. I’m just very busy, that’s all, and I don’t usually drink alcohol during the day, so….” “You looking down on us for drinking, eh?” Pedro bit out, and turned to look at his friends, his fingers still digging into my arm. “Pity fancy is usually snobby, too. I should teach her a lesson. Stupid fucking uppity bitch.” The alcohol on his breath told me he’d had quite a bit to drink, so maybe that was the beer talking. Still, the way he spoke was upsetting. I could feel tears catching in the back of my throat, apprehension clenching in my gut. I wished someone would come by and help me, but we were at the front of the tent, and most people were in their motor homes or at the gazebo having lunch at this hour. “Let go of me,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice even. Instead of letting go, Pedro pulled me closer so that our bodies collided. His grip was like steel. “You’re gonna come have a drink with us as an apology. Make things right. Then we’ll let you go.” He dragged me forward, and I stumbled over my own feet. Pedro slid his arm around my waist, still holding tightly. I suspected he wanted to make it look like I was going with him willingly to the people in the camper vans we passed by. I tried to break out of his hold again, but he only gripped me harder, held me closer.

We were passing by a van that I realised was Jack’s when I heard a low voice swear, “What the fuck.” “Jackie boy, we’re going to have some fun with this one. Want to come?” one of the men asked. I turned my head, desperation in my eyes when I looked at Jack, and I saw the anger plain as day on his face. He strode forward, fuming, and used both hands to push Pedro away from me. “You don’t fucking touch her, you hear me?” I stared wide-eyed at the scene that unravelled. “Are you serious, bro?” Pedro asked, wearing an indignant expression. Jack looked at me. “Did you want this dickhead’s hands on you?” he asked, and all I could manage was a fervent shake of my head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. And I’m not your bro. Are you so hard up you’re forcing women to spend time with you now, Pedro?” Pedro spat on the ground and grinned viciously. “She wants it. Just needs a little convincing, that’s all. Bet she’ll be a nice tight little fuck.” In a blur Jack swung for Pedro, laying a hard punch to his jaw, and I heard an awful crack. “Oh, Jesus fuck, did you just break his face?” one of the men exclaimed, looking bleary-eyed. Pedro was grunting in pain, kneeling on the ground and holding onto his jaw. “I’m going to fucking kill you, McCabe,” he seethed. Jack stepped forward and towered over him, flashing his teeth menacingly, his threat low and eerily calm. “Try it.” For the first time, Pedro looked genuinely frightened as he crawled to his feet, still holding his jaw. “Come on, boys, let’s get out of here.” They all scurried away, and I stood there, several feet between me and Jack. Once they were gone, he seemed to deflate, running a hand through his long hair and cursing under his breath. “Thank you,” I whispered. The tears that had been clogging my throat made my eyes grow watery. I was so unbelievably grateful for what he’d done, but there was an air about him that made me wary. I wanted to hug him in gratitude, but my body remained frozen and stiff. Jack advanced on me then, but stopped just when his chest brushed mine. His voice softened considerably when he lifted his hand and ran his knuckles down the side of my face. “I told you. I told you coming with us was a bad idea, but did you listen? No, you didn’t. You put your trust in a bunch of strangers. Can’t you see how stupid that was, Lille? For all you knew, we could have had some kind of human-trafficking gig going on the side and sold you into a life of slavery or prostitution. You never would have seen your family again.” He swore, dragging his fingers through his hair yet again, and looked to the side. When he turned back to me, he met my eyes dead on. “You have to learn that you can’t trust people.” I swallowed down all of the emotion that had formed like a ball in my throat and met his eyes. “I just wanted to escape,” I whispered so, so quietly. “And you could have been escaping, only to be captured. This work, this place,

it’s not safe for women all alone.” What he said irritated me. “What about Lola? And Violet? They’re alone, and they’ve survived just fine. Look, this whole thing was just a bit of bad luck. Pedro and his friends were drunk and acting stupid. I’ll know to stay away from them in future. But thank you for helping me. I’m not sure what might have happened if you hadn’t, and for that I owe you one.” At this I shocked even myself when I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. I heard him suck in a breath as I pressed my body to his and rested my face against his hard chest. Hug me back. Please, hug me back, I silently urged him. He was still for a second before I felt him accept my embrace, his arms going around me, returning the hug almost too tightly. We stayed like that for a long time, standing on the grass outside his camper, birds chirping in the trees nearby. In the distance, I heard one of the elephants make a noise with its trunk that reminded me of a brass horn. Jack’s face moved, and I could have sworn I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, his lips in my hair. Then he murmured, “Come on. I’ll walk you back.” He pulled away first, and we began walking. I kept my eyes on my shoes, embarrassed and wondering if he felt awkward that I’d hugged him. When we got to Violet’s camper, I asked him if he wanted to come inside. I didn’t expect him to say yes, so when he nodded and followed me in, I had to stifle my surprise. Lola was sitting on the sofa, earphones in as she watched YouTube videos on her phone. She saw us and smiled, greeting us loudly, “Hey, you two!” I gestured for Jack to sit down, and poured him a glass of water. He hadn’t even asked for it, but I felt like I had to offer him something, and I had nothing else. I sat across from him at the table and a few minutes of semi-awkward silence passed, Jack and I looking at each other and then intermittently looking away. Lola started talking, pulling her earphones out, completely unaware of the tension between us. “Oh, my God, you have got to see this, Lille. I’ve been watching this guy’s videos for the past hour. He’s amazing. Everyone online is going crazy for him.” She came and pulled up a chair beside me, laying her phone on the table and hitting “replay” on a video. The caption read: Jay Fields Amazes Yet Again!! In the video, a tall, attractive man with light brown hair and lots of tattoos stood on the street, shuffling a deck of cards in a way I’d never seen before. The cards practically did somersaults as his lightning-fast fingers simultaneously spun them into the air and effortlessly caught them again. He approached a woman standing in front of him and held out the deck. “Okay, darlin, pick a card, any card.” I was so engrossed in the video that I startled when Jack’s chair squealed across the floor and he stood abruptly. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern. His face was pale, and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “I have to go,” he said, turning and exiting the van in a rush.

Lola and I exchanged a bemused glance before I got up and followed him out. I called after him, but he kept stomping away. We’d reached his camper by the time I caught up with him, reaching out and tugging on his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I said, trying to catch my breath. Jack stood by the door to his camper. His shoulders sagged. “Just leave me alone, Lille.” He turned to me then, and there was such sheer agony in his eyes that my heart almost broke. Marina was right — Jack did need a friend, and I was determined to be one for him. I reached down and slid my fingers into his, my voice soft as I said, “Let me be your friend, Jack.” My words seemed to strike a chord in him, because I’d never seen him look at me so fiercely. A raindrop landed on the tip of my nose as a light shower started to fall. “Can we go inside?” I asked, indicating the falling rain. Jack seemed to struggle with whether or not to let me in, and then finally he nodded and tugged on my hand as he opened the door. Inside his camper was warm, and it smelled so strongly of him it was almost dizzying: clove oil, mint, and something that was a lot like burnt embers. The living area was tidy but worn; the whole place was very much lived in. I saw the door to his bedroom was open; a navy blanket lay messily on top of the duvet, and on the floor was a stack of old books. I tilted my head to try to read the spines, but before I got a chance, Jack pulled the door closed. I startled, embarrassed to be caught looking in his room. My cheeks heated, and without being invited I went and sat down on the sofa, which, like in most of the campers, was built into the furnishings. It was upholstered in a dark green tartan. “Do you like living here?” I asked, my palms growing sweaty. The camper felt so small, but that was probably just because Jack had such a presence. He had this way of filling up empty space like no one I’d ever known before. He rubbed at his stubbly jaw, finally coming and sitting down beside me. “Ah, it’s hardly a palace, but it does the job.” I nodded, eyes roaming the space so I wouldn’t have to look at him. There was an intensity about his demeanour that I found difficult to absorb head-on. “You should see the room Lola and I share. It’s so tiny you can hardly fit between the beds without standing sideways. And she has so much stuff. I swear, I’m going to go crazy from all the clutter pretty soon.” Jack gave me a soft smile, and I continued to ramble, joking, “She thinks Violet is grumpy, but I wonder if it’s just because she’s had to live with Lola for so long. She talks in her sleep, too. Some nights I wake up thinking she’s trying to talk to me, but it just turns out she’s mumbling nonsense to herself.” “I could see that getting old very quick,” Jack offered, and my heart leapt that he was engaging me. I laughed. “Oh, yeah, big time. You don’t have a spare bed, do you? Maybe I

could come and live here if it all becomes too much.” When I looked at him, his gaze grew heated. “No spare bed. Just mine.” I gulped down a wad of saliva and endeavoured to change the subject. “So, eh, anyway, why did you run off back there?” He stared at me, a thousand stories passing over his face. I was fascinated by him and all his layers. When he didn’t answer me for a long time, I began to worry if he would at all. “I just thought….” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck, it was just time for me to leave, you know.” Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one. “You seemed upset.” He arched a brow, his arm resting along the back of the seat, his fingers almost touching me. I wished he’d touch me. I loved it when he touched me. “Has anyone ever told you that you pay far too much attention, Lille?” I laughed gently. “Actually, no, it’s more the opposite. Mum always says I’ve got my head in the clouds. I feel like I’m oblivious a lot of the time.” I went quiet, practically whispering the next bit as I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “But when something really captures my interest, I notice every detail.” My words caused a reaction in him. Surprise, maybe? His body seemed to lean closer. “Outside,” he began, “you said you wanted to be my friend. Is that true?” “Of course. I’d very much like to be a friend to you, if you’ll let me.” He seemed to be considering my answer, and while he did so, I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. It was wide and masculine, the bottom lip fuller than the top. “I feel like I could tell you anything,” he said then, shocking the hell out of me. “I watched you a lot back at your job in the restaurant. There was something about you…I don’t know. Your face was always so…open.” My heart literally plopped right out of my chest at what he said, and I was a goner. Gruff, moody, boorish Jack McCabe was opening up to me, and it felt like I might be dreaming. “You watched me?” I said quietly. “All the time.” “I never saw. I thought I was the one who watched you.” “You were. That’s why I started watching back.” And there it was again, one of those almost smiles that gave me tingles all over. The idea of him watching me while I worked brought on strange, foreign emotions. I didn’t know what to think. It was almost overwhelming. “And what did you see?” I asked, inching closer. He moved the arm that was resting along the top of the seat, took a strand of my hair, and rubbed it between his fingers. “I saw a girl who smiled at everyone like they were her best friend. It made me worry for you, because the world eats up that kind of openness, Lille.” “If you’re not open, then no one can ever come inside,” I countered, not really knowing what I meant. I realised Jack read some kind of innuendo in my words,

because his nostrils flared and his eyes grew heated. “Tell me why you went away before. Did something bother you?” I asked, bringing the conversation back around again. When his expression went guarded, I knew I was on to something, and I just couldn’t let it go. “You can tell me anything. You can trust me,” I urged him, reaching out for his hand, and he let me take it. It was so big and heavy that my hand felt encapsulated. He watched me like a wild animal sussing out another wild animal in the jungle. It felt like I was waiting for years for him to say something. When he finally did, it wasn’t at all what I expected. “That video Lola was showing you of the magician,” he began, and I nodded for him to continue. “That’s my brother.” “Really? The American guy? That’s so cool. So performing must run in your family then,” I said, and Jack’s brows knit together in consternation as he shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s my brother, but I haven’t seen him in over sixteen years.” A quick breath escaped me. “Oh, right.” A pause. “Are you estranged?” He looked away, his gaze focused on the raindrops clinging to the window, the weak ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. “Something like that.” “You can talk to me, Jack. Whatever you say will never leave this room, I promise,” I said, and squeezed his hand in mine. For a tiny second, I saw a man crying out for comfort, for somebody to confide in. It was such a stark contrast to the stern, stoic person he came across as most of the time. Crossing one foot over the other and shifting his body on the couch, he started to tell me his story. “When I was ten, my family’s house burned down in a really bad fire. It’s where I got my burn scars from.” He stopped and a long quiet followed. I wasn’t sure if he was going to continue, but when he finally did his voice bore a distinct strain. “The fire killed both my parents and put me in a coma for almost a year. When I woke up, I was all alone, and when I was well enough to receive the news, I was told that my parents were dead and my brother had been taken to live with my uncle in America. They wouldn’t give me any more details than that, but I overheard the nurses talking. They spoke of my uncle and how he’d reacted when he saw how badly injured I was. He told the medical staff that he didn’t have the resources to care for a sick kid, so he only took my brother, who hadn’t been hurt so badly by the fire. I was put in foster care, and the rest is history.” I swallowed, trying to absorb his sad, terrible story. Thinking of him as a boy all alone simply broke my heart in two. “You never saw your brother again? But how do you know this magician guy is really him?” “Fields was our mother’s maiden name. I can understand why he took it, because he hated our father. Long story short, Dad was a violent drunk, and Jay took the lion’s share of the beatings because he was older. When I aged out of the foster care system, I had nowhere to go. I’d always felt too proud to try to locate my

uncle and ask for help, but this time I was desperate. When I called him, he was cold and dispassionate on the phone, telling me that neither he nor Jay wanted anything to do with me. I backed off, angry. Then, some time later, I saw a story in the news about how my brother had won this big legal battle against some tabloid that had been slandering him, and I knew it was Jay from the picture. He’d become famous. He had all the money and resources in the world at his fingertips, and he still hadn’t tried to come look for me. I could forgive him before because he was just a kid, but not now. So that’s what upset me. I don’t like being reminded that I have a brother who couldn’t give a shit about me enough to check if I was even still alive.” “That’s…wow,” I breathed, unsure what to say. “Thank you for telling me all that.” His eyes were on my lips when he replied, “Thanks for listening.” The air between us thickened just as somebody knocked on the door of the camper. Then a male voice called, “Jack, you have a rehearsal in twenty minutes.” “I’ll be there,” Jack answered, and I saw Antonio pass by the window as he continued on his way. Seeing Antonio reminded me of the fight earlier between Winnie and Julie, and I couldn’t help but ask, “How was Julie today? She seemed really upset.” Jack cocked his head towards me. “Do you really want to hear about Julie, Lille?” “I’m just concerned, that’s all,” I lied. The look in his eyes told me I wasn’t fooling anyone. “She was fine. The tears come at will for her,” he said as he stood and went to pull a drawstring bag from the closet. “What does that mean?” He chuckled low. “She knows how to manipulate people, is what it means.” “Oh.” Opening the bag, he began to pull out the torches he used in his act, running his hand along their lengths as though inspecting them for damage. I was still hung up on what he’d said about Julie. I didn’t want to voice the thoughts in my head, but I couldn’t seem to hold them in. “If that’s how you feel about her, then why are you with her?” I probably sounded horribly jealous, which I was, but it just made me angry to think someone like Julie could have Jack in the way I wanted him. Yes, I’d set out on a path to be his friend, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still find him attractive, intensely so. Jack’s brows drew together as he set the torches down on the table. “I’m not with her. I will never be with anyone, not in the way you mean.” “You don’t ever want to fall in love, have a family?” I asked, sorrow seizing my chest. “All of that isn’t meant for the likes of me,” he answered as he slotted the torches back in the bag. “The things I desire most are not something I’m sure I could ask another person to give.”

I didn’t really get what he was saying, but the overall sentiment made me sad. No person wants to end up alone. “Everybody deserves love. They just have to find the right person.” He grew agitated all of a sudden. “Christ, let it go, Lille.” His dismissive tone irritated me, and I stood. “You don’t have to talk to me like that.” I folded my arms and waited for an apology, but none came. He simply indicated the door. “I have to leave now,” he said, and what he didn’t say was clear. You have to leave now. I felt like I’d broken such ground with him today, only to have him close down on me again. I hated to admit it, but it hurt. Without giving him another look, I walked by him and out the door.

SEVEN

UNDER THE SUN, JACK WATCHED LILLE PAINT

ince I’d destroyed my phone, that night I convinced Lola to lend me hers so I S could look up Jack’s brother. I felt like a bit of a dirtbag doing it, but my curiosity

was too much to bear. This Jay Fields must have been some piece of work to abandon his sibling like that. Wikipedia told me that he was a stage illusionist with a growing cult following, but aside from a tiny paragraph about his personal life, there wasn’t much else in terms of details. There was definitely no mention of a younger brother that he had all but left for dead. I was more interested in hearing him talk than watching his tricks. I needed to see his personality so I could determine what kind of a person he was. Despite Jack indicating he was done with his brother, I had a feeling he was harbouring a lot of pain on the inside. I hunted down an interview and hit “play.” The interviewer was a woman, but you couldn’t see her because she was off camera. “What’s most important to you?” she asked at one point. To which Jay replied, “My family, always my family.” I paused on that bit, frowning, and replayed it a number of times, looking closely at his face to see if he was lying. If Jack’s story was anything to go by, he had to be. The problem was, all I could read from him was sincerity, and it made me feel like there was more to this than met the eye. If not, Jay Fields was an exceptional liar. He was certainly charismatic enough to pull it off. He had a frisky sort of charm that Jack didn’t. Looks-wise, they didn’t resemble each other much, either. Jay wasn’t as dark as Jack; however, there was something in his mannerisms that was similar, in his facial expressions and the way he moved his body. The interview was only a couple of minutes long, and the interviewer mostly asked him questions about his magic show and his new wife. Still, I didn’t get the feeling that he was a bad person. There was a warmth about him that made me think he wouldn’t do something as callous as abandon Jack. Then again, people did all sorts of unexpected things in life. I pondered on the matter for a while until I was too tired to think anymore. Then I gave Lola back her phone and went to bed. THE

NEXT MORNING,

I went into town early and visited an art shop to buy some

supplies. I was running out of face paints, but I needed supplies for my paintings, too. There was an easel for sale in the corner of the store, but it was too expensive. I stared at it longingly and settled for some cheap paintbrushes, oil paints, and a few small canvases instead. I longed for the day when I wouldn’t have to care about storing things and could buy canvases as big as I liked. If that day ever came. When I got back to the campsite, they were serving lunch in the gazebo, some kind of paella. I took a bowl and ate quickly. Jack was sitting with King again. He met my eyes for a prolonged moment, and I felt an intense shiver. As soon as I was finished, I left. I had something important that I needed to do. The other day I’d spotted some disused bits of wood lying around at the back of the circus tent, and I thought maybe I could salvage a few pieces and fashion a makeshift easel. It was a long shot, but I had nothing else to do with my day anyway. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on the wood being so difficult to carry. I had to split it into two runs. On the second, as I made my way back to the camper, I felt the muscle in my arm spasm, and I had to set the load down for a moment. “What are you doing?” Jack’s voice came from behind me. I dabbed the sweat from my brow and turned to face him as he approached. “Oh, I need the wood to make something. Don’t worry, I’m not up to anything sinister.” He smirked a little and stepped forward, easily hefting the wood up with his big arms and looking to me for direction. “Where to?” “Violet’s camper. Um, thanks. You don’t have to….” Jack cut me off with a chuckle. “You’re going to do yourself a mischief if you try carrying it the rest of the way. And I’d rather not have to rush you to the hospital just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.” Scowling a little, I walked alongside him, having to work to keep up with his long strides even though he was the one carrying the load. “I’m stubborn? You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.” He flashed me a rare smile, laughing, and when we made it to the camper, he laid the wood down on the grass for me. “So are you going to tell me about this big secret project or what?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his thighs. I tried not to stare in that general area, which was difficult. Going to lean against the side of the camper, I folded my arms. “Well, I had this hare-brained idea that I could make an easel out of it, you know, to paint on. It might be a little far-fetched, though, because I don’t have any tools.” I must have had a hopeful look in my eye, because he let out a long sigh. He didn’t seem annoyed, though. He seemed playful, which I hadn’t seen on him before, and it was very appealing. “Is this you hinting for me to make the easel for you, Lille?” “Well,” I said, “you were a little snippy with me yesterday. This could be the perfect way for you to make it up to me.” His smile was fading now, but there was still a hint of it playing on his features. He took a step forward and gazed down at me. “I can think of a few other ways

that’d be much more fun,” he murmured, and ran his hand down my arm. I swallowed visibly and started to blush, my eyes fixing on the toes of my worn Converse. The quiet between us dragged out for a long moment before he moved away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” When he left, I could finally breathe again. God, why hadn’t I just grabbed him then and kissed him? He was obviously being suggestive. I hated how I was always so hesitant. Friends, I reminded myself. I was supposed to be trying to be his friend. Deciding to make the most of the sunny weather, I set up a chair and brought out my sketchpad to start outlining the portrait I’d promised Bea. I thought I had her face memorised well enough that I could do most of it without needing her in front of me. I was lost in the drawing when Jack arrived back, carrying a toolbox and a saw. He definitely looks good with tools. He’ll probably look even better when he’s using them, I thought to myself as he set to work. I had something of a dirty mind of late. His fault, obviously. About two hours passed, and somewhere within that time I’d set aside my sketchpad in order to watch him. The view was pretty fine. He was wearing the T-shirt with the sleeves cut off again, his muscles moving as he hammered a nail into a length of wood. His skin glistened with beads of sweat. His back had been turned to me the entire time, which was why I got a little fright when he asked knowingly, “Enjoying the view?” I didn’t even bother to act coy. “Uh, yeah. I am, actually.” I could tell from his profile that he was smiling. Wow, Jack really was in an unusually good mood today. “Can I get you some water? You must be thirsty.” “I’ve only been waiting about an hour for you to ask that, so yeah, I’d like some water, Lille. How did you last so long as a waitress, huh?” The teasing lilt in his voice put a bit of a spring in my step as I went inside to get the water. Perhaps we were turning over a new leaf. When I came back out, I handed him the bottle, and he knocked almost the entire thing back in one long gulp, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He’d just about finished the easel, and I was taken aback by what he had achieved. It was probably better than the one they were selling back at the art shop. I walked over to inspect it, running my hand lightly over the wood. “This is so good. You could be, like, a carpenter if you wanted.” “My one true dream,” Jack replied with no small amount of sarcasm. “Okay, whatever, fire boy. I still think this is amazing. In fact, I should probably pay you.” I dug in the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet, but he stopped me with a hand. “No payment needed. Think of it as an apology. Like you said, I owed you for being a dick yesterday.” And now I was thinking about dicks, his in particular. Where was my mind today? Oh, right, in the gutter, obviously. Jack put the final touches to the easel,

and I invited him inside for a sandwich. It was the least I could do. And since Violet and Lola weren’t around, I knew we wouldn’t have an audience. Lola was always watching me with Jack, a glint in her eye, like she knew something I didn’t. There was a small Breville toaster in the kitchen, and I went about putting together some cheese sandwiches for us. After sitting in the sun and watching Jack work all day, I’d built up quite the appetite. For food, of course. Well, other things, too, but the likelihood of those happening was slim. I must have been overly eager to get to my sandwich, plus, I hadn’t used this toaster before, because I touched the metal part by mistake. It was burning hot and two of my fingertips came away red and raw. I hissed at the pain as I pulled them to my chest, hurrying over to the tap and holding them under the cold running water. “I’m such a fucking klutz,” I complained just as I felt Jack’s warmth behind me. When my fingers were about to turn to icicles, he reached past me and shut off the tap. Taking my hand, he dried it off with a dish towel and then led me over to the lounge. His silence put me slightly on edge, but then again, Jack wasn’t the sort of person who talked just to fill empty space. He spoke only when he had something to say. He pulled me down to sit next to him, and we were so close I was practically on his lap. I realised oddly that this was the second time I’d accidentally burned myself in front of him. It was just my luck that I’d keep doing that in front of someone who had almost died in a fire when he was a kid. Someone who had burn scars on his body that would never be healed. He cradled my one hand in both of his, then rubbed his thumb down the centre of my palm. I sucked in a breath at the contact. It still had a mark from where I’d touched the frying pan at work, but it wasn’t sore anymore. All of a sudden, I became aware that Jack was unusually fascinated by the burns. I remembered him back at the restaurant when he’d stared at me with those intense eyes of his, a stare that made me come over all hot and sweaty. I’d thought he was trying to soothe me now, but he wasn’t. Well, not in the way I imagined. He was looking at the burn mark and my singed fingertips like they were a work of art, and he was completely captivated. He was so absorbed his eyes practically glowed with it. My mouth felt dry, and my stomach was doing somersaults. The camper van felt so quiet. All I could hear was his breathing, which was slightly quicker than usual. Finally, I broke the quiet when I whispered his name. “Jack.” It was like my voice had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the room, just him and the work of art, because his gaze shot to me, and God, it burned more than the damage I’d done to my hand. In a split second he pushed me back so I was lying on the sofa, and he moved so that his hands were braced on either side of my shoulders. He held himself above me, barely touching me, chest rising and falling with his quickening breaths. My eyes flickered down, and I was startled to see the thick length of his erection outlined against his jeans. He was turned on. Whoa.

His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, as though asking for permission, and I must have given it to him, because he began moving down until he reached my belly. He pushed my shirt up to just below my breasts, revealing the pale skin of my stomach and abdomen. Starting at my ribs, he began planting kisses downward, and I gasped at the sensation of his warm lips on me. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he nuzzled the soft part of my belly, then shocked the hell out of me when he slid his hands over my hips and around to squeeze my backside. Quick as a flash, he lifted me and buried his face between my legs. A small yelp escaped me, tingles radiating down my spine and culminating everywhere he touched. I think I could have come from that alone. He eyed me from below, moving his face back and forth, his nose hitting just the right spot, and I trembled with pleasure, reaching down to sink my hands into his hair. I felt him take a deep breath as though drinking in my scent, and I swear my entire body turned to jelly. We were so lost in one another that I didn’t hear the door open and Lola step inside. I glanced up just as she turned and saw us there in the lounge, and my cheeks grew insanely red. “Oh, wow, um, sorry to interrupt,” she said, and the moment Jack heard her, he pulled away from me like someone had given him an electric shock. I fell back into the seat when he dropped me, instantly missing the warmth of his hands…and his face. When I looked at him, he was standing, striding past Lola and straight out the door. I lay there in confusion, trying to comprehend how we got from me making sandwiches, to his face dry humping my vagina, to him skulking away like he’d just realised what a mistake he’d made. “Crap, Lille, these sandwiches are completely burned,” Lola complained as she unplugged the toaster and sat down in a chair. A moment of awkward silence elapsed between us. In the grand scheme of things, we didn’t know one another very well, and she’d just walked in on quite the scene. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up,” I said, still feeling entirely discombobulated. “Fuck, I’m so sorry for walking in like that,” she apologised, and then a cheeky smile lit her face. “You two should have put a sock on the door handle or something.” “What you saw, it wasn’t exactly planned,” I told her, fixing my top in place. “No? So, do tell me, how did it come about? Because I swear, that is one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a while. He looked like he wanted to devour you from the inside out.” I screwed up my mouth at her description and thought about her question. I didn’t really know how to answer it. Well, Lola, I burned my hand, and Jack got so turned on by it that he practically jumped on me. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t telling her that. In all honesty, I still didn’t know how I felt about it. “We were sitting on the couch, and it just kind of happened,” I lied, shrugging. “I knew that he liked you, I could sense such a vibe,” she said, looking happy

with herself. “Just remember what I said. Be careful. Enjoy the ride, but don’t let your heart get involved, and everything will be fine.” She got up then and began putting some food away in the cupboards. I contemplated what she’d told me with a small feeling of dread. I felt like I’d already allowed my heart to become involved, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. Just over twenty-four hours ago, he’d had another woman in his bed, and I was letting my heart get involved. I couldn’t tell if I was being very, very reckless or just very, very naïve. Sigh. Of course, getting my heart broken was on my list, but it felt different in theory. Now that it was a real possibility, I was afraid, afraid of the pain I might have to endure once Jack discarded me. He seemed to be enjoying my company right now, but I wasn’t under any illusions that it was going to last. Would I be able to pick myself up and move on? Be a better person for having the experience? I had no answers to those questions. The next morning, the sun was shining again. I took a shower on the campsite and managed to get back to the camper without bumping into Jack. I left my hair down to dry in the sun and wore a simple sky-blue dress. I felt light and airy on the outside, but oh, so heavy on the inside. Setting up my new easel, I placed a fresh canvas on the wood, adjusted the height, and then sat down to paint. Sometime later, a hand swept my hair along the back of my neck, knuckles brushing lightly across my skin. Pleasurable shivers skittered down my spine, and I closed my eyes for a second, savouring the touch, instinctively knowing it was him without having to look. “That’s an odd picture of Bea you’re painting,” he commented, gripping my neck for a moment before letting go. I swallowed, watching as he went to grab a folding chair that had been resting against the side of the camper and sat down. I was secretly thrilled I’d done a good enough job of depicting her likeness that he knew right away it was Bea. He had a bottle of water with him, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. Staring at his profile as he drank made me feel flush as I remembered the previous evening, how he’d kissed his way down my stomach. “She asked for it. I think it’s pretty,” I replied, ogling him and dabbing my paintbrush into some yellow paint. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to hang out with me, but I was pleased by the turn of events. A tiny part of me relished the fact that I never quite knew what he’d do next. We sat in companionable silence for over an hour. Jack alternated between watching me paint and reading a dog-eared paperback he’d brought with him. At the angle I was sitting, I couldn’t see the cover to tell what it was. Violet had parked her camper van in a quieter spot on the site, so not many people passed by. Then I heard women chatting and some feminine giggles approaching us. I turned to find Julie and her two sisters strolling along, arm in arm. I’m not sure why, but I got really self-conscious and itchy, like I was doing something wrong by spending time with Jack. I knew that he and Julie weren’t a

couple, but still my anxiety wouldn’t abate. “Hi, Jack,” Julie called to him with a little finger wave. I pretended to focus on my painting as they drew nearer, while at the same time listening intently to the conversation that followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod to the sisters and return his attention to his book. They stopped, and Molly asked, “What are you reading, Jack?” There was a flirtatious tone to her voice. “I do love a man who reads.” The other two giggled. When Jack didn’t answer her, she ducked her head to see the cover and laughed. “The Hardy Boys? You do realise those books are for children, right?” All of a sudden, her tone was mocking rather than flirtatious, and I grew tense. When I glanced up, I saw that Julie’s blue eyes were trained on me while her sisters focused on Jack. Her mouth had formed an unhappy thin line. Swallowing, I kept dabbing my brush to the same part of my canvas, hoping she’d lose interest in me. “Fuck off, Molly,” Jack replied, all matter-of-fact, and she let out a squeak of outrage. “No need to be rude! I was only teasing.” “Being a bitch, more like,” said Jack dismissively. “You’re the face-painter girl, aren’t you?” said Julie, walking around to look at my canvas. I felt uncomfortable under her attention and had never really liked people looking at my half-finished works. She was so petite and well-formed, slim but muscular in an attractive way, that I felt myself deflate. How the hell could I compete with that? I mustered a smile for her. “That’s me.” She glanced at my painting, found nothing of interest, and then stepped away again. I soon discovered that she wasn’t a woman to beat around the bush when she waggled her finger between Jack and me. “So, what’s going on here?” I was opening my mouth to say something, I wasn’t quite sure what, when Jack addressed her firmly. “Lille is painting. I’m reading. The three of you are interrupting.” “Well,” said the third sister, Mary, “we know where we’re not wanted.” She tugged on Molly’s arm and the two walked away, but Julie remained. “That’s not what I meant, and I think we all know that.” Jack set his book down then and stared at her head on. He didn’t have to say a word, because the look he gave her was silencing enough. In a split second, she completely changed her tack, taking a strand of hair and twirling it around her finger. She coughed to clear her throat. “Well, um, will I see you around the gazebo later? We’re having spaghetti bolognaise tonight, I think.” “That’s where I usually eat,” said Jack. She skipped forward, leant down, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, great. I’ll see you later, then.” Her attention flickered warily to me one last time, and then she left. I nearly laughed when I saw Jack roll his eyes before they slid to me and he frowned. “Sorry

about that.” I raised my eyebrows. “No need to apologise. It’s none of my business.” The look he gave me seared me to the core, his voice dropping so low I almost didn’t hear him. “The fact I can still smell you on me says different.” I’m sure I flushed bright pink at his words. My paintbrush had been levelled on the canvas, and I’d completely messed up Bea’s butterfly ears. I tried to keep my voice steady as I whispered, “Don’t play games with me, Jack.” He ignored what I said, his face taking on a contemplative expression. “I wonder if we hadn’t been interrupted yesterday, would I have been able to make you come like that?” I swallowed deeply and glanced at him. His eyes held a thousand dark, carnal promises, and I felt completely lost, had no idea how to respond. He made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl then as he came and knelt before me, his hands cupping my knees and spreading my thighs apart so he could get between them. Next, he began running his hands up and down my thighs; they were so much warmer than the afternoon sun, and I was suddenly melting. “Do you come sweetly, Lille? Do you shake? Do you moan and beg for release?” I licked my lips and moved my attention from his eyes down to his mouth. I was so worked up I felt like pushing him to the grass and taking my pleasure from his perfect, beautiful body without asking for permission. I knew I’d promised myself I’d be his friend, but maybe I could be his lover, too. You didn’t always have to sacrifice one to be the other, right? I drew my gaze up to his eyes again and told him honestly, “You’re embarrassing me, Jack.” His thumbs rubbed at my inner thighs, and I trembled. “Am I making you wet, too?” Air left my lungs in a single whoosh, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I answered, “Yes.” In the next second, his hands were travelling up to my neck, sinking into my hair, and my entire body felt a pull towards him like he was a magnet and I was a piece of metal. My face fell to his neck and I breathed him in, savoured the warmth of his skin. His arms went around me and pulled my body flush with his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. When I pressed a kiss to his skin, my mouth open, tongue slipping out to lick, I felt him shudder in my arms. It stunned me to know my touch could affect him so. Had he been yearning for me the same way I’d been yearning for him? “Your smell,” he growled, breathing deeply. “It drowns me.” If my heart could have exploded out of my chest, it would have. “Kiss me, Jack,” I begged, forcing myself to ask for what I truly wanted for once. “I can’t,” he replied with a sigh of frustration. “Please,” I whimpered desperately. “When I kiss you, it will be everywhere. When I kiss you, I won’t stop there. If I taste you, I’ll want to taste everything.”

I fisted his shirt in my hand, silently cursing the fact that both Lola and Violet were inside the camper at this very moment and Jack’s camper was too far away. “Jesus, you’re killing me.” His hands roamed my back, my thighs, my neck. All he had to do was slip his hand beneath my dress, and he’d be able to feel me, feel how much I needed him. With a deep sigh he drew away, his jaw working like it took great effort to restrain himself. “Tonight, after the show, will you come to my place?” he asked, eyes hopeful. “Yes.” There really was no other reply I could have given him. I felt hot and flushed all over, from my temples to the tips of my toes. I’d never been so worked up before in my life. He brought his forehead to mine and breathed out, the air hitting my skin and strangely cooling it. “Thank you.” Standing, he went to put away the folding chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his book. I frowned, remembering how Molly had mocked him for reading a kids’ book. I wanted to know why he was reading it. I mean, I knew adults read kids’ books all the time, but this was Jack. He was the last person I’d expected to be into stories like that. I nodded to the battered paperback. “Is it any good?” He grimaced, as though remembering that I now knew what he’d been reading. Was he embarrassed? For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed lost for words. Scratching the back of his head, he finally replied, “Yeah, it’s…uh, Marina gave it to me. Well, she gave me a whole bunch of them.” “Oh, right. That was nice of her.” “Yeah. I have to go now,” he said abruptly, and turned on his heel. I watched his long strides as he walked away, not knowing what to think.

EIGHT

UNDER THE STARS THEY CAME TOGETHER

after Jack’s abrupt departure whether or not he still wanted me to I wondered come by that night. Then I wondered about what he planned on doing with me

when I got there, and I became tingly all over. The idea of being with him frightened me a little, but I sucked it up. This was freedom, and I was determined for it to taste good. The show that evening went over a storm, and there was a buzz in the air. I went to the gazebo with Lola for something to eat, and there seemed to be a bit of a party going on. There were some local women who had obviously come to see the show and were now enjoying an after party. I felt a little grimy in comparison. I was still wearing my blue dress from earlier, and it had paint stains all over; my hands were covered in paint, too, and my hair felt messy. I hadn’t had the chance to run a brush through it since that morning. A space had been cleared for people to dance, and music was streaming from the speakers, some kind of French rap. It was curious. I only caught the odd word here and there, but the basic gist was pretty racy. I guessed that was why Julie was dancing all by herself wearing a tiny slip of a dress. In fact, I thought it might actually be a slip. Huh. She shook her hips and threw her hands up into the air before seductively running them down her body and swaying from side to side. “Excuse me while I go pour some bleach in my eyes,” Lola deadpanned before steering me towards a table where Luan, Pedro, and Raphael were sitting. Air got caught in my lungs when I saw how half of Pedro’s face was bruised up. Lola sat beside Luan, chatting amiably, and I went to the opposite end of the bench, as far away from Pedro as I could possibly get. He glanced at me, brown eyes hardening, then knocked back a gulp of whatever drink was in his glass. I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t done with me yet, and my throat ran dry. “Don’t mind me,” came a hard yet humorous voice from behind me, and I jumped, turning to see I’d almost sat on top of King. I’d been so focused on Pedro that I hadn’t noticed him skulking in the corner. “Sorry,” I apologised, and sat down across from him. His eyes weren’t as bloodshot as usual, and you could actually make out the colour of his hair now. It

was an attractive shade of dark blond. Almost the same colour as mine. Somebody must have forced him to take a wash. I wondered if it was Jack. His clothes were still pretty worn and dirty, though. His long hair and beard obscured half his face, but I thought he had probably been a very good-looking man at one time. I couldn’t really tell what age he was. It was difficult to pin down, due to his appearance, but he could’ve been anywhere between thirty and forty years old. And his eyes, man, I still couldn’t get over them. They were so beautiful and yet so sad. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet,” I said, holding my hand out to him. “I’m Lille.” His icy blues narrowed on me somewhat warily, but he didn’t shake my hand. “I know who you are, love,” he said, then looked away over my shoulder where Marina sat with Winnie and Antonio, muttering under his breath, “Stupid meddling old bitch.” There was a harsh, cutting tone to his words that surprised me. He must have seen the wide-eyed look on my face when he went on to explain. “Not you. My sister. The bitch has everyone watching me. Can’t get a fucking drink around here to save my life. What’s the point of living in a shithole like this if you can’t have a drink every now and again, eh?” “Everywhere’s a shithole to you, King,” came Jack’s voice as he threw his leg over the bench and sat down beside me, his breath whispering over my ear when he said, “Hey.” I glanced at him, getting goose bumps. “Hi.” “Yeah, well, this place really is one,” King griped, and pressed his fingers to his skull. “Shitting cock bastards, I feel like someone’s trying to drill a hole into my cranium.” Jack laughed. “Your mouth is a real thing of beauty. And the hole drilling would be what the rest of us who actually stop drinking every now and again call a hangover.” “I wish somebody would hang me,” King complained. “Do you know that’s where the word comes from? Hangover? Historically, when there was a hanging, there’d also be a big street party, everyone boozing it up. Then the next day, when the hanging was over, they’d all feel like a steaming pile of shit, hence the now commonly used term. Kind of fucked up when you think about it. Having a party while some poor old sod gets hung.” He paused, his sad eyes growing even sadder. “People are depraved.” “Look at you, using your words. Seems like the alcohol drought is doing you well already,” said Jack, and King grumbled. I thought that maybe Jack was the only person in this whole place who King allowed to tease him like that. All of a sudden, the music got louder, and we all turned to see that Julie had gotten up on a table to dance. The straps of her dress had fallen down and hung low around her arms, showing more cleavage than before, along with the top of her black lacy bra.

“Red’s putting on a show for you, McCabe,” said King, letting out a cynical laugh that then transformed into a painful-sounding cough. Sleeping outdoors must have been wreaking havoc with his body. I shot him a sympathetic look, which he didn’t appear to appreciate. Jack waved him away. “She puts on a show for everyone. Nothing special there.” King began coughing again, and Julie continued to dance her way across the tables, finally reaching ours. Her eyes were honed in on Jack as she swayed, then came to a stop in front of him. She licked her lips and ran her hand over her collarbone, then down her chest. I felt myself grow incredibly uncomfortable and a little bit upset. She was pulling out all the stops to get Jack’s attention, and it must have been working, because he was staring back at her. I couldn’t read his expression, but still, the fact that he was looking at her made me feel about two inches tall. Invisible, really. “Licence my roving hands, and let them go,” King began loudly over the music, “before, behind, between, above, below.” The way he spoke made me think he was quoting from somewhere, but I didn’t recognise the lines. Julie turned to him and scowled. He was ruining her performance. “Before, behind, between, above, below,” he repeated. “But if you let them all go, what is there left for anyone? What is there left for you?” He was talking in riddles, but Julie still seemed annoyed. She kicked her leg out in a calculated move that hit King right in the shoulder. He went flying backwards and almost fell off the bench. “That’s right,” he coughed, “hit a man when he’s down.” Julie narrowed her eyes and leaned over to him. I was the only one close enough to hear her whisper-hiss, “You’re no man. I bet your cock is necrotic by now.” When she turned around she was smiling again and I sat there in shock. She definitely didn’t know that I’d heard her. What a cruel, cruel thing to say. King might not have been the most pleasant person in the world, but it was obvious that he was the way he was because he was suffering. I looked at him and saw genuine hurt on his face. Without thinking, I reached across the table and took his hand into mine. I don’t know why I did it. I guess I was just driven to comfort people when they were in pain. “Don’t listen to her,” I told him, and at the same time he swiped his hand from my grasp. “I don’t need your sympathy, girl,” he said, then got up from the bench and walked directly to a table of men who were drinking cans of beer. There was a halffull bottle of whiskey sitting right there in the open, and I was the only one who saw King swipe it, tuck it inside his coat, and walk right out of the gazebo. Julie was still dancing in front of Jack. She sashayed down to her haunches, then climbed onto his lap. His hands went to her hips to steady her as she gyrated for him. Ugh, I really couldn’t take much more. Standing, I took a leaf out of King’s book and left. The campsite was dark, lit only by the lights that shone from inside

the camper vans. A chill ran down my spine, because the silence out here seemed punctuated by the loud music in the gazebo beyond. My throat felt tight and my eyes watered, emotion clutching at my chest. The past few days with Jack and me growing closer had really done a number on me. I’d gotten my hopes up. But what was the point in hoping when there were always going to be women like Julie throwing themselves at him? I felt lost. When I finally reached the camper, I sat on the grass outside, burying my face in my hands. Nobody could see me out here, so I let all of my pent-up emotions flow free. In other words, I cried. I was feeling so strange, an odd mixture of homesickness and lovesickness. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to have feelings for Jack, and yet I found myself drowning in both of those things. I longed for the comfort of my own bed, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near my mother. I yearned for Jack’s strong arms to surround me, but I didn’t want to deal with the way he made my lungs feel like there wasn’t enough air to breathe. Footsteps crunched on the grass, and I looked up to see a tall figure approaching. When he came into view, I saw it was Jack, and he seemed agitated. He’d clearly come looking for me. Just as he was about to knock on the door to the camper, he heard me sniffle. Turning his head, he saw me sitting on the grass. Our eyes met, held. “Lille, fuck,” he swore, and came towards me. Reaching down, he grabbed me by the elbows and pulled me up to stand. It was a little rough, but I didn’t think he realised that. He pushed me back against the camper and stared at my tearstreaked face, his brows drawn together in either concern or annoyance. I couldn’t tell which. Bringing his thumbs up to my cheeks, he wiped away the tears. For a brief moment, he seemed fascinated by them. His chest met mine, and I felt his breathing accelerate. “Why did you disappear?” he asked, eyes flickering back and forth across my face. I shrugged and tried to calm my breathing. “Does it matter? I already felt invisible.” His brows drew together. “What? Because of Julie? You left before seeing me lift her off my lap. I wasn’t enjoying it, if that’s what you thought.” “I don’t get you at all. How could you not be enjoying it? You had sex with her the other night. I can’t see how so much has changed in so little time.” “Everything and nothing has changed,” said Jack, levelling his hands on either side of my face. “Why are you crying?” “I’m not crying.” “Not anymore. You were a minute ago. Tell me why.” My entire body slumped back against the camper, my energy draining like sand through an egg timer. “I’m just overwhelmed. This life is a lot different to what I’m used to.” I was evading answering honestly, but I really was far too embarrassed to

admit my feelings for him. I barely knew him, and already he was all I could see when I shut my eyes at night. “I warned you it wasn’t going to be fun,” said Jack. “It’s dangerous out here for women on their own.” “Don’t start that again. It pissed me off enough the first time you said it. I might be a woman and I also might technically be alone, but I’m surviving just fine.” His mouth moved in a way that made me think he was amused. “Yeah, you’re surviving just fine, thanks to me. Or was it you who put that pretty bruise on Pedro’s face?” “Oh, whatever,” I sighed, and looked away. I knew he had me there. Plus, I couldn’t handle his handsomeness up so close. “Whatever,” Jack mimicked before his voice dipped low. “You sound so petulant when you say that. Why are you being petulant, Lille? Sexual frustration?” I snorted. “You wish.” He cocked his head. “Yeah, I do. And I think you’re lying.” He brought his mouth to my neck and kissed me tenderly, then again and again, his kisses whisper-soft but growing harder each time. Breath escaped me, and I sighed in reluctant pleasure. There was no way I could resist him. The feel of his mouth sent wonderful tingles all the way down my spine. He rose back up and gripped my neck in his hand. “Your pulse is racing. I can feel it fluttering against my palm, so fragile, like butterfly wings,” he rasped, then brought his mouth over mine. His tongue slid languidly past my lips, licking at me, taking everything without asking permission. I fisted his shirt, unsure whether I was pulling him closer or endeavouring to push him away. Losing myself in sensation, I melted right there next to the camper, standing on the dampening grass. Night sounds drifted about us, and I became aware of his lips leaving mine, trailing across my collarbone and then falling away completely as he bent to kneel on the ground. I looked down and he stared up, hands rubbing the outsides of my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress higher and higher until my underwear was showing. Like before, he pressed his face to me and breathed in. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything more erotic. The look in his eyes as he stared at me was worshipful, and it felt like my heart had gotten stuck in my throat. Then he put his hand to the back of my knee and lifted my leg, throwing it over his shoulder. I held on to his other shoulder for balance just as he began lowering my underwear. Cool air hit my most intimate parts, and I hissed in a breath. Now he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He eyes were focused intently between my legs as he ran a single finger down my slit. I gasped and waited, needing more. “Touch me,” I pleaded. “Touch you or kiss you?” “Both. Please,” I said, and then his mouth was on me, soft and wet at first before his tongue licked at my clit and I trembled. His hand ventured further,

fingers finding me and plunging inside. I shivered at the invasion, feeling myself clamp tight around him. I felt stripped bare, seen entirely, as his hand dug into my hip, his fingers fucking me and his mouth laying siege to my most sensitive parts. My orgasm hit me quick and fast, and Jack growled in appreciation as I braced his shoulders for support. His lips and tongue and fingers drew out every last wave until I was entirely spent. He fixed my underwear back in place, pulled down my dress, and took my mouth again in a hungry kiss filled with a thousand unspoken words. I could taste myself on him, which was oddly intoxicating. Then, on a physical level at least, I felt him withdraw. Just before he left, he kissed the shell of my ear and murmured, “You have never been invisible to me, flower. You’re all I see.” As he walked away, I tilted my head up to look at the sky, and the stars seemed to shimmer like polished silver. EVEN THOUGH HE left me there all alone, I was still on a high the next day. Jack had gone down on me, outside. The whole time it was happening I felt electric, alive. I noticed that I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten some action, because Lola’s bed remained empty the whole night. She arrived back the next morning, still wearing the same clothes and a satisfied look on her face. I didn’t ask questions, but I knew it must’ve been Luan who put the satisfied look there. I hadn’t really spoken to him much, but he seemed like a nice guy. Still, the fact that he was good friends with Pedro put me off slightly. I just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be a sleaze, because Lola didn’t deserve that. Violet was in the lounge, and I was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, when she came in. “Well, well, well, where have you been, Josephine?” Violet asked in an uncharacteristically chipper voice. Lola scowled and went to our room, shouting over her shoulder, “Don’t call me that.” Violet snickered and returned her attention to her magazine. “Josephine?” I asked. She arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t actually think that Lola was her real name, did you?” I shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” “Yeah, well,” she replied pointedly. “It isn’t. Circuses like this attract lots of girls looking to run away, escape their realities, you know. Giving yourself a new name is all a part of it, I guess.” “In that case, I think I’ll rename myself Methuselah,” I joked. “It sounds all mysterious and exotic, right?” Violet raised an eyebrow at me. “If you say so.” Deciding to get out for a while and get my mind off Jack, I went for a walk around the campsite, stopping when I saw Winnie. She had Pip and Skip out of their cage,

and my heart stuttered for a moment. When I watched them from the safety of the audience or from behind the bars of their cage, I felt safe. But here, out in the open, I became aware of their size and the danger they presented. Winnie held nothing but a long wooden stick as she walked alongside Pip, alternating between petting his mane and giving him little taps on the side. Skip sat on the grass, head resting on his paws, absently surveying the scene. When Winnie saw me standing there, she smiled. “You want to come meet my boys?” she asked, and I hesitated before venturing closer. Pip watched me, assessing the new person, his eyes almost human. His thick, golden mane shone in the sunlight, and I yearned to reach out and touch it. “They’re so beautiful,” I said in wonder. “I hope what happened with Julie won’t get them taken away from you.” Winnie nodded and petted Pip’s head again. “She’s not making any official complaints. Julie is the little girl who pulled the legs from spiders, the one who poked at dogs until they turned vicious. I’m not saying my animals would never hurt someone, because at their core they are predators, but Julie was provoking them. My Carrie witnessed the whole thing. Julie had been sticking a pole inside their cage, trying to get a reaction.” She paused and laughed wryly. “I heard her wail, and came out to find Skip had broken the pole and was clawing at her through the bars. You don’t mess with him.” “I can’t understand why she’d do something like that,” I said, and sat down to admire Pip. He seemed to have determined I wasn’t a threat, because he wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. “I mean, how is that fun?” “Some people have warped ideas of fun,” said Winnie, her voice growing hard. “Pip and Skip are brothers. We’ve had them both for a long time, since they were just teenagers. Not in all that time have they harmed a person, and Antonio and I pride ourselves on that fact. If I catch that girl going near my animals again, it will not be the lions she should be afraid of.” I absorbed her words, suddenly understanding that although Winnie looked like a completely harmless woman to the casual bystander, there was a warrior lying underneath who would stop at nothing to protect the ones she loved. “Well, I doubt she’ll try anything again. I’m sure Pip frightened her enough the first time. If she does, she’d be pretty dumb.” Winnie laughed. “Have you seen the girl? I would hasten to say that dumb is her middle name.” I laughed along with her, but I wasn’t quite sure I agreed. Julie wasn’t dumb; she was cruel. The way she spoke to King last night told me that. And really, I hated to think she’d been with Jack, had put her mouth on him. The knowledge alone made me shudder. A few minutes passed, and I watched Winnie interact with her lions in such a way that made me truly believe she loved them dearly. At one point, she encouraged Skip to roll over onto his back, his paws in the air as she took one in her hand and massaged it. I never thought I’d see a tiny little woman render a beast

into a kitten as she rubbed his feet for him. “Do you think he’d let me pet him?” I asked shyly. “Of course,” she replied. “Come here.” I went to her, and she showed me how to approach him. Before I knew it, I was running my hand over his mane, delighting in its softness. Getting to touch the animal excited my curiosity, and I went on to bombard Winnie with questions. What do you feed them? How long do they sleep each day? Do they ever fight one another? How old are they? How many years do they live? Don’t they need to have sex with a lioness every once in a while? She was very patient in answering all of my questions. By the time we were done talking, I found I was starving, so I headed for the gazebo to see what they were serving for lunch. Tomato soup and bread was the name of the game, as it happened. I spotted Jack, King, and Marina sitting at a table together. Pierre sat on Marina’s shoulder, watching her as she ate her lunch. I saw him try to swipe for a piece of bread, but she caught him before he could grab it. The little monkey’s antics made me laugh. As I passed them by, Jack reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me into him so that I was sitting on his lap. His eyes zoned in on my hair like we were completely alone. I looked down to see there was a clump of green paint in it, and he had started picking it out. He hadn’t said a word in greeting, just spun me onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The intimacy of it all made my heart squeeze. My eyes wandered to Marina, and I found she was watching me with an odd mixture of warmth and curiosity. I took it to mean that Jack didn’t often do this sort of thing. It felt a bit like a social show, like when men put their arms around their girlfriends’ waists to show other men they were taken. He was absorbed in picking the paint from my hair as I turned my head a little to face Marina. “Winnie let me pet one of the lions,” I said with excitement. “Aren’t they just exquisite?” Marina replied, giving Pierre a little pat on the backside. He jumped off her shoulder with a screech before scurrying to the other side of the gazebo. “Back when I was just starting out, I was with a big circus. The tamers would work with about five or six lions and a couple of tigers all in the one act. You could tell the animals were treated terribly — they just looked so sad. It felt unnatural to see these big, powerful animals sitting perched on stools like housecats.” I tried to concentrate on listening to Marina, but the way Jack’s fingers worked through my hair, his knuckles brushing my collarbone, was highly distracting. I remembered him from the night before, staring up at me like I was the centre of his universe, worshipping me with his mouth, and squeezed my thighs together tight. I really didn’t need to be remembering how good he was at that.

King, who had been sitting slumped over the table asleep with his head in his arms, awoke suddenly with a groan. “Where the fuck am I?” Marina gave him an almighty clip ’round the ear. “You’re in hell. Now tell me who gave you the whiskey last night?” An argument ensued between the two, and I looked back to Jack, whispering, “I think you got all of it.” He didn’t stop. “I like your hair.” “Thanks.” His voice got low and quiet as he leaned in and spoke into my ear. “I like your pussy, too.” “Jack,” I gasped. “It likes me back.” “You’re crazy.” He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first person to say that.” “What are you doing today?” I asked, shifting on his lap. I thought I could feel him stirring to, uh…life, but I couldn’t be certain. “Practice. Then show. Then sleep. And tomorrow we move on.” “I can’t believe we’ve been here in Caen a whole week. Where do we go next?” “Orléans. It’s just over three hours away. You can ride with me.” I thought about a three-hour journey with Jack alone in his camper and grew fidgety. What would we talk about? Would we just sit in silence? Strangely, I kind of enjoyed being quiet with him, and usually I felt the need to chatter to fill quiet periods. “Okay,” I replied, finally.

NINE

LILLE LOST HER WAY

he rest of the day was a flurry of activity, and I was proving my mother right T by walking around with my head in the clouds. It was all Jack’s fault. His attention

made me feel constant flutters and giddiness, and I was sure I had a perennial dreamy look on my face. I went to see Bea and give her the finished painting. She squealed with delight when she saw it and proceeded to pester her dad to hang it up on her bedroom wall in their camper. Her dad, Aiden, was a single parent and a general labourer for the circus. He had a decent, unassuming sort of personality. I was constantly seeing him lugging heavy equipment about. It certainly didn’t look like an easy job, but I still had this itching need to tell him that he shouldn’t let Bea run around by herself all the time. I tamped the need down, because I didn’t want to come across as judgemental. When I was leaving their camper, I saw Julie walking my way. She took me in, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. I thought she was going to say something mean, but then she surprised me when she plastered a polite though obviously fake smile on her face and said, “Hey, Lille, is Aiden in there?” “Yeah, he and Bea are watching television,” I answered. She only nodded and walked by me before disappearing inside the camper. Once the show started, I was busy painting faces outside by the entrance. I found that the more French people I interacted with, the better I became at speaking the language. This trip was doing all sorts of great things for my life. I was speaking a second language, doing art every single day, and receiving orgasms from the sexiest man alive. Well, one orgasm, but I had high hopes for more. I slept like the dead that night and awoke early to the noise of the men taking down the Spiegeltent. My bed was on the side of our tiny room with the window. I wiped away the condensation and peered out to see Jack vaulting up a pole as he assisted with the dismantling of the tent. It looked like doing such a thing came so easy to him. Well, he certainly wasn’t afraid of heights. I watched him for longer than normal, fascinated. Plus, he was so sexy when he was working. Finally dragging myself away, I had a quick shower, making sure not to use all of the hot water for fear of facing the wrath of Violet, then dressed in some jeans and

a yellow knit jumper. Violet was sitting by the table, eating toast, one leg thrown over her shoulder (I know, weird) and wearing a T-shirt that read, “Warning, Gymnast: Could flip at any moment.” It made me smile. “What’s with the top?” I asked. “I thought you were a contortionist.” “An ex-boyfriend bought it for me. He thought it was a funny jibe at me having a short temper. Well, it was ironic that I did flip when I saw he didn’t even get my profession right. I have a mean left hook.” “So you punched your ex-boyfriend and you’re still wearing the T-shirt?” I said, amused. She shrugged. “Pretty much.” I gave her a wide-eyed look. “Fair enough.” Lola came out of our room then, scratching her head, her short hair sticking up in every direction. “Shit, it’s moving day today, isn’t it? I feel like absolute crap, Vi. Could you drive this time? I don’t think I’m up to it.” “You do realise the only reason I let you live here is because I hate driving this thing, right?” Violet threw back, one eyebrow arched. Lola coughed, then sniffled. “Seriously, I’m not faking just so that I can beg off. I think I have a temperature.” Violet made a huff of annoyance but didn’t respond. I walked over to Lola and put my hand to her forehead, only to find she was burning up. “She’s not lying,” I said. “She definitely has a temperature.” “Oh, wonderful!” Violet groaned. “It better not be the flu. I can’t afford to get the flu. Get back in your room, Lola, and stay there. We don’t want to catch what you’ve got.” Okay, so it was official. Violet had just about the worst bedside manner I’d ever encountered, and I grew up with the ultimate ice queen mother who never gave hugs or cups of cocoa or petted my head when I was ill. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” I told Lola. “I’ll make you some soup, and you can try and sleep it off.” And that’s how I spent the rest of my morning, taking care of Lola and making sure she was comfortable. I was just washing my hands when I saw Jack pass by the window of our camper. He was pulling along a large trunk full of equipment. When he saw me watching him, he raised a questioning eyebrow, as if to ask, Are you riding with me today or not? I got a fizzy sensation in my belly to think he’d been waiting for me to come over. “Lola’s all settled. She should be fine until we reach Orléans. I’ll be riding with Jack,” I told Violet, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, drinking a cup of coffee. “Cool. Just make sure you don’t let him talk you into a blowjob on the drive. We don’t want him crashing,” she teased, and I gave her a narrowed-eyed but amused glare. When I got outside, I practically raced all the way to Jack’s camper. I knocked on the door and heard him call, “It’s open.” Stepping inside, I found the place clean and tidy, the same as before. There was

something that warmed my heart about how lived in and threadbare everything felt. I’d grown up in a house with expensive carpets and designer couches, where you had to take your shoes off as soon as you stepped in the door. Mum never let me eat in the living room or in my bedroom. It was always so tense. Everything had to be perfect. Jack’s camper felt like pure comfort in comparison; it was the kind of place where I could sit back and relax, completely be myself. “Hi,” I said, going to take the passenger seat beside him at the front. “What time do we leave?” He glanced up to look at me, his eyes moving from my face to my chest and then down. I relished how he completely soaked in my appearance like that. There was something so…excessive about it. “Good morning, Lille. Five minutes. I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.” I let out a sigh. “Sorry about that. Lola’s fallen sick. I think it’s a cold. Anyway, I had to get her something to eat and tuck her into bed.” Jack seemed perplexed by this. “Who are you? Her mother?” “Definitely not. In my experience, that isn’t how mothers act.” He stared at me for a long moment before looking away again. There was a faraway tone to his voice when he said, “No, nor in mine.” “Ah, something we have in common, then? Though I take it your mum never tried to track your location against your wishes using GPS.” I winced when I remembered that his mother had died in a house fire when he was little. How fucking tactless could I be sometimes? Christ. Jack contemplated my statement for a while. It was probably only seconds, but it felt like forever. “Well, I only have a handful of memories of my birth mother. She was loving, caring, you know, everything a mother should be. Unfortunately, I have more memories of my foster mum. She was the exact opposite.” My lips turned down in a frown. “I’m sorry.” He glanced at me and seemed genuinely confused as to why I would say that. It was what anyone would say, but I was learning that Jack wasn’t like everyone else. He dealt in blunt statements of fact, not platitudes and empty expressions. “Why would you be sorry? You weren’t there,” he said plainly. “It’s just something people say.” Bea’s father, Aiden, walked in front of the camper then and waved his hand in the air to signal it was time to leave. I watched quietly as Jack started the engine and began to pull out of the campsite behind the truck in front of us. Watching him drive was kind of sexy. He was so big and muscular, and even though his camper was one of the larger ones, it felt small with him in it. The mid-morning sun warmed my face as I sat back and got comfortable. Deciding to make the most of three hours in Jack’s company, I pulled out my sketchpad and began to draw him. He was focused on driving mostly, but after about twenty minutes, I saw his attention flicker between me and the road, his head turning every once in a while, craning his neck to see what I was drawing. My lips curved in a smile as I crossed

one leg over the other and tilted the sketchpad to obscure it from his view. In the end, he huffed out a breath of irritation and asked gruffly, “What are you drawing?” “You,” I answered honestly. There really was no point in lying. I was willing to bet he knew I was a tiny bit fascinated by him at this stage. “Me? Why are you drawing me?” I stewed on that one for a moment, trying to think of the best way to answer. “You’ve got an interesting face. I like interesting.” Another huff of irritation. “I can’t see how drawing me driving would be very interesting.” “I’m not drawing you driving. I’m drawing you on stage, weaving fire around your body. Having you in front of me for the physical characteristics is helpful. I can use my imagination for the rest.” His brows shot up, and he appeared to be taken aback by my answer. He let go of the steering wheel and held a hand out for the sketchpad. “Let me see.” I shifted back a little. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to see it until it’s finished. And maybe not even then.” He made a speedy move, grabbing for the sketchpad, but I was quicker and shot out of reach. “Hey, now, that’s a dirty tactic,” I said, laughing nervously. In all honesty, I was self-conscious about showing him. I didn’t think I’d ever put such effort and detail into drawing a person before, and it was perfectly evident. It was also perfectly evident by the sheer amount of detail that I was obsessed with him. And, let’s face it, nobody wants the object of their obsession to be aware of it. Then you just end up feeling weird and itchy and a little bit like a creep. “Lille, you have five seconds to hand me that sketchpad, or else,” he warned me. My heart stuttered in response to his harsh tone of voice, and my skin prickled in a way that made me wonder if I liked it. “Not going to happen,” I said, sticking to my guns. “Fine,” he replied a moment before he abruptly turned the steering wheel, bringing the camper over to the side of the road. The vehicles behind us honked their horns in annoyance while Jack casually pulled over and stopped. The rest of the circus party drove on ahead of us, and I saw a few people staring out of their windows curiously. I almost burst into laughter when Violet sped past, casually mimicking a blowjob with one hand as she drove. I knew I was in for it when Jack undid his seatbelt and came at me. Quick as a flash, I was out of my seat and running. Though, since we were in the camper, there wasn’t really anywhere for me to run to. I dashed inside his bedroom and slammed the door shut, pressing my body against it and holding down the handle to keep him from getting inside. And yeah, it was a futile mission because, let’s face it, my strength was no match for his. I was no dainty little thing, but still, Jack got the door open in record time, and I found myself stumbling backwards, my arse hitting the floor painfully.

“Ouch, my coccyx,” I whined, rubbing at my lower back. Jack stood in the doorway, expressionless, for a moment before he began a slow laugh. “What did you just say?” “I hurt my coccyx, the lower part of my spine. I think I might have done some serious damage,” I complained, scowling up at him. “I’m glad to know you’re finding it so funny, though.” He held his hand out to help me up and I took it, my sketchpad long forgotten on the floor. “I’m sure your coccyx is fine, Lille,” said Jack, towering over me. Then his voice dipped low. “But just to be sure, let me check.” Slowly, he took a breath and reached around me, encapsulating me in his arms. He found my spine and gently ran his fingers downwards. When he reached the base, he started to rub in slow circles. I drew in a gulp of air, tingling all over from his closeness. “How does that feel?” he murmured. It felt incredible. “G-good,” I managed, and glanced up at him. He held my gaze and continued massaging for a full minute. It was perhaps the best minute of my life, all eye contact and gently probing fingers. I was a little disappointed when he drew away. “Better now?” I swallowed and nodded. “Mm-hmm, much better.” “Good,” he said, and before I could react, he dove for my sketchpad, picking it up and flipping through the pages, trying to find my most recent drawing. I swiped for it, but he held it above his head, and yeah, there was no way I was going to reach it. I briefly considered hopping on his bed for the extra height, but I had shoes on, so I thought that might be rude, even though he was being epically rude by nosing at my pictures without my permission. I accepted defeat and stood back, folding my arms and leaning against the door while he examined my drawings as though they were curious artefacts. I got a little dry-throated just watching him. There were a lot of half-finished works in there, and I really did have a fear of my incomplete drawings being seen. I wasn’t sure why, but his opinion was important to me. I didn’t want him to dismiss my work as airy-fairy and pointless like Shay Cosgrove would have. “You see a lot of light in the world,” Jack said finally, his face drawn into a perturbed expression. He flipped to the next page, and I knew he’d come to the drawing of him because he paused, dark eyes taking it in. I bit on my fingernails, waiting. He tilted his head to the side and held the sketchpad out to look at the picture from a different angle. Then he glanced at me and back to the sketchpad before cocking a brow. “This is how I look to you?” he asked. “Uh, yeah,” I croaked. He was staring at the picture again, and almost in slow motion, I saw his lips

curve into a smile. It was the most goose-bump-inducing, belly-tingling, heartfluttering smile I’d ever witnessed. He closed the sketchpad and handed it back to me, then placed a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re a great artist, Lille,” he said, and then made his way to the front of the camper without another word. I was still standing there when the engine started running and we were on the road again. I stumbled a little and steadied myself on the bed before sitting down. What he said had been so simple, and yet it felt like just a few words from him, telling me that I didn’t actually suck, had legitimised me. For the first time in my life, I felt real. I could officially tick number nine off my list. Wow. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there when I finally managed to draw myself out of my thoughts. Looking around Jack’s room, I saw a tall, narrow wardrobe, some drawers, and a couple of shelves built into the wall. On the shelves was an array of books. I leaned closer to read the spines and found that they were all books for kids and teenagers. Adventure novels. Fantasy. Science Fiction. The only book that wasn’t a novel was a big, hardback, well-worn Oxford English dictionary. Randomly, I pulled out a paperback and flipped through the pages. It was curious that there wasn’t a single adult book in his entire collection. I noticed that certain words had been underlined with a pencil. Words like “abolish,” “eschew,” “contrite,” and “gregarious.” They were the kind of words you wouldn’t really consider using until you were older and more learned, but still, any fully grown adult would at least have a decent idea of what they meant. It struck me that Jack must have been underlining them so he could go and look them up later. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another book on his bedside dresser. It was a brand-new copy of Great Expectations, and I immediately remembered how I’d told Jack it was my favourite work of Dickens. I picked it up and found that a receipt had been tucked into the inside cover. It was for a shop back in Caen, the date showing he’d bought it just a few days ago. The bookmark told me he was just over a hundred pages in. Had he bought this because I’d mentioned it? The thought made my chest feel too full. Slotting the book back onto the dresser, I went and joined him, sitting down in the passenger seat. “You took your time,” he noted, glancing at me sideways. “Yeah, well, I’m a little put out by you bulldozing your way into my artwork,” I said with humour. The shape of his lips told me he was almost smiling. “You’re very talented, Lille. You don’t need to be self-conscious about it.” “Hmm, that doesn’t make me feel much better about the invasion of privacy,” I sniffed, heavy on the dramatics, while on the inside I was delighted. I had a feeling that compliments from Jack McCabe were few and far between. And what was seldom was wonderful in my book. “Stop being moody,” he chastised me playfully, and then went quiet for a

second. “What are you going to do with the picture of me when you’re done with it?” “I hadn’t planned that far ahead yet.” A frisky gleam came into his eye. “I think you should hang it over your bed. For inspiration.” He said this with such a straight tone that I didn’t get his meaning at first. When I did, I blushed like crazy and focused my attention out the window. “You know what, Jack McCabe, you’re a sneaky little flirt sometimes.” He seemed to enjoy my assessment, because he was smiling full-on now, never taking his eyes off the road. A little while passed in quiet before I spoke again. “I saw all your books in your room. You must really love reading.” His face grew wary, and he shifted in his seat, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “Reading helps to kill time when I’m on the road.” I nodded. “You also underline the words to look them up later, right? That’s a really good idea. I hate it when I come across a word I don’t know but forget to look it up.” Jack let out a long breath. “That’s not really it.” “No?” He shook his head. “I have gaps in my education. Well, not so much gaps as one big gap. My schooling basically stopped after my parents died. I only really began reading again a couple of years ago, so I look up the words I haven’t come across before.” I furrowed my brow. “But how can that be? You went to live with a foster family. Didn’t they send you to school?” “Not exactly.” “What does that mean?” I shifted closer in my seat, giving him my full attention now. I felt like I was being nosy, asking all these questions, but I couldn’t seem to hold back my curiosity. “I went to school some days, but Frances never really enforced it, and if you tell a teenage boy he doesn’t have to go to school, more often than not he isn’t going to go. Other days, Frances kept me at home for other reasons.” He trailed off, staring dead ahead. I got the feeling he was somewhere else for a moment. My face must have shown my incredulity, because I seriously couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “That’s completely fucked up. I don’t understand how she got away with that.” What I really wanted to do was ask about those “other reasons,” but I had a feeling he’d evade answering me. Plus, there was something in the way he said it that gave me a sick sensation in my belly. “Frances got away with a lot of things. Until she didn’t anymore.” There was a chilling tone to his voice that put me on edge. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but no words came. Somehow, I felt like I didn’t want to know the rest of the story. I went quiet and was surprised when Jack spoke. “I read those books to improve my writing and grammar, but also because

they’re an escape. They’re not like real life. In the stories I read, the bad people get what’s coming to them. In the real world, that’s not always the case.” I stared at him, a lump in my throat, and my heart broke a little. He was a small boy again, the one I caught glimpses of every now and again before the strong, impenetrable man returned. “That’s true. You know, I can read The Witches by Roald Dahl over and over again, and it never gets old. It’s like the perfect comfort read, a hug in a book.” He shook his head in amusement at my use of “hug in a book” and kept on driving. “I also saw you’re reading Great Expectations. I feel like I should warn you that there isn’t exactly a happy ending to that one. It’s a little bit tragic, actually.” His body tensed for a moment, but all he said was, “Yeah, okay.” I wondered if he was embarrassed for me to know he’d bought it because I’d said it was my favourite. He had no need to be, but still, I let the subject drop all the same. We were a little bit behind the others due to our unexpected stop, but I could see the long string of campers and trucks in the distance, so I knew we were almost caught up to them. When we reached Orléans, I stared out the window in fascination at the buildings and the old stone bridge with arches beneath that crossed over the river. The view made my heart excited. It was just so French. Right then I wished I hadn’t destroyed my phone because I wanted to look up the city, read about what there was to see here. I guessed Jack knew just as little as I did about the place, even though I suspected he’d been there before, because when I asked him the name of the river we were crossing, he only shrugged. Everywhere was just another place to him. It made me a little bit sad. In a complete contrast to the last site we’d been camped in, which was on a country road, we were now smack bang in the middle of civilisation in what appeared to be a large empty car park. “Can I use your phone for a minute?” I asked Jack as he pulled in behind Marina’s camper. He glanced at me, and then without a word opened the glove compartment and rummaged through it, fishing out his phone. When he handed it to me, I realised I wouldn’t be doing any Googling, because it was at least ten years old. “Who are you calling?” he asked. “Um, nobody. Never mind,” I replied, and handed it back to him. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” “I wanted to use the Internet, and your phone is from the Stone Age, Jack.” “Well, it’s a phone, isn’t it?” His simple reply made me laugh, and when I saw his face, I realised he thought I was laughing at him. “Being a snob doesn’t suit you, Lille.” I quickly sobered and reached for his arm, but he drew away. “That’s not what I was implying. I actually think it’s refreshing. Everybody’s so over-connected these

days.” “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that, would I? I’m just a barely literate slumdog living in the fucking Stone Age.” I stared at him, mouth open, not understanding how he could take offense so easily, how his mood could turn so swiftly. Was I being snobbish? If I was, I hadn’t meant to be. He got up and walked to the back of the camper, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. I made my way toward him as he drank, and said quietly, “I’m sorry.” He pulled the carton from his mouth, swallowed, and glanced at me. “You should probably go check on Lola. See how she’s feeling.” Well, I knew dismissal when I heard it. A lump forming in my throat, I shot him a final apologetic look before turning and leaving the van. When I got to Violet’s camper, Lola was fast asleep in our room, snoring loudly, and Violet was on the floor in the lounge, her body bent into a crab position. It looked almost painful but was clearly effortless to her. She only gave me a nod in greeting. I was beginning to learn that, like a lot of the people in this circus, Violet was an odd character. Sometimes she’d have a conversation with you, even joke around, and then other times she wouldn’t talk to you at all. Later that night when I went to the gazebo for something to eat, I chatted with Marina for a while, letting her know that Lola wasn’t well and that I’d fill in for her if she wasn’t up to working tomorrow night. I noticed Pedro watching me again from the other end of the long table, his face hard like before. He sat by himself, eating a bowl of stew and listening to us as we spoke. I didn’t see any sign of Jack, but I did get a death glare from Julie as she passed by the table with her sisters. Today was definitely not my day. Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it in for me. As I was leaving, I filled a bowl for Lola and brought it back to the camper van. She was awake when I got there and had just enough energy to eat before she fell asleep again. It was definitely looking like she had the flu, and I resigned myself to sleeping on the sofa that night, since I didn’t want to catch it. After the way I’d left things with Jack, I felt unsettled. I couldn’t seem to sit still, so I decided to go find him and make amends. Running what I’d said about his phone through my head again, I realised that I had been a bit of a snob. His camper van was dark on the inside, and when I knocked on the door, I got no answer. I wished I had a phone so that I could call him and made a note to buy a cheap one in town the next day. Disappointed, I started walking back when I caught sight of him leaving the gazebo, headed towards the street. Picking up my pace, I followed, cupping my hands around my mouth and calling out his name, but the traffic was too loud, and he couldn’t hear me. He was so tall that I could easily pick him out in the distance and so I kept following him. The tricky part came in when I reached a large open square that reminded me of an Italian piazza. In no time I’d lost him and found myself standing in front of a restaurant. Some men sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking fancy

European-looking beers. They wore business suits, their ties loosened, signalling that they were off duty. When one of them gave me a look up and down and called me over, I began walking away hurriedly, not wanting the attention. I already felt vulnerable, all alone in a strange city at night with no phone and very little money. When I tried going back the way I came, I realised I must have made a wrong turn somewhere because I didn’t recognise the street. A group of teenagers walked by me, and I knew I appeared distraught because they gave me curious looks. In usual teenage fashion, though, none of them offered to help. I had a vague feeling that I was going in the right direction, but I realised I was wrong when I’d been walking for ten minutes and still didn’t recognise where I was. Why the hell had I left the circus without even asking what street we were on? I stood outside a newsagents, folding my arms across my chest because it was getting cold and I had no coat. I was just about to stop a woman I saw approaching me and ask for help when a hand landed on my shoulder. I yelped at the unexpected contact and turned around, relief flooding me when I saw it was Jack. That relief only lasted a moment when I saw the look of anger on his face.

TEN

AN ATTACK LED THEM ASTRAY

“W hat

do you think you’re doing?” he fumed, his hand on my shoulder steering me across the street where a tram was just pulling up to the stop. Jack led me onto it, pushing me right up into the opposite door and glaring down at me. My back hit the glass, my heart going ninety. The carriage was by no means full, but there were a couple of people giving us wary glances. I was focusing on looking anywhere but Jack’s eyes because they were scary right then. So black. I noticed he had a plastic bag dangling over one arm that contained a carton of milk, bread, and a packet of cigarettes. So yeah, I’d obviously been following him on a trip to the grocery shop and had gotten myself lost in the process. Still, I couldn’t understand why he was this mad. Mild irritation I’d expect, but this level of pissed off was way over the top. Telling him I’d been following him would only worsen his temper, so I lied. “I was taking a walk. I wanted to see the city.” “You wanted to see the city at eleven o’clock at night? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to wait until morning?” I bristled. “Probably.” “And if you were only taking a walk, then why did I find you huddled outside a newsagents looking like you were ready to have a panic attack?” As he spoke, his body moved closer and closer to mine. Now his hips had me penned in place, one arm braced above my head and his broad chest in my face. I tried to keep my tone light-hearted. “‘Huddled’ is a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it? And okay, I may have lost my way. I was just about to ask for directions when you showed up. Lucky that,” I said, and winked at him. Winked. At. Him. Why the hell did my brain think that was a clever thing to do? Jack frowned at me, a look I was beginning to recognise as him thinking I was being weird. Then he let out a long breath. “You don’t know this city. Next time you want to go for a stroll, ask me to take you. Then, once you know where you’re going, you can wander all you like, though not at night. That’s just asking for trouble.” There was something about the way he spoke to me that ruffled my feathers. Maybe I just didn’t like people telling me what to do. I stood straighter, lifted my

chin, and pushed him out of the way. His body moved, though I was certain that if he hadn’t wanted to, my pushing would have been pointless. “I’m not an idiot, so don’t talk to me like I am,” I said firmly. I’d spent my entire life being spoken down to by my mother. I wasn’t going to start letting someone else do it. Especially not Jack. “Well, you sure seem to act like one sometimes,” he shot back, and I saw red. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” I stared at him without blinking, and he stared right back. My arms were folded tight across my chest like steel, and I had the distinct urge to make a fist so I could punch him. This man was so aggravating. “Are you being mean because of what I said earlier about your phone? Because if that’s the case, then I apologise again. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive.” Okay, so I was goading him, but he had it coming. In an instant he was in my space, and this time the tension practically radiated off him. His hands went to my neck, his thumbs stroking my throat, and God, I was already turned on. He had that effect on me. Hell, maybe I got off on fighting with him. It really wouldn’t surprise me if I did. He bent to bring his face level with mine and spoke slowly. “‘Sensitive’ is the last word anyone would use to describe me, flower, but keep poking, see how long it takes for me to snap.” His voice was low and cutting, but so erotic, and the subtle edge of a threat had my every pore alight and tingling. “Seems like you’ve snapped already,” I whispered so quietly I’m sure he only heard because he was so close. “If you think that’s snapping, then you don’t know me at all.” “That’s right, I don’t.” I paused before continuing bravely, “But I want to.” His mouth twisted, and he began to shake his head; for a second there was a tortured expression on his face. “No, you don’t.” “Don’t tell me what I want.” He dropped his shoulders so his forehead rested against mine, and I could feel him breathing. “Seeing you like that, alone, panicking, pissed me off, okay? I’m sorry for lashing out.” His protective instincts were not entirely unexpected; however, they did surprise me. I was just a girl he knew. Yes, one he had the urge to go down on, but still just a girl. Would he really be that bothered if something were to happen to me? His words from the other night rang in my head. You’re all I see. Maybe he would be bothered. Maybe he would be very bothered. The thought made me shiver. I didn’t know what to do. His mood had changed so swiftly. In the end, I just stood there, breathing him in, until the tram stopped and the door started to open. Jack laced his fingers in mine and led me off. We turned a corner, and there was the circus, the foundations of the Spiegeltent being laid out already. I had an idea for a

three-part painting of the tent in its various stages of being built, the final complete one full of colour and light, people coming to see the show. Sometimes it felt like I had so many ideas but never enough time to make them happen. “What are you thinking about?” Jack asked, and I realised he’d been watching me. “Oh, you know, the usual. How our lives are finite and we’ll only ever get to fit so much into them. How it doesn’t feel like enough.” Jack gave me a thoughtful look and was silent a moment before he spoke. “Would it make you feel better to know that we all get the same number of hours in a day, days in a year? Some people might be rich and some might be poor, but none of them can buy time. It is one of the fairest systems in the world.” “Yeah, but most rich people live longer lives than the poor.” Jack shrugged. “I’m not talking about lifespans. I’m talking about time. And what makes you a good judge of what is enough? Maybe stop thinking of enough and just live in the moment. Then you won’t worry — you’ll just be experiencing.” “It’s hard to change the way you think when you were raised to measure everything in comparison to everything else.” “Well, that sounds like a depressing way to live your life.” “It is.” “Change, then.” There was a forcefulness to his words, like he really cared. I stopped walking, my hand slipping from his. He paused two steps ahead of me and turned, arching a questioning brow. He was so beautiful. I loved looking at him in the dark and then in the light, noting the contrasts, realising that he was exquisite in every setting. “Jack,” I breathed. He looked wary. “Lille?” “You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?” Staring at me, he seemed caught off guard. He definitely hadn’t expected me to say that. His face appeared to be battling a war within itself over whether or not to smile or frown. In the end, I got something that was neither one nor the other. “Only kind of?” I let out a loud bark of a laugh and teased, “Well, you’re no Gandy.” Jack shot me a confused glance. “And thank fuck for that. Who wants to look like a little old bald man with John Lennon glasses?” My laughter spilled out and was impossible to control. When I finally regained the ability to speak, I said, “David Gandy the male model, not Gandhi the father of Independence in India. And technically, John Lennon stole the spectacles from him, since Gandhi came before Lennon.” His face was what I could only describe as amused affection. “So, let me get this straight: I don’t look like a male model. Okay, I think I can live with that.” He said this with such a deadpan tone that I began laughing all over again, and it had just started to die down. What was even funnier was the fact that my comment was

intended to tease and rile him up, but it hadn’t riled him up at all. And the truth of the matter was that he could’ve wiped the floor with a whole room full of male models. Jack’s beauty was far beyond anything quite so flat and one-dimensional. I took two steps towards him and placed my hands on his chest. He watched my every move intently, like I was a strange animal and he didn’t know what I was going to do next. “No, you don’t. You’re still beautiful, though,” I whispered before rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. I was being uncharacteristically forward. There was something about being out in the dark that made me feel less inhibited than usual. Jack stood still, an immovable living statue, letting me kiss him. I got a vibe of curiosity, like he was waiting to see where I was going with this. Good luck with that. I didn’t even know where I was going. I was trying to live in the moment, like he said. Experience rather than measure. My hands explored his hard, warm chest before moving up to his neck and sliding around to sink into his hair. All the while he did nothing, and there was some sort of triumph in that. I felt like he was surrendering, letting me take what I wanted. It was a gift, I knew, because Jack McCabe wasn’t a man to surrender often. Pressing my body along the length of his and feeling just how much he wasn’t indifferent towards me by the thick hardness at his crotch, I slid my tongue into his mouth and felt him shudder. Wow. I tugged on his hair a little and was rewarded with a deep, masculine groan that originated in the back of his throat and made every tiny hair on my body stand on end. I broke away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Touch me back.” He didn’t give in immediately, but after a moment or two, his arms went around my waist, tightening and pulling me closer. His mouth began to move, his tongue tangling with mine in a soft, sensual dance. I felt like I was trying to drink him in but would never quite get enough. My hands were everywhere, feeling every place I could reach, while his remained in place, never venturing anywhere other than my waist. His hands were balled at my hips, fisting my shirt tightly. I adored how solid he was, how immovable. Just as I was falling into him, getting lost out here in the dark, a sharp, violent scream rang out, and I pulled away, startled. “What was that?” I asked, breathless, right before a second scream sounded. Jack grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, my body propelling faster than I’d be capable of on my own. The screaming continued and it made my heart pound, my skin growing tight. We followed the noise right to Violet’s camper. The light was dim, but it was bright enough for us to make out a figure leaving through the door in a hurry. It was definitely male. “Hey!” Jack shouted, letting go of my hand to chase after him. I hurried inside to find Lola crouched over, tears streaming down her face. The covers had been yanked off the bed, and it looked like someone had kicked a hole in the wall. Blood was running down her chin from her lip, and there was a look of terror in her eyes

that I knew I’d never forget. “Lola, what happened?” I asked, breathless and frantic as I went to sit by her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The moment I touched her, she instantly jumped away, her hands shaking and tears filling her eyes. “Don’t,” was all she said. “I’m sorry,” I replied, moving away and picking the blanket up off the floor. Carefully, I draped it around her shoulders, and she gripped it tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she continued to shake. I wanted to ask her what had happened again, but I didn’t feel like I’d get an answer. Leaving her for a moment, I went outside to find Jack walking back towards the camper, breathing hurriedly. “Fucking lost him,” he said between breaths, and nodded to the van. “Who’s inside?” “Lola. She won’t answer when I ask her what happened, but it looks like someone assaulted her. She won’t stop shaking, Jack.” He swore and slammed his hand into the side of the camper in frustration. Over his shoulder, I saw a shadow move in the darkness a moment before King stumbled forward, his trademark bottle of liquor in his hand. “Keep the noise down, would ya?” he grumbled, and brought the bottle to his mouth for a drink. Jack swiped it away from him and held it out of reach. “You been hanging around here all night?” Jack asked. “Hey! Give that back,” King complained, trying to grab for it. “Answer me and then I’ll give it back,” said Jack, voice stern. “Been around, yeah.” “Did you see anyone go inside this camper?” King frowned, his brows drawn together as he thought about it. “Nah, don’t think so.” “Yes or no, King.” “Fuck’s sake. No, I didn’t see anyone,” he shouted then, words slicing from his lips like razor blades. His arctic-blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and for a moment I was frightened. What if King was the one who attacked Lola? He had been hanging around all night. But then, we did see someone running away, someone fast enough to outrun Jack, and I didn’t think King was capable of that in his current state. Jack scowled and finally handed him back his bottle. “Marina’s gonna chop your balls off when she finds out you’ve been drinking.” “Bitch can have them. I’ve no use for them anymore,” King spat as he hungrily grabbed the bottle and stumbled away. I glanced at Jack. “Can you come and try talk to Lola? She won’t tell me anything.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And you think she’ll talk to me? She’s just been attacked by a man, and I’m not exactly the gentle type. She’ll freak if I go near her.” He sounded like he had experience with this type of thing, which only made my

stomach twist further. What kind of things had this man seen in his life? I already felt uneasy and upset thinking of my friend sitting in her room, traumatised. Turning, I went back inside to find Lola had calmed down a little and was no longer shaking so much. I sat at the end of her bed and laced my fingers together. There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t seem to swallow, and my eyes filled with tears. “We need to call the police, Lola.” Her eyes flared and she reached out, grabbing my wrist painfully. “No! No police.” I didn’t understand her. “Why not?” Fingers digging into my skin, she pleaded, “Just don’t call them. Please. I’m begging you.” “Okay, I won’t. I promise, but you need to tell me what happened.” She let out a long, shuddering breath and then locked eyes with me. Hers were still so bloodshot that it was almost difficult to look at them. She was still sick. “I was sleeping and all the lights were out. I didn’t hear him come in. All I know is that I woke because I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was leaning over me, pressing all his weight into my chest. It was too dark to see his face, but I thought he might be wearing a balaclava, because I felt something woollen brush my skin. I started to scream, and he punched me hard in the mouth.” She stopped, weeping now, and brought her hand to her bloodied lips. I wanted to go to her so badly, but I didn’t. I knew she didn’t want to be touched by anyone. Not yet. All of a sudden, I became aware of a presence behind me and turned to see Jack standing just outside the door, listening. Thankfully, the door was mostly closed, so Lola couldn’t see him. He’d been right. His presence was far too foreboding sometimes. He was so big and male, and Lola was very likely to freak if she saw him right now. I took her hand in mine and urged her to continue with my eyes. Her words tumbled out again. “He yanked the blanket away from me and I tried to struggle free, but this time h-he…he punched me in the stomach. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t move for a minute, and he pried my knees apart and put his hands on me.” She paused and almost whispered, “Between my legs. I got just enough energy up to start screaming again, and I must have been loud, because he ran.” A painful kind of fear clutched my chest. “Did he say anything? Did you hear his voice?” She shook her head. “No.” A silence elapsed, but I could still sense Jack standing outside the door. I made my voice as soft as possible when I asked, “Lola, why can’t we call the police? This guy is still out there. He could do it to someone else.” She groaned like she was in pain, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lola’s not my real name, Lille.” “I know. Violet told me.” The confession that came next was completed unexpected. “There’s a reason for

that. I can’t be found. And if I tell the police my real name, he’ll find me.” “Who?” “My husband.” My jaw dropped. Lola had a husband? It was hard to believe, because she was only a year older than me. At least, she’d told me she was twenty-two. “You know why I liked you right from the get-go?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingertips lightly down the side of my face. “Your eyes. They haven’t grown hard yet, and there’s no malice. When I got away from him, I promised myself I’d try my hardest to surround myself with people like you. Gentle people. People who don’t hurt others. Then I’d never go back to what my life used to be.” She hadn’t said anything explicitly, but she didn’t need to. Her husband had hurt her, and that’s why she needed to get away. “Derek is the filth,” she said, using London slang for police. “He has connections. If my name shows up, he’ll find me. That’s why we can’t call them.” “But we’re in France,” I began, and she interrupted, “It doesn’t matter. He’ll find me. I can’t let that happen.” Behind me, I could hear Jack swearing and pacing around the living area. Lola’s brows drew together. “McCabe’s out there?” I nodded. “Yeah, he was walking me home. We heard you screaming and saw your attacker leaving. Jack chased him, but he couldn’t catch him.” “Oh.” Some kind of relief showed on her features, and my stomach twisted again. I knew what she’d been thinking. For a moment she’d wondered if her attacker had been Jack. I felt like defending him, but she hadn’t said anything outright, so I couldn’t. I barely knew him, really, and already I wanted to tell everyone that he wasn’t a bad person, that he might actually be a great person. One of the best. Yeah, I had it bad. I heard the camper door opening and Violet’s recognisable voice questioning Jack as to what he was doing there. Seconds later she practically exploded into the room, taking in Lola’s appearance and hurrying to her, asking her if she was all right. On a normal day, these two were at each other’s throats, but now that something bad had happened, Violet looked just about ready to murder someone. It was an awful situation, but for a second my heart warmed to see that Violet actually genuinely cared for Lola. I knew that Violet was aware of Lola’s past when she didn’t ask if we’d called the police yet. She knew that we hadn’t. Couldn’t. I glanced at Jack and could tell that he was seriously pissed off about this, but he didn’t try to force his hand. The camper was small. He’d obviously heard Lola and derived the same conclusions I had. I left Violet to comfort Lola and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly and coming face to face with Jack. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “This whole situation is fucked,” he said. “Whoever did this is dangerous, and he’s out there free to do as he pleases.”

For some reason, his anger surprised me. I’d expect anyone to be pissed about not calling the police, but Jack was outraged. I felt like he had some kind of personal investment in this that I couldn’t understand. “You heard Lola. She doesn’t want her husband to find her. I didn’t even know she had a husband.” Jack growled and sat down on the couch. “Everybody here has a past they’re trying to run from. That’s why we feel the need to travel, keep moving so we’ll never be found. This circus is particularly appealing because we only advertise when we reach a destination. We don’t have a website or a tour schedule that’s accessible by the public. Marina likes it that way, mainly because she says she hates computers, but I personally think she might be afraid of them. She has a tonne of books about conspiracy theories in her camper.” For the first time since we discovered Lola had been attacked, his face showed something other than severe anger. He was clearly very fond of Marina. I gave him a small smile. I’d actually seen those books when I’d been holed up in her place doing her accounts. What Jack said gave me another realisation, something that had been niggling at me. In the back of my mind, I’d very much expected for my mum to have shown up by now. I put it down to her not being able to take the time off work, but now I knew differently. She couldn’t find me because the Circus Spektakulär wasn’t listed. The thought made me feel so much better, a tension leaving me I hadn’t even known was there. “I’m not looking forward to spending the night on this couch,” said Jack, perusing the living area, his words breaking through my thoughts. “Huh?” “I’m staying here tonight. I can’t take the risk of the attacker coming back.” I scratched at my neck awkwardly. “Um, I was actually going to sleep there, since Lola’s sick. I don’t want to catch her flu.” The moment the words left my mouth, Jack’s gaze grew hot, his eyes smouldering. I never thought smouldering was actually a real thing until I met him. “You can lie on top of me if you like. Better yet, just sit on my face.” I stared at him in silence, mouth hanging open. He was so…lewd sometimes. It unsettled me to think that if anyone else had said that to me, I’d be disgusted. But Jack managed to make the stark obscenity sound appealing. I flushed, and a tingle radiated down my spine. “That’s…that’s…that’s a really inappropriate thing to say to someone.” I could feel his gaze right then like it was a physical touch. “True, but you’re not just anyone to me.” “Who am I to you?” I asked, unable to help myself. He looked at me for a long, endless moment. “Someone.” I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it still made me feel hot all over. My heart beat hard just for him. It felt euphoric to be someone to Jack, and I knew from deep within me that I wanted to be his only someone. I wasn’t his only someone,

though. There was still Julie with her bitchy looks and cruel words that hid behind her pretty face and fake beaming smiles. “You’re someone to me, too,” I whispered into the quiet. We stayed like that for a long time: me standing in the middle of the room, him sitting on the chair, having a silent conversation until Violet came in, completely unaware of the tension. “Lille, Lola’s asking for you,” she said, and I grabbed onto her words as an escape. Otherwise, I’d never be free of the prison that was Jack McCabe’s sexy stare. DESPITE MY PLANS TO do otherwise, I ended up sleeping with Lola in her bed, her small frame wrapped up in my arms. She’d been so distraught and jittery that I decided I’d put up with catching the flu because she needed me, and I didn’t want to leave her on her own. I knew that if I were in her place, I wouldn’t want to be alone, either. Violet had to be healthy for her performances this week. I was much less vital to the circus and therefore could afford to get sick. And I had a strong immune system, so maybe I wouldn’t catch it. I woke early, Lola still in my arms. Gently extricating myself from her, I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, needing to pee. I caught sight of Jack on the couch, still sleeping. I’d given him my duvet last night, and felt warm and fuzzy inside to think of him being able to smell me on the fabric. His deep breathing filled the camper and it was a gorgeous sound. With my dad out of the picture, I’d never really experienced living with a strong masculine presence. My bladder felt full and heavy, and it was a relief to finally go. When I was leaving the bathroom, only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, my gaze flicked to Jack to see he wasn’t asleep anymore. He lay with his arm behind his head, watching me. His legs hung off the edge of the couch because he was so tall. I cringed to think of him hearing me pee, which was ridiculous, because it was a perfectly natural bodily function. There should be no shame in peeing. His eyes ran down my body, from my face to my neck to my chest, lingering on my bare legs the longest. I thought I had nice legs. They weren’t too fat, or worse, too thin, and they were long enough to be considered attractive. I felt myself blushing hotly and staring at the carpeted floor like it was fascinating. “That was by far the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” he said, his deep voice hitting me deliciously at the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I definitely enjoyed listening to Jack speak first thing in the morning. “That’s because the couches in these camper vans were built for hobbits, and if you lived in Middle Earth, you’d definitely be one of the elves,” I shot back, and received the most delectable low chuckle in response. It sent a thrill right down to my toes. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the kitchen and popped the kettle on. “Do you want a cup of tea? Or coffee, maybe?” He sat up and rubbed his hand along his jaw, where there was an attractive bit of

stubble growing. “Coffee. Thank you.” I glanced at him briefly, allowed myself a second to enjoy his naked chest, then focused on making his drink. I’d seen him topless before, of course, but that was when he was onstage, or from afar as he helped build the Spiegeltent, not up close in a tiny camper van, his presence soaking up all the oxygen. Perhaps that was why I was suddenly having difficulty remembering to breathe. I heard the floor creak, and then a moment later I felt his heat behind me as he brought his hands to my hips and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured in my ear, all gravelly. I swear I was wet already. His voice, his closeness, his subtle touch — it all worked to soften me, make me a welcoming host for whatever he wanted to give. “Hi,” I squeaked, spooning instant coffee into two cups and trying to focus on keeping my hands from trembling. Then his lips were on my neck, his hot, wet, open mouth sucking my skin, and I ended up dropping the spoon, coffee granules spilling over the counter. “Jack,” I protested, but my voice was more air than sound, and it did nothing to stop him. I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my legs growing weak. His deft hands spun me around to face him, and his mouth left my neck. He stared down at me, eyes roaming my face, my mouth in particular. “You’ve got pretty lips,” he said, cupping my jaw, then lifting his thumb to my mouth. I stood there, immobile, as he rubbed across my lips and dipped inside. Jack groaned as his thumb went in, watching with rapt attention, and I shuddered at the invasion. He started to move it slowly in and out, and I swallowed back a moan. My tongue touched his thumb and he hissed, hips pressing into me, his erection hard and hot against my stomach. I surrendered completely, body limp, as he invaded my mouth, and I welcomed it every time he went deeper. I imagined doing this to his cock, taking all of him in, and the dark, simmering look in his gaze told me he was imagining the exact same thing. I broke away from him abruptly the second I heard Violet’s bedroom door creak open. Jack retreated back to the couch and casually sat, like nothing had even happened. “Whoa, McCabe, put a top on, would you?” said Violet, giving him a cranky glare. “I don’t wanna see that shit first thing in the morning.” And she sounded like she genuinely didn’t. It boggled my mind, because I couldn’t imagine any heterosexual, red-blooded female not wanting to see a topless Jack first thing in the morning. Topless Jacks were what mornings of dreams were made of. Then again, I had just been enjoying his thumb in my mouth, so perhaps I was biased. Silently, I returned to making the coffee, cleaning up the spilt granules and making a third cup for Violet. Much to my disappointment, Jack pulled on a shirt, and we sat drinking, getting our caffeine fixes and quietly discussing how to go about dealing with what happened last night. There wasn’t much we could do,

given that Lola wouldn’t let us call the police, but Jack said he’d let Marina know and inform the others, make sure they were on the lookout for any strange activity. Every time I looked at him now, I blushed. I mean, he’d gone down on me outside just the other night, and somehow I was more embarrassed about what had happened this morning. There was something about the stark daylight and the raw sexuality of how he touched me that made me feel too hot under my skin. When he left to go back to his place and take a shower, I finally felt like I could breathe again. Violet made a few back-handed comments about unresolved sexual tension, which only served to put my nerves well and truly on edge. If Jack could get me this worked up by barely touching me, then I shuddered to think how it would be if we had sex. I needed an outlet, a bit of stress relief, so I set up my easel outside and started painting. I’d sketched an outline of the painting I planned of Jack, but I wasn’t in the right place to tackle it properly yet. He was taking up enough space in my head already. Instead, I started my three-part painting of the Spiegeltent, which was a much easier subject, given the current state of my emotions. After a while I heard someone approach, and I knew it was him. It was almost like I recognised how his eyes felt watching me, which was downright weird. He sat on a folding chair with a book in his lap, quietly reading just like the last time. Was this going to become a habit? Oddly enough, I hoped it would. A couple of minutes passed before I asked, “Do you ever think about what your life would be like if your parents hadn’t died in the fire?” He looked at me for a long moment, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Feeling like inflicting a little light emotional torture today, flower?” His words held both a bite and a certain level of tenderness. “I’m just curious. I mean, I’d think about it if I were you. Don’t you ever feel like contacting your brother? Talking to him?” “He left me. What’s there to talk about?” I shrugged, looking at my painting because Jack’s stare was too intense right then. “I dunno. I just feel like believing the words of two random nurses and an uncle you never met before is foolish. You should hear it from the horse’s mouth. People make mistakes all the time. Perhaps the nurses got it wrong. Or perhaps your uncle was lying. You never contacted Jay directly. Not once.” “Don’t say his name. I don’t want to hear it,” said Jack, a warning in his voice. I went quiet for a minute, then said, “Thinking about him hurts, doesn’t it?” Jack’s jaw tightened as he stared off into the distance. I didn’t expect him to answer me, so I was surprised when he bit out, “Yes.” “Letting it fester won’t help anyone. Believe me, I know. I’ve spent years letting my mother’s meanness fester. All it does is eat you up inside. About a year ago, I started writing letters, telling her just how much she’d hurt me. I never intended to send them, but writing it down helped. The burden wasn’t so heavy afterwards.” “What are you saying, Lille? That I should write my brother a letter, tell him how

much I fucking despise him, is that it?” he scoffed. I gave him the most sincere look I could muster as I replied, “If you think it will help, then yes.” I paused, summoning up the courage to whisper, “I care about you, and I don’t want you to hurt on the inside.” His head turned, and he looked at me for a moment that dragged on forever, like my words had meant something to him. I saw a war wage within his black eyes before some of the tension went out of him in a long exhalation. “Go get me a pen and paper,” he said, and I literally felt my heart leap. He was actually going to do it. I couldn’t have been more shocked if he told me he had a penchant for wearing women’s underwear every now and again. Not saying a word, I went inside and checked on Lola for a minute (she was sleeping), then tore a few pages out of my notebook and grabbed a pen. Going back out, I handed them to Jack, our fingers brushing absently, then returned to my painting. He sat there for a long time, fiddling with the pen, before he began to write. My belly was all aflutter as I watched him. I tried to focus on my painting, but I couldn’t help it. I was dying to know what he was writing. It was private, though, and I wouldn’t pry. I got lost in my painting for a while, working on the details of the stained glass windows of the Spiegeltent, and how they caught the light. “Fuck,” Jack swore, startling me out of my concentration. I looked up to see him stand from his seat, scrunch up the paper he’d been writing on, and throw it in the bin. “This is bollocks.” He glared at me, and I felt my throat tighten. Jack McCabe was not the kind of man anyone wanted glaring at them, and I certainly didn’t relish being the recipient of said glare. “I never said it worked for everyone. Maybe writing stuff down just isn’t cathartic for you like it is for me,” I suggested quietly. “Why’d you even bring it up, Lille, huh? I told you about Jay because I trusted you. That doesn’t mean you have permission to start discussing it all casual like you’re commenting on the fucking weather.” He kicked the side of the camper in frustration, which caused Violet to stick her head out the window, looking pissed. “What the fuck, man?” Jack gave her a withering stare, and she shrank in on herself, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like “psycho” before she retreated back inside and shut the window tight. I stood and strode toward him, reaching out and pushing his shoulder. “Hey, that was uncalled for. I was only trying to help you.” He grabbed my wrist, clutching it harshly, and I sucked in a breath. “From now on, my past is off limits. We don’t talk about it. You understand?” “You’re angry. People that angry need to sort their shit out, Jack. You can’t just keep ignoring it. Burying your head in the sand just leaves you with sand in your eyes.” He arched an eyebrow, and okay, yeah, what I’d just said sounded stupid, but I didn’t know how to get through to him. I also didn’t know why I felt it was so

important that he come to terms with his feelings about his brother’s abandonment. All I knew was that it made me sad to think of what he might be missing out on. From what I’d learned about Jay Fields, he was an amazing person, and Jack deserved to have someone like him in his life. Something about Jack’s story just didn’t ring true, and it had been niggling at me for a while. “Stay out of my business, Lille,” he said finally, voice harsh but eyes sad, as he let go of my wrist, turned around, and walked away. I stood there even after he was gone, wondering if I’d just ruined whatever we had before it had even begun. Then my eyes landed on the rubbish bin, where Jack had thrown his scrunchedup paper. My curiosity was about to get the better of me.

ELEVEN

IN SECRET LILLE STOLE JACK’S LETTER

ears stung my eyes and ran down my face. TI didn’t know what I thought I’d find when I read Jack’s letter, but I certainly

hadn’t expected to feel like someone had just buried a bullet in my chest. I was bawling as I crouched behind the camper for privacy, holding the uncrumpled sheet of paper in my hands. Even the way he wrote broke my heart. He used short, simple sentences, with frequent misspellings, and I remembered him telling me about the gaps in his education. You could tell simply from the lines he’d written. When I woke up I wondered wer u wer 1st. The last ting I remembered was suffocation and smoke. Not being able to breathe is the scariest ting. I cryed when they said Mam and Dad were dead. I cryed when they said our uncle took u and not me. I still hate hospitals. Being alone feels worse when ur a kid. Life seems endless. Endless loneliness. U have no 1 and they give u to people and the people don’t want u but they do want u becos they can get mony for u and they want the mony and they’re all so greedy and they take everything until you have nothing and they don’t even care. I’ve done bad tings. I thought about u every day. Remember u taught me how to throw plastic knives? U were so much better than me. I’m probably better than u now. Sometimes I want u 2 see. But I hate u. I hate that I still love u. Why didn’t u come back for me? Why did u leave me? Why did u leave me? Why did u leave me? Those last lines became harder to make out the more he repeated the question,

like he’d stabbed the pen in so harshly it tore the paper, a manifestation of the pain he felt inside. I read it so many times the letters started to blur, mostly because I was still crying. I hate that I still love u. That was the line that made me cry the most. Jack still loved his brother. Even though he hated him, he still loved him. The declaration was so raw, I could almost feel the hurt like it was my own. Somehow I had to figure out a way to help him. I smoothed out the letter more, then folded it neatly and tucked it in my pocket. I had an idea, but it was so fucking risky. I definitely wasn’t Jack’s favourite person right now, but if I did this, I could ruin things between us completely. Would it be worth it to reunite him with Jay? Inside the camper, Violet gave me a look as if to ask, What the hell was all that with Jack earlier? Then she saw my reddened eyes and kept quiet. It was clear that I’d been crying. Lola was groggily eating tea and toast in bed. She still wasn’t over her flu, and last night’s attack had only worsened matters. I asked how she was, then asked if I could use her phone. Weakly, she told me I could use it whenever I wanted, that I didn’t have to ask. It didn’t take me long to find two mailing addresses for Jay Fields. One looked like a P.O. Box, and the other was for a hotel in Las Vegas. I decided to use the latter, because who knew how many adoring fans sent letters to his P.O. Box, and mine would only get lost amid the masses. I was incredibly nervous as I composed my message to him, and I still questioned if I even had any right to be doing this. My heart fluttered like an electrocuted butterfly. It was completely dodgy, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Something in my gut told me this was the right thing to do. I had to sacrifice what little Jack and I had in order to give him something more. Dear Jay, You don’t know me. My name’s Lille Baker. Very recently I met a man named Jack. Our relationship isn’t an easy one to explain, but I feel very protective of him. I want to help him, even if he doesn’t know he needs it yet. He confided in me. Told me about how his parents died in a house fire and how his brother abandoned him. I think that brother is you. And somehow, I feel like there’s more to this story than meets the eye. Jack’s feelings are still all messed up, so I encouraged him to write you a letter telling you how he feels. We never planned on sending it. It was supposed to be therapeutic. After he wrote it, he got upset and threw it away. I picked it out of the rubbish and decided to send it to you. He doesn’t know I’m writing this. He’s a performer with the Circus Spektakulär. We’re currently doing shows in Orléans in France; next week we move on to Lyon, and after that I’m not sure. I think you should come find us. Come see your brother after all these years, Jay. He’s an incredible person, and I’ve been fascinated by him since the very first time we met. I hope you read this letter sooner rather than later.

Yours sincerely, Lille. I WALKED to the post office and sent the letter right after I’d written it, because if I waited, I knew I’d lose my nerve. After that I explored the city for a while, visiting an old church and browsing in the shops, mostly in an effort to calm my beating heart. Sending that letter could either turn out to be the best thing I’d ever done, or the worst. I found an electronics store and bought a cheap phone, then sat in a little café by the river and had something to eat. When I arrived back at the circus, there was only enough time for me to give Lola some flu medicine before I had to go and cover for her at the refreshments stand. It was much harder work than painting faces, and by the time the show was over, I had blisters on my feet from standing for so long. My stomach complained about not being fed, so I made my way to the gazebo to see if there was any food left from dinner. There wasn’t. In fact, I briefly considered leaving right away because there was a wild party going on, lots of local men and women mixed in with the circus workers. It was a little too rowdy for my tastes. Still, seeing King sitting by himself in a corner, nursing a bottle of cheap-looking vodka, I went and sat beside him. He didn’t smell so great, which made me all the more curious about my urge to be in his company. Even though he was drunk all the time, and even though I was a tiny bit scared of him, there was something about him that made me feel like he saw the world more clearly than any of us sober people. “Your boyfriend’s over there,” he muttered, his head turning lazily to me, eyes bleary and bloodshot. I looked in the direction he gestured, and saw Jack sitting with a group of men and women. He held a can of beer in his hand and wore a blank stare as a brunette spoke in his ear, alternating between touching his arm and running her hand along his leg. My heart lurched possessively to see another woman all over him, especially considering what had been brewing between us. I swallowed back the emotion, trying not to let the pain I felt inside bubble to the surface. “If he was my boyfriend, he wouldn’t have some French tart all over him right now,” I said, my skin prickling with jealousy. King laughed loudly, which garnered Jack’s attention. His eyes found me immediately, blazing with some kind of emotion. His gaze darkened, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t blanking the brunette anymore. He put his hand over hers on his leg and spoke into her ear now, returning her attention. “Fucking hearts, who’d have them, eh?” said King in a surprisingly sympathetic voice, nudging me with his elbow. I looked to him, and he seemed like he was actually trying to make me feel better. It made my heart squeeze. Here was a man at his lowest ebb, drowning in

his own addiction to alcohol, showing me kindness. “Sometimes we don’t get a choice in the matter, unfortunately,” I replied. King raised the bottle to his mouth and drank. A long quiet elapsed and I got the feeling he was somewhere else in his head for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he finally whispered. I was distracted when I heard someone coughing. At a nearby table, I saw Pedro with Luan and Raphael, and he looked a little worse for wear. He’d clearly caught the same flu as Lola, which got my mind racing. Was he the one who’d attacked her last night? Given his previous behaviour, it wouldn’t surprise me to discover it was him. Then Luan blew his nose with a tissue, and my theory cracked. Luan and Lola were close. I didn’t know all the details of their relationship, but it would make sense that he caught the flu from Lola and Pedro caught it from him. My attention went to Jack again. This time the woman was straddling his lap and kissing her way down his neck. And he was just sitting there, letting her, while he stared at me. My stomach twisted, and all of a sudden I felt sick. This situation was so messed up. “Ah, the push and pull,” said King. I was so focused on Jack that I couldn’t pay much attention to King’s words; my head was too preoccupied trying to figure out what he was playing at. His behaviour was so confusing. Maybe he was some sort of sociopath who got off on making girls think he had feelings for them and then pushing them away completely. Because that was clearly what he was trying to do now, letting some strange woman grope him while I watched. He might as well have been pissing all over my emotions. I stood, made sure to concentrate all the disdain I had inside me into a single look, gave that look to Jack, then strode out of the party. I was proud of myself. I might have been feeling like crap on the inside, but at least I’d kept my dignity. I hadn’t gone over and started shouting at him like a jealous lunatic. When I reached the camper, I stood outside, my hand on my heart. This shit hurt so bad. I was dangerously close to ticking off item number eleven, and it felt truly awful. Perhaps my list was just a load of bullshit after all. THE NEXT MORNING, I made my way to the gazebo to get some breakfast for Lola. I had to pass by Jack’s camper to get there, and I hurried my pace as I approached. Much to my dismay, he was already outside, hair damp from a shower and a mug of coffee in his hand. I muttered some choice words to myself and plastered on a brave face. “Good morning,” I said to him curtly, and continued walking. “Lille,” he called after me, and I stopped, turning around. It would be just my luck that he’d want to torture me, make this so much worse than it already was. The sad thing was that even after last night, I still cared for him immensely. Perhaps I was being foolish, but I couldn’t seem to turn my emotions on and off like he could. “Yes?” I replied, glancing over his shoulder and inside his camper. My heart was

thumping fast as I wondered if the woman from last night was there. I wondered if he’d taken her into his bed and let her touch him in places I wanted to belong only to me. His gaze followed mine, and he frowned. “What are you looking at?” “Just checking to see if the latest notch on your bedpost is still hanging around,” I bit out, and instantly wanted to take the words back. Now he knew he’d succeeded in hurting me. He knocked back the last of his coffee, ran a hand through his hair, and looked away. “She’s not here.” “Oh, kicked her out after the deed was done, did you? How gentlemanly.” Now he looked at me, and the expression on his face made me shiver. “There was no need to kick her out. She was never here.” I folded my arms and rolled my eyes. I was so pissed off, and I think he knew it. “Even more gentlemanly. Gave her a knee-trembler behind the gazebo, then?” His lips twitched before he let out a chuckle. “A knee-trembler? Only fifty-yearold men are allowed to use that term, Lille.” I scowled at him and turned to leave. I’d only gotten a few steps away when he caught my arm to stop me. My back was to his front as he locked my arm out and held it firmly to his chest. His breath hit my neck as he said quietly, “I wasn’t with her, okay? How can I possibly be with anyone else when you’ve taken over my every thought?” I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. His question melted my insides. The way his voice shook slightly told me he was telling the truth and that it was hard for him. All the strength went out of me as my body sank into his. “You can’t say stuff like that if you’re going to do things like you did last night. You can’t keep pushing me away, then pulling me back all the time,” I whispered. “I know,” said Jack, his big, warm body pressing into mine. “That’s why you need to stay away from me.” He loosened his grip on my arm and I stepped back, turning to face him. “I don’t want to stay away.” His eyes scorched. “If you knew the truth, you would.” “The truth? What truth?” “About the things I want to do to you. With other women I can restrain myself, but with you, I’m not sure I could. That’s why it will never work between us. The way you look at me, Lille, like you’ll let me own you, all I have to do is say the word. You don’t want to be owned by me.” I frowned at him, remembering how he’d said something like this before. “And what if I do want to?” “You don’t. Life twists some of us in strange ways, ways that shape us to always be alone, and I’m one of them.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stared at him. Our staring contest ended when Julie sauntered by wearing a tiny sundress, her hair curled like a fifties pinup.

“Looking good this morning, Jack,” she said sweetly. I felt like telling her to piss off, that she was interrupting a private and perhaps monumental conversation. She gave me a narrow-eyed glance, then focused her attention back on Jack. He barely even registered her presence, just kept on staring at me with an intensity that was far too overwhelming. I couldn’t take much more, so I turned and went. He didn’t follow. Four days passed by in a blur. A good deal of the circus workers had fallen ill with the flu, so we were all working double time in an effort to keep everything afloat. When I felt the beginnings of it coming on myself, I took a whole bunch of vitamin tablets, made sure I got a full night’s sleep, and that seemed to work in staving it off. By the time we were moving on to Lyon, Lola had recovered; however, she still wasn’t back to her usual self. I’d often catch her with a haunted, faraway look in her eyes, and I knew she was thinking of the night of her attack. I couldn’t blame her. It was at the forefront of my mind, too. I was constantly wondering about the attacker’s identity. Was it just some random person? Or was it the very same person who’d killed Vera, the burlesque dancer? Violet offered to drive the four hours it took to get to Lyon, which was out of character, but I guessed she was still wearing her kid gloves with Lola. When we arrived at our destination, it was outside the city, in a gorgeous countryside setting quite like when we’d been in Caen, just more majestic somehow. It wasn’t far from the city, though, and was easy enough for people to reach if they wanted to come see the show. Lola had spent most of the journey in our room, so I went to see how she was doing. When I stepped inside, I knew instantly that she’d been crying, because her eyes were red and her lips were all puffy. She seemed embarrassed when we locked eyes, so I didn’t mention her appearance. Instead, I decided to try to cheer her up. I’d been working on a painting of her the last couple of days, and now was as good a time as any to give it to her. “I have a present for you,” I said. “Stay there.” I went to retrieve the painting I’d done on a small ten-by-ten-inch canvas. The picture was very Andy Warhol inspired, and showed a colourful caricature of Lola’s face on a background of popcorn and candyfloss. I set it on the bed in front of her and stood back to take in her reaction. “Well, what do you think?” I asked, biting a little at my fingernails. She picked up the canvas and stared at it for a long time. Her voice was all breathy when she finally spoke. “Honestly, Lille, where did I find you?” “In a boring old town in the back arse of nowhere,” I replied humorously, and she smiled. “You’re too much. I think my guardian angel sent you. He must have known I needed a friend.” “Your guardian angel’s a man?” She gave me a little wry look, and for the first time in days, I saw a hint of the

old Lola coming back to life. “Of course. I like to imagine he’s hopelessly in love with me, but we can never be together because it’s against the rules.” I laughed. “Sounds like a book I wouldn’t mind reading.” She smiled at me, a full-on happy smile, and I felt something in my chest untighten. “It does, doesn’t it?” A short silence elapsed before she said, “Seriously, though, I love this painting. I’ll treasure it always.” What she said had me walking towards the bed and taking her into a long, tight hug. I knew the memories of what had happened would always haunt her, but if I could make her feel a little bit better, then I’d done my job. THERE WAS an air of excitement about the circus as the workers set up camp in Lyon. When I went to the gazebo, I found Winnie and her two daughters putting up decorations, and I asked if it was somebody’s birthday. “No, dear,” said Winnie. “It’s the anniversary of Konrad’s death, the founder of the circus. We have a celebration every year to mark the day. Marina insists on it. Did you know they used to be lovers?” Her daughters giggled as they untangled some frilly ribbons at her mentioning Marina having a lover. “Really?” She nodded. “They were together for a very long time. Never married, though. Konrad was forever asking her, but Marina always said no, said that it wasn’t because she didn’t love him, but more that she didn’t believe in the institution of marriage.” “Oh. That’s kind of romantic, actually.” “You think so?” Winnie questioned curiously. “Well, yeah, staying together for love is better than staying together because of a piece of paper. The paper is the prison. Making the choice to stay with someone without the prison feels more like true love to me.” Winnie grinned and gave me a perceptive look. “Your parents divorced, didn’t they?” I only shrugged before I heard recognisable laughter from behind and turned to see Marina approaching. Her red hair was up in an intricate French twist, and she wore a long black dress that would have looked like Victorian mourning garb if it weren’t for the bustier and cleavage. On any other woman her age, I would have said the cleavage was excessive, but somehow it suited her. “I knew there was a reason why I liked you,” she said as she came to stand beside me. I felt a little embarrassed to be caught talking about her, but I knew she didn’t mind after she squeezed my hand and gave me a wink. I caught a quick flash of Jack walking by, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before he was gone again. This was how things had been the past few days. Catching glimpses of him, but no real contact. He was keeping his distance, and I constantly felt like my lungs were burning.

I wanted to reach out to him, but feared being pushed away again. I’d been agonising over what he’d said, trying to figure out what it all meant, but I knew deep down he’d been purposefully vague. He didn’t want me to know the truth, whatever it was. So tonight was all about celebrating. I decided I was going to force myself to have a good time, even though my heart had other ideas. The stupid thing wanted me lying in bed, agonising over Jack and his sudden distance. And no way was I letting that happen. When I arrived back at the camper, I found Lola and Violet in the living area, doing each other’s hair and makeup. This whole attack thing had really brought them closer together. It was heart-warming to see their friendship evolving, and, let’s face it, my heart definitely needed a bit of warmth these days. For the party, Lola talked me into wearing a tight little black dress she owned but never wore because it was too big for her. Surprise, surprise, it fit me perfectly, and I hardly recognised myself as I examined my appearance in our tiny bathroom mirror. Violet had done my makeup all smoky and dark, which made my blue-grey eyes look brighter somehow, and Lola curled my straight blonde hair into flowing waves. “I have to say, we all look hot as fuck tonight,” Lola declared as we stood in the kitchen, passing around a small bottle of vodka and taking turns knocking it back. Violet and I both looked at each other and laughed. Our Lola was back, and it felt really good to see her being her old self again. I knew choosing to wear heels was a bad decision when I stepped outside onto the grass and felt the vodka take hold. Thankfully, Lola linked her arm through mine for balance before I could stumble to my knees. When we arrived at the gazebo, I recognised some of the circus workers had formed a band; one guy played the accordion, one played an acoustic guitar, and the third beat his hands on a wooden barrel he was using as a drum. The music they played was loud and rhythmic, and it made me feel excited. “Fucking show-offs,” I heard Violet mutter grumpily, and my eyes wandered in the direction she was looking. Just to the right of the gazebo was a tall tree, lit up in the dark by dozens of tea light candles nestled at its base. Its branches spread out like veins fifteen feet high in the air. From the branches hung three women in various poses, and I instantly recognised it was Julie and her sisters. They hung from the silk they usually used in their act, but unlike inside the Spiegeltent, none of them were moving. It was certainly a striking scene, and though I wasn’t exactly fond of Julie, I thought that what she and her sisters had created was beautiful. Mary’s limbs were spread out like a starfish, while Molly wrapped her body around the silk, clinging to it like a koala. Julie’s pose was the pièce de resistance, as she hung elegantly in the middle, the silk holding her at the waist. “Don’t be so cynical, Vi,” said Lola, nudging her with her elbow. “It’s performance art. I think it looks pretty.”

“It’s a pity none of them are pretty on the inside.” “Okay, so Julie might be a bitch, but Mary and Molly are okay,” Lola conceded as she followed Violet over to a table of drinks and party food. I stood in place, still taking in the scene. They’d chosen the strongest three branches to hang from, and they were so still I began to wonder if they were even breathing. It was mesmerising, and I hated to admit it, but I’d give anything to have a couple of hours right now to paint them. I felt rather than saw the movement to my left, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Jack standing there. His eyes weren’t on the sisters, they were on me, and I felt positively violated as they wandered from my face to my chest and then all down my body and back up again. He was definitely noticing my more glamorous than usual appearance, and I so desperately wanted to know what he thought of it. Did he like this me better than the everyday me? Did glamour and makeup mean anything to him? I got the distinct feeling that it didn’t. I mean, sometimes he wore eyeliner as part of his act, but that was all just for dramatics, to make him look as dark and mysterious as the art he performed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marina had suggested it to him. I just couldn’t see Jack thinking to wear eyeliner on his own. I felt suspended in time and space as I slowly turned to him and gave him a look of acknowledgement. It said, I know you’re there, and I know you’re not going to talk to me. I pulled myself away and went to find Violet and Lola. They were sitting with the Brazilian stuntmen, which was just fantastic, since I’d promised myself I’d keep my distance from Pedro. The place was crowded and there wasn’t anywhere else to sit, so I sighed and gave in, taking a spot across from him. He openly leered at me, his seedy gaze contradicting the fun-loving, carefree image he tried to present to everyone else. He said something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch, but I got the distinct sense it wasn’t friendly. My hackles rose instantly, and I was about to give up on this party before it had even started when somebody slid onto the bench next to me, making it a very tight squeeze. His smell was so familiar, and the tension inside me loosened just to have Jack close. How could he ever think he was a danger to me when he made me feel this safe? I was frozen in place, felt too exposed to acknowledge him, but the outside of his thigh pressed up against mine and our shoulders were touching. Such sweet relief it was even to have this small, impersonal amount of contact. “Her saviour arrives.” Pedro spat disdainfully before picking up his beer and taking a long swig. Lola passed me a plastic cup with red wine and I took it gratefully, glad to have some small distraction from Jack’s closeness. I wanted to say something to him, even make polite small talk, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. My attention was distracted when people began cheering and clapping as Marina took to the makeshift stage where the band was playing. There was no microphone, but somehow her voice carried well around the space.

“As many of you who knew him will agree, Konrad was one of the best people the world ever thought to spit out. He was a marvellously twisted human being, and so perfect in his madness. That madness took him in the end, and, like many who came before him, he put out his own flame. But in his life he created all of this,” she said, spreading her arms out, “and so, on this day I will always think of him, and I will always thank him for leaving behind such beauty in my memories.” She stopped and brought a shot glass to her mouth, knocking it back in one go. “Here’s to the love of my life. May he wander between the worlds until we meet again.” Her words were so heartfelt, so full of emotion, that even though I never knew the man, I felt my eyes grow wet. It was clear from what she said that Konrad had taken his own life. My emotional state was only worsened when the guitar player began to pick at the strings and Marina started to sing “Starry, Starry Night” in a surprisingly appealing voice. I knew in that moment that I was going to paint this scene. It struck me so powerfully that I’d never forget it: Marina standing there, a vision in black, her hair so red and her eyes so sad. I was lost in the song when I realised someone was staring at me, and I turned my head to find Jack’s eyes blazing fiercely. “You’re crying,” he murmured, and reached over to wipe away my tears with his fingertips. “It’s sad,” I said, feeling strangely exposed and self-conscious. “How much she clearly misses him, I mean.” “Have you ever missed someone that much?” he asked, voice intense. “No,” I answered honestly, wanting to tack onto the end that if I’d spent as many years with him as Marina had with Konrad, then I’d probably die of the pain from missing him. “You’re lucky, then,” he said. I knew the meaning behind his words. I was lucky, but he was not, because he’d probably missed his brother like Marina missed Konrad. God, how I hoped Jay would read my letter and come find him. The laughter and talk that surrounded us was loud, but I still felt like I was in a bubble with Jack, his attention allconsuming. “You shouldn’t be sitting here, looking like that,” he said, and I furrowed my brow. “Why not?” He leaned in close and my heart stuttered, his lips touching the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Because the wolves are circling, and I could be considered one of them.”

TWELVE

WITH COURAGE JACK THREW HIS MASK AWAY FOREVER

but before I could react to his words, the music changed, the band I shivered, belting out a fast-paced number. Lola grabbed my hand to pull me up from my

seat. I was still reeling after what Jack had said to refuse dancing with her, and before I knew it, I was crowded amid a sea of other bodies in the middle of the floor. Lola clapped and stomped her foot in time to the beat and I copied her, trying to get into it as my eyes sought out Jack. I couldn’t spot him over all the moving heads, and the loud music was distracting. A moment later, we were joined by a smiling Luan, who put his hands on Lola’s waist and matched the tempo of her movements with his own. Violet was to my right, and I couldn’t help laughing when Pedro tried to dance with her. She completely blanked him and instead focused her attention on a tall blond guy I recognised from around the campsite. My laughter cut off abruptly when I saw his attention land on me, and he began moving through the gyrating bodies. Before he reached me, I felt warm, familiar arms go around my waist, and my heart fluttered. The moment Pedro spotted Jack, he scowled and turned away. My head swam with relief. I soaked in being close to him for a moment before he bent down and spoke into my ear. “I won’t always be here to be your good wolf, Lille. What will you do about the bad ones then?” I turned my body and stared up at him. His mouth was so close, and I missed it. I was looking at his lips while I replied, “If you’re my good wolf, then why do you think you’re bad for me?” A wall went up behind his eyes. “Because I am.” I leaned closer, moulding my body to his. I knew he felt how perfectly we connected by his sudden intake of breath, my breasts pushing into his chest. “That’s not a good enough answer,” I told him, then bravely went up on my tiptoes to brush my lips over his. It was a handy thing I was wearing heels now, because it meant I wasn’t at too much of a disadvantage in height. “Don’t,” he said pleadingly, but I wasn’t feeling very charitable. I missed him, and something told me he missed me, too. It was ridiculous to keep fighting it, so I kissed him. I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, then dipped inside, my body

straining against his, because whenever I got to taste him, it always felt too good. I was breathless when I broke away for air. “If you don’t want this, then I want a better reason, Jack.” I wasn’t sure what it was, perhaps the mix of vodka and red wine, or maybe the dark of the night and the feeling of recklessness this party of death brought on, but I was feeling braver than I’d ever felt before. He gripped the back of my neck, then brought his mouth down on mine with a hard, fierce hunger that caused my bravery to waver. In that moment, I knew that when we’d been together before, he’d been holding back a great deal of himself. In fact, he still was, and I shuddered not unpleasantly to think of what it would be like to have him unleash his entire self on me. I moaned as his fingers dug into my neck, his tongue worshipping my mouth and his erection thickening against my thigh. “Jack,” I gasped, and though I could feel several stares on us, I didn’t have the ability to focus on anyone else but him. He took my hand in his then and dragged me away from the dancing. The music became less loud the farther away we got, and soon we were past the campers and trucks and heading towards an empty field. “Where are you taking me?” I asked, voice thick with arousal and curiosity. “Somewhere I can give you a good enough answer. I won’t pull you in completely until you know everything. Then you can make your own decision,” he bit out, and my arousal vanished in a heartbeat. My curiosity remained, but it was now tinged with apprehension. I stumbled on my heels, and Jack stopped walking to bend down and relieve me of my shoes. He held them both in one hand while scooping me up with the other. I startled and gripped his neck, holding on tight as we walked through the long grass until he reached a cluster of bushy trees. I slid down his solid, hard body, and my feet touched the earth. “Why are we here?” I asked as I glanced all about, voice hushed. There was hardly any light here, just a greyish-yellow cloud from the city in the distance. He rubbed his jaw and paced, then looked back at me. “I needed to go somewhere away from listening ears to tell you this, but I’m starting to wonder if I should confide in you at all.” “You said before that you trusted me. You trusted me enough to tell me about your brother,” I whispered. And you betrayed that trust, Lille. He just doesn’t know it yet, my conscience whispered back. “Yeah, and look where that got me,” he replied, and I flinched. He didn’t know the half of it. Still, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything about this enigma of a man. I took three steps forward until I was in front of him, close enough to take his big hand in mine and place it over my heart. “You can still trust me, Jack. Whatever you tell me will stay between the two of us. I just need to know why you think we can’t be together. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never had a man make me feel the way you make me feel.”

My voice felt louder, more pronounced in the quiet darkness, and I could just make out the shine of his eyes as he stared at me. He cupped my jaw in his hand and seemed to sigh. “I feel it, Lille. Maybe even more than you do.” I gripped his shirt in my hands, my mouth a hair’s breadth away from his. “So why not let it happen, then? Sometimes I lie awake at night, unable to sleep, because I can’t stop thinking of you, can’t stop fixating on how empty I feel and how I want you to fill me up.” He groaned as the words left my lips, then swore, low and guttural. “Fuck.” I started to plant kisses along his neck, my hands travelling down his flat torso. “I love how you feel, Jack.” Yeah, I was definitely running on alcohol-fuelled courage tonight. “Wait,” he breathed, and caught my wrists, stopping their descent. I shivered, my skin prickling with the nighttime cold. Jack must have noticed, because he let go of me and took off his work shirt before draping it around my shoulders. There was something about the way he did it that made me fall for him a little. How he could be so caring was completely at odds with his gruff, masculine exterior. He tugged me over to a tree and sat down, pulling me between his legs so I was sitting with my back to his front, his arms cradling me in warmth. I moved against him, and he groaned again. “God, you’re horny tonight.” “It’s your fault,” I said fitfully. He growled low and his fingers danced along my thigh, tapping out a silent rhythm. It was unexpected when he began to speak. “This isn’t a pretty story, Lille. In fact, it’s going to make you feel sick beyond belief. And after you hear it, you’ll probably feel sick just to look at me.” “That’s not possible,” I argued, and he went silent for a moment. “I told you a little about my foster mother, Frances, though calling her a mother is being very generous. She wasn’t a nice woman, and taking young boys into her home was a money-making scheme, pure and simple.” All of a sudden, I didn’t want to hear his story. Especially if this was him giving me a good enough answer as to why we couldn’t be together. At the same time, I needed him to tell me so that I could disprove it, counter it with all of my own reasons as to why it didn’t matter. “Do you mean so she could get government support?” I asked, keeping my voice low and soft. “Partly. But more so that she could pimp us out.” His stark reply made me startle, and I twisted in his arms so I could look at him. For a moment I thought he might be messing with me, but then, if I knew anything about Jack McCabe, it was that he didn’t beat around the bush. No, he was telling the truth, and I was shocked and disgusted as it all sank in. “You’re not lying, are you?” I whispered, and he shook his head. I remembered Marina telling me about the first time she’d met Jack on the street, and how he thought she was trying to solicit him for sex. Now it all made sense. The horror of

his reality struck me silent as I gripped onto his arm, too tight, almost. Then I began to move my hands to his face, touching him tenderly, like he might break any second as I murmured, “You poor, poor thing.” For a long time we just sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. Mine said, This doesn’t change how I see you. His said, How can it not? “I was thirteen when it all started. At night, men would come into the room I shared with two other boys. Sometimes women, though more often than not it was men. You can’t believe how small your world becomes when you depend on one person to survive and that person has no mercy. How it feels like there’s no escape but to suffer in silence. The years went by, and I started to become numb to sex. In the beginning I was aroused against my will, but by the end I felt nothing. I retreated inside my head. I didn’t even want to be with girls my own age because everything connected to my sexuality made me feel sick. I hardly ever masturbated. “Frances used to call me Freaky Jack because of my burn scars. Sometimes she’d forbid me from wearing a shirt around the house and would periodically poke at my scars, saying how ugly they were, how I was lucky she took me in because nobody else would want a disfigured boy. Her words rang true. My uncle didn’t want me, and neither did my brother. When I was sixteen, I came home one day, and the house was empty except for Frances. She was in the kitchen making lunch, a pan of oil heating on the cooker. When she saw me, she made some cruel comment. I can’t even remember it anymore, but it was the last straw. I completely snapped, picked up the pan of oil, and threw it in her face. I’d never heard screaming like it — her agony as she wailed was satisfying to me. I didn’t feel horror, I felt justice, I felt pleasure. I left her there, disfigured even worse than I was, packed my stuff, and left. I’m not sure if she reported me to the police, but no one ever came for me. I’ve been on my own ever since.” My brain was still trying to piece together all the information when he continued talking. “To this day, I’ve been obsessed with burning. Obsessed with fire and heat, and what it can do to people. When I was a child, it always frightened me, reminded me of the horror of losing my family and almost dying. Somehow, by harming Frances, I’d turned it into my medicine. I’d burn stuff all the time. It was addicting. You can’t believe the relief it brought me. Then I began learning how to breathe it, how to eat it, and the performance followed. It’s still the only thing that gives me complete sexual gratification, Lille.” Suddenly, what he was trying to say made sense. I understood why he’d told me his sad, horrific story. It was to make a point. That point said this was his reason. This was his proper answer. You have to stay away from me because being with me means you’ll get burned, literally. Two memories struck me at once, how I’d burned my hand back home in the restaurant and how Jack couldn’t take his eyes off me afterwards. How it had happened again in Violet’s camper, and that was the first time he’d been overtly sexual towards me. It had turned him on. “So, you’re into sadomasochism,” I said quietly, and I wasn’t sure if I meant it

as a statement or a question. “More like erotically fixated with burning. Does that frighten you?” he asked, eyes seeking. He was tense as he awaited my reply. “A little bit,” I answered honestly, and saw him wince. That’s when I knew he’d been holding out hope that I wouldn’t reject him. That he could show me all his flaws and have me accept them. “No, don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t pull away. What that woman submitted you to was unforgiveable. She was a monster, and I would never judge you for what you did to her. By all accounts, she deserved it.” “But it turned me on, Lille. I told you experiences shape us, twist us, and mine have twisted me in ways not meant for women like you.” Desperately, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my breast. His breathing grew shallow. “Does that turn you on?” I whispered, and he nodded as he swallowed. I bent and pressed my lips to his throat. “Does this?” Again, he nodded, and I felt the evidence of his arousal in how he hardened against my inner thigh. I smiled as I spoke into his skin. “Then, quite frankly, Jack, I have to ask, what exactly is the problem?” Abruptly, he turned us so that I was no longer in the power position. He crouched over me, pulling my legs around his waist and growling in my ear, “The problem is that it makes me want to pour wax over your skin, press hot matches to your thighs. It makes want to leave marks all over your body until no man can refute that you’re mine.” I moaned and pulled him closer, and I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by my reaction, me or him. I couldn’t understand why, because he was telling me he wanted to hurt me, but I’d never been more aroused in my entire life. With only a few deft movements, he had my legs parted wide, his hand sliding under my dress, beneath the fabric of my underwear, and discovering how wet I was. A strangled cry escaped me as he thrust two fingers into me, and I bit his neck, causing a deep, masculine groan. His body was so magnificent, I wanted to bite and lick him everywhere. He buried his face in my neck, breathing raggedly, and muttering lovely worshipful swear words into my skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you feel good, you’re so wet, shit, I love how you feel, Christ, Lille, I’ve dreamt about this. His fingers moved in and out, his thumb finding my clit and applying just the right amount of pressure to make me whimper. The sweet relief of his touch was ecstasy. I tried to remember to be frightened, to be scared of what he wanted to do to me, but I couldn’t. The overwhelming urge to have him inside me outweighed everything else until I was nothing but a needy pile of flesh and bones. I grabbed a handful of his hair as he travelled down my body, his hand still working me into a frenzy as his mouth met the rise of my breasts. His other hand came up, pushing the top of the dress down urgently to reveal my nipples. His mouth was on me in an instant, alternating between licks, sucks, and bites and I felt my body coil tight. I was going to come so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Jack,” I cried out as my orgasm hit me quick. I was blushing all over as his eyes

raked my body, and then he kissed me in a way that was almost more indecent than what his hand was doing. The slow slide of his tongue was dirty and erotic, and I knew I could become addicted to the way he tasted me. This was nothing like the sex I’d had before. It was in a whole other stratosphere, it was more, and it wasn’t even sex, not yet. He rose up on his knees and dragged my underwear down my legs. A moment later they were gone, tucked into his pants pocket. He leaned down and kissed me again before breathing a ragged warning, “I’m going to fuck you now, and it won’t be slow.” I felt more like a spectator than a participant as I watched him move. The way he undid his belt buckle was too sexy for words. I soaked in every inch of him when he pulled himself from his boxers. He withdrew a condom from his pocket, tore open the packet, and began rolling it down his length. Eyes levelled firmly between my legs, he moved my thigh aside and tilted his head, just looking at me, and I knew I was blushing again. I felt something rattle as he reached inside his pocket a second time and pulled out a packet of matches. The next time our eyes met, there was a question in his, requesting permission, and I didn’t hesitate a moment in giving it. I wanted this. Even though he was going to hurt me, I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me. He’d told me he trusted me, and now I was trusting him right back. I watched in fascination as he flicked the match along the edge of the box and a flame sparked to life. It lit up his face, such handsome features, his eyes liquid black as he stared at the fire with such enchantment. Then he blew it out, and he was a work of light and shadow again. Smoke rose from the match as he took it between his teeth, then bent over me, his mouth going to my breast. I yelped when I felt the hot sting against my nipple as it met the tip of the match, but it was instantly soothed by the soft, wet lick of his tongue. It happened once more, and once more he gave me his tongue to temper out the burn. It was actually…exciting. I felt his cock nudge against my lips, and then he was pushing into me, the invasion deliciously sweet. I felt tight around him. It had been a while since anyone had been inside me, and it showed. Jack’s groan filled my ears as he thrust his hips, and he was suddenly embedded deep. Our gazes locked, and it felt like in that moment, we both had the exact same thought. Wow. His eyes grew hooded as his hands held my hips, and his movements were hard and fast. He’d been right to warn me, because there was nothing slow or soft about this. Yet, still, it was strangely tender. “Jesus,” he hissed when I clenched around him, a light sheen of sweat forming at his brow. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and now it felt like I could see every inch of him. Every pore and crevice. Somehow, by joining our bodies, we lit each other up. The long grass was soft beneath me as I stared up at him, mouth open, sounds I never knew I was capable of making coming out of me in a rush. I loved how his

defined, muscular hips jutted in and out, almost violently, in his need to go deeper, harder. He wore his hunger on his face, and my heart squeezed knowing it was all for me. I felt like the centre of his universe right then, and there was no denying that he was the centre of mine. Suddenly, he was picking me up and flipping us over so I was straddling him. His hips hammered up into me from below, and the pleasure was so much more intense for me this way. From the searing look he gave me, I knew that had been his intention. His hands massaged my breasts as I rode him. “Fuck, you should see yourself right now,” he growled, and then our movements grew more frenzied as we raced toward release. I took his hands in mine, lacing our fingers, not breaking eye contact as I felt myself contract around him. His noises filled my ears and were branded into my memory as he came, long and hard, and I collapsed on top of him, savouring the feel of my naked breasts on his skin. His arms went tight around me, and I closed my eyes as I nestled my face in the crook of his neck. Our hearts beat in time; I could feel his fluttering beneath me. Mine was racing, too. I was fascinated by how something that felt so delicate could reside inside such a hard, impenetrable body. “That was…holy fuck…Lille,” he said breathlessly, making me laugh gently, my eyes still closed. He laughed, too, and it was the most glorious sound. When it quietened down, I found myself listening to his heartbeat again, savouring the feeling of connection in the moment, happily drowning in it. I wasn’t sure who fell asleep first, but it wasn’t long before the soothing sounds of the night were pulling me under.

THIRTEEN

JULIE SHOWED LILLE HER TRUE COLOURS

up to a chill that came from the cool morning air surrounding me rather I woke the hot, lean body beneath me. Sometime during the night, Jack had pulled my

dress back in place, and I missed the feel of his skin. His shirt was draped over my back, and I nuzzled into his neck, savouring his heady masculine scent. I couldn’t believe we’d slept the entire night outdoors. I’d been so blissed out by our lovemaking that I hadn’t cared. I didn’t want to leave, not even now that the day had arrived, the sun lighting up the deeds of the night before. Unable to resist, I began planting soft little kisses on his neck, hoping he’d wake up to them. I felt him move a little before his eyes flickered open. He looked down at me, seconds drifting by as he remembered what we’d done, and then his arms tightened around me. “You make a good blanket, flower,” he said, voice all raspy. “And you make a delectable bed,” I giggled quietly in reply. His smile lit up his face, the sunlight shining on his dark brown eyes, making them swirl with flecks of honey gold. We stayed like that for a while, me with my head on his chest, gazing up at him, and him tracing the contours of my face with his fingertips. “We should probably get up,” I said, even though I didn’t want to. “Somebody might come by and see us.” “Somebody might,” Jack replied, but it still took him a long few moments to move. He sat up, bringing me with him, and his shirt fell off my back. As he helped me to stand, I turned my neck from side to side, feeling an ache. My legs and arms felt achy, too, but it was a satisfying sort of ache. I liked knowing that spending the night with Jack was what gave it to me. We stared at one another as we righted our clothes, silly happy grins on our faces. Then Jack laced his fingers with mine and led me back to the campsite. I walked in my bare feet, the grass ticklish on my soles as I held my shoes in my hand. I wondered what I looked like, and considering the heavy makeup I’d been wearing last night, it was probably smudged all over my face. Jack didn’t seem to care, but I wanted to go clean up before breakfast. Reaching Violet’s camper, he backed me up against it and gave me a long, scorching kiss goodbye. I was weak in the knees by the time he withdrew, and it took all my

strength to climb the steps into the van. Lola was eating breakfast when I went in, the tiny television playing the morning news. A loud snore rang out from Violet’s room, so I knew she was still sleeping. “Where did you disappear off to last night, ya dirty little stop out?” Lola asked excitedly as she took in my appearance. I went straight to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, knocked it back in two long gulps, then turned to face her, fidgeting. “Um, Jack and I sort of….” “I fucking knew it!” she interrupted me. “What was it like?” Her question encouraged a stupid dreamy look to come over my face, which must have spoken volumes, because she was laughing, and Lola had a real dirty laugh. I kind of loved hearing it. “That good, huh?” I sighed. “Pretty much.” She huffed. “Some girls get all the luck.” For a moment, I felt awkward as I remembered all that Lola had been through lately. Did it make her uncomfortable to talk about sex? If it did, she didn’t show it. I told her I was going to take a shower and left her to finish her breakfast. Half an hour later, I was clean and dressed in fresh clothes, a loose cream top and some washed denim jeans. The top was oversized and kind of fell off one shoulder, showing my black bra strap. I thought my choice in clothing was indicative of how I felt, all lazy and sexed up. I left my hair down and pulled on my shoes before heading to the gazebo in search of a hot breakfast. I was starving, and the tea and toast back at the camper wouldn’t be enough to sate my appetite. When I got there, it seemed like half the circus was sporting a hangover as they chowed down on sausage and eggs. I loaded my plate up, and as I went in search of a seat, I felt someone tug on the end of my top. I hadn’t spotted Jack sitting there, and had almost walked right past him. He gave me an affectionate, sexy look, taking my plate from me and setting it on the table before pulling me onto his lap. I must have felt the ferocity of her stare, because my gaze was drawn in the direction of Julie, who was sitting at a table a few feet away, glaring daggers at me. Whoa. “Hey,” Jack murmured in my ear, distracting me from the eye daggers with one hand on my thigh as he ran his nose down the side of my neck. I glanced at him and teased, “So, is this how it’s going to be? By night you’re my bed, and by day you’re my chair?” His voice lowered, and his eyes heated up, “If it means I get your arse cushioning my dick, then yeah.” “You’ve got a frisky mouth,” I said, turning and reaching for my fork. I let out a tiny yelp when I felt his teeth graze my bare shoulder. “All the better

to bite you with.” His warm hand grasped my shoulder, and his thumb slid beneath the strap of my bra, causing me to shiver. I almost didn’t hear him when he growled low, “This is a good look for you.” My tummy gurgled and I blushed, finally giving in and shovelling some food into my mouth. Whenever I was close to Jack, it was always so tempting to just lose myself in him. His thumb brushed discreetly over my nipple as he asked, “How are you feeling this morning? Any soreness?” The memory of his mouth on me with the hot matchstick between his teeth hit me, and I shivered. My nipple was a little sore, along with a whole range of other parts, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “A small bit,” I answered. His eyes grew hooded as he playfully leaned in and said, “What I did to you last night was child’s play, Lille. The next time I can’t be quite so gentle.” Wow. If he thought last night was gentle, then I shuddered to think what he was like rough – in a good way. A loud clatter sounded close by, and my attention was drawn to King as he stumbled into the gazebo. He knocked into Julie’s table where she sat with her two sisters, causing their cups and plates to tumble over. Julie rose from her seat, her voice shrill as she focused the glare she’d been giving me earlier on King. “You fucking imbecile, look what you’ve done!” King held his hands in the air. “Sorry, sorry, wasn’t looking where I was going.” “That’s your problem,” Julie spat. “You never do. Seriously, what is the point of you? I really don’t understand why Marina even lets you stay here.” I felt Jack lift me from his lap, about to go and intervene, when Marina suddenly appeared. She stood between Julie and her brother, a look of eerie calm on her face as she sized Julie up. “This is my circus, girl. You’d do well to remember that. King apologised for his actions. Now, if I ever hear you speak to him like you just did again, I’ll kick you and your sisters off the lineup so quick you’ll have skid marks on your backside.” Julie swallowed, her face growing red, restrained fury in her eyes as she silently sat back down. Her sisters anxiously worked to clean up the mess on the table. Marina turned to King and placed her hand on his shoulder, murmuring something to him that nobody else could hear. His entire form seemed to slump miserably as he nodded to her, then turned and left. There was an air of tension amongst those present as Marina strode away, her five-foot-two height seeming taller and more foreboding all of a sudden. I glanced at Jack to find him seething, and it took me by surprise. He was staring at Julie, and it was clear to me that he was pissed off by how she treated King. I think she misinterpreted his attention as the positive kind, because she gave him a sultry smile. The woman needed to get a clue. I put my hand on Jack’s thigh and rubbed it in an effort to calm his temper. Marina had already put Julie in her place; there was no need for him to still be riled up. I wondered at his anger, since he’d spoken harshly to King himself in the past.

But what happened today had been an accident. King had apologised. And something told me that Jack felt an affection for the man; he could relate to him on some level, and that was why he also felt a protectiveness towards him. I leaned close and gave Jack a peck on the cheek, which seemed to distract him. He gave me a tender look, and then we ate the rest of our meal in companionable silence. After breakfast I sat in the back of the Spiegeltent, doing sketches as Jack practiced some new additions to his act. I was supposed to be using it as an opportunity to do some work on my picture of him, but found myself simply sitting back and watching mostly. The way he moved was so careful and practiced, seamless, really, and it was hard to look away. The fiery torches weren’t quite so dark and dangerous-looking in the light of day, but Jack still managed to make them fascinating. I wondered about his obsession with the element, how it had become something he needed to be around all the time in order to get through the day. It struck me as strange at first, but then when I thought on it more, I realised it was no stranger than people smoking cigarettes because they craved nicotine, or drinking coffee to sate their hunger for caffeine. It was an addiction, simple as that. Burning gave him relief. He associated it with the one time in his life he felt truly liberated from being a victim. I thought I should be more appalled by what he’d done to his foster mum and by what she had done to him, but I wasn’t. It was all just a part of life’s darkness. And without darkness, there would be no light. I didn’t see him as a damaged little boy; I saw him as a unique, wonderful, yet very breakable grown man. LATER THAT DAY I was walking about the campsite in search of Bea. I hadn’t seen her for a couple of days, and I was beginning to worry. Perhaps she’d caught the flu that was going around. I was just making my way past the back of the Spiegeltent in the direction of Aiden’s camper when I suddenly felt myself propelling forward, a sharp pain shattering through my skull. My hand went to my head as my breath left me all in a rush. I could feel a wetness, and as I moved my fingers in front of my face, I saw they were red with blood. It took me several beats to find my bearings as I turned and found Julie standing in front of me, wielding a broken plank of wood. My eyes moved from the wood to her and then back again as my brain tried to compute the fact that she’d just whacked me with it. “What the hell?!” I yelled at her, and she dropped the wood before launching herself at me. Adrenaline flooded my system as she grabbed my throat in her surprisingly strong grip and slammed my body back into the hard frame of the tent. Pain shattered down my spine, my head still thumping. She was shorter than I was by about three or four inches, but she had the muscle tone of a professional athlete, hence her strength.

Acrobats be crazy. First King and now me. She really was on a roll today. “You’re going to stay the fuck away from Jack, or the next time, I swear I’ll end you,” she hissed, crazy eyes piercing me. My entire body had broken into a cold sweat, and my throat was constricting from her grip. When I didn’t answer, she tightened it more, and I broke into a fit of choking. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest, and I was genuinely in fear for my life. With just the hold she had on my neck, she pulled my body forward, then slammed me back into the tent again. “Say it!” she demanded. My voice came out scratchy and broken. “I’ll s-s-stay away from him.” She looked me up and down, disdain clear in her expression. “I had him long before you came along. Don’t you know you can’t just show up, all fucking innocent and clueless, and take what doesn’t belong to you? That’s not how it works,” she spat, and the spray hit me right in the face. “There are rules.” “I didn’t know you were together, I swear,” I said, and her grip started to loosen. I was lying through my teeth, of course, but I’d never experienced an attack like this, and I was scared witless. She was obviously mentally disturbed, and I couldn’t believe I didn’t pick up on it sooner. It was startling to think that this woman could do such beautiful things with her body, perform in a way that provoked such emotion in her audience, yet be so thoroughly, certifiably insane. Her hand left my throat completely, but only to slap me hard across the face, so hard it was going to leave a mark. My mind reeled, and my body began to shake as tears ran down my cheeks. Slaps across the face were Mum’s signature move, and suddenly I was stuck in countless memories. I felt so small. Wretched and unimportant. Clutching my cheek in my hand, the sting echoing through my jaw, I looked back at Julie to find her still seething at me. “You’re a liar. If I see you with him again, I’ll break your face. And if you tell a single person about this, I’ll cut out your tongue.” With that parting threat, she stomped off, leaving me feeling like I’d just entered an alternate universe where everyone was evil, and women you thought were just bitches were actually psychopaths. But then I remembered what Winnie had told me back in Caen, when she’d let me pet her lions. Julie is the little girl who pulled the legs from spiders, the one who poked at dogs until they turned vicious. Suddenly, I wasn’t so shocked anymore, and her behaviour made perfect sense. Winnie had spent years observing Julie. She knew what she was like far better than I did. And then there was the indignity she suffered this morning when Marina told her off in front of the entire circus. Attacking me was clearly her way of offsetting the shame and frustration she felt.

I sank to the grass, sitting there for God knows how long before I finally picked myself up and stumbled back to the camper. Violet and Lola were out, and after I’d cleaned myself up in the bathroom, I went straight to bed, changing into my pyjamas and climbing under the covers. I was completely spaced out, my body still humming from the attack. My head ached, and beneath my hair where I’d cleaned away the blood, I could feel a soft, mushy bump rising. My throat was raw, and I knew I’d have bruises on my neck tomorrow from where she’d choked me. I cried for so long that it drained all of my energy, and I eventually fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark out. Lola was entering the room and came to sit at the end of my bed. “Hey, are you all right, hon?” she asked, her face etched in concern as she took me in. I obviously seemed out of it. I wanted to tell her about Julie, but I was frightened. If I told her, Lola would go find Julie and confront her, and I couldn’t have that. I had no doubts that Julie would follow through on her threats, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her crazy ever again. “I’m okay. I just have a little bit of a headache,” I said, sitting up. “Well, that’s a relief. For a second there, I thought you might be coming down with what I had. You missed tonight’s show. Oh, and Jack was looking for you.” I swore under my breath as I realised I’d be short on money, since I hadn’t worked today. What happened with Julie had completely messed with my head, literally and figuratively. I hadn’t even thought about working. A knock sounded on the front door, and Lola went to answer it. I sank back under the blanket when I heard Jack asking for me. Lola murmured a reply, and then a moment later she was peeking her head back in the room. “It’s Jack. He wants to see you.” I swallowed thickly with nerves. I wanted to see him so badly, but Julie’s threats were still ringing loud in my ears. I didn’t know what to do. “Could you tell him I’m not feeling well and that I’ll see him in the morning?” She frowned but nodded. “Sure.” I heard her repeating my excuse to Jack and his tone grew stern, but since the bedroom door was shut, I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. Then loud footsteps sounded on the floor and a moment later his frame filled the doorway, a look of worry on his handsome face. Lola came after him, complaining about him pushing by her, but he slammed the door, shutting her out, and hurried to my side. Before I knew it his hand was on my forehead, feeling for a temperature. I shifted uncomfortably in the bed and met his eyes. “What’s wrong, Lille?” he asked, voice soft and concerned. “I’m just a little bit under the weather,” I croaked. “It’s nothing to worry about.” “If you’re sick, I want to see you. You don’t send Lola out with excuses, okay?” he said firmly, and all I could do was nod.

“Good. Now come here.” He pulled back the blankets and lifted me onto his lap. I knew I shouldn’t let him, but being close to him was my weakness. I was feeble in the face of his affection. My legs went around his waist, my arms around his neck as I hugged him and he took a deep breath, inhaling me. I was still shaky from earlier, and I think he noticed, because he pulled back and frowned down at me. “You’re freaked out by what I told you last night, aren’t you?” I shook my head. “No, of course not.” “Then why are you so on edge?” “It’s just been a long day, and I think sleeping outdoors drained my energy. My muscles ache.” The moment I said it, his practiced hands found my thighs and began to massage. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, but he didn’t; he only stared. “That feel good?” My answering sigh said it all, and his expression darkened. “You’ve been on my mind all day.” I whimpered when he began rubbing the inside of my thigh and his knuckles grazed between my legs. My body sagged into him, completely at his mercy, and he chuckled low. “Too much, flower?” “Not enough,” I answered, biting my lip. I let out a gasp of surprise when he full-on cupped my vagina and caressed me. Honest to God, I was done for. I briefly considering telling him about Julie being a nutjob, but I was far too lusty in that moment to speak. I moaned into his neck, and he gathered my hair in one hand, using it to tug my mouth up to his. I winced slightly at the pull, because it sent a sting to the bump Julie had inflicted. It wasn’t enough to deter me, though. His tongue slid along mine, our mouths not yet meeting fully. His hand wandered inside my pants and beneath my knickers, seeking. When his thumb flicked across my clit, I shook as a wave of pleasure consumed me. I bit his full bottom lip, eliciting a low growl, and before I knew it, I was on my back, his fingers moving in a slow, tantalising rhythm. His kiss matched the tempo of his hand, playing my body like he knew it intimately. I was nothing but a map, and he knew every single sweet spot. His thumb began to rub circles around my clit, agonisingly slow, and my hands scrambled for the buckle of his jeans. I was too lost in feeling to get his pants off, so I settled for palming his cock and loved the guttural hum that rose from deep in his throat in response to me touching him. “Shit, I’m gonna come,” I gasped, and his lips curved in a sexy smile. “Come then, beautiful.” And I did. It was spectacular. His slow touches had teased me, made my orgasm so much more intense. I trembled beneath him, and his hands went to my face, pushing strands of hair away from my forehead. “Fuck, who sent you?” he murmured reverently, and I swear my heart exploded. I nuzzled below his ear, then pressed my face to his chest and inhaled. I hated Julie even more in that moment, because she was ruining the most perfect thing I’d ever

had. Jack kissed my temples, then unexpectedly, he rose from the bed. “Sleep, flower, feel better, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He was gone before I had the chance to reply. It would have been pointless anyway, because my throat was too thick with suppressed tears to say a word. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to stay away from him, but I was going to have to try, at least in public. And at least until I figured out what to do about Julie.

FOURTEEN

A STORM FELL OVER THE LOVERS

he following day, avoiding Jack was something of a tactical endeavour. I T didn’t go to the gazebo for breakfast, and instead of sitting beside the camper to

paint, I wandered outside the campsite and found a quiet spot beside some sweetsmelling bushes. I didn’t get anything of much substance done because I was so angry at Julie. I hated feeling blackmailed like this. By lunchtime I grew hungry, and I cursed myself for not thinking to bring a packed sandwich. So much for tactics. My injuries felt far worse today than they did yesterday. My head thumped constantly, and I had to sneakily borrow some of Lola’s makeup to cover the red mark on my cheek and the bruises on my neck. I was almost at the camper when I heard Jack call out my name, so I quickened my pace. “Lille! What the fuck?” he called in that way he had of sounding both stoic and pissed at the same time. The next thing I knew, I was being spun around as he grabbed hold of my arm. Nervously, I glanced up at him. “Oh, hi, um, how are you?” I sounded stupid, and it was clear as day that there something going on with me. His face was incredulous. “Did you just ignore me?” I shook my head fervently. “What? No. What are you talking about?” “Unless you’ve gone deaf in the last twelve hours, then you were fucking ignoring me, Lille, and I want to know why.” “I swear to God, I wasn’t ignoring you, Jack. I must have been daydreaming, because I didn’t hear you.” He moved closer, like a panther, dark eyes narrowing. “Didn’t hear what? I never told you I said anything, so clearly you’re lying.” I gestured with my free hand. “You said the thing about me being deaf. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you said something that I didn’t hear.” “Flower,” he said quietly. The term of endearment didn’t sound the way it usually did. In fact, it sounded a little threatening. “If you lie to me one more time, you won’t like what happens next.”

The bloody nerve of him! I used every ounce of strength I had in me to shove him away. Any other time I wouldn’t have had such a strong response to his threat, but combined with Julie’s blackmail, what he said was the last straw. I pointed my finger at him. “Don’t you dare fucking threaten me, Jack McCabe.” He stared at me, eyes hard, and for a moment we were locked in a standoff, a silent battle of wills. The silence was broken when somebody’s footsteps crunched along the grass and I turned to see Marina approach, Pierre ambling alongside her as she carried a stack of flyers in her arms. “Ah, just the two able-bodied young people I wanted to see,” she said, smiling innocently like she hadn’t a clue about the argument we’d just been having. Jack’s gaze cut to her, and it was far from welcoming. Marina barely gave his hostility a second glance, and I wished I could have even half her impassivity when dealing with him. “I need you two to head into town and leave some of these advertisements in the shops. We didn’t sell as many seats as usual last night, so we need the extra publicity boost.” “Kind of busy at the moment, Marina,” Jack grunted as I walked to her and took the flyers out of her hands. “I can do it. I wasn’t feeling well last night and couldn’t make it to the show. This can be my way of paying you back. Jack doesn’t need to help.” “You won’t be able to manage it alone,” said Marina. “Jack will help you.” There was a steeliness to her voice that brooked no argument, and Jack let out a grunt of annoyance before coming and taking the last of the flyers. Seeming satisfied, Marina sauntered off with Pierre, leaving us alone again. I was having a hard time looking at Jack, but I could feel him practically boring a hole into my skull. “Our conversation isn’t over,” he called after me as I went inside the camper to grab a bag for the flyers. When I emerged, he stood there, all cranky and foreboding, and I hated that he still looked sexy as you fucking please. Christ, I was going to have to tell him about Julie, wasn’t I? I mean, if nothing else, she couldn’t just be left to run around kicking the crap out of her love rivals. I had to summon some courage and be brave. Yes, I was going to tell him. Just…not right this second. With a heavy silence between us, I followed Jack to a bus stop just outside the campsite, and we stood a few feet apart as we waited for one to come by. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes. Not so thankfully, each of those minutes felt like an hour. I could feel him watching me, studying me, trying to figure me out. When the bus finally arrived, there weren’t any seats available. I stood beside a window while Jack hovered close to me, his arm raised up and holding on to a bar above my head. An electricity hummed between us, but not a word was spoken. Minutes went by, his attention on me like a physical touch. His smell filled my nose, and it was so divine it took all of my willpower not to rest my head on his shoulder and breathe him in.

“Last night you said you were sick when you weren’t, and today you’re avoiding me like the plague,” Jack said, keeping his voice low so the other people on the bus couldn’t hear. “I take it you’ve had more time to think about being with me, and decided it’s not what you want.” A sadness tinged his words, and guilt seized my chest. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew the truth would change how you saw me.” No, no, no, my mind screamed, while on the outside I didn’t know what to say. I placed my hand on his arm, half to comfort him and half for balance. “That’s not it at all.” “What is it, then?” he asked, a flicker of hope flashing as his eyes scanned my face. Before I could answer, the bus shuddered to a halt, and it was time for us to get off. My head was dizzy all of a sudden as I stepped onto the busy city street. I had to stumble to a nearby wall to steady myself. The spot where Julie had struck me was giving me trouble, and I wondered if I was having some sort of delayed concussion. I remembered that you weren’t supposed to sleep after being hit on the head and inwardly cursed myself, because I’d gone straight to bed after. What an idiot. Warm hands covered my shoulders. “Lille, are you all right? You’ve gone pale.” I breathed deeply and righted myself. “I’m fine. Standing on the bus just made me a little bit dizzy.” “Do you want to sit down for a minute?” A twinge of pain hit me again, and I nodded. “Yes, please, just for a minute.” Slipping his arm around my waist, Jack led me to the nearest café and lowered me into a seat. He went up to the counter, and before I knew it, a sandwich and a glass of fresh juice was in front of me. That was it. My blood sugar was low because I’d missed lunch, and, combined with my recent blow to the head, my sudden bout of illness was totally understandable. Jack slid into the booth next to me and gestured for me to eat the sandwich. I took an eager bite and almost groaned at how good it was. Ham and melted cheese. “When was the last time you ate?” I scratched my head. “Um, last night. I forgot breakfast…and lunch. I’ve had a lot on my mind.” His mouth formed a sad little frown, and he looked out the window, all broody. God, did that come out wrong or what? He thought I meant him. That he was the lot I had on my mind. It couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, when all was said and done, my feelings for Jack were quite simple. It was everything else that was complicated. He flexed his hand as I ate, forming a fist, and I recognised this as a sign that he was on edge. “Like I said on the bus,” he started to say, “I understand. Shit, if I were you, I’d be running a mile.” I placed my hand on his before he had the chance to form a fist again. “You’re wrong. That’s not what this is about. I’m worried about my mother trying to find me, and well, I’ve been having trouble with someone on the campsite.”

The moment the words left my mouth, he turned his entire body to face me as he tilted his head at an angle. Those thick, dark eyebrows drawing together made his expression a little unsettling. “What do you mean? Has someone been hassling you? Was it that little Brazilian twat again?” “No, no,” I breathed, placing my hands against his chest. “It wasn’t Pedro. It’s…it’s…well, it’s Julie.” His eyes widened a tiny bit in surprise. “What did she say?” “It wasn’t so much what she said as what she did.” He didn’t breathe a word, but he didn’t have to. His face said it all. He wanted to know what she’d done, and he wanted to know now. “Yesterday when I was out looking for Bea, Julie followed me to the back of the tent. There was nobody around, and she had this plank of wood she must have gotten off one of the cargo trucks. I didn’t even know she was there until she clocked me with it.” “She what?” Jack eyes flared black murder. “She hit me with it, then tried to choke me out,” I said, tentatively tugging down the collar of my T-shirt and wiping away the makeup to show him my bruises. “She really hurt me. And honestly, I think she needs help. I mean, giving me evils in the gazebo is one thing, but attacking me is another entirely. She’s off her rocker, Jack. She told me you two were together and warned me to stay away from you. She said if I told anyone what she did, she’d cut out my tongue. That’s why I didn’t say anything last night. I was in too much shock.” He absorbed my words and my bruises with a scary intensity. “She’ll regret this.” His hands went to my head, searching for the wound she’d inflicted with the wood. He hissed when he found it, and I winced. I felt squeamish just thinking about the mushy lump. Pulling my body close to his, he clenched his jaw, and I could tell he was having a hard time with all this. It made me melt just a little so see how angry someone hurting me made him, and I regretted not telling him as soon as it happened. A long time passed before he pulled away and looked at me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “We travel great distances. However, sometimes living in close quarters with so many people can be stifling. I love the circus, but this life can make people go a little odd. I’ve spent a couple of nights with Julie, but those nights were spread over months, and I never gave her any reason to believe there was anything other than sex between us. Saying that, I really shouldn’t have touched her in the first place. She’s always been a wild card.” I absorbed his words, our faces close as we spoke quietly. The sandwich I’d just eaten, alongside the idea of Jack and Julie together, started to make my stomach feel a little queasy. “Did you ever, you know…burn her?” Hesitation flickered in his gaze before he answered, “Once, but it didn’t work out. Julie is more suited to being the one doing the burning. She doesn’t like to be made weak. Being with her was like masturbation, Lille, staving off a need, that’s

all.” I glanced away, cheeks heating. He took my chin in his fingers and turned me to face him again. “The first thing we do after we leave here is go to the police station and report her. I’ve had enough of letting shit go, and the fact that the prick who attacked Lola is still out there makes me want to break something. Then we’ll do the flyers. Then we go home. If you see Julie, you will not, I repeat, you will not act like you’re staying away from me. You’ll hold my fucking hand and show her she’s not winning. The police can deal with the rest. I also want you to stay at my place for the next few days. She won’t dare touch you again with me around.” His plan was a good one…especially the suggestion I stay with him in his van. But still, the idea of reporting Julie, of causing drama for the circus, made me nervous. I was only just beginning to feel like a part of the community, and now I might end up alienating myself. I looked at the dark, brooding man sitting next to me, though, and knew it could be worse. At least in this scenario I got to have Jack. He ordered another sandwich and shared it with me, but he ate most of it. I wondered absently just how much a big guy like him had to eat every day. I bet it was a lot. If he were a dog, he’d be a malamute or a German shepherd. And those things packed away the grub like nobody’s business. Even though I had to do most of the talking, I never felt alone while we were at the police station. Jack was close to me through it all, giving me subtle touches or looks to show his support. It struck me that I felt so much stronger when he was with me. He’d worried that being with him would be bad for me, when really the opposite was true. By the time we left the station, I was exhausted, but we still had to do the flyers. We started on a street with lots of little boutique-style shops. Most of them employed women, and most of those women practically wet themselves when they saw Jack. It began to grate on my nerves, having to suffer through them flirting with him, and in broken English at that. One blonde in her mid-twenties seemed to be fluent, though, and that was the most uncomfortable of all. “Would you mind if we left some of these with you?” Jack asked, handing her a stack of flyers. “We’re with the circus just outside of town.” She leaned across the counter and fluttered her eyelashes, her V-neck shirt showing a healthy dose of cleavage. I didn’t even think she realised I was there, standing by the door, uncomfortably holding my jealous/awkward girl of the year award. “Of course not, mon cher, you look tired. Have you been on your feet all day? Come and sit down — I’ll make you some coffee.” When she reached for his arm, Jack moved out of the way. “There’s no need. We can’t stop. We have more shops to visit, and it looks like the weather’s turning.” The woman pursed her lips, and at his mention of “we,” she suddenly became aware of my presence. Her narrow-eyed look wasn’t too different from the ones Julie had been giving me of late, and I wondered if this was what I’d have to contend

with from now on. Women hating me because I was with Jack. Was I with him? It felt like we’d come to some sort of mutual understanding, but neither one of us had put into words what we were or what we were doing. Jack was right about the weather. I glanced out the window to see some dark clouds forming, blocking out the sun, and I knew were in for some kind of storm, heavy rain at the very least. After we finished visiting each shop on the street, we went to some of the local public spaces, and Jack stapled flyers to any free signage boards we could find. Man, he looked hot when he hammered a stapler into cork board. I think I might have drooled a little just from watching him. The next time we stepped outside, I felt a drop of rain hit the top of my head. Moments later, it was pouring down. Jack took my hand in his and pulled me along, but we still got drenched. It was summer in France, and neither one of us was wearing a coat. Stupid unpredictable weather. Running didn’t stop us from getting soaked, and our clothes were saturated when Jack tugged me under a bus shelter with him, both our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breaths. His long sleeved T-shirt was glued to his chest, and I had a hard time looking away. I glanced up at him for a second and caught him smirking. A small, nervous giggle escaped me, and he laughed softly, looking across the street and brushing his long, wet hair away from his face. I actually thought he looked a little bit shy for a second. It made him seem so young. “How old are you?” I blurted, and he gave me a sideways glance. “Twenty-six.” He must have seen the surprised look on my face as he continued, brow arching, “How old did you think I was?” “You know what, I’m actually not sure. Sometimes you seem young, then other times you seem really wise and, I don’t know, sort of unreachable.” He stared at me for a long time but didn’t say anything. I shivered in my damp clothes as the rain continued to pound down on the roof of the shelter, and I knew, I just knew by the way Jack’s gaze was growing heated that my nipples were peeking through my top. I couldn’t even bring myself to look, so I simply folded my arms across my chest to hide my embarrassment. An old lady came and stood under the shelter, lowering her umbrella and shaking out the rain. She peered at us and muttered something in French about us catching our death with no coats on. Because she looked a little bit like my Gran, my mind wandered and I imagined her looking down on me, proudly watching my circus adventure unfold. A moment later Jack was in front of me, his hands, which were surprisingly warm, cupping my neck, his thumbs massaging into my throat. “Sorry you got wet,” he said, and his words dripped with sexual undertones. I shrugged, trying to play off how his expression alone was practically drying all my clothes. His eyes scorched, and I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth, silently begging for his sensual lips to kiss me. An engine sounded to our left, and I turned to see a bus approach.

“Will this one take us back to the campsite?” I asked. Jack nodded and laced his fingers through mine, pulling me onto the bus. The driver seemed annoyed that we were dripping water everywhere, but Jack just stared at him, unconcerned, and paid both our fares. He tugged me down to sit on his lap, and his arms went around my waist, his face pressing into my shoulder as he exhaled. His breath was hot, warming up my skin through the fabric, and a pleasurable shiver danced along my spine. My wet jeans were starting to itch. Add that to my urgent need for Jack simmering between my thighs, and I was about ready to combust. I reached up and began running my fingers through his wet hair, trying to get out some of the tangles. He seemed to melt into my touch, and I savoured the simple act of grooming him. When his eyes met mine again, they were full of affection, and I thought he liked me touching his hair. I made a mental note to do it often. It was still raining when the bus dropped us off at the campsite. Startling me, Jack scooped me up and deftly swung me onto his back. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck as he ran fast, and even with me on his back, it felt effortless. The rain sailed past us, or was it us sailing past the rain? With Jack, I felt like even the laws of physics could be broken. My heart beat wildly. There was something intoxicating about being so close to him, being cared for by him, because I got the feeling Jack had never been like this with a girl before. It made it all the more significant, made my heart feel sore and not sore all at once. I suspected Jack’s encounters with women in the past had been unemotional and quick. All about the sex. The shame he felt about the desires he held and what they arose from had kept him from getting too close to anyone. I wanted to wash away that shame, show him that though things could be born of darkness, with the right person you could make them light. When we reached his camper, he pushed open the door and stepped in, gently lowering his body so I could climb off his back. I looked around, unsure what my next move should be, when all of a sudden he bent to one knee and began carefully untying my laces. As I watched him, the air left my lungs and my heart felt fuller. I was falling. “There are towels in the bathroom that you can use. The water should be warm,” he said, and then stood once he’d relieved me of my shoes and socks. He wanted me to take a shower. Wordlessly, I went inside his bathroom, which was larger than the one in Violet’s camper. Well, it was still small, but at least here I didn’t keep knocking off the sink when I tried to get to the toilet. I could hear him moving around outside as I shut the door, and my pores tingled as I stripped out of my sodden jeans and top. Jack’s proximity to my naked skin made me clench my thighs together with longing. I yearned to see him totally bare so I could kiss and lick and suck every corner of his glorious body. I turned the shower on and waited for the water to get hot, and when I stepped under the spray, my throat felt tight as I silently wished for him to come inside and

join me. I felt like I’d been waiting forever, but the door never budged. Sighing in disappointment, I wrapped up in one of the clean, dry towels that hung from a rack and stepped out into the living area. Having used the shampoo and shower gel in his bathroom, I now smelled like him. I breathed it in, and it smelled like home. I stopped when I saw him by the sink, using some paper towels to dry his face. God, even with the burn scar, his back was perfect, all broad and muscled, his skin deeply tanned. All he had on was his boxer shorts, his clothes discarded. He turned when he heard my footsteps on the floor, and his eyelids grew hooded as he took me in. “Feel better?” I nodded and concentrated on the drops of rain trickling down the window, the beat of it as it hammered onto the roof of the camper. “What’s wrong?” I cleared my throat, my voice a self-conscious whisper. “I thought….it’s silly, but I thought you might join me.” Could I be blushing any more furiously right now? “In the shower, I mean.” His lips twitched and a smile formed, and I knew he hadn’t expected me to say that. “Have you seen my shower?” I frowned. “Uh, yeah.” “And have you seen the size of me?” he went on. Some dirty part of my brain made my mind wander to things other than his height. “It’s painful to admit, but that is not a two-person shower, Lille,” he said, taking a step toward me until his hands were warming my shoulders. “If it were, I’d have been there, fucking you against the tiles with my tongue.” Jesus, now there was a visual. All of a sudden, my head was full of his mouth between my legs, his tongue sliding inside me, all wet and warm and delicious. I trembled, and he growled as he backed me up until I was stepping over the threshold of his bedroom. My thighs hit the mattress before I fell backwards onto the thick navy blanket. “Tonight, my bed is your bed. Get some rest. I’m going to clean up.” I lay there, watching him leave and close the door behind him. Okay, that was not how I envisioned this playing out. My chest was still heaving with anticipation when I heard the shower come on. Frustrated, I turned over onto my belly and buried my face in his pillows. Of course, they’d have to smell of him, and of course that only functioned to raise my frustration levels even higher. I’d just washed, but I could feel that I was wet between my legs. My clit begged for his mouth, my nipples aching for him to do that thing with the match again. Jack had said that was child’s play, and already I felt like I was ruined for sex with anyone else. Despite my frustration, it had been a long day, and I began to grow drowsy, my heavy eyelids falling closed. I’d almost nodded off when I heard the door open and shut with a soft click. Suddenly, I was wide awake as I listened to Jack turn off the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness before I heard the scraping flick of a match,

the sizzling blaze of the flame. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him light two expensive-looking candles that sat on the bedside dresser, and I swear every single muscle in my body tensed. All he wore was a pair of black lounge pants. I pretended to be sleeping when he turned to look at me, and a low chuckle vibrated from his chest. That sound was going to be my undoing one of these days. “I can hear your breathing, Lille. I know you’re not asleep.” The mattress dipped down as he sat at the foot of the bed. “I was about to be,” I mumbled into the pillow, “until your loud elephant feet clomped into the room and woke me.” He continued laughing, low and quiet, and then I jumped a little when he took my bare foot into his hands. His fingers found just the right spot to rub, and I moaned involuntarily. God, that felt good. “You’re wound up tight, flower,” Jack whispered as his hands slowly began to make their way to my ankle, then my calf. It was like he knew every muscle and chord intimately, knew just how to rub to turn me into a melting pile of hormones and need. Before I knew it, he was kneeling between my legs and massaging my thigh as I made loud and very embarrassing noises that the pillows did nothing to muffle. His deft fingers were so close to my vagina that I had to bite down on said pillow just to keep from grabbing his hand and placing it where I wanted him to touch me the most. “Your skin,” he said, and his voice sounded pained. “Your fucking skin.” His fingers skimmed over the rise of my arse, then fluttered feather light less than a centimetre from my folds. Touch me, my mind begged, God, Jack, please touch me. He emitted a long, agonised groan before he pushed the towel off me, and then his mouth was on my arse cheek, biting. I let out a strangled yelp as he nuzzled where he’d bitten with the tip of his nose. I felt his hand move, and then his fingers were trailing across my wet lips, giving no pressure at all. He was trying to torture me. “Please,” I begged, and he grunted, nipping my cheek again with his sharp teeth, then rising up and pulling the towel off me completely. I was naked, and I could feel the soft cotton of his pants brush my skin as he bent over me and palmed my bottom. “Seeing this every day kills me, do you know that?” he growled, and I shook with the pleasure of his deep voice and heated words. “I need….” “Tell me what you need, flower.” “I need you to touch me.” “I am touching you.” “Somewhere else.” A smirk. “In time.” His hand went to my shoulder and lightly caressed the skin. My tattoo was

almost healed, and his touch reminded me I had it. Since it was in a place I couldn’t easily see, I often forgot it was even there. “Your ink is beautiful,” he murmured, and his fingers danced along a particular spot. “This is the part I filled in. I feel so fucking proud when I see it, like you have my name on you or something.” I sighed, my every pore tingling with his possessive words. Then I felt his weight leave the bed, and a moment later he was back, straddling me as I lay on my stomach. I didn’t know what he was doing until I felt something hot and wet brand the base of my spine. “Ahhh,” I cried out. “What was that?” My words were more air than sound as I felt him harden and lengthen against my bottom. The burn hit me again, right on the cusp of too much and not enough. It stung, but, combined with my heady arousal, the sting was euphoric. In fact, I wanted more. “It’s hot wax, Lille,” Jack said, and his voice sounded electric right then, full of pent-up desire that was slowly finding its relief. “How does it feel?” Instead of answering his question, I simply pleaded in the tiniest voice, “Do it again.” The deep, erotic sound of approval that followed melted my bones, and I felt the wax drip along my back and pool around my hip. I hissed in a breath and then let the air out in an audible groan. Jack began to move his hips against me, his erection rutting hard into my arse. His fingers found the wax near my spine and rubbed, and then his body was covering me completely as his face fell to my neck. His tongue snaked out and licked all along the shell of my ear. “Fuck,” he swore, and the word had never sounded more carnal. A second later, his arm wrapped around my middle, and he was pulling me up onto all fours. He knelt behind me, his hands caressing my thighs as the head of his penis nudged against me. There was nothing between us, no condom, and in that moment I had a crazy wish that he wouldn’t put one on. The moment his bare erection touched me, an addictive surge ran through my body, indicative of the heaven it would be to have him inside me raw. He took the back of my neck in his hand, twisting so that our eyes could meet. All in a matter of seconds, as his cock continued to nudge teasingly at my entrance, almost going in but then not quite, his eyes asked a question, and my eyes replied with the answer. Yes. Perhaps all that hot wax was making me crazy and reckless, but I wanted to feel all of him, and pregnancy wasn’t an issue because I was on the pill. His grip on my hair fell away for a second, and then it was back again, this time on my neck, holding on tight as he sank his thick length inside in one delicious thrust. The feel of him, the sensation, the connection, was overwhelming, and my vision blurred. He withdrew, and I whimpered before he rammed himself back in. His fingers dug into my neck, erasing Julie’s bruises with his own, marking me as his. Never in

my life had I wanted to be owned so badly. His movements grew frenzied, his fucking hard and precise. Soon, his thrusts began to blur into one, and I was nothing but sensation. My brain shut off, words no longer held meaning, and I was only pleasure. I was my senses and no more. All I could hear was him. All I could smell was him. All I could taste was him. All I could feel was him. All I could see was him. With his grip on my neck, he drew my body up, and pumped his hips sharp and quick. I shuddered and moaned as he reached around my body to palm my breast. His hand dug in hard as it travelled down my belly, over my mound and to my clit, where his fingers started to rub, not slow like the other night, but fast. This was all about making me come. “I want to feel your muscles contract on my cock,” he rasped into my ear before biting down hard on my neck. A loud, strangled sound escaped me as his length slid in and out, the rhythm of his fingers coaxing me, raising me up into the sweetest possible release. “You smell like me. Do you know how much that drives me crazy? God, you’re perfect, too perfect. You make me feel so wretched. I want to consume you, steal your light and make myself a little bit more. You’re more, Lille. I want to be more, too.” His words came out harsh and ragged, his breathing filling my ears, and I wasn’t sure if this was the sex talking or if it was sheer, unrestrained, terrifying honesty. I felt my stomach tighten, and his pumps became harsher, his fingers more desperate. “Come with me,” he grunted, and it was like the words in themselves were an aphrodisiac, because I shattered right there under his practiced touch and he came, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside me. As one, our bodies collapsed onto the bed. His weight on top of me was almost crushing, but then he flipped us so that I lay stretched out on his chest. It was just like the other night, when we’d fallen asleep together under the stars. Now the storm raged on outside our peaceful, spent little bubble, rain pounding the roof. Jack stared at me like I was an apparition, a spectre about to disappear as I ran my fingers through his gorgeous hair, let my eyes memorise every inch of his face. His lids fell closed and his breathing evened out, his arms still clutching me tight. I knew he’d fallen asleep when his breaths grew deep, and I felt brave enough to utter the words that were trying to break their way out of my very soul. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Jack McCabe.”

FIFTEEN

A PICTURE LOST WAS THEN FOUND

“G et the fuck out here and face me now, you bitch!”

I woke to somebody screaming, adrenaline flooding my system as I shot up in the bed. Jack’s warm body wasn’t under me anymore, and I looked around to find him standing by the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peeked through the blinds. A bang rang out, and it sounded like the person who’d been screaming was now trying to kick the door in. I sat up in the bed, heart racing, and Jack’s attention landed on me as he saw I was awake. “What on earth is going on?” He’d pulled on his lounge pants, but he still wore no shirt, and from the tired look of his eyes, he’d just woken up moments before I had. He came over to the bed and cupped my face in his hands before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Good morning,” he murmured. “I’m sorry she’s ruining everything. I wanted to wake you with breakfast.” “It’s Julie, isn’t it?” Jack nodded. “By the looks of it, the police paid her a visit. She’s like a raging bull out there. I’m going to go out, but I need you stay in here. Okay?” “Yeah,” I whispered. “Sure.” “God, you’re beautiful. I like waking up with you next to me.” A small laugh escaped me. “You sound surprised by that.” He scratched his head as he rose and gave me a sexy, perplexed little smile. “I’m am, kind of.” A moment later, he’d thrown on a shirt and was gone, out to face the wrath of Julie. I buried myself further under the blankets, wishing that I could bury myself so deep she’d disappear and this wouldn’t be happening. Unfortunately, the walls of the camper were thin, and I could hear every word that was said. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at? You’ve got five seconds to leave, or I’ll make you leave.” Jack. “Your fucking whore went to the police, telling lies about me. Get her out here now. I want to see her.” Julie. “Lies? Are you fucking shitting me? Why does she have a head wound, then,

huh? Why are there bruises on her neck from your malicious little hands?” Jack. “I never touched her. She’s trying to come between us.” Julie. “Come on, Jules, let’s go. You’re making a scene.” Mary or Molly, I couldn’t be quite sure. “Get off me. I’m not leaving until that bitch comes out here and faces me.” A lump formed in my throat. I knew this wasn’t going to end until I went out there. Jack must have left my clothes to dry on the heater by the window last night because they were resting on it, now dry and toasty. I pulled on my jeans and top, then slid my feet into my shoes. I just wanted to end this. Jack looked like he was seeing red when I stepped out of the camper, and he immediately came to stand in front of me, shielding me from Julie. “Go back inside, Lille,” he instructed me, chest puffing out. I glanced around to see that half the circus were hovering close by to take in the disturbance. There was nothing like a fight to garner people’s attention, and around here it seemed that Julie was always the centre of the drama. “You stupid bitch!” Julie screamed as she lunged for me. I ducked behind Jack, who held his arm out to fend her off. She clawed at him before her sister pulled her away. “They didn’t arrest me,” she said snidely as she glared daggers at me over Jack’s shoulder. “Not enough evidence and no witnesses, obviously, since I didn’t do anything.” Wow, she actually sounded like she believed that as she turned to face the onlookers. “I say we all take a vote to kick her out. She can’t just go around making false accusations, and I refuse to perform another night while she’s still here.” My heart pounded at her declaration, and tears began to form in my eyes. I didn’t want to leave. Not now. It felt like Jack and I had only just found one another. There were some murmurings among the onlookers as Jack balled his fists. “You’re being a spiteful bitch, Julie. Let it go.” I tugged on his arm, and his eyes came to me. “It’s okay. She’s a headlining act. I can’t stay if it’s going to cause trouble with the shows,” I whispered, my voice choked. His responding tone was firm as he cupped my cheek. “Get off your cross — you’re going nowhere.” He stared Julie down. “She just needs to chill the fuck out and stop being a temperamental violent fucking lunatic.” Julie’s eyes flashed red, and her mouth formed a thin, sour line. “You’re taking her side!? You’ve known me for years and you’ve known her for a couple of weeks, but still you’d believe her over me?” At this Winnie stepped forward. “The fact he’s known you for years is the reason he believes her. He knows what you’re like. We all do.” “You can stay out of this,” Julie hissed. “I thought you wanted us to have a vote,” said Winnie. “I do,” Julie scowled. “Well, then, let’s vote. All those who believe Julie’s version of events stand by Julie, and all those who believe Lille, stand by Lille.” Immediately, Winnie came to

stand by me, taking my arm and squeezing it to show her solidarity. In that moment, I felt unendingly grateful to her. I didn’t know what to expect, but after a couple moments of hesitation, everyone began to come and stand with me and Jack. The only ones standing with Julie were her sisters, and even they seemed a little unsure of their sibling. My heart filled with emotion. These people barely even knew me, and yet they were standing up for me. It was like a strange big family of misfits, and they were making me truly feel like one of them. I didn’t know what to say. “This is ridiculous!” Julie wailed just before she cursed everyone out and stormed off. Looking uncomfortable, her sisters went after her. Jack turned to me and took me in his arms, his chest moving with a deep inhalation. I looked up at him, anxious. “Is she going to quit? Marina will be mad at me if she quits.” “I can’t count the number of times Julie’s threatened to leave. She’s not going anywhere.” “More’s the pity,” Winnie put in, then gave my shoulder a gentle pat. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. If she ever tries to lay a hand on you again, you come to me, and I’ll set her straight.” The way she said it made me feel like she genuinely meant it, which caused me to become even more emotional. Jack’s arms tightened around me. “It won’t happen again,” he said darkly. “I won’t let it.” A few minutes later, those who’d gathered to take in the drama had dispersed, and Jack and I returned to his camper. He made me a breakfast of peanut butter and chopped bananas on toast, and we sat close together on his couch as we ate. It was strange to see such a big, sexy, mysterious man carrying out a mundane task like making breakfast, but I loved it. Still, I was in a contemplative mood, Julie’s spiteful claims continuing to echo in my head. If she wasn’t leaving the circus, then that meant she was staying, and that also meant I’d have to be around her for the rest of the summer. Despite Jack stating firmly that she wouldn’t lay a hand on me again, I didn’t know how he could be so sure. And quite frankly, I was scared. Julie was definitely not the full shilling, and I had no idea what she might try to do next. Jack kissed me long and passionately right before I was leaving to go get some clean clothes. The ones I was wearing were dry, but they smelled damp from the rain. His kiss put me in a little bit of a daze as I left his camper. I was strolling along, unable to keep a stupid grin off my face, my worries about Julie momentarily forgotten, when I saw King walking ahead of me. He was doing his usual halfdrunken stumble, muttering to himself, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of liquor. As he did so, a piece of paper fell to the ground, and I hurried to pick it up for him. It was a photograph, and had fallen blank side up. I held it in my hands and turned it over to find a picture of a woman at the beach. She was smiling widely, her teeth white and straight, and she wore a red bathing suit that showed off some

enviable curves. Her hair was dark brown, her skin a pale olive, and her eyes were almost as dark as Jack’s. She looked like maybe she had some Greek or Italian blood in her, and she was certainly very beautiful. I turned the photo over again to see someone had written on the back in pen, but it was nearly faded to nothing. It read: Alexis, Rome, 2009. When I looked back up, King had gotten a good distance ahead of me. I was about to run after him to return the photo when Lola suddenly appeared, her face a mixture of excitement and concern. “Is it true? About Julie?” she asked, a little breathless. I nodded, shoving the picture in my pocket to return to King later as I filled Lola in on everything that had happened. “That little psycho. I swear, I always knew she was a bitch, but I didn’t know she was a crazy bitch,” Lola exclaimed as we reached the camper. We both stepped inside and found the bathroom door open as Violet stood by the mirror in her underwear, dyeing her hair. Her roots had been growing out a little, and she was topping them up with more purple. We stared at her for a moment. She gestured with her gloved hand, irritated. “What? I don’t want to get dye on my clothes.” Lola gave her a pointed look. “I think that’s what coveralls are for.” “Oh, whatever. Nobody has time to buy coveralls.” “I think you’ll find they do. Shall I compile a list? Plumbers, painters, welders, matchstick makers….” “Seriously, Lola, shut up and tell me the news. You came in with a gossipy gleam in your eye.” Nude hair dyeing forgotten, Lola immediately began to regale her with the Julie gossip as I went to change into some fresh clothes. I also packed a small bag to bring with me to Jack’s. I wasn’t being presumptuous. He’d asked me to do it before I left. I’d barely been away from him an hour, but already I was itching to see him again. After I’d taken care of a few tasks, I made my way to the Spiegeltent, where he told me he’d be rehearsing. The place was empty when I walked in, save for Jack standing on the stage. He brought a bottle to his mouth and drank, then spat it back out in a spray. It hit the lit torch he was holding, and the flame blew massively. My skin prickled with awareness. There was something so primal about him when he breathed fire. It was his element, the balm that soothed his damaged soul, and the way he worked with it was captivating. He saw me come in and sit by the edge of the stage, giving me a heated smile that made my tummy flutter. Now that I knew about his bedroom preferences, even seeing fire reminded me of sex. And sex with Jack was something that branded itself into your memory like hot steel permanently marking your skin. His eyes wandered over my body. I was wearing a dress today, a light summery one that showed off my arms and stopped above the knee. Unlike yesterday, the weather was hot and dry, so I thought I could get away with showing a little more skin. His lips formed a smirk as he called over, “Like your dress, flower.”

I blushed but didn’t respond to the compliment. Instead, I asked, “What’s in the bottle?” He took a few steps towards me. “It’s kerosene. I never use gasoline or alcohols. They’re too dangerous.” I scrunched up my nose. “Does it taste okay?” “Not at all, but I’m not exactly savouring it when it’s in my mouth, Lille.” He laughed low and gave me pointed stare. “In fact, I practice having it there for the shortest time possible to minimise the chances of ingesting. You can do a lot of damage. It’s a risk.” “Is the risk a part of the thrill?” I asked quietly. His boots sounded against the floor of the stage as he took the last few steps to reach me. Then he went down on one knee, eyes flickering over my face as he took my chin in his hand. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered. I stared at his mouth, the air thickening between us. “When it comes to you, yes. I think breathing fire makes you feel alive, and I think you take the risk because it’s your choice and no one else’s. You’re the master of your fate, and whether or not you get hurt is all down to whether or not you fuck up.” His smile grew slowly. “I like the way you see me.” I smiled back. “I like seeing you.” The moment was broken when a noise sounded at the entrance and a couple of circus workers came in carrying equipment. Jack eyed them, then rose and went to gather his things. “Looks like Julie and her sisters are going to be rehearsing soon. We’d better leave.” I got a little jolt to be reminded of her and stood, following him to the back of the tent. When we were in the backstage area, he kept sneaking glances at me as he slotted his torches into a duffle bag. “What?” I said, self-conscious. “Nothing.” I elbowed him. “Don’t lie. You were thinking something, and I want to know what it is.” His smile was provocative. “I was thinking that you’re in a very good mood after last night, and I was also wondering if I asked you to do something, would you say yes or no.” I absorbed his reply for a moment, then said, “Ask me to do what?” A second later, he was crowding me into the wall and murmuring in my ear, “To get down on your knees and take me in your mouth.” I blinked nervously and stared up at him. It surprised me how much his request turned me on. “Well” —I swallowed— “that all depends.” His eyebrow rose. “On?” “On whether or not you mean here or back at your camper,” I answered in the most seductive voice I could manage, which probably sounded like I was getting a chest infection. With his thumb brushing along my throat, he replied, “And what if I said here?” God, why did he have to sound so sexy when he spoke? It wasn’t fair. “Then I’d

say you’re pushing your luck.” “I like pushing my luck with you.” His voice was pure gravel, and his body was pressing heavily into mine now, his arousal firm at my belly. I was fascinated by how quickly he could get it up. Okay, fascinated, and also flattered that I was the catalyst for his speedy readiness. “There are people around,” I protested. His hand stroked my hair away from my neck as he bent to place an openmouthed kiss below my ear. “No, there aren’t. Nobody ever comes up this end. Not at this time of day.” My eyes flickered between his uncertainly, and I was embarrassed to admit even to myself that I wanted to do it. I wanted to taste him. I wanted the power of knowing I could give him that kind of pleasure. “You don’t have anything to burn me with here,” I said, voice weak with the need to taste him. His head tilted, and he smiled darkly. “I have my memories from last night. For now, those are enough. In fact, thinking of last night is what gave me the bright idea.” He kissed my neck again, his tongue darting out to lick, and I let out a breathy sigh, my hands wandering eagerly to his belt buckle. I had it undone within seconds, and before I knew it, I was lowering my knees to the wood-panelled floor and pulling his thick length from his pants. He was hard and beautiful; I whispered my lips over the head of his cock, and his whole body shuddered. “Christ,” he hissed in a sharp breath. I let my tongue slip out, giving him teasing little licks, and his hands went to my hair, my face, my neck, tracing my skin with a look of wonder in his eyes. That look made me feel powerful, and I held his gaze in mine as I slowly lowered my mouth onto him, taking him in inch by inch. He groaned, one hand fisting in my hair, the other caressing my cheek. I took in as much of him as I could, bobbing my head slowly up and down. Somebody’s laughter sounded from outside, and it made my heart pound. We might have been doing this in a dark corner backstage, but it still wasn’t private. Someone could walk by at any moment. A pleasurable thrill ran through me at the thought. I knew that giving someone head in a public place wasn’t exactly on my list, but right then it felt like it should be. I was high on the act. On Jack. On being here with him in the moment. This felt like living. I swirled my tongue around his head, and he swore profusely, the deep, raspy words fuel to the fire of my arousal. I pressed my thighs together in an effort to relieve some of the ache, but it was pointless. The only antidote to this torture was Jack’s touch. I let him fall from my mouth to catch my breath and ran my tongue along his length. He had one hand braced against the wall behind us for support. When I took him back in, he growled and cupped my jaw tightly. “I wish you could see how you look.” I held his gaze, and his eyes grew hooded as they travelled over my form before

fixing on my mouth again. “Touch yourself,” he urged in a deep, naughty whisper. I breathed in sharply through my nose at his command, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel beautiful and sensual enough to do it. I let my hand fall to my thighs, then under my dress. Jack’s attention scorched as he watched me find myself, watched me soothe some of the need he was inciting. “That’s it, flower, feel it.” I moaned on his cock as I found my sweet spot and rubbed, desperate for release. For some reason, it made my desire to make him come grow even stronger, and my mouth moved on him in earnest. I slid two fingers inside myself and sighed. The air felt slow and thick like honey, like I was in a waking dream. My mouth and my fingers grew frenzied as I felt my own orgasm building as well as Jack’s. I could tell by how he became even harder in my mouth, how his growled words and whispered sentiments began to merge into one. I never looked away from him when I came with startling intensity, and a few seconds later, hot liquid hit my mouth. I swallowed before I could think about it as Jack pulled me up to stand and wrapped his arms around me tight. His pulse was racing. “That was incredible, thank you,” he said, a little breathless, his voice full of gratitude. Then he began to softly laugh. It wasn’t a mocking sort of laughter; it was a gentle, tender kind. “That’s going to be etched into my memory for the rest of my days, Lille. Just looking at your lips is going to be a struggle.” I wasn’t sure why, but thinking about that made me smile. LATER THAT DAY, we were just arriving at the gazebo for dinner, hand in hand, when a loud ruckus sounded. I’d thought the scene Julie had made this morning was enough drama for one day, but seemingly not. People stood nearby as King bulldozed around the space, tossing over tables and chairs, fury and misery melding into one as angry tears ran down his face. He was on a rampage and drunk beyond measure. “Where is it?” he growled, the rumble of his voice making the tiniest hairs on my arms stand on end. “Which one of you took it?!” He glared at those standing by, pointing accusatory fingers at anyone who dared make eye contact. My heart pounded and I swallowed deeply, wondering what the hell had happened. “I swear to God, I’ll burn this place to the ground if I don’t find it,” he threatened. His body lost some of its tension as he slumped forward, bracing his hands on a table. “Thieves! You’re all a bunch of thieves! Will you try to steal everything from me? Strip every last pound of flesh from my bones until there’s nothing left?” Now he stopped pointing fingers at those around him and looked up to the sky as though talking to a higher power. “Have I not suffered enough for you? Have I not paid yet for my sins?” The stark suffering and woe that encapsulated him despite his anger made my

eyes prick a little with tears. A moment later, Marina was hurrying to him. He turned away when he saw her, as though ashamed of his behaviour, and she reached out to place a hand on his elbow. As she tugged on his arm, he slowly turned around, icy blue eyes full of heartache. “What’s wrong, brother?” Marina asked in a surprisingly tender voice. “What happened?” “They took it,” he said, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. “Somebody took it.” Marina began to rub his arm in a soothing manner. “Took what?” “The picture. It’s all I have of her and now it’s gone.” As I listened to him speak, my entire body startled with a sickening jolt. Oh, God. The picture. I still had his picture. I’d been meaning to give it back to him all day, but Jack had been distracting me so much that I’d forgotten. I felt for it in my pocket, fingers sliding over the worn edges of the paper. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like if I stepped forward now, King might try to attack me, thinking I stole the picture, when really I’d just found it and had every intention of giving it back. “Jack,” I whispered, and his attention fell on me. “I think I know what he’s talking about. I think I have his picture.” He stared at me for a moment before comprehension lit in his eyes and he held his hand out. “Give it to me.” I pulled it from my pocket and did as he asked. “I didn’t steal it. I found it.” “Don’t worry, Lille,” he said, looking down at the picture and taking in the image of the beautiful woman. “I’ll take care of it.” With that he walked towards King, holding the picture out to him. “King, mate, look, is this what you’re searching for? I found it today. I’ve been looking for you to give it back.” King’s eyes darted to Jack, and the moment he saw the picture, he swiped it from his hands. It was almost like everything else faded away as he held it close, peering down at the image. He blinked a few times, tears still on his face, as his body slumped to the ground and shook as though in agony. I frowned at the scene, my curiosity building to almost uncontainable levels. I wanted to know desperately who the woman in the picture was. It said on the back that her name was Alexis, but there were few other details. I had the feeling this woman had something to do with why King was the way he was. What on earth could have happened between them to bring him so low? After a moment, Jack assisted Marina in helping King to stand, and they led him out of the gazebo. A couple of minutes passed before everyone had fixed the tables and chairs back in place, and then it was like nothing had even happened. It was more than a little bizarre. One of the women who did the cooking — I didn’t know her name, but I recognised her face — came and asked me if I’d like some stew and I nodded, asking for a bowl for Jack, too. I thought he’d be back as soon as he was done with King. I was halfway through my bowl, my mind still fixating on King and the mystery

of his photograph, when a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Jack. He sat down across from me, and I told him the extra bowl was for him. “Thanks,” he said, fitting his feet around mine beneath the table, but it seemed like his mind was elsewhere. “Is…is King okay?” I asked. “Marina put him to bed in her camper to sleep it off. He’ll be fine.” “Do you know who the woman in the picture is?” I couldn’t help blurting. He shrugged. “Some old flame of King’s, I think. When he’s really wasted, he sometimes talks about losing the love of his life, how it was some guy called Bruce’s fault. I don’t know many more details than that. He doesn’t make a lot of sense when he’s drunk, and he’s drunk more often than he’s sober.” I pondered his answer, wondering if the love of King’s life had died or if she’d just left him. “What did he do before he came here?” I asked. “Marina once said something about his life being very different before.” Jack met my gaze as he chewed on a piece of bread he’d dipped into the stew. “You’re very curious about King, Lille.” “Yes, I am,” I said, not bothering to deny it. “There’s something fascinating about him. I’d actually really like to draw him.” Jack tilted his head, now taking a swig from a glass of water. “Do you want to draw him for the same reasons you want to draw me?” I scrunched my face up. “No, of course not. I like interesting subjects. And different people interest me for different reasons. King interests me.” He absorbed my answer and continued eating for a while before he spoke again. “In answer to your question, from what Marina’s told me, King used to be really rich. Some big successful banker or something, but he got involved in some shady stuff and lost everything. Marina thinks he was being blackmailed, but who knows if that’s true.” “Oh my God, that’s awful.” “Yeah. In the end whatever he was doing caught up with him, and he lost everything. And like a lot of fallen men, he hit the bottle.” “Wow.” Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Wow?” “Yeah. I mean, to have it all and then lose it is kind of epic. It’s like the ultimate tragedy.” He let out a deep, cynical chuckle. “If you say so.” The smile that shaped his lips told me he found me amusing for whatever reason, and I scowled at him playfully. “So how come you don’t know more about him? You two seem to talk a lot.” Jack shrugged one shoulder. “We do talk a lot, about lots of things, but never his past. He obviously doesn’t want to discuss it.” He paused and got a faraway look in his eyes. “I guess we have that in common.” I reached over and squeezed his hand, feeling a deep sense of gratitude that he’d

entrusted me with his past. I had a feeling no one else knew the full story of Jack McCabe, and it was humbling. Before I knew it, it was time for the night’s performance, and people were flocking in from the city to see the show. My hands were stained with all the colours of the rainbow by the time I was done, but I felt satisfyingly tired. I’d transformed kids and even some adults into a whole variety of creatures, from real to mythical, and I was so looking forward to sleep. Jack had given me a key for his camper, so I tiredly trudged my way there. Lola walked with me, then continued on to Violet’s. I must have been caught up in all the activity after the show, because when I arrived, Jack was already inside. He lay on his bed, reading. All he wore was his black lounge pants, and his long hair hung wet at his shoulders. I came in quietly and set my things at the foot of the bed. We smiled at one another, not saying a word, and I went to kick off my shoes and leave my sketchpad and face paints on the dresser. “I need a shower,” I sighed. Jack glanced up from his book, a quizzical arch to his brow. “What does Teutonic mean?” His question caught me off guard, and I scratched at my head, trying to remember. “Oh, I think it’s similar to Germanic, or relating to an ancient race of German people called the Teutons. Don’t ask me for more details — I was always crap at history.” A little smile graced his mouth as he plucked a pencil from behind his ear and scribbled down a note. “Thanks.” “No problem. So, is it okay if I shower?” When his eyes came to me again, they were heated. “Only if you promise not to wear a towel when you get out.” I laughed and shook my head as I turned for the bathroom. “We’ll see.” I noticed his eyes had been flickering to my sketchpad when I was in the room, so it wasn’t a surprise when he called after me, “Can I look at your pictures?” I hesitated a moment in the hallway. I was self-conscious about my work, but Jack had already seen most of it, so I shrugged and answered, “Yeah, sure.” And honestly, I was a little bit flattered that he wanted to look at them. When I emerged from the shower, I considered his no-towel request, but I wasn’t ballsy enough to go through with it. Instead, I pulled on my sleep shorts and tank top, which really didn’t leave much to the imagination anyway. And technically, I was fulfilling his request, since I wasn’t wearing a towel. All thoughts of towels fled my mind when I stepped inside his room again to find him with my sketchpad open on his lap. He wasn’t looking at the sketches, though. He had a piece of paper in his hands, his eyes scanning the words as he read. It was my list.

SIXTEEN

A DISCOVERY MADE LILLE’S HEART POUND

h, God. I’d tucked it into my sketchpad the other day and forgot about it. Now O Jack was holding it in his hands, reading it, and my mortification was palpable.

His attention landed on me, but I couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The list made me look like a silly little girl, I knew that, but I didn’t care because I’d never planned for anyone to read it but me. It was my comfort blanket, something to remind me of my goals and ambitions, ridiculous though some of them might seem. I took a steadying breath and swallowed. My voice was tense when I held my hand out and requested, “Can I have that back, please?” Jack stared at me, and the numbered items ran through my head. I knew them off by heart. Aside from numbers 3, 6, and 11, there wasn’t anything on there to embarrass me too much. Still, I felt exposed. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

Dump Henry Jackson. Get a tattoo. Have sex with a stranger. Do something dangerous. Visit a place I’ve never been before. Fall in love. Make a new friend. Quit my degree. Become a real artist. Move out of my mother’s house. Get my heart broken.

The first thing Jack said was not what I expected at all. “Who’s Henry Jackson?” I let out a long breath and came to sit beside him, running my suddenly sweaty palms against the fabric of my shorts. “You shouldn’t be reading that. It’s private.” I knew I was being a little unfair, since I’d read his discarded letter to his brother, but I couldn’t help my annoyance. I tried to convince myself that turnaround was fair play, and my irritation slowly deflated. Plus, if I had found a similar list among Jack’s things, I was pretty sure my

curiosity would have gotten the better of me, too. Jack reached out and pulled me close, tucking me under his arm as he continued to hold the list in front of him. I rested my head on his chest and could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was reassuring somehow. “I thought it was a sketch,” Jack explained. “Mm-hmm.” A beat of silence elapsed. “So, who is he?” If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a note of insecurity in his tone, and I was taken aback. Jack was jealous of the idea of me with someone else. At the very least, he wasn’t thrilled to be thinking about it. My little beating heart and its ever-growing feelings for him was over the moon. “My ex, obviously,” I answered, peering up at him speculatively. “How long were you with him?” “Two years, but it wasn’t serious. He was…I don’t know. Safe, maybe? You know how sometimes you’d rather be with anyone over no one?” Jack’s nod was infinitesimal, but it was there. I guessed he was thinking of Julie and how his loneliness, at least physically, had propelled him to being with her because she was available. His finger scrolled down my list until it stopped at number four. “This one is stupid. Why would you willingly put yourself in harm’s way?” I let out a tiny laugh. “Coming from the guy who risks his life every night as part of his job?” He only stared at me, hard. I swallowed, shrugged, and finally answered, “To feel alive, I guess. My life growing up has consisted of a sequence of straight lines. I wanted to throw in a couple of curves and dips, you know. Take a risk, the same as you.” “It’s not the same, but I see your point.” “Anyway,” I went on teasingly, “I think I’ve ticked this item off my list. Being with you is pretty dangerous, right?” My humour was lost on him; in fact, I’d never seen him frown so hard. “Is that how you see me? As a little dip in your straight line? Because if you’re angling to get hurt by me, I’ll put you straight right now. It won’t happen. I will not be your number eleven, Lille. My hesitancy to be with you was indicative of my apprehension as to whether or not I could control myself. Yes, I get off on giving you a little pain, but I will always be controlled, highly so. If I hurt you, it will be momentary, and it will be followed by pleasure. This is the promise I’ve made to myself. And I will never burn you in a way that would cause permanent physical damage. You may be left with a few marks, but they’ll be the kind that heal. I don’t want to feel like a monster, not anymore.” He paused his passionate speech to take my hand in his and bring it to the scars on his shoulder. “You will never wear scars like I do, Lille, do you understand?” I blinked at him, my throat suddenly dry as my heart pounded in my chest. For years this man had been living under the assumption that he was sick, that there was something wrong with him on the inside, when really he was just different. Changed by experience. And really, he was far more noble than most. Far more

worthy of trust, and I didn’t think for a second that he would ever hurt me, not intentionally anyway. We fell into a strange sort of quiet, still resting close, still touching. “You’ve completed almost all of these,” Jack said then, and I realised he was talking about the list again. “I know. It feels crazy. I never thought I’d actually do them all. I thought they’d each take a great effort, but by deciding to join the circus, one thing just kind of followed the other.” He made a little grunting sound, and I glanced at him. “What?” Instead of replying, he reached for the pencil that was tucked behind his ear, the one he’d used earlier to scribble a note in his book. He brought it to the list and drew a distinct line through number three. 3. Have sex with a stranger “You’re not doing that one,” he said, voice a firm growl. I couldn’t contain my grin. “Oh, yeah, well, maybe I already have.” I swear to God, his expression went so dark I was a little frightened. I really needed to start learning what I could and couldn’t tease him about. “Excuse me?” “With you, you idiot! You’re my stranger.” I nuzzled affectionately at the spot just below his ear. Almost as quickly as it came, all of the tension went out of him. His thumb brushed my shoulder, while the other hand spread out warm and tingly on my belly. He was practically purring now. “I am far from a stranger to you. In fact, that night you knew me better than anyone.” I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring his purring cadence. His voice was pure sex sometimes, so intimate. God, I wanted him inside me, but I was so tired my muscles ached. My body was at once begging me for sleep and squirming for Jack’s cock. I think he saw the thought pass over my face, because he gave me a slow, lazy grin. “You want me inside you, flower?” he asked in a seductive whisper, tongue licking at the shell of my ear and sending tingles all the way down my spine. I stared at his bare, muscular torso and groaned, “Yes, but I’m so tired.” He moved so he was on top of me, pulling my legs around his waist. “That’s actually perfect. Tonight, I want to give rather than take.” I knew he had to be referring to our tryst backstage in the Spiegeltent earlier today, where I’d gone down on him. The memory gave me a pleasant shudder, and at the same time I wondered about his statement. If he didn’t want to take tonight, then what did he want to give? I watched with rapt attention as he reached over to his bedside dresser and pulled open a drawer. He retrieved a small black leather box and set it on the bed beside me. I got the sense that he wanted me to open it, so I picked it up and lifted the lid. Inside were several pieces of metal. One was long and thin, like a small wand, and the others were silver hoops, both equal in size. “What are they?” I asked, taking one of the hoops and looping it through my fingers.

“Toys,” Jack answered, studying my reaction with care. “They’re quite specialist, actually. They’re new, too. I haven’t used them on anyone else.” “What do they do?” I asked breathily as my eyes rose to meet his. His gaze darkened. “Would you like me to show you?” Quietly, I nodded, and he took the hoops from me. Grabbing a lighter, he lit one of the candles from the other night. I noticed they were specialist, too, as I read the label. They were sex candles, for lack of a better word, designed specifically for pouring wax onto your lover. They must have been less damaging to the skin, because the marks that had been on my lower back were almost completely gone by morning. Jack held each metal hoop over the flame for several seconds, then instructed me to strip. Within moments my pyjamas were off. The room was dark, and the glow of the candles made me feel lazy and pliant. Jack studied my body for a long time, his gaze alone making my nipples harden as he brought the hot metal to me and ran it over my skin. I hissed in a breath at the warmth, and it felt a little like when you place your hand against a radiator that’s too hot. The metal was so thin, though, which made the sting bearable. He ran each hoop up and down my stomach before grazing them leisurely over the peaks of my breasts, until they rested around the circumference of each nipple. My breathing was heavy, my heart racing in anticipation. “The metal holds the heat for about ten minutes,” Jack said, eyes all aglow as he absorbed the sight of me lying there, hot and needy. My breasts had never felt fuller with sensation. My nipples were almost painfully hard, the metal hoops sending thrilling spikes right to their tips. “How does that feel, flower?” Jack asked as he rubbed my belly soothingly with his big hand. I squirmed and let out a sound of undiluted pleasure. My words were choppy. “K-kind of m-mind-blowing.” He chuckled. “I’m not done with you yet.” Moving down my body until his head was between my legs, he spread my thighs wide, bent forward, and licked lightly at my clit. All the while, his eyes moved from the hoops on my breasts to my face and then back again. I could tell from the intensity of his gaze that the sight was giving him an immense amount of pleasure. His tongue lapped at me, going deeper each time until he found my entrance and slid inside. I fisted the sheets, my hips rising at the soft, silky feel of him. With the metal on my skin, several of my erogenous zones had been awakened. I’d never felt anything like it before. Jack’s mouth worked my body to a crescendo, every lick focused and intent on making me come. His fingers replaced his tongue inside me, pumping in a mesmerising rhythm, while his thumb went to my clit. He kept licking until I shattered, my body bucking and my skin tingling, as wave upon wave flooded me. I moaned long and hard, and was vaguely aware of Jack moving away from me, but I was too lost in my orgasm to pay too close attention.

When he came back, he held the wand in his hand. He ran it along my shoulders, and it was hot to the touch, just like the hoops. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, just feeling as he ran along every dip and curve, over my hip, down my thigh, along the back of my knee. His breathing was slow and focused, like he was concentrating on every tiny detail, every minuscule reaction the hot metal elicited from me. I watched how his arms moved, how the muscles contracted and released, and it was way too sexy. I could have come again if I wasn’t so exhausted. Soon, as the wand continued its voyage around my body, my eyes drifted closed. The hot sting started to feel like a warm caress, and that caress was lulling me to slumber. “That’s it, go to sleep, beautiful,” I heard Jack whisper before exhaustion pulled me under. THE DAYS BEGAN to blend into a sequence of shows, spending time with Jack, working on my art, travelling, and having earth-shattering sex that involved heat and pleasure and pain, and it was blowing my mind. Jack and I grew quietly closer. I say quietly, because when we were around each other, it was never long before our eyes met, before our bodies were touching in whatever small way we could manage. But still, we spoke no words. We didn’t apply any labels, and it was oddly reassuring. I didn’t feel like I needed to chain him down and plaster a “boyfriend” sticker over his forehead. I felt like he was with me because he wanted to be, and if he didn’t want me anymore, then I’d know about it. Julie kept her distance, mostly because it felt like all eyes were on her now. Ever since news had travelled of her attack, people became wary. Marina had given her a firm and final warning, so she was on her best behaviour. One thing was for certain, her performances never wavered. I marvelled at how she could be so crazy, yet it never translated over into her art. Or perhaps she was so good at her art because she was crazy. The circus had moved its way through France and was now stopping in the city of Turin in Italy. Having lived on an island my entire life, it was amazing to think how we could be on the same land, yet move into a whole other country. One moment you’re in France, the next you’re in Italy. Turin was an impressive city, with beautiful architecture that was overlooked by the Alps. It was perhaps the most majestic place we’d been yet, and the shows were selling out every night. I was putting away my face paints as the music I recognised for Jack’s act played inside the tent. I smiled at the edgy rhythm as I went about my task in my own little bubble, until a familiar voice broke through and almost stopped my heart from beating. “Hurry up, Benjamin, we haven’t got much time,” my mother snipped as her PA hurried to try to keep pace with her. There was only one thought in my head as I stood there, frozen in place. She found me. This thought was followed by a number of expletives, and a distinct and tangible

feeling of dread. Her heels clicked on the wooden panels set out at the entrance to the tent. The sound of those heels clicking would forever remind me of her, and was probably the reason why more often than not I chose to wear flats. My throat tightened, my skin grew clammy, and though I was out in the open, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t find enough air to breathe. I couldn’t decide whether I should hide or go right up and confront her. She had no right to be here, and if she thought that somehow she was going to bring me home, she had another thing coming. A month ago I would have hidden, and even though in the grand scale of things a month was not a very long time, I wasn’t the same person I had been then. I felt stronger, less naïve. Yes, I still wanted to have an adventure, but I now knew that with every adventure came very real dangers, and I couldn’t simply throw caution to the wind like I used to think I could. Maybe living life also meant doing things that were hard and sometimes scary. And confronting my mother right now was definitely scary. Before I could hesitate a moment longer, the word was out of my mouth. “Mum,” I called. She turned on her heel, straightened out her pencil skirt, and swung to face me. Her expression ran the gamut of surprised to relieved to angry in a heartbeat. “Lillian!” she exclaimed, and began walking towards me. “Have you any idea of the trouble we’ve been through trying to find you?” “You shouldn’t have come,” I said, folding my arms and standing my ground. I made a concerted effort not to stutter. Benjamin gave me a cynical look up and down. He’d been working for Mum for years and was the kind of sycophant who kept her thinking she was a wonderful person, instead of what she truly was, i.e. cold and mean. “We’re taking you home,” Mum said, coming forward and grabbing a hold of my arm. “Our flight leaves in a couple of hours, and we don’t want to miss it.” I jerked away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.” As soon as the words left my mouth, she looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “We just spent over four hours on a plane to come here. Don’t be so ungrateful. If you’re worried about not having enough money for the flight, there’s no need. I already booked you a ticket.” I laughed involuntarily. “Oh, a whole four hours, what a sacrifice. And it’s not about the money. I’m staying here because I want to. I’m happy.” Her impatience was clear on her face. “You’re supposed to be starting back at college in a fortnight. You might as well come home now. It’s the best solution for everyone.” And that was exactly why she was here. It wasn’t because she genuinely cared about my well-being. She just didn’t want me dropping out of college and making a show of her in the process. I was sure if she’d really wanted to, she could have come and found me long before now. But no, this sudden intervention was because the new semester was just two weeks away, and Mum wanted me there in the lecture hall, playing the part of her studious little daughter.

“I’m not going back to college,” I said in a steady voice, holding my chin high. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are. This is your final year. Quitting now would be a waste.” Jesus, it was like she wasn’t even listening. Like she didn’t care enough to listen. As far as my mother was concerned, her way was right, and everyone else’s way was wrong. “No, the last three years of my life have been a waste. I should never had agreed to go to college in the first place. It’s not what I want. It’s not my passion. Yeah, I’d probably make a lot of money when I eventually got a job, but I wouldn’t be happy. What’s the point of being successful if you’re going to be miserable? I’d rather be penniless and happy any day of the week.” Mum rolled her eyes to the heavens, like my little speech was a cliché she didn’t have time for. And okay, perhaps it was a cliché, but it was my cliché, and I was determined not to give in. I wasn’t going to be spineless and bend to her wishes anymore. I was going to lead the life I chose. “You say all this now,” said Mum, “but wait another few months, and you’ll be whistling a very different tune. Wait until you can’t afford clothes or food, or a place to live, and then let’s see how happy you are. You’re used to a certain lifestyle, Lillian, and eventually you’ll miss the comfort.” “I won’t,” I gritted. “For Christ’s sake, stop being a brat. I’ve lived longer than you have. I know better. Now come, let’s go collect your things and be going. I want to have enough time for something to eat before we get on the plane.” Before I could respond, I heard hard footsteps approach and then Jack’s deep, questioning voice asking, “Lille, what’s going on?” My mother turned to face him, her eyes taking him in as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised a speculative eyebrow. Okay, so she had never exactly been a nun, and I hated to say it, but Mum had a thing for handsome younger men. She always kept it away from our home life, which was at least something I was thankful to her for. But over the years, I came to learn that she liked to use her hard-earned money to wine and dine toy boys. Needless to say, it wasn’t really something I liked to think about very often. Jack had clearly just come off the stage, because he was using a towel to wipe sweat from his neck, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I cringed when I saw how my mother appreciated the view. It was just plain wrong. Benjamin let out another impatient scowl and tapped his finger to his watch. I scowled right back while Mum ignored him, her attention all on Jack. “Hello,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “I’m Miranda Baker. Lille’s mother. I came to take her home, I’m afraid.” She smiled urbanely, her last words mixed with amused laughter, like this was all a little misunderstanding. Like I was a five-year-old who’d wandered into the neighbour’s back garden and needed to be retrieved. My hackles rose as I gritted my teeth. Jack stared her hand, then arched a dismissive brow, making no move to shake with her. “I told you, I’m not going home,” I said, loud and firm.

Jack’s gaze travelled from me to my mother and then back again. There was a beat of silence before he took a few steps to stand next to me. “You heard her,” he said to my mother, cocking his head and giving her a placid stare. Mum waved him away. “Oh, don’t mind Lillian. She has her head in the clouds most days. What kind of mother would I be if I left her here to fend for herself?” “I’ve been fending for myself just fine,” I said, and Mum glanced at me, taking in my crumpled, paint-stained T-shirt and the long gypsy skirt I bought at a market last week. “Your appearance says otherwise, darling. What on earth are you wearing?” she replied with just the tiniest edge of mockery in her tone. Now I felt Jack straighten, and his fists were flexing, a familiar sign that he wasn’t a happy camper. “You need to leave,” he ground out as his arm went around my middle. Within seconds, my mother took in the dynamic. She may have been mean and controlling, but she wasn’t dumb. “Ah, I see,” she said, pursing her lips before reaching into her designer handbag and pulling out her wallet. “You’re clearly attached to my daughter in some way and would be put out to have her leave.” Wow, I’d almost forgotten the knack she had for saying things without actually saying them. Her tone did it all for her. She had deduced that Jack and I were having sex and thought he’d be “put out” if I were gone. “I don’t want any trouble, and you’re clearly a big, powerful man,” Mum went on, placing firm admiration in the words “big” and “powerful.” She was trying to sweet-talk him, stroke his ego so that she could get her way. “So, name your price,” she finished. “How much will it take for you to back off and let me extract my daughter in a hassle-free manner?” My heart pounded and my face started to get red, I was so furious. She spoke about me as if I were a product she wanted to buy. And if I was furious, Jack was positively livid. He moved me so I was standing behind him, then took a step closer to my mother. She drew in a startled breath at his advancement and stumbled back a little, eyelids fluttering in surprise. When he started to speak, his voice was low and menacing, “Listen to me, Miranda, and listen good. There is no price you could pay, no words you could speak, no threats you could spew that would make me let you take the woman I love away from me. Your daughter is worth more than what you think of her. She is one of the most beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring souls I have ever met, and she deserves better than you. She is not a commodity to be bought and sold, and she is not your property.” He paused before finishing firmly, “Not anymore.” All of a sudden, I was finding it hard to breathe again as his voice echoed in my ears. The woman I love. That’s what he’d said. I swallowed hard and focused on Mum. She was staring at him like he was a foreign language she couldn’t translate. At long last Miranda

Baker had come up against somebody she couldn’t buy or intimidate. Time seemed suspended, until I finally regained the ability to move. I took a few steps forward and slid my fingers through Jack’s to convey our solidarity. Mum’s mouth scrunched up in distaste, and she was no longer looking at Jack with attraction. He’d gone down in her estimation by the simple fact of being in love with her daughter, and if ever I needed proof that I was doing the right thing by severing myself from her, then this was it. Benjamin began to grow uncomfortable as he fidgeted where he stood, probably because he thought Mum might expect him to go up against Jack. And yeah, her PA possessed about as much brawn as a Barbie doll. I expected Mum to throw some thinly veiled insult back at Jack, but she didn’t. Instead, her attention landed on me. She let out a long, exasperated sigh, like this was all such an inconvenience to her and we weren’t discussing my entire life here. “I have tried, Lillian, but if this is what you want, then I suppose I can’t force you to come home. But know this, I will not try again, and when it all goes belly up, do not expect me to come to the rescue. You’re on your own now.” I stared at her head on, my focus never wavering, and continued to hold my chin high. Her threats wouldn’t work to cow me anymore. After imparting her final words, she turned to Benjamin, nodded for him to follow her, and left. My mother’s PA shot me one last retreating glance, like I was some kind of imbecile for not coming home with them, and then he was gone, too. Muted music streamed from inside the tent, and I stood hand in hand with Jack, a heavy tension resting between us. My heart felt full and light at the same time, my lungs drowning in emotion. I had never felt so much love for another human being in my entire life as I did for him in that moment. He’d helped me stand up to Mum. But not only that, he’d shown her that I was worth something. He told her that although she considered me a burden, a helpless little bird she had to continually spoon-feed, that was not how he saw me. That in his eyes I was brilliant just as I was. I turned my body to his and pulled him into my arms. My heart was beating double time as I soaked in the feel of his hot, silky skin and his long hair tickling my chin. “Your mother is awful,” he murmured into my neck. “You told her you loved me.” “I told her that because it’s true.” I pulled back and stared up at him. “Is it?” My words were so quiet, I wasn’t sure he heard them at first. He seemed amused rather than insulted by the question. “You don’t believe me?” Flustered, I backtracked. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just…this is going to sound stupid, but I need to know if you meant what you said or if you said it simply to stick up for me.” He smiled down at me tenderly and brushed a tear I hadn’t realised had fallen away from my cheek. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, flower.”

All in one go, the air in my body left me. I was weightless as I sank into him, gripping his shoulders in my hands. And suddenly I felt shy, as his dark eyes penetrated me, flicking back and forth between mine as though trying to read my thoughts. I blushed hard and looked at the ground over his shoulder. God, how could I be shy about this when I knew he loved me, too? I had to say it. I couldn’t just let him put himself on the chopping block without putting myself on there with him. “I love you, too,” I whispered, eyes trained on the grass. Even in the dark it looked so green, or maybe that was just my thumping heart amplifying the colour. A deep, low chuckle escaped him. “What was that, flower? I didn’t quite catch what you said there. Also, you need to look at me. Don’t rob me of your eyes.” Swallowing for courage, I moved my gaze to his. “I said, I love you.” A wide, glorious smile shaped his mouth as he bent down to place a gentle kiss to the edge of my lips. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Loud clapping startled me out of my trance before I had the chance to pull him in for a proper kiss. Whatever act that had been on inside had just ended, and the audience was cheering. I decided to pretend they were cheering for us. For me and Jack and our quiet little confession of love. He brushed his thumb over my lip and tugged on my hand. “Come with me — I want to give you something.” Curious, I allowed him to lead me past the tent and back to the campers. When we reached his, he pulled me inside, then disappeared into his bedroom. I heard him opening and shutting a drawer before he returned with a small cardboard box in his hand. Pulling me down to sit, he placed it in my palm and told me to open it. I pushed open the top and saw something bundled up in bubble wrap. Retrieving it, I began to strip away the plastic until I discovered it was a tiny hot air balloon forged in copper. Only a second passed before I remembered it. I’d seen this ornament before. It was from the curiosity shop back in Caen. It had been sitting in the window display while I admired it and pointed out to Lola and Jack how much it resembled my tattoo. “You bought this back in Caen, didn’t you?” I said, my voice airy, emotion causing my voice to catch. He pulled me onto his lap and rested his head on my shoulder as I traced my fingers over the copper. “Yes.” “Why?” I felt rather than saw him shift, as though self-conscious. “I wanted it because you wanted it. There was something about the way you looked at it, like it was magical, that made me need to buy it. I wanted to possess that kind of magic, but more importantly I wanted to give it to you because I knew it would make you happy and I liked to see you smile. So I went back the next day and bought it.” A small, affectionate laugh escaped me, while at the same time my eyes grew watery. It was just a little ornament, and yet, it meant the world to me. It meant

everything to know Jack had been so thoughtful to buy it when I couldn’t afford it. I turned in his lap and stroked his jaw. “You bought it for me?” His laugh matched mine. “Yes. I suppose I thought it’d endear you to me.” “I was already fascinated by you. Endearment wasn’t necessary,” I told him, hoping he could see the love in my eyes. “Why did you wait so long to give it to me?” His arms slid around my waist, and his voice vibrated deep into my core. “I got a little attached to it for a while, but I don’t need its magic anymore. I’ve got you now.” He said the words simply, like all this was completely obvious, and my heart squeezed as I twisted and planted a kiss on his mouth. “You, Jack McCabe, are the magic one,” I said before setting the ornament down and reaching up to lift my shirt over my head.

SEVENTEEN

AND TWO BLEEDING SOULS WERE REUNITED

had been an extremely humid day, and I was taking a break from face I tpainting to sit in the refreshment stand with Lola and press a cold water bottle

to my forehead. The show had just started, so Lola’s customers were slowly trickling out. She wouldn’t get busy again until the intermission. I eyed her speculatively. She seemed to be doing quite well now, and I never caught her crying or looking sad anymore. But still, I thought about the night of the attack all the time, wondered who it had been. It made my skin prickle with eerie awareness. I also wondered about her life before the circus. About her husband Derek, who had treated her so badly she’d run away and assumed a new identity. “What age were you when you came here?” I asked as she wiped down the service counter. I had graduated from pressing the bottle to my forehead to opening it up and gulping down its soothing coolness. “Eighteen,” she answered without having to think about it. “Eighteen?” I said. “And you were already married?” “Yeah, well, you know I’m kind of impulsive. I have this habit of meeting people and latching on right away. I did it with you.” She paused and gave me a smile, which I returned. “The problem is that sometimes I latch onto the wrong person. Derek was twenty-five when I met him. He was a policeman, had his own place, and owned a car. I thought he was so sophisticated,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I never questioned it when he proposed to me after only two months seeing each other. We married a month after that, and I moved in with him. That’s when the hitting started. I’d forget to wash his uniform on time or I’d be late having dinner on the table, and he’d beat me black and blue. I had to escape. The circus was in town, and I saw it as my opportunity. I applied for a job, and the rest is history. Derek hasn’t found me yet, and if I play my cards right, he never will.” I nodded, absorbing her story and thinking of how scared she must have been to run away like that. How strong she was now in the little life she’d made for herself. “I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t know where we could buy a ticket, would you?” A voice cut through my thoughts, and Lola stepped over to the counter again to help the customer. I glanced at the woman, taking in her long dark hair and light blue eyes, her pretty heart-shaped face and stylish clothes. I normally wouldn’t have

paid such close attention, but this woman had an Irish accent, which was an unusual thing to hear when you were in Italy. She looked to be in her early to midtwenties, and smiled at us with straight white teeth. “Yeah,” Lola began, and pointed to the ticket booth just across the way, “you can get tickets over there.” “Thank you,” said the woman, just before a man called out, “Watson, for crying out loud, is it impossible for you to wait up for me?” The man behind the voice appeared a second later, and the moment I saw him, my entire body broke out into a cold sweat. He was tall, about the same height as Jack, had gorgeous hazel brown eyes and an undercut, the top part a touch dishevelled. He wore a tailored suit jacket with a band T-shirt underneath and dark jeans. Basically, he was drop-dead gorgeous; he’d barely spoken, and already I was being hit with a whack of the charisma stick. Jack had the same effect, but it was rough around the edges, and he was often unaware of it. This guy knew exactly the effect he wielded, and his charm was practiced and honed to a “T.” I’d recognise him anywhere. This was Jay Fields, Jack’s brother, and I couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me. I couldn’t believe my letter had brought him here. I also couldn’t believe that I’d basically forgotten I’d even sent that letter. In recent weeks, I’d been so wrapped up in Jack that it had completely slipped from my mind. He wrapped his arm around the petite woman’s waist, his jaw tight. There was an air of tension about him that put me on edge. I only realised I was staring at him with my mouth wide open when Lola nudged me with her elbow and muttered under her breath in amusement, “Close your mouth, Lille.” Her words made me blink, snapping me back to attention. Jay glanced at me and frowned. “Hey, are you okay, darlin? You look like you just saw a ghost.” He was staring at me hard now, attention flickering over my features as though he was thinking rapid thoughts. “You’re Jay Fields,” I blurted out stupidly. “A-ha!” Lola exclaimed. “I knew I recognised him from somewhere. You’re mad talented, mate. I can’t believe you’re here at the circus. I was just showing Lille your videos a couple of weeks ago. What are the chances, eh?” Jay was still staring at me when a light bulb set off behind his eyes. “You’re Lille,” he breathed, stepping forward with his arm still around the woman. “Lille Baker?” I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find my voice. Jay shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out some folded papers. He unfolded them, and with a sudden pang of dread, I recognised both my and Jack’s handwriting. Jay pointed to my letter. “You wrote this?” Again, all I could do was nod. I was sure my eyes were just two big round saucers at that stage. “Where is he?” Jay asked, running a hand anxiously through his hair. He seemed pumped, full of nervous energy. “Where is my brother?”

“Jay,” said the woman, turning in his arms and placing her hands to his chest. Her voice was gentle, soothing. “Relax. Take a breath. We don’t even know if this is real.” Jay closed his eyes and took a deep breath as instructed before speaking again. “That’s why I came here. I need to find out. I need to know if he’s alive.” Whoa, hold up a second, what? Jay thought Jack was dead? I had no clue what was going on, but I did know that I needed to push back my nerves and deal with this situation. Jack had always been clear that he had no desire to see his brother ever again, but here he was, and it was all my doing. If I didn’t get a handle on it quickly, then this whole thing was likely to blow up in my face. Jack was going to hate me when he found out what I’d done. Why on earth had I done it again? Oh, yeah, because I’m a sentimental idiot. I quickly left the refreshments stand and went around to meet them, calling over my shoulder, “Lola, can we go to Violet’s for a little bit?” Lola seemed confused. “You want to take these two to Violet’s? Why?” “I’ll explain everything later. But right now I need to take care of something really important.” She shrugged. “Yeah, okay, go ahead. Violet won’t be back until later after the show anyway.” I gave her a thankful look before turning to Jay. “Can you come with me, please? I need to talk with you. Jack can’t know you’re here, not yet.” There was suspicion in his eyes, but after a moment he nodded and gestured for me to lead the way, taking the woman’s hand in his and following me. I quietly led them both to Violet’s camper and opened the door, standing back and gesturing for them to go inside. They sat down in the lounge, and I stood there for a second, not knowing what to do. I moved my feet one after the other and went to put on the kettle. Then I went to sit across from them. The woman was smiling at me in a friendly manner while Jay continued to regard me with suspicion. “I’m Matilda, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand. “Jay’s wife.” I noticed she was wearing a beautiful engagement ring and wedding band before I took her hand and shook it. “I’m Lille, Lille Baker, but you already know that,” I replied, my voice shaky. I stared at my hands. “So, um, as I said in my letter, Jack has no idea I wrote to you. In fact, well, I don’t know how else to say this, but he doesn’t want to see you. I apologise for being blunt, but he kind of hates you.” Jay leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head at me. “He hates me?” “Well, yes, you see, it’s because your uncle told him you didn’t want to see him. And he was all alone for so long, and people treated him so badly, and he was just hurting so much. He’s still hurting, but he pretends he doesn’t care. As you can tell from the letter, he does care — he just doesn’t want to admit it.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

Jay sat back, like it all suddenly made sense to him, and I wondered what I’d said that explained things. I didn’t have to wait long before a dark look came over his face, and he began shaking his head back and forth. “My uncle. My fucking dipshit of an uncle.” A silence elapsed before he turned to his wife. “Can you fucking believe this?” “Jay, calm down,” she whispered, but her plea only seemed to set him off worse. He turned to her, furious. “Calm down!? Calm fucking down? Not only did that evil bastard rob me of a decent childhood, but he also robbed me of my only brother. He told me Jack was dead, Matilda. Dead! What kind of sick fuck does something like that?” He punched his fist into the sofa, and it all quickly started to make sense. All of my misgivings about Jack’s story were not unfounded. I’d been right. Something fishy had been going on. Jay didn’t abandon Jack — he’d thought he was dead because that’s what his uncle had told him. Once Jay had relaxed a little, Matilda pulled him into her arms. His body shook and I knew instinctively that he was crying. I thought I should have been more stunned by such a big, handsome, confident man crying, but I wasn’t. I felt his pain, his loss. I felt it all through my connection with Jack. Matilda looked at me over Jay’s shoulder, and we exchanged concerned glances. I had no idea where to go from here. I mean, how would I explain all this to Jack? I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to just go right up to him and be all, Hey, Jack, funny story, but I stole the letter you wrote to your brother and sent it to him. Now he’s here, and, well, you’re welcome. Yeah, I could see that conversation going down like a lead balloon. My eyes went to the clock on the wall, and I noticed it was almost time for Jack’s performance. Perhaps that was the way I could get around this. If I brought Jay into the audience, he’d be able to see Jack, have proof that he was alive from a distance, and then I could figure out where to go from there. After a minute, Jay pulled away from his wife and turned to study me again. His eyes were a little blotchy, and his face stern. It was clear that he still didn’t trust me. I was wearing my summer dress and a loose cardigan, my battered converse on my feet. My hair was up in a dishevelled bun that I’d secured with a wooden paintbrush, in lieu of a proper hair tie. I was forever losing those things. I desperately wanted to know what he thought of me, and deep down I wanted him to like me because he was Jack’s brother and I was in love with Jack. “How do you know my brother?” Jay asked, sitting up straight now and levelling me with his full attention. And whoa, the full attention of Jay Fields was more than a little intense. My skin was prickling slightly, and I felt like I was on trial. I glanced away for a second and nervously scratched at my wrist. “I’m, well, I’m kind of his girlfriend.” Jay’s eyebrow shot up, and for the first time something that resembled a smile shaped his lips. “Only kind of?” My throat felt tight. “Well, yeah, I’m head over heels in love with him, but it’s

all very new.” Now he gave me a proper smile, and there must have been something in the way I said it that rang true, because all his suspicions melted away. “Yeah, it looks like you are, darlin.” His eyes moved over my form. “My brother has good taste.” At this his wife elbowed him in the side, but she was smirking. “Stop flirting with your brother’s girlfriend, Jason,” she scolded playfully, and he raised his hands in surrender. “What? She’s cute. I’m just noticing that my brother has a cute girl, no harm in that.” He went quiet for a second, and some of his tension returned as he ran his hand down his face. “My brother,” he whispered to himself. “Fuck, this is crazy.” “Would you like to see him now?” I asked gently, and his response was fervent. “Hell, yes.” Standing and smoothing down the skirt of my dress, I said, “Come on, then. He should be on stage right about now.” As I led them both out of the camper and towards the tent, Jay asked, “So, you mentioned in your letter that Jack’s a performer, but you never said what kind?” We were almost at the tent now, and I could hear Marina’s voice echoing through the sound system as she introduced Jack’s act. When we reached the side entrance, I took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I think I’ll let you see for yourself.” Jay and Matilda stepped in ahead of me just as the music began to play and Jack made his entrance onto the stage, the flame-tipped metal wheels spinning on his bare, muscular arms. The audience cheered wildly, and I found my attention wandering to Jay as he stood there, frozen. His jaw was tight, his hands clenching into fists, and I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His eyes blazed fiercely as his attention fixed on Jack, and I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he recognise him after all this time? What was he feeling right now to see his brother? A brother who for years he thought was dead but was in fact very much alive. And man, was Jack alive. As he moved about the stage, his very being practically pulsated with life and vitality. Jay’s hand went to his mouth, emotion overtaking him, as Matilda wrapped her arms around him for support. All of a sudden, it looked like the strength went out of him, and if it weren’t for his petite wife, he might have crumpled to the floor. A wave of emotion hit me just watching him. My throat was heavy with tears, my lungs burned, and my heart beat hard and fast. My attention wandered back to Jack, who was now spewing flames around the stage and soliciting noises of fear, awe, and excitement in his audience. He looked magnificent, so strong and fierce. And he had no idea that his brother was in the audience, his brother who up until a half hour ago had been convinced that he was dead. I was frightened of Jack discovering what I’d done, but at the same time, I knew it was the right thing. Both Jay and Jack had been mistaken about their past, and by putting myself on the line, I was reuniting them. His act went on for about fifteen minutes, and several times throughout I saw

Jay try to pull out of his wife’s arms and run towards the stage. He wanted Jack to know he was there. Fortunately, each time Matilda pulled him back and murmured in his ear, her words working to subdue his eagerness and distress. What do I do now? What do I do now? The question was still echoing in my head as I began to panic, no answers forthcoming, when suddenly Jack was performing his final trick. He tilted his head back and dipped the torch deep inside his mouth before swallowing the flame. The moment the music cut out and the crowd began to cheer, Jay was pulling out of his wife’s hold and taking big, hurried strides toward that stage. I heard him call out, “Jack! Jack!” but his voice melded into the noise of the cheers. Jack walked from one end of the stage to the other, taking a bow each time. When he rose from the final bow, he must have heard something, because his attention flickered across the audience. Then, as though in slow motion, his attention landed on Jay, who stood in the middle of an aisle, just a few feet shy of the stage. Time stood still, and my heart thundered in my ears as Jack stared at his brother, eyes dark and uncomprehending. “Jack, it’s me. It’s Jay,” he called, but still Jack didn’t respond. A flash of anger passed over his face, his entire body coiling tight before he swung around, turning his back on his brother and disappearing through the curtains. Seeing Jack flee, Jay jumped up onto the stage quick as a flash and chased after him. Matilda and I exchanged glances before we both began moving through the audience to follow them. I could hear Jay calling out, “Jack! Jack! Wait a minute!” We followed his voice until we were out in the back of the circus, where many of the camper vans were parked. Jay finally reached his brother and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. Jack spun around and glared at Jay, his eyes blacker than obsidian in the dark. The lights from inside the Spiegeltent flashed through the stained glass windows, casting the brothers in alternating shades of red, green, yellow, purple, and blue. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Jack hissed as he glared daggers at his brother. “Let me explain,” Jay pleaded, chest heaving from the effort exerted in chasing down Jack. “There’s nothing to explain. I have no idea how you found me or what you’re doing here, but you need to leave. I don’t want to see you.” Jay was fumbling in his pocket, and my gut sank when I saw him retrieve my letter. “I got this letter in the mail. It told me where you were,” said Jay, right before Jack snatched the paper from him, his eyes flashing with fury as he scanned the words. He seemed confused for a moment as he put two and two together. Then he glanced to his brother, gaze flickering back and forth, brow furrowed. I was hit with the weight of a thousand bricks when suddenly Jack’s eyes landed on me. Those eyes were heavy with betrayal and accusation, and for a moment I found it difficult to breathe. He strode toward me with purpose and tossed the letters at my feet.

“How could you do this? I trusted you, Lille, I fucking trusted you!” “Wait, Jack, listen. It’s not what you think,” I pleaded but he cut me off. “Not what I think? So you didn’t steal this letter I wrote and send it to my brother without telling me? It just so happened to find its way to him by magic, did it?” “No, but you have to understand, I did it all because I care for you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying help you.” Tears were streaming down my face as I moved to touch him, but he flinched away from me. “I told you I hated him. I told you how he abandoned me, how fucked up my life was after. How in the hell could you be trying to help me by bringing him here?” Before I spoke, Jay cut in. He was now standing right behind his brother. “I didn’t abandon you, Jack. You have it all wrong.” Jack spun on him. “Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t even want to look at you.” He took a pained breath and shoved Jay back with both his hands. Jay took the hit without reciprocating. “Just stay the hell way from me, you selfish fuck!” His voice had become choked, and before I knew it, he was looking at me again with those pained eyes, and I felt my heart breaking, shattering into a million tiny pieces. “You know what drew me to you from the very beginning, Lille? It wasn’t your pretty face, your big grey eyes, or your beautiful smile. It was because for the first time in my life I felt like I was looking at a person I could trust. Someone so open and without malice that they didn’t even possess the ability to betray, but I was wrong. And how wrong I was is destroying me inside.” His words made my stomach twist and my throat tighten in agony. “Jack, please,” I begged, trying to grab for him again, but he wouldn’t let me touch him. “Hey, look, you need to calm down,” Jay interjected while Jack glowered at him hatefully. “I never abandoned you. Listen to me for one fucking minute, would you?” Jack’s chest rose and fell with his anger, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he waited for Jay to finish. “Up until I got this letter, I thought you were dead. That’s what our sick fuck of an uncle told me. I should have questioned it, but I didn’t. I was only a kid. I didn’t know you were still alive until your girl sent me this letter, and still I thought it was someone playing a sick joke, but I had to find out for myself. Then I come here and I see you, and it’s really you, but you fucking hate me. You have to understand that everything you thought was true was a lie. I was told you died in that fire with our parents, Jack. That’s why I never came for you. Because if I thought there was even a single shred of a chance you’d still be alive, then I would have destroyed the entire world to find you. You’re my brother. I love you. Please understand that none of what happened was within either of our power to change.” Jack stared at Jay, and little by little I could see the fight go out of him as he absorbed the words. He swallowed hard, and the tension left his body, only to be replaced with sheer agony. He turned away from Jay, his back broad and tanned in

the darkness, shoulders moving up and down as he tried to compose himself. “You’re lying,” he said, the words so quiet I barely heard them. “This is all a lie. You’re trying to manipulate me,” he went on, voice small and choked with emotion. “I’m not lying, Jack,” Jay said, taking a tentative step forward until he was right behind him. I saw him notice the scarring on Jack’s shoulder, his face contorting with sympathy and pain at the sight of it. It was a reminder of the house fire, the catalyst for all they had been through. “Don’t touch me,” Jack pleaded, right before Jay threw his arms around Jack’s shoulders and hugged him from behind. Jay held on for dear life while Jack fought the hug, straining in Jay’s arms, but Jay held firm. “It’s the truth, Jack,” he murmured. “It’s the truth. You’re my brother, and I love you. And I swear to God, from this day on, you’ll never be alone again.” All of a sudden, the tension left him, and Jack sagged in his brother’s arms. I could tell from the way his chest moved that he was crying. I thought Jay might be, too. I’d never witnessed such a scene before in my life, and I was completely undone by it. Two big, strong men, shattered by their pasts, so wholly ruined by it, embracing one another. Tears rolled down my face until I could taste the saltiness against my lips. When I looked at Matilda, I saw that she was crying, too. “I’ll never let you go again,” Jay said, right before Jack turned and embraced him properly. My heart squeezed to see him do it, and even if Jack could never forgive me for what I’d done, I’d always have this memory. I’d always have the knowledge that my actions had brought two broken, hurting souls together. And perhaps by reuniting him with his brother, Jack would truly learn how to heal. I felt soft, cool fingers touch against mine and looked down to see Matilda take my hand in hers. We both watched the brothers for a moment before she murmured gently to me, “Come on, let’s leave them alone for a little while. I’ve a feeling they’re going to have a lot to talk about.” I nodded solemnly and allowed her to lead me away. Before I knew it, we were back at Violet’s camper, sitting on the steps and staring off into the night. “I can’t believe their uncle would lie like that. I mean, where’s the payoff?” I said, not really expecting any answers. Matilda took a breath and then started to speak. “I’m not sure there’s a payoff, not in the traditional sense, anyway. Jay’s told me a lot about his uncle Killian. After their parents died, he was the one who took Jay in and raised him, though his idea of raising a kid was fairly skewed. He was a professor of behavioural science and had this big important position at Harvard. But he used to get off on messing with people’s heads. He was constantly playing mind games on Jay until he’d finally had enough of it and ran away. I guess telling Jay that Jack was dead was just another one of his mind games. He got a kick out of separating them, I suppose.” “He sounds like a sociopath,” I said, appalled by what she was telling me. By the sounds of it, just like Jack, Jay hadn’t had it so easy, either. “That’d be about the size of it,” Matilda said, smoothing her hands over her

skirt. There was a stretch of silence before I spoke again, and this time my voice was laced with misery. “Jack hates me for what I did. I don’t think he’s going to forgive me.” Matilda made sympathetic noises as she leaned close and put her arm around my shoulders. “No, that’s not true. What you did was incredibly brave. You sacrificed yourself in order to reunite him with his brother, and I for one am unendingly grateful to you. Family means the world to Jay, and seeing his brother again after all these years is the biggest gift anyone could ever give him. Jack will forgive you — you just need to allow him time to process everything. It’s a lot to take in.” “Yeah,” I said, sniffling. We were quiet for a long time. Usually I’d feel awkward being silent with someone I’d just met, but with Matilda, that wasn’t the case. In a way, she was having all the same feelings as I was right now. She just didn’t have the prospect of losing the man she loved dumped on top of it. I was starting to feel a little less emotional when Matilda spoke again. “Jack is kind of beautiful, isn’t he?” she said, her voice awed. “I mean, Jay is, too — it’s just that Jack was always the little one. The younger brother. Now he’s bigger than Jay. Such a man, and wow, when he’s on the stage, he just shines. It’s incredible to see.” I stared at her, curious. “You knew Jack when he was a kid?” She nodded. “Yeah. I used to live next door to both of them before their house burned down. Jay and Jack didn’t have the best of upbringings even before all that. Their dad was a violent drunk, and they’d be left hungry a lot. I used to give them food and stuff.” She shrugged as though it was no big deal. I mustered a smile for her. “You must have been a very kind child.” “It wasn’t really intentional. I just liked being around them, helping them, you know. I must have made an impression, because Jay always remembered me. It’s kind of a long story, but he came back for me when he was grown.” “Will you tell it to me?” I asked quietly. “I’d like to hear about you two. I don’t care if it’s long. It’ll take my mind off Jack.” Matilda gave me an empathic smile, then began to recite her tale. I sat back and listened to the story of how she and Jay were reunited. A story of mystery and revenge and falling in love. It was truly exhilarating. And all the while I hoped my own love story hadn’t yet come to an end.

EIGHTEEN

MYSTERY CAME KNOCKING ONCE MORE

slept a wink that night. After sitting and talking with Matilda for more I barely than two hours, we exchanged numbers, and she called for a taxi to bring her

back to her hotel. When she called Jay, he told her that he was in Jack’s camper and that he wouldn’t be returning until late. He didn’t give any more details than that, which was frustrating. I desperately wanted to know what was happening and how Jack was feeling, but I forced myself to be selfless. This wasn’t about me, this was about the brothers. I stayed the night in Lola’s room. The past few weeks I’d basically started living at Jack’s place, but I knew I wasn’t welcome there right now. If not because he and Jay needed time alone with one another, then because he considered me a Judas. He thought I had betrayed him, and I didn’t know if just because he was embracing Jay that he’d forgiven me, too. I finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning/passed out from emotional and physical exhaustion. Take your pick. When I woke up, Lola’s bed was empty, and the alarm clock told me it was past one in the afternoon. I shot up in the bed and hurriedly pulled on some clothes. I didn’t even stop to grab breakfast. Instead, I made my way directly to Jack’s camper. I knocked on the door a number of times but received no answer, and when I peered in the window, it didn’t look like anyone was home. Dejected, I returned to Violet’s, where I found Lola in the lounge, reading some magazines. “Wow, you look like someone just told you your cat died,” she said, taking in my appearance. “So, what was all that last night with Jay Fields?” she went on curiously. I let out a long sigh, sat down across from her, and recited the tale from beginning to end. By the time I was done, Lola was staring at me with her jaw hanging open. “That’s some crazy story,” she said, and then her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “Okay, so is it wrong that I’m visualising some brother-on-brother action right now? Because that’s one sexy threesome opportunity right there.” I threw a cushion at her head. “Lola! That’s so wrong — firstly because it’s incest, and secondly because Jay is a married man.” “Oh, fine, go and piss all over my fantasies, why don’t you?” I just shook my head at her, a tiny smile shaping my lips. The girl had a knack

for making me feel better even when I was at my lowest. My smile faded quickly, though, and Lola noticed. “He’ll forgive you, Lille. Quit fretting about it. That man is head over heels for you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.” I glanced at her, praying she was right. The rest of the day passed restlessly for me. I tried to concentrate on some sketches, but it was no use. I even offered to wash the outside of the camper van for Violet and Lola. Violet looked at me like I needed mental help for wanting to do such a thing, but she let me clean it all the same. Losing myself in scrubbing the dirt off the van occupied my mind for a little while, but as soon I finished I was itching to find Jack again. I tried calling his phone but got no answer. This wasn’t too unusual though, because he often forgot to carry it on him. When I called Matilda she told me that Jack and Jay were spending the day together, and that she was hanging out at the hotel by herself. She offered for me to come and join her, but I declined. I wouldn’t have been good company right then. I sat on the steps of Violet’s camper, sipping on a mug of red wine (she didn’t own any glasses) to soothe my nerves, when King ambled up to me and sat down. It was unexpected, but I didn’t question it. My emotions were all over the place, so I merely accepted his company for what it was. “It doesn’t help, you know,” he said and I glanced at him. “Pardon?” He nodded to the wine. “It numbs but it doesn’t heal. It numbs you just enough every time to make you forget that it doesn’t heal. It’s like Western medicine, treating the symptom and ignoring the cause. So, forget about the symptom and look at the cause,” he stopped and pointed his finger harshly into my arm to drive home his point. “That’s where you’ll find the cure.” What he said made perfect sense, but still, it irked me that he didn’t take his own advice. “If you know all this, then why don’t you treat your cause? Why do you continue to medicate the symptom?” “Ah,” he said, letting out a long, weary sigh. “Some of us are too far gone for all that.” A silence elapsed as the noise from the crowds coming to see the circus began to grow louder. I decided I wasn’t going to work that night; I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I did, however, know what I was in the right frame of mind for. “King,” I started and he turned to me. I swallowed. “You know that picture you have of the woman?” He nodded, eyes narrowing warily. “Could I…I mean, would you like me to paint it for you?” I shivered as I waited for his response. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to do it, but for some reason I thought he’d like to have a painting of his Alexis that he could keep. “That way, if you ever lose the photograph again, you’ll still have the painting.” More silence, and then, ever so slightly and without breathing a word, he nodded his head. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the worn photo and handed it to

me. I took it with care and then went to gather some of the supplies I still kept in Lola’s bedroom. King sat and watched me as I set up and began to paint. I painted well into the small hours of the morning, as the grey light of the coming day began to slowly filter into the sky. Wiping the perspiration from my brow, I stood back and took in my work. I was satisfied with the end result, and felt like I’d managed to capture the happiness on the woman’s face as she stared into the camera. Without my realising it, King had come to stand beside me, and when I looked at him his pale blue eyes were watery with tears. Even though I’d been the one to create the painting, I felt like this was a private moment for him, so I went inside to scrub my hands. When I returned, both the painting and King were gone. He’d taken it, and that was good enough for me. I’d made something that held meaning for him, and it gave me a sense of peace. When I finally went to bed, I found that I’d exhausted myself enough to sleep. THE NEXT DAY I woke up to my phone ringing. Checking the time, I found it was past two in the afternoon and my heart jumped to know I’d slept half the day away. I noted that it was Matilda’s number flashing on the screen, and when I answered she asked me if I had any dinner plans. Apparently, Jay and Jack were still getting reacquainted with one another, and she wanted some company. It filled my heart with good feelings to know the brothers were still bonding, which soothed some of the ache inside me. I told her I’d love to, and we hung up with plans to meet in a couple of hours at the restaurant beside her hotel. Lola forced me to take a shower and gave me a loan of some clothes to wear, which consisted of an emerald green skater dress and a navy cardigan. The green was surprisingly complementary to my skin tone, and after blow-drying my hair with Lola’s tiny travel hair dryer, I felt a little better about myself. I had enough cash to spare, so I took a taxi into the city, getting out when I arrived at the restaurant. Running my hand through my hair and hitching my bag up on my shoulder, I stepped inside and was immediately hit with the sound of male laughter. I was drawn to that sound, and as my eyes scanned the space for Matilda, I found her, but she wasn’t alone. She sat at a booth-style table beside Jay, and Jack sat on the other side, wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt and with his hair down. My stomach tightened when I saw him, and I got the distinct sense that this was an ambush. I stood there, taking in the scene, as Jay made some kind of joke, smiling widely across the table at his brother, and Jack smirked at whatever he said. “I swear to God,” Jay exclaimed, gesturing animatedly with his hands. “I’m standing in front of this chick, asking her to pick a number between one and twenty, and she starts telling me about her yeast infection. I’m like, and I need to know this why? Selecting random people on the street can be fucking weird sometimes.”

Jack laughed low and deep, and when he glanced at his brother with genuine affection in his eyes, my heart did a little somersault. I couldn’t believe the turnaround since the other night. The atmosphere between them had completely transformed. I didn’t move until Matilda’s eyes landed on me and she gave me a warm, welcoming smile. Stepping forward, I reached the table and just about managed to find my voice. “Uh, hi.” Jack’s back was turned to me, but I saw him tense the second he heard my voice. Yeah, he definitely didn’t know I was coming. I wasn’t sure whether I should be thanking Matilda or chewing her out for tricking me. Jay saw me and smiled, then gave me a little wink. “Hey, darlin.” “Lille,” said Matilda, “I’m so glad you could make it. You look gorgeous. Love your dress. Come, sit down.” Anxiously, I slid into the booth next to Jack, but he didn’t acknowledge me. Making sure to keep several inches of distance between us, I frowned and stared at the menu that lay on the table, trying to decide whether or not I should stay. He clearly didn’t want me here. “Jack,” I said quietly as I took in his handsome profile. Upon hearing his name, he turned to me, and when he met my eyes, it nearly took my breath away. They held such stark emotion that I was sure was mirrored in my own. “H-how are you?” I asked, trying for casual and failing. His gaze travelled from my face to my shoulders, and then down. I felt hot and itchy under his stare, and I could have killed to know what he was thinking. “I’m good, all things considered,” he answered finally, and I couldn’t read him at all. Jay leaned down and whispered something in Matilda’s ear. She narrowed her gaze and elbowed him in the side. “No way, Jay. I already told you no, so quit pestering me.” I tried to focus on them, but I was still hyper aware of every little move Jack made, every breath he took. “Oh, come on, Watson. You need to live a little.” “What’s this?” I asked, not really caring what they were talking about. I just needed to distract myself from the tension that was radiating off Jack. Matilda leaned in, sighed, and rested her elbows on the table. “My husband, the horndog, has been trying to convince me to join the mile-high club. I swear to God, every time we take a flight, he’s at it. Like a dog with a bone.” Jay barked playfully and leaned in to nip her earlobe with his teeth. Seeing them both so much in love made my current heartsickness feel that much worse. Jack was right beside me, but it felt like there was an ocean between us. I turned to look at him again and saw his lips twitch slightly at his brother’s antics. I could see in his eyes the love that was there; it even seemed like he looked up to Jay. Hardly two days had gone by, and already the dynamic they’d had as kids was returning. I

imagined they must have done some serious amount of talking. The waiter appeared at our table then. He was a handsome Italian guy with dark eyes and dark hair, and he spoke very good English. I wasn’t even hungry and the menu was practically gibberish to me, but I forced myself to pick something. When it was my turn to order, I glanced up at the waiter for help. “Um, what is the Milanese di pollo?” “It’s a breaded chicken breast with salad,” he answered, giving me a warm, interested smile. Something about the way he looked at me told me he liked what he saw, and I grew uncomfortable, mainly because Jack was right beside me. “Oh, right, okay, that sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take that.” The waiter must have sensed I was ordering it for convenience, and he was right, because I wasn’t a big fan of breaded chicken. He leaned down and took the menu in his hands, holding it in front of me. “You tell me what you like and I’ll choose, yes? What is your favourite: steak, seafood, pasta?” “I like seafood,” I offered. “Ah, so how about the zuppa di pesce? It is a fish stew.” “That sounds good, thank you,” I replied, smiling gratefully. “It is my pleasure, bella ragazza,” he said, and placed his hand on my shoulder for a second. All of a sudden I felt heat at my neck, and I realised that Jack had leaned in and was resting his arm along the back of the booth. I glanced at him to see he was staring daggers at the waiter, and my pulse hammered. Whoa, he looked angry. The waiter left quickly after taking in Jack’s expression, and a quiet fell over the table. Matilda gave me a playful grin. “Do you know what he just called you?” I shook my head. “I don’t know much Italian.” “He called you a beautiful girl. Methinks the waiter likes you, Lille.” I grew both tense and elated that Jack was pissed at the waiter flirting with me. “I was chatting with a woman in the hotel spa the other day. She’s from London, and she said she loves coming here because she gets so much attention from the men. They love the pale skin,” Matilda went on, and I had a feeling she knew exactly what she was up to. She was trying to make Jack jealous, and it seemed to be working. I stole a peek at him again, my cheeks flushing, and I found he was staring at me intensely. “So, tell me,” said Jay, breaking my attention away from Jack. “How did you two kids meet?” Jack gave him an annoyed look and remained silent, so I chose to answer, clearing my throat. “The circus was doing some shows in my hometown. I was working at my summer job in the local restaurant, and Jack used to come in a lot with Marina. She’s the ringmaster.” I could feel Jack watching me as I continued the story shyly. “I was always looking at him. I thought he was gorgeous. I dunno, I suppose you could say I had a bit of a crush.” Jack made a grunting sound that I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. Jay had been grinning at me while I spoke, but now his attention went to his brother. “Oh,

yeah, and what did you think of lovely Lille when you first saw her, Jack?” Jack didn’t answer right away, but when he did, I felt myself grow weak at his low, fervent response. “I thought she was exquisite. And not for the likes of me.” Jay frowned, and I was blushing even harder now. God, I loved this man so much. “Well, I don’t think Lille agrees with that assessment, do you, darlin?” Jay asked, focusing back on me. I shook my head and felt my body lean slightly closer to Jack’s. His fingertips brushed the back of my neck, and I sucked in a breath at the contact. The moment was broken when the waiter arrived back with our food. He didn’t flirt with me this time, not after having Jack almost glower him to death before, and left as soon as he’d distributed the plates. I lifted my spoon and began to eat. The stew was delicious, hot and salty. I had one hand resting on the edge of the booth and noticed that Jack’s hand rested just a few inches away. Feeling bold, I moved my hand so it rested against his. I felt the heat of his skin all the way down to my toes. A few moments passed, but he didn’t break the contact. Perhaps he craved it just as much as I did. Throughout the meal, I stole glances at him. I knew Jay and Matilda could see, but I tried to ignore their indulgent smiles. At one point when I tried to look at Jack, I found he was already staring at me, his eyes trained on my mouth. I’d just eaten a spoonful of stew, and a little of the liquid had dribbled down my chin. Almost as though it was second nature, Jack lifted his thumb and wiped it away. I watched as he then brought his thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, and as soon as I saw him do it, I was wet and aching for him. “Jack,” I whispered, and moved my leg so our thighs touched. “What is it, flower?” he asked, just as quietly. “I’m sorry.” His lips turned down sadly. “I know you are. I know.” An agonising moment of quiet passed before Matilda spoke. “You know what I want to do tonight? I want to go dancing. We should all go to a club or something.” Jay chuckled. “Okay, Watson. Your wish is my command. Admit it, you just want to see me bust some sexy moves on the dance floor.” “Well, what’s the point in having a husband who can dance if I’m not going to take advantage of it every now and again?” Jay stared fondly down at his wife before looking to Jack. “What about you, bro? You like to bust a move, too?” Jack looked uncomfortable for a second, so I answered for him. “Um, have you seen him on stage? Of course he likes to dance, but it’s more like a tribal sort of thing.” I slid my pinky around Jack’s beneath the table, and he let me. “It’s actually called Poi dancing,” Jack explained gruffly. “It’s Maori, from New Zealand.” I rubbed my pinky along his, and a moment later he gripped my hand tight, giving it a squeeze. The emotions I was feeling in that moment were almost too much to bear.

“Oh, yeah, and where did you learn how to do that?” Jay probed. Jack seemed embarrassed now. “I took classes.” Matilda leaned forward with interest. “In Dublin? Really? I didn’t know you could learn that kind of thing back home.” Jack’s brow crinkled slightly as he stuck his fork into his linguine. “It was combined with a belly dancing class.” He paused, frowning, but then his lips twitched. “Don’t laugh.” Despite Jack’s instruction, Jay let out a big chuckle, and Matilda giggled. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I bet the ladies in the class were drooling all over themselves to have you there.” “Hey!” Jay protested, scowling impishly at his wife. “What?” Matilda exclaimed. “Jack grew up well. Just like you did. Never let it be said that the McCabe/Fields brothers don’t bulk up once they hit puberty.” “I can’t believe you’re the same girl I knew as a kid,” said Jack with a smile. “I remember you used to give me chocolate chip cookies all the time. In my head, I called you Cookie Girl.” “In my head, I call her something else,” Jay put in flirtatiously, and Matilda whacked him on the shoulder. “You always have to lower the tone,” she complained, but she was still grinning. Jay flashed his teeth at her as he smiled. “You love it.” For a second I forgot the tension between Jack and me, and soaked in the funloving atmosphere that simply radiated off this couple. They were so enjoyable to be around, and I was sure it was their warmth that was lessening Jack’s distance from me. I’d eaten way too much bread and olive oil, mostly out of nerves, so when it was time for dessert, I didn’t have much room left. I turned to Jack, and he must have sensed my attention because his eyes came to mine. “Do you want to share something? I don’t have enough room left for a full dessert,” I said, rubbing my hand over my tummy. Jack’s gaze heated up and wandered to my stomach before rising to my chest. The dress I wore was a little bit low-cut and showed what I thought was a classy amount of cleavage. “What do you want, flower?” he murmured quietly. My attention flickered to the menu. “Um, the tiramisu looks good.” “Then order it, and we’ll share.” I noticed Matilda giving me an encouraging smile, and I grew self-conscious. Still, I craved Jack’s touch like a drug, and while the brothers chatted and we waited for dessert to arrive, I tentatively leaned my head on his shoulder. After an emotional two days I was tired, and I really just wished we could go somewhere and be alone. Talk things out. I heard him let out a long sigh, and before I knew it, his big arm came down around my shoulders and pulled me in tight. “Awww!” said Matilda in delight the moment she saw. “You two make such a beautiful couple.” Jack gave his usual uncomfortable grunt, and I glanced away shyly. “No, seriously,” she went on. “You both look so striking together. Your

colouring’s so light, and Jack’s is so dark.” I savoured the heat of Jack’s body and hastened a glance at him from beneath my lashes. I wasn’t expecting it when he leaned in, brought his mouth to my ear, and whispered, “She should see us when we fuck.” My eyes went wide, and I swear every hair on my body was standing on end. Jay was watching us with amusement, and Matilda looked like she was dying to know what Jack had said. I for one was glad that she hadn’t. It would have been mortifying. I was grateful for the distraction when the dessert arrived. Jack handed me a spoon, our fingers grazing when I took it. He watched as I dug in. I could only manage three or four mouthfuls before my stomach started to complain, so I let him finish the rest. After dinner Matilda used her phone to search for the nearest dance club. Apparently, when Jack told Marina about reuniting with his long-lost brother, she’d insisted he take some time off to be with him, so we didn’t need to hurry back for the show. Since Turin had been such a successful stop for the circus, I’d made enough money painting faces to justify taking another night off, too. Besides, there was absolutely nothing right then that would make me leave Jack’s side. He might have warmed up to me over dinner, but I still wanted to apologise properly. Explain that I never had any ill intentions by sending Jay his letter. The club we ended up in was loud and crowded. A couple of men gave me interested looks, but they quickly aimed that interest elsewhere when they saw Jack standing behind me. I hated to admit it, but I loved that he was being all possessive. It meant he still cared. After we all shared a drink at the bar, Jay led Matilda to the dance floor, leaving Jack and me alone for the first time that night. We stood side by side, watching the gyrating bodies, and I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he’d be able to hear me anyway, since the music was loud enough to wake the dead. I felt his hot, humid breath on my neck when he leaned down and shouted over the music, “I’m going outside for a smoke.” “I’ll come with you,” I shouted back, and followed him out the side of the club and into an alleyway. A couple of people hung about, smoking and chatting in Italian. I stood close to the wall and watched as Jack pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket, then used a match to light one up. He took a drag, still holding the match in his hand as the smoke rose off it slowly and drifted into the air. His eyes came to me, and they held unmistakable heat. I knew we were both remembering the same thing, our first night together, making love out in the open. He’d used a hot match against my nipples, awakening a hunger inside me I didn’t even know was there. He seemed taken off guard when I closed the distance between us to stand before him. Our eyes met, and there was a question in his when I took the match from him and brought it to my chest. Dragging it over the rise of my breasts, I gasped when its heat scorched my skin and heard Jack emit a strangled groan. “What are you doing, Lille?”

“I miss you.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I miss you, too.” “I’m so sorry for betraying your trust, Jack. You’re the most important person in my life, and I’ll do anything to win your forgiveness.” I continued running the match over my skin, and my nipples were rock hard beneath my bra. His voice was strained. “Will you…could you stop doing that? It’s fucking distracting.” “I like distracting you,” I murmured. “You don’t have to try to distract me, Lille. It already comes natural,” he answered, his voice thick with warning. I dropped the match and let out a breath. “You seem happy with Jay,” I ventured. Jack tilted his head, staring up at the sky as he spoke. “I am happy. I’m still trying to get my head around it all. It’s kind of surreal. It’s like there’s this whole back story to our family that I never even knew about.” I nodded. “Yeah, Matilda and I talked last night. She told me all about it.” I paused, trying to figure out what to say next. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back,” I told him sadly. “I should have figured out a better way.” “You did what you thought was right. I’m not gonna lie, Lille. I’m still fucking angry that you stole the letter. You can’t just go around meddling in people’s lives like that, but I’ll admit in this case, the end result was a good one. It wrecks me to know you took such a huge risk for me, and at the same time it makes me want to strangle someone, because shit, my words were private, and you read them.” I didn’t disagree with a single thing he’d said. “I’m too curious. I really didn’t read it with any kind of ulterior motives. I just wanted to know you so badly. I had such strong feelings for you even then, and I had a moment of weakness. But Jack, the pain in what you wrote wasn’t something I could ignore. I cared about you too much to just let you go on suffering, so I put myself on the line. I thought that if I could reunite you with your family, then it would be worth it, even it meant you’d hate me after. Now I understand that the way I thought was silly, because I can’t handle losing you. You’re in my skin now, Jack. You’re the love of my life, and I need you so much I can’t breathe with it.” A solitary tear streamed down my face, and I cursed myself for crying. I was being an emotional fool, making a show of myself in a dirty alley outside a nightclub. But then Jack was in front of me, his hard body pressing into mine, caging me in warmth as he brought his hand to my cheek and wiped away the tear. “Flower,” he murmured, taking my chin in his hand, his fingers grazing my throat, “if you think I could let you go, then you seriously underestimate the kind of man I am.” His words made me crumble. I was gone. A mess. And when he brought his mouth to mine for an intense kiss full of unspoken words and promises, I almost lost the ability to hold myself upright. Jack’s tongue slid inside my mouth and he let out a feral growl, backing me up into the wall almost painfully. His mouth captured mine, possessed every inch of my insides, causing tingles to radiate down

my spine. I moaned and he swallowed it, gripping my neck in his tight grasp and pressing his hardness into my belly. “I can’t be gentle tonight, Lille,” he said, his voice a carnal warning, and I whimpered. “I don’t want you to be.” “You need to be punished.” “Punish me, then.” Before I could think another thought, his hand was under the hem of my dress, smoothing up my thigh and seeking refuge inside my underwear. His long fingers opened me quickly, rubbing down my slit, finding my entrance, and plunging in without preamble. I gasped at how perfectly he filled me. There were people only feet away from us, but no street lights shone on our unlit corner. We were shrouded in the privacy of darkness. I yelped in surprise when Jack’s mouth came down on my neck, his sharp teeth grazing my skin before biting down hard. My entire body shook against him, my breaths coming out choppy and laboured. “Jack,” I breathed. “I told you I couldn’t be gentle, flower,” he ground out, fingers pumping while his thumb found my clit. The pressure was delicious, perfect, and I knew it wasn’t going to be long before I came. “I want…to…ask you a question.” His tongue licked at the shell of my ear. “Then ask.” “Why do you call me flower?” I didn’t have to look to know he was smiling that glorious smile, the one that lit up his face from the inside out. “Because when I touch you, you fucking bloom,” he answered, and it was right on his final word that I came with a startling intensity. His fingers left me and rubbed along my folds. “I’ll never get tired of the way you feel. This is mine,” he grunted into my ear, but I had no answering words. All I could do was nod. When I finally found my voice, I let out a breathy, “Yours,” and it felt like his entire body vibrated with approval. Just as he was setting my dress back to rights and I was nibbling at his neck, my face pressed into his hot skin, the door to the club opened, and someone stepped out. A moment later I heard Jay call, “Jack, Lille, are you two out here?” It only took a moment for him to spot us. I was still coming down from my orgasm, my body trembling against Jack’s as he held me in his arms. My hands were fisted in his shirt. “There you are,” said Jay, a knowing lilt to his voice. I glanced at him for a moment to see him smirking to high heavens. Jack shook his head at his brother’s cheery demeanour and said, “We’ll be in in a minute.” Jay raised his hands in the air. “Hey, no rush. Matilda’s in the bathroom, powdering her nose or whatever shit women do in bathrooms. She’s been gone a while, so I was wondering if Lille could go check on her, but I see she’s otherwise

indisposed at the moment.” I bristled with embarrassment, self-conscious that Jay could see the “I just came” flush to my cheeks. I drew in a deep breath and ran my hands down my dress. “It’s okay. I can go find her,” I said, and slid out of the cage of Jack’s body. I tried to put one foot in front of the other, which was difficult given my current state, but I just about managed to reach the door. Jay held it open, Jack heavy on my heels, and I stepped back inside to the throbbing beat of the music. Just before heading to the bathroom, I turned around to see Jay reach out and ruffle Jack’s hair, like he was congratulating him. Jack half scowled, half grinned at his brother and gave him a little shove. It made my heart squeeze so see them acting like such siblings, and I hurried on to find Matilda. When I reached the bathroom, she was standing by the sinks, washing her hands. “Lille,” she said when she saw me. “Oh, you look like a woman who just got what she wanted. I take it you and Jack are back on track, then?” I looked away sheepishly before replying, “Yeah, I think we are. I really should thank you for inviting me to dinner. I’ll be honest, when I first realised it was a setup, I kind of wanted to strangle you for a second, but I know now that your heart was in the right place.” She seemed taken aback by my words and gave me a shy smile. “You’re welcome. I’m happy to help.” A moment of quiet elapsed while Matilda reached inside her purse and retrieved some money to give to the bathroom attendant. I stood there, suddenly overcome with the need to embrace her. She must have noticed, because when she looked at me, she asked, “What?” “This is going to sound weird, but can I give you a hug?” She laughed. “Of course you can.” I went to her, wrapping my arms around her small frame. I guessed that after all we’d been through reuniting Jack and Jay, I felt a sense of kinship towards her. “I suppose we’re sort of sisters-in-law now,” she said warmly. “Well, if Jack and I ever marry, it won’t be for a long time, but yeah, I suppose you could call us that.” Matilda grinned as she pulled away. “Hmm, I don’t think you need a ring on your finger with Jack. The way he looks at you says it all. You’re it for him.” “It’s a little early to say that,” I hastened, but she cut me off. The shine in her eyes told me she was tipsy, which explained the soppy sentiment that came out of her next. “Oh, Lille, there’s never too early when true love is involved.” Her words made me grin, because she’d definitely had a few. I let her lead me back out into the club. We didn’t immediately find the brothers, but a song came on that Matilda liked, so I let her lead me onto the dance floor. We danced for a minute or two, the crush of the bodies surrounding us strangely liberating, when I felt familiar arms come around my middle. “I can still smell you on my hand,” Jack growled into my ear, his voice sending

delicious spikes of awareness right to my core. Our bodies moved to the beat, and I looked to see Jay join Matilda, taking her into his arms and doing a cute little dancey hug. “Wait ’til I get you home tonight — you’re gonna fucking ache in the morning.” I twisted in his hold to face him, my breasts pushing into his hard chest as we continued to dance. I trembled, enjoying the friction between our bodies. “I’m already aching for you,” I said, going up on my tiptoes to shout into his ear. His lips tipped up at the edges as he swept my hair over my shoulder and gripped the back of my neck. “What do you want me to do to you, flower?” The loudness of the club, the heat, the sweat, and Jack’s potent masculinity all combined to make me brave, more open with my desires. “I want your tongue between my legs,” I said, and I felt rather than heard the rumble emanate from Jack’s chest. “I want you to make love to me so hard I end up sore.” His other arm squeezed tighter around my waist, and when I met his eyes, they practically blazed with his desire for me. I could feel him hardening again, and it gave me a little thrill to know my words had done that to him, to know there were hundreds of people surrounding us. Jack used his grip on my neck to tilt my head back, and before I knew it, he was sinking his tongue deep inside my mouth, moving it in slow delicious thrusts that made me envision his cock inside me. By the time we came up for air, the DJ was playing a completely different song, and Jay was tapping Jack on the shoulder. “I think it’s time we get out of there,” he shouted as we followed him to the bar, where it was quieter. Jack held my hand in his. “How about we head out to the circus? I want to meet the people you live with.” Jack nodded, and a couple of minutes later we were huddled in a taxi. Jay sat in the front and began doing a card trick for the driver. Matilda scolded him for distracting the man, saying we’d all end up in a crash. I watched in fascination, the side of my body moulded to Jack’s as Jay shuffled a deck of cards in a way I’d never seen before. At least not in real life. It looked like the show had just ended when we arrived at the circus, because there were dozens of cars blocking the road as the audience left the tent and headed back into the city. We got out, the cool night air kissing my skin. Jack led the way to the gazebo, where most everyone would be hanging out after the show. I thought he seemed a little excited to introduce Jay as his brother. Before we got there, though, we stopped in our tracks as a terrified scream rang out somewhere close by. “What was that?” Matilda asked, moving closer to her husband, a wary look on her face. “It sounded like a scream,” I said, skin prickling. This was eerily similar to the night Lola was attacked, and when I met Jack’s gaze, I knew he was thinking the exact same thing. Before any of us could say another word, we heard footsteps pounding hurriedly toward us, and I jumped in fright when Julie emerged around the side of a camper. She was wearing a silk robe that was torn at the shoulder, her stage outfit on underneath, and blood was trickling down from a cut on her

eyebrow. Her eyes were wide and full of terror It struck me as odd that my initial reaction was to go to her, help her, even after all she’d done to me. I let go of Jack’s hand and stopped her by placing my hands on her shoulders. “Julie, what happened?” I asked, frantic. Her chest heaved in panic, but as she took us all in, she seemed to find her voice. “He came after me. He hurt me,” she sobbed before breaking down into tears. Jack stood in front of Julie and spoke firmly. “Listen to me, you need to tell us what happened.” “A man in a mask broke into my camper. He…he attacked me, tried to rape me, but I punched him and managed to get away.” Jay let out a low whistle, and I looked at him to see he had one eyebrow raised as he took in Julie’s state of distress. He was staring at her very closely, but I couldn’t tell what on earth he must have been thinking. “I’m calling the police,” said Matilda, her phone already out of her bag as she held it to her ear. When I looked at Jack, it was almost as if we were having a silent conversation. We both knew what this meant. Julie’s attacker sounded all too similar to Lola’s, which had happened all the way back in Orléans. It was way too much of a coincidence. This was the same guy. And if it was the same guy, the chances were likely that this person was someone in the circus. We all helped lead Julie back to her camper, where, sure enough, the door was wide open and a few bits of furniture lay tossed aside from the scuffle. A few minutes later her sisters arrived, full of concern, and I relayed to them what had happened. Matilda hung up the phone and told us that the police were on their way; we just had to wait for them to get there. Now that her sisters were with Julie, the rest of us weren’t really needed anymore, so we began walking in the direction of Jack’s camper. None of us were much in the mood for continuing with our night, though. “So you’re telling me this happened before,” said Jay, now rolling a dice between his fingers as he walked beside us, Matilda on his left. “Yes,” I answered. “My friend Lola was attacked back in Orléans. And a couple of years ago, a dancer with the circus was raped and killed. All evidence seems to be indicating that the culprit works here.” “Hmm,” Jay murmured, and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Curiouser and curiouser.” “What are you thinking?” Matilda asked, eyeing her husband with interest. Instead of answering her, Jay stopped walking to stand in front of us. We all paused mid-stride, and Jay looked to Jack. “How many people live here? Forty? Fifty?” Jack nodded. “About that, why?” Jay waved aside his question to ask another of his own. “Do you think you could gather them all in the tent tomorrow, say around lunchtime?”

“I could try.” “It has to be everyone. And I mean, everyone — well, except for the kids,” Jay went on, a wicked gleam in his eye and an expression that told me he was forming some kind of plan. “Oh, God, what are you up to now? This better not be anything dodgy,” said Matilda warily before addressing Jack and me. “He’s always coming up with harebrained schemes. He uses all his mentalist voodoo to trick people.” Jay tugged on her wrist and pulled her into him, staring down at her fondly. “Ah, dear Watson, I’m not trying to trick anyone this time.” He paused for dramatic effect, eyeing each of us in turn. “I’m going to catch us a killer.”

NINETEEN

BUT THE MAGICIAN, ALAS, SOLVED THE RIDDLE

s it happened, once Jack and I were finally alone in his camper, he wasn’t rough A with me at all. In fact, he was surprisingly tender. He poured hot wax on my skin,

titillated me with hot matches and metal toys. He traced his hands over every inch of me and brought me to the cusp of euphoria before plunging me into the pleasurable depths of several mind-blowing orgasms. The following morning we woke early, and after we ate breakfast, Jack went to find Marina to try to organise the meeting in the tent for Jay. I still had no idea what he was planning, but he had a reassuring sort of confidence that made me believe whatever he was going to try would work. It was a relief to think that in just a few hours we might have our culprit, and things around the circus could be safe once and for all. I was on my way to the gazebo when I saw Bea wandering between the campers, wheeling along a battered old buggy with a baby doll inside. She looked tired, her hair was dirty, and it seemed like she hadn’t changed her clothes in a while. She hadn’t struck me as the best cared-for child, but I’d never seen her look this bad. I was just about to approach and ask her how she was when her dad came marching out of their camper van, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her inside. It startled me, because Aiden had always struck me as a kind, though slightly laissez faire parent. He must have sensed me watching him, because our eyes met and his were hard. “She’s been misbehaving,” he ground out in explanation, then went inside the camper, slamming the door shut behind him. I didn’t feel right after witnessing that, but I knew it must be hard being a single dad, so I couldn’t exactly judge. Still, he needed to take better care of Bea, at least make sure she was washed and had clean clothes. It made my heart hurt to think of her in her current state. In an effort to lighten my mood, I went and had lunch with Lola and Luan in the gazebo. The two of them seemed to be slowly moving towards coupledom, which was nice to see. The entire circus was rife with talk of the meeting that was to take place after lunch, and once Lola, Luan, and I had finished eating, we all walked together to the Spiegeltent. Inside people sat in various locations around the audience, chatting in earnest

and speculating as to what was going on. I noticed King sitting in a corner on the floor, passed out and looking as dishevelled as always. It upset me a little. Somewhere deep down I thought maybe the painting would make him better somehow. Perhaps he was right after all, perhaps he was too far gone. When I spotted Jack in the front row next to Matilda, my heart did a little leap. I got excited just at the sight of him and made my way towards the front. “Hey,” he greeted me, low and husky. I smiled at him, then gave Matilda a little wave, but before I could take the seat next to him, he pulled me down to sit on his lap. The action gave me tingles, and his gaze fixed on my bare collarbone, where there were some small red marks from the wax he’d dripped on me last night. His attention scorched far more than the wax, and I found myself trembling a little at the memory. Then his thumb brushed over the markings, causing me to let out a tiny gasp. His chest rumbled with a muted growl, and I could tell Matilda was watching us, but she didn’t say anything. I leaned up and had just enough time to lay a peck on Jack’s lips before a hush fell over the gathering. Footsteps echoed around the tent as Jay stepped out onto the stage, all eyes focusing on him. “Greetings,” he said, scanning the space and flashing a big smile. He looked excited and full of energy. Electric. I wondered if this was what he was like during his performances and imagined watching him do a show would be quite the thrill ride. “Before I begin, could I ask you all to come and sit at the front in a circle? There should be enough room in the first two rows for everyone.” Slowly, those gathered began to come forward, and, just like Jay had requested, it seemed like everyone in the entire circus was present. I saw Marina carrying Pierre. I saw Winnie hand in hand with her husband Antonio. I saw Julie and her sisters. Even Pedro was present. All except for the kids. After a minute or two, we were seated. I remained on Jack’s lap, staring at Jay as he continually moved his attention from one person to the next as though taking his time to study everyone individually. Then I saw him nodding as he began to count heads. “Okay,” he said, and glanced at Marina. “If my math skills are correct, we’ve got forty-six people, am I right?” “That’s correct,” Marina answered. “Great.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s get down to business. My name is Jay Fields, and I’m a stage illusionist. I’m proficient in a number of arts, one of which includes cold reading and mentalism. Solving mysteries is something of a hobby of mine. Just think of me as a modern-day Sherlock Holmes, or better yet, consider me your deus ex machina, here to solve the unsolvable. At the very least, I’ll endeavour to put a criminal behind bars. As you’ve all probably heard by now, there have been two separate incidents of violence and attempted rape against women in this circus in the past several weeks, as well as a murder two years ago. All evidence seems to suggest the crimes were carried out by the same person. The evidence also suggests that that person is in the room with us today.” Quiet elapsed, and a tension filled the space. Jack’s arms tightened around me,

and I wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking. That I could have fallen victim to this sicko if I had been in our room that night instead of Lola. Jay paused for a moment to let everyone absorb the information, and there were a couple of grumblings amongst the gathering. I heard Pedro swear and ask how Jay, an outsider, thought he could come in and begin pointing fingers at people. His argument made me wonder, and not for the first time, if he was the man we were looking for. His behaviour in the past certainly indicated a slight deviancy, but did that mean he had the ability to rape and kill? I wasn’t quite sure. In the end Marina stood, her voice booming loud around the tent. “Now, you all need to listen up and listen good. I agreed to have Mr Fields here today, and so long as you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about. So please, can you all shut up complaining and let the man get on with his job?” Her reprimanding tone worked to hush the grumblings, and Jay sent her a look of gratitude before giving her a dashing little bow. “Thank you, Marina.” She dipped her head to accept his thanks, and then Jay began to pace. “Now, I’m going to go around the room and ask each one of you a set of three questions. These questions will consist of the following: What is your name? Where were you born? And what is the name of the street you grew up on? Of these three questions, I want you to give me two correct answers and one lie. You can lie on any one of the questions you wish, but do not, under any circumstances, tell me which one. Everybody got it?” Once Jay’s instructions were understood by all, he walked to the far right of the room and fired off his three questions. The first person to be asked was the stuntman, Raphael. “What is your name?” said Jay. “Raphael Suarez.” “Where were you born?” “Brazil.” “What is the name of the street you grew up on?” “Rua Santa Teresa.” I noticed that after each question was answered, Jay took a moment to stare at his interviewee. When he was done with Raphael, he moved on to the man sitting next to him. It was a long and tedious process, truth be told. Jack and I were sitting on the opposite end from where Jay had started, so it took about a half hour for him to reach us. He smiled at me warmly and asked me the questions. I decided to lie on the second one. I knew from my accent that my lie was probably obvious, but hey, just because I sounded Irish didn’t mean I was born in Ireland. “What’s your name?” “Lille Baker.” “Where were you born?” “Argentina.” Jay give me a little grin before asking the final question. “And what is the name of the street you grew up on?”

“Fitzgerald Street.” “Thank you, darlin.” The way he spoke to me gave me a warm feeling in my tummy, like he held an affection for me already, and he barely knew me. He only knew that I was in love with his brother, and that seemed to be good enough for him. He moved on to Jack next, and soon he was done asking everyone the same three questions. I had no idea what he was up to, but the glint in his eye told me he had a plan. “Have I gotten everyone?” Jay asked, and there were a number of yeses from the gathering before a noise sounded from the back of the room. I twisted in Jack’s lap to see King had knocked over a chair while trying to stand up. “Ah, not everyone, I see,” said Jay as he hopped off the stage and strode towards King, who glowered at him and rubbed his temples like he was suffering from a headache. “Hey, there,” said Jay, eyeing King closely. Jack and I shared a look. We both knew that King was a wildcard, and there was a good chance he’d say something rude or insulting. “What do you want?” King griped, and tried to move past him, but Jay did a suave little sidestep. “I want to ask you some questions. Will you play ball?” “Piss off.” Jay chuckled and took another step closer to King. I watched him as he tilted his head, taking a moment to study Marina’s brother, and he seemed intrigued. “I bet you could tell me some stories,” Jay observed almost absently. “I need a smoke,” King grumbled, and moved to walk by Jay again. He was clearly growing impatient. “I’ll tell you what. You come sit up the front, let me ask you some questions, and I’ll buy all the cigs and booze you could wish for.” King eyed him suspiciously, then finally nodded his agreement. “You better not be lying.” “Cross my heart,” said Jay, swiping his finger over the left side of his chest in an “X” shape before gesturing for King to go sit up at the front. King stumbled by him and took the seat on the other side of Matilda, who looked at him sadly when she saw how uncared for he was. Jay came to stand before him. “I’m going to ask you three questions. I want you to answer two correctly and lie on one of them. Got it?” “Yeah, yeah, two true, one false. I’m a drunk not an idiot.” “No, I imagine you’re far from it,” said Jay, his brows drawing together in what looked like concern. “So, the first question, what’s your name?” King coughed his pained cough and answered, “King. Oliver King.” “Where were you born?” “London.” “And what is the name of the street you grew up on?” King seemed pained as he considered his final answer. “Molesworth Street.” I wasn’t quite sure why, but I felt like his third answer was the lie.

“Thank you, sir,” said Jay before turning to address the gathering again. “Okay, so this is where things start to speed up. Now I’m going to ask you all one question. I don’t want you to lie here — I want you to tell the truth. The answer will be a simple yes or no. Once you’ve answered, I’ll either tell you to move to the back of the tent or to stay where you are. I repeat, I do not want you to lie to me.” He began to the right again with Raphael, shooting off his question. “Did you attack Julie Young last night?” Raphael seemed appalled by the very idea and answered immediately. “No.” “Thank you,” said Jay. “You can go to the back of the tent.” Raphael rose and walked down the aisle before sitting in the very back row, folding his arms as he lowered himself into a seat. Jay moved on to the next person and then the next, asking everybody the same question in rapid-fire succession. Sometimes, if he wasn’t happy with the answer, he asked twice. He even asked Julie herself. She furrowed her brow at him. “How on earth can I attack myself?” she complained. “Just answer the question, darlin.” “No, I didn’t fucking attack myself,” she deadpanned. “Okay, good,” said Jay, raising a hand. “Stay where you are for now.” In the end, both Jack and I were at the back of the tent with almost everyone else. He ran his hands soothingly up and down my arms, which worked to rid some of my restlessness. I wished Jay would speed things up and discover the culprit already. The only people left at the front were Julie, Pedro, King, Luan, Aiden, and Antonio. Jay asked all of them to stand in a circle around him. He paced a moment as they watched, and then began asking them all the same question again, though this time it was phrased slightly differently. “Are you the attacker?” he asked Julie. “No.” “Are you the attacker?” This time, Pedro. “No.” “Are you the attacker?” Now it was Luan’s turn. “No.” Jay continued asking his question, and again he asked some of them twice, even three times. Each time every one of them answered no, and they all seemed to be growing irritated. Pedro swore in Portuguese, while Luan’s cheeks grew red and Julie pulled a strop. “This is a joke,” she griped, and stared daggers at Jay. “Seriously, do you even know what you’re doing?” Jay put his finger to his lips to hush her, and quiet descended. He bowed his head for a moment, as though trying to think, then whipped it up and pointed to Antonio and Pedro. “You both can go join the others at the back.” There was a light in his eyes now as he studied his final four suspects, and a chill came over me, because something told me Jay had finally decided who the guilty party was. Jack must have seen me shiver, because he pulled me close and wrapped both his arms around my

shoulders. I sank into his hard, sturdy frame, seeking comfort as I listened to Jay speak. “So, I should probably explain my method here. Otherwise, I can hardly go pointing fingers, now, can I? I asked everyone the same three questions, asking for two truths and one falsehood. This was to get your baselines. Most everybody has a tell when they lie. Therefore, if you were telling me two truths and one lie, the odd reaction out is the lie – the tell. You,” he began, and pointed to Luan, “are typical. You look to the left when you lie. You’re a very reliable liar. You look to the left every time. This transparency indicates that you’re probably quite an honest person. However, you’re also nervous under interrogation, which made you slightly more difficult to read when I asked the final two questions.” Jay paused and took a breath, while I felt like I was holding mine. “Luckily for you, though, you aren’t the one I’m looking for today. You can go to the back with the others.” Luan seemed beside himself with relief as he ran a hand down his face and walked to the back. Lola immediately pulled him into her arms when he reached her and gave him a long hug. This time Jay brought his attention to Julie. “Now you, my dear, are an interesting one. When you lie, you show almost no tell at all. But I have an eye for detail, and I did notice that you press your lips together ever so slightly when you’re telling a fib. It’s practically imperceptible, but what can I say? I have a talent for this.” “For crying out loud, will you just get to the point already,” Julie complained, arms folded in a defensive posture. “You’re not the attacker,” Jay answered her curtly. “Go to the back.” Julie shot Jay a sharp look that was all, I told you so, then strutted her way over to stand with the rest of us. I locked eyes with Matilda, and she gave me a tiny smile before whispering, “He’s scary good at this, isn’t he?” I nodded, then only realised Marina was standing behind us when she added, “Your husband has a flair for the dramatic. I wonder if I could tempt him to come and join the circus.” Matilda smiled at her, shrugged, then returned her attention to the stage, as did I. King and Aiden were the only two men left standing, and a feeling of dread claimed my belly as I remembered Aiden’s behaviour with Bea earlier this morning. He’d been rough and abrupt, and he clearly hadn’t been taking proper care of his little girl. But did that make him a killer? Certainly not. And then there was King. Such a mystery. Such an enigma. I’d heard so much about what a success he’d been once upon a time. Surely, to be so successful and then end up a homeless drunk meant something really bad must have happened to him. Or maybe he was the one who did the bad thing. Maybe he was the killer. I hated to admit that in an odd way I’d grown fond of King, and I didn’t want it to be him. At same time, I didn’t want it to be Aiden, either, because that would mean Bea would be left without a parent. God, this was awful. Jay’s attention rested on King for a moment before moving

to Aiden, then went back to King. “Your tell, Mr King, is that you don’t have one. In fact, you really don’t care at all if I know whether you’re lying or telling the truth. Perhaps you’ve lied about far worse things than murder and rape in the past. But then, what’s worse than that? No, I think you’re an example of apathetic nihilism at its finest, and I would love to know the reason as to why. I’m still not even sure if you misled me at all on those first three questions. And this is where the rub lies, because if you don’t have a tell, I can’t determine whether or not you’re lying.” Jay went silent, eyes flicking back and forth between the two men as he stopped pacing and stood in front of them, feet shoulder width apart and arms folded. “Fortunately for you,” Jay said while pointing a finger at King before swiping it to Aiden. “Aiden here has quite a spectacular tell. It’s like a big, angry, throbbing vein that pulses in the forehead when a person is angry. Yes, when Aiden lies, he moves his jaw and his left eyebrow shoots right up to heaven. Quite frankly, it’s glorious.” Jay gestured wildly with his hands. “A mentalist’s wet dream, because I barely have to look at you to know you’re lying. You are as transparently deceptive as Luan is transparently honest. And when I asked if you attacked Julie, what happened?” Aiden was breathing furiously, his eyes narrowed to slits as he adopted the posture of a man being branded with a guilty stamp. Emotion clutched at me, not because I cared about the man, but because I cared about Bea, and I had no idea what was going to happen to her now. “You worked your jaw and raised your eyebrow,” Jay finished. Aiden stomped forward and pushed at Jay, almost knocking him over. “You’ve got it wrong! You don’t know anything!” “I know that you did it,” said Jay confidently, dusting himself off. He didn’t appear at all ruffled that Aiden had hit him. And when Aiden looked like he was about to flee, several stocky men who worked as labourers for the circus came forward and blocked his path. He had nowhere to run. “I also know,” Jay began, pronouncing his words loudly and steadily so that everybody could hear, “that you didn’t act alone.” Now there were several shocked and surprised gasps from the crowd. I moved closer into the warmth of Jack’s body, spooked. No one else in the world made me feel safe the way he did. And what did Jay mean, Aiden hadn’t acted alone? It wasn’t long before I found out. “Well, at least you didn’t plan the act alone. I don’t mean to insult you, but you don’t possess the intelligence, the flair, to cover up a killing, Aiden. Yes, you have the strength and indeed the fucked-up psychology to do it physically, but you don’t have the shrewd mental acumen for a cover-up.” A hush came over the gathering, and a chill ran down my spine. I caught movement to my left and saw Julie hurrying through the crowd. In an instant, I recognised that she was trying to slip away before anyone saw. A moment later, Jay began walking towards us, calling out, “Oh, Miss Young, can I have a word?” It was almost like a spotlight had landed on her, because she stopped dead in her

tracks, and all forty-five pairs of eyes went to the beautiful red-headed gymnast. “What do you want?” she hissed, low and furious as she stared at the floor, refusing to meet Jay’s gaze. Jay walked through the gathering, and people parted to let him by. A moment later, he was right in front of Julie. He reached out and caught her chin, tilting it up to make her look at him. She reeled away from his touch, her hatred clear as day in her bright blue eyes. “When I told you that you’re not the attacker, it was the truth. However, when I told you that you have a tell, I lied. In fact, you have two. You purse your lips when you’re telling an outright lie, but you touch your index finger to your thumb when you’re being deceptive. And when I asked you if you were the attacker, every time your body shouted your deceit. You were involved in Aiden’s crime from the start.” “I wasn’t,” Julie hissed, but there was a waver in her voice, a solitary tear running down her face as she looked to those around her for support. She found none. Not even from her sisters, who looked positively broken at what they were hearing. “He’s lying! You all have to believe me. We don’t even know this guy. He could be anyone.” “Oh, please,” Lola cut in as she moved through the crowd, hand in hand with Luan. “Jay Fields is fucking famous. We all know exactly who he is. He’s won awards, for Chrissakes. Now, what I want to know is how the hell you’re involved in all this.” Anger slowly seeped into her voice as she pointed to Aiden. “That man almost raped me, Julie, and I want to know what exactly you had to do with it.” “I had absolutely nothing to do with it,” Julie replied vehemently. “This thing about tells is all bullshit. The guy is trying to fuck with our heads. Aiden is the guilty one, plain and simple. Other than almost becoming one of his victims, this has nothing to do with me.” “You lying little tramp,” Aiden fumed, lunging forward as three or four men held him in place. “She’s been blackmailing me for years! Ever since she caught me burying Vera’s body, she’s been holding me hostage, forcing me to do her bidding or else she’d go to the police. I went to Lola’s room that night because Julie told me to. Lola had slighted her in front of everyone, and Julie wanted payback. And since you’ve all been hating her ever since she attacked Lille, she made me rough her up so that you’d all see her as a victim and not the cold bitch that she really is.” “Shut the hell up, Aiden. Nobody believes you,” Julie spat at him. Her face was red with fury, her hands balled into fists. Her sister Molly let out a pained cry before Mary took her into her arms. They were both shattered at what they were hearing and obviously had no clue what their sister was capable of. I couldn’t say the same myself. Ever since the night I heard her say those cruel things to King in the gazebo, I knew her pretty face masked a rotten core. And then after she attacked me with her own two hands, I was pretty certain she was mad. I’d been so wrapped up in watching everything unfold that I forgot Jack standing behind me. His hold on my shoulders had tightened further, almost to the point of pain. I twisted around and glanced up at him, taking in his agonised, contorted features. It was difficult for him to hear all this, I could tell. He’d been with Julie

sexually with no clue of her true nature. “Hey,” I whispered. “Stop that. There was no way you could’ve known.” “I should have, though,” he ground out. “I should have sensed something.” Julie had begun yelling and screaming like a crazy woman, proclaiming her innocence, but there didn’t seem to be a single person present who believed her. She’d done too much to prove that she was capable of bad things, and now it was all coming back to haunt her. I’d like to say I felt vindicated, but I didn’t. Yes, I was angry that she very well could have killed me when she hit me over the head that time, but mostly I just felt sad that any of this had happened in the first place. A man and two women held in her in place as Marina pulled out her phone to call the police. Jack led me over to a chair to sit, rubbing my back soothingly even though he was the one who needed soothing. I just wanted to take him back to the camper and lie on his bed and hold him. Talk for hours. Make love. Try to forget the bad things both Aiden and Julie had done. It wasn’t long before the police arrived, and Italian police were quite impressive to see, all kitted out in their uniforms, weapons strapped to their bodies. Aiden and Julie were handcuffed and led away, and when Bea came looking for her dad, Winnie took her back to her camper for the night. Nobody knew what was going to happen to the little girl, and my heart hurt for her. Slowly, the gathering started to disperse. There was an air of relief around the circus to know it was all over, but at the same time an air of melancholy. I stood with Matilda and Jack as Jay approached us. He didn’t look smug or self-satisfied that he’d caught the culprits; he just seemed relaxed, happy that he’d been able to help. He approached Matilda and planted a kiss on the top of her head before murmuring something in her ear. Then he turned and made his way to the corner of the tent where King was sitting and called, “Now, Mr King, just like the song, I believe I owe you a supply of cigarettes and alcohol.” King perked up at his words as Jay threw his arm around the man’s shoulder, not once batting an eyelid at his dirty, unkempt appearance, and led him out of the tent. IT WASN’T until the following day that we heard news of Aiden and Julie. Since all three crimes had been committed in different geographic locations, the Italian police were working in conjunction with both the French and British authorities. Lola had always been adamant she didn’t want the police involved, but it was all out of her hands now. Besides, it looked like she’d be safe from her husband now that she had Luan by her side. Every time I saw them together it was clear that he was smitten. Aiden’s camper was searched top to bottom, but only one piece of evidence was found. There was an old blouse with blood on it tucked behind a ceiling panel, and Marina identified it as belonging to Vera. They still needed to test the blood and match the DNA, but all signs were pointing towards Aiden going to prison for a long

time. It made me shiver right down to my toes to think of him keeping the blouse as some kind of trophy. And then there was Julie. Aiden was clearly feeling spiteful and didn’t want to go down alone, because he gave testimony that Julie had known about his crimes all along, had even incited some of them. It was suspected that there were more cases than those that took place in the circus, not least of which was the fact that Bea’s mother had disappeared years ago and was never seen again. Lots of people were now beginning to think that she was another of Aiden’s victims. And then there was Bea, poor, sweet, lovely little Bea. Nobody was quite sure what was going to happen to her yet, but Winnie and Antonio had taken her under their wing for now. I even overheard the couple quietly discussing the possibility of adopting her. It warmed my heart and I hoped that they would, because they were good people and Bea deserved to have parents who wanted to look after her. I was feeling pretty drained myself, and spent most of the morning in bed with Jack. So much had happened, and we talked a lot about Jay and Matilda, and how having them in our lives was going to change things for the better. Jay had already invited both of us to come and stay in Vegas for the month when the circus took a break at the end of the season. Needless to say, my excitement was hitting extreme levels at the very idea. After lunch, Jack went to help the men take down the tent before we moved on the next day. I situated myself outside his camper, my easel set up and a painting in front of me that was almost complete. It was the picture of Jack on stage, and I was using a number of different shades of orange and yellow to get the flames that surrounded him to look just right. I planned on giving it to him soon as a present, since he’d asked if he could have it previously. “You look…sweaty,” Jack said, breaking me out of my trance. I’d been so concentrated on the painting that I hadn’t noticed him approach. He stood in front of me, so he couldn’t see the painting, which was good because I wanted it to be a surprise. Self-consciously, I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, at the same time feeling a tendril of arousal spike through me at his words. I happened to know that he quite liked me sweaty. “Stay exactly where you are,” I warned him. “Don’t come any closer. I’m trying to finish my painting of you, and I want to give it to you as a present when it’s done.” He raised a quizzical brow and brought a bottle of water to his mouth, knocking back a gulp. I might have been sweaty, but he was, too. In fact, the way his wellworn grey T-shirt stuck to his torso was a little mesmerising. “Why does that mean I can’t see it?” “Because I want it to be a surprise.” The look in his eye right then told me he thought I was being nutty, but he rolled with it. “Okay. Well, I suppose I should give you a gift, too, if you’re giving me one.”

I grinned at this. “Yes, you should. And it should be something you’ve made yourself, the same as my painting.” He seemed stumped at this. “Like what?” “That’s not for me to decide. You need to think of something.” He went silent for a long moment. I stroked my paintbrush over the final patch of orange, and my heart filled. I was done. The painting was finished. I wanted it to dry first before I gave it to him, though. He was still watching me, and when he saw he had my attention, he crooked his finger at me. “Come here,” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on the sweat dripping down my neck. I hadn’t checked the temperatures today, but I knew it felt a good deal hotter than usual. Why else would I be perspiring like mad? And since any kind of heat was such a big turn-on for Jack, I could practically sense his arousal like a physical thing. Swallowing, I rose from my seat and walked to him. He caught my wrist in his hand and pulled me in close, then tilted my neck before capturing my mouth with his. I swear, I wanted to make a moulding of his tongue someday and set it on my mantel, because it was a thing of pure beauty. I loved how it licked at me, all silky and wet. I loved the taste of him. It was my favourite taste of all. His passion grew along with his breathing, and before I knew it, he was crowding me inside the camper, herding me like a predator intent on his prey. He slammed the door shut. Then he twirled me around and pressed me chest first into the wall, his thick, hard cock grinding against my backside. His hands moved swiftly while his breaths filled my ears, and before I knew it, my skirt was shoved up, my knickers were down, and he was pulling himself out of his pants. Seconds later he was inside me, and I gasped in shock at how quickly and deeply he managed to fill me. His mouth went to my neck, licking and sucking as his hips thrust in and out, hard and fast. I loved how rough he was, loved how he couldn’t even wait long enough to get me into his bed, he had to take me right here in the lounge, standing up against the wall. Anybody could have walked by and seen us, but right then neither of us cared. In that moment, all we knew were our bodies, all we felt was our mutual pleasure. He fisted my hair, yanking down on it and twisting my neck so I’d turn to him. He captured my mouth again, giving me his tongue a second time, the motion a mirror to his fucking. I felt invaded, possessed, and as we both raced toward orgasm, I broke the kiss to gasp a fervent declaration. “I love you, Jack McCabe. I love you so much.” He smiled, and for a moment I was dazzled by his handsome expression, so full of affection, as he continued to hold my hair like a rein and move his hips in a steady rhythm. “I love you too, flower. Only you. Always.” When I collapsed against the wall, shivering as I came, Jack followed, and I felt him fill me until he was spent. He picked me up in his arms and carried to his bedroom, our bedroom, where I discovered the fun was not over yet. And man, did

Jack McCabe like to play. Hours later, I was vaguely aware of him leaving the bed and going into the lounge, but I was too exhausted to wake up. I napped for another hour, and when I woke, it was dark outside. I pulled on some clothes and left the room to find Jack sitting watching television and eating a bowl of noodles. I stepped outside, the night air a balm to the sweltering heat of the day, and collected the finished painting that I’d all but abandoned earlier in order to fulfil the needs of my hussy libido. Jack gave me an indulgent, sexy smile when I carried it in and set it in front of him on the sofa. “I wasn’t going to give this to you until tomorrow, but you outdid yourself and earned some bonus points,” I told him sassily. “So here’s your present.” Finished eating, he set the bowl aside and lifted the painting onto his lap. His eyes soaked it in, and I crossed my fingers, hoping that he liked it. Several agonising moments passed before he met my gaze, and a smile grew wide across his face. It was the biggest smile I’d ever seen on him; it lit up his features, made him seem so much lighter than the man I met all those weeks ago. The one who never trusted and never let anybody in. “It’s a masterpiece,” he said finally. “I love how you see me. It makes me feel like I can be the man in the painting.” “You are the man in the painting, Jack.” He stood and carried the canvas to the kitchen table, set it down, and then pulled me over to the couch. He wrapped his arms tight around me and rested his head on my shoulder. “I’m only that man because you made me so,” he whispered, and I shivered. Emotion clutched at my throat, and I found it difficult to form words. He might have thought that I’d made him better, but it went both ways, because he’d made me better, too. He’d shown me that not everybody can be trusted, dulled some of the shine from my eyes, only to make my vision that much clearer. He’d also taught me that, though I can’t trust everyone, I can trust him, and so long as it was within his power, he would never, ever let me down. “I made you a gift, too, while you slept,” he said, breaking me from my thoughts and surprising me. I hadn’t actually expected him to make me anything. Reaching over to the window ledge, he picked up a folded piece of paper and slid it into my hands. I stared down at it. “What’s this?” I breathed, suddenly finding that my heart was beating double. “It’s our story,” Jack answered. “I can’t paint or create much of anything, and really, I’ll never be a writer, but I love words, love learning all the ones I missed out on in the past. So I used my words and wrote you a story.” He paused and laughed self-deprecatingly. “I even used the dictionary to make sure I got all the spellings right.” I wasn’t sure what it was about that last bit, but the fact he’d wanted to get the spellings right made me even more emotional. He was going to turn me into a

sobbing mess before the night was through. Slowly, I unfolded the paper and read the words, my lungs burning, my heart aching with their raw, simple, honest beauty. I could see our entire journey laid out before me, his words creating the images in my mind, and I knew without a doubt that I was going to paint his words in a mural, keep them forever so I’d never forget a single one.

THE STORY OF JACK AND LILLE

Jack and Lille met on a hill They crossed a sea of water A king fell down who wore no crown And Lille’s heart surely did falter A tattoo Lille got but Jack did not And Jack’s brother was in the paper Under the sun Jack watched Lille paint Under the stars they came together Lille lost her way An attack led them astray In secret Lille stole Jack’s letter With courage Jack threw his mask away forever Julie showed Lille her true colours A storm fell over the lovers A picture lost was then found A discovery made Lille’s heart pound And two bleeding souls were reunited Mystery came knocking once more But the magician, alas, solved the riddle Here lies the story of Jack and Lille Two hearts so big yet so little.

EPILOGUE LAS VEGAS, NEVADA FOUR MONTHS LATER

out my window and couldn’t help smiling at the billboard. I could hardly I stared believe Jay had even managed to get the thing up there on such short notice.

The picture displayed the illusionist wearing a sleek black suit that Matilda had designed. The camera had managed to catch him mid card shuffle, and almost the entire deck was in the air as his hands waited outspread to catch them. Then, off to the side and shrouded in a sort of smoky mystery, was Jack’s silhouette as he blew a flame from his mouth. Beneath the picture was a large bold font that read: FIRE & LIGHT: Jay Fields & Jack McCabe together for a one-night-only special performance!! I wasn’t sure why they were even bothering to advertise. As soon as Jay announced to his fans that he’d be doing a special show with his long-lost brother, who just so happened to be a dangerously sexy fire breather/ knife thrower, the tickets had sold like hot cakes. The circus’ month-long break had officially begun, and, as I’d hoped, both Jack and I were spending the time in Las Vegas with Jay and Matilda. Jay’s contract was almost up, and when the circus started the new season, he was going to come and perform for a couple of months with us. Marina was over the moon to have him on board, especially since The Ladies of the Sky were now on a hiatus until they could find someone to replace Julie. I had to admit that though I loved the circus and missed everybody dearly (well, except for Pedro), it was nice to experience a bit of luxury for a while. My heart had almost broken from adorability overload (yes, adorability is a word) when we first arrived at the swanky five-star hotel and Jack looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. For years he’d lived in a camper van, travelling from one location to the next, so, needless to say, the luxury had him more than a little perplexed. I was halfway through unpacking when I saw him standing in the corner of our suite, staring at the space like the cutest uncomfortable manly man I’d ever seen. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I sat down on an armchair, sinking into its heavenly softness. Jack moved his mouth and glanced around before looking at me. “This place is just…I’m not used to this.” His gaze wandered to the gigantic bed, eyeing it like he

was facing a bear on the Rocky Mountains and trying to figure out how it would react to movement. “The bed isn’t going to bite you if you sit down on it, you know,” I teased, soliciting a playful scowl from him. “I know that.” “Well then, sit on it. Give it a go.” “I think I’ll just go use the bathroom first,” he said, evading the issue and walking around the bed. “Oh, no you don’t,” I replied, standing and going over to grab his hand. “You, Jack McCabe, are going to face your fear of luxury beds, and the best way to do that is to have a mattress jumping party.” “Mattress jumping parties aren’t a thing.” “I’m making them a thing.” Yanking his arm, I pulled him over, slid off my shoes and stepped onto the bed. He looked at me like I was a mad woman when I began to jump up and down. “Come on,” I said, urging him to join me. “I’m not sure it can handle my weight.” “Pfft, of course it can. This thing probably cost thousands.” He let out a sigh and finally climbed on, discarding his shoes first. I took his hands in mine and stared him in the eye like this was dead serious business. “Okay, are you ready?” His expression softened as he began to see the funny side. “As I’ll ever be.” “Good. One, two, three, go!” I said and then began to jump up and down again, this time with Jack doing it alongside me. We laughed like two kids and dropped onto the mattress when we started to hear a creak. The bed might have cost thousands, but it could only endure so much. Jack rolled us so that he was on top of me, brushing my hair away from my face and cupping my cheeks in his hands. A low, masculine laugh rumbled out of his chest as he muttered, “God, I fucking love you.” The next thing I knew he was laying his mouth on me and giving me a deep, tongue laden kiss that melted my bones. It was a long time before either one of us came up for air. “Right,” I began breathlessly, my body fizzling with arousal. “I think a bath is next on the agenda.” One of Jack’s eyebrows rose. “I won’t argue with that. Stay where you are. I’ll get it ready.” I lay there, admiring his spectacular bottom as he went inside the bathroom. A moment later I heard him turn on the water. It wasn’t long before he returned, leading me inside and stripping off all of my clothes. Two candles had been lit and sat perched on the edge of the tub at either corner. Stepping in, I luxuriated in the heat of the water for a moment before Jack joined me, and thankfully the tub was big enough for the both of us. He sat at the opposite end and took my foot into his hands, massaging it before picking up the candle and dripping a little hot wax onto my ankle. A low moan escaped me and I couldn’t help laughing softly. “Oh, how quickly he takes to the luxury,” I teased.

His dark eyes fixated on the wax marking my skin before rising to meet mine. “I only take to it because you’re in it.” His words were deep, carnal, and before I knew it I was being treated to the best bath I’d ever experienced. FAST FORWARD TWO and a half weeks and I was sitting in the front row of the theatre wearing a stunning black dress, my hair up in a fancy chignon. Matilda sat beside me, looking equally glamorous. The two of us had grown close quite quickly, and aside from Lola, I could probably count her as my best friend. Jack and Jay’s show was about to start and I was on pins and needles with excitement waiting to see what they had come up with. They’d both been very secretive as they planned it out, not wanting me or Matilda to see a thing until the night of the big show. The venue was completely packed out and Matilda squeezed my hand as the house lights went down and a song began to play. I recognised it as “Beautiful Pain” by Eminem and Sia. The entire place was dark for a beat before a spotlight shone on one corner of the stage, illuminating Jay in his black suit. He stood right on the edge, looking down, as though perched on the precipice of a skyscraper. The lyrics took hold. There was something stark and completely striking about the visual. The moment Sia’s voice began to sing about flames, real fire exploded in the background. It appeared to come out of nowhere, but then the lights shone on Jack and the audience erupted into cheers. He wore a sleeveless top and jeans as he twisted and turned his body, blowing a symphony of flames to the beat of the music. He barely looked human. In that moment he was transformed into an otherworldly being and I had goose bumps covering every inch of my skin. Sia sang about finding a light and Jay came to life, his hands moving around his body. As he opened his palms, a blinding white light shone out. He continuously opened and closed them, the light erupting and disappearing with flashing intensity. Then he wasn’t just controlling the light, he was throwing a beam of it clear across the stage where it seemingly bounced off the wall and flew right back into his hand. Noises of wonder and awe came from those around me. The next time he threw the light, though, he couldn’t catch it, and he began to chase it. It constantly bounced around him, dancing beautifully, evading his reach. I was stunned by the beauty of their act, a mix of performance art and illusion. The lyrics pulsed in my ears; I felt like my emotions were being clutched in someone’s fist, because there was so much in the song that symbolised the brothers’ history. Standing in flames. Worlds torn in half. Burning away yesterday. Greeting a new day. Finding light after darkness. My attention returned to Jack. He blew another flame, this one bigger than any

of the others, but instead of dying out it turned to ash that slowly trickled to the floor. I had no idea how Jay had managed to orchestrate all this, but it was absolutely incredible to watch. I heard something in the lyrics about a thunderstorm right before the sound of thunder rang out and I swear I felt the room shake. I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I looked around and saw everyone else was feeling it too. Then, when a tornado was mentioned a deck of cards came flying out of Jay’s back pocket, swirling through the air before scattering on the floor. The spotlight landed on Jack again as he tilted his head back, took in a deep breath, then blew out, and I swear to God, real live smoke emerged in misty grey tendrils. I saw his chest go still, his breathing cease, and the smoke paused in mid-air. Several people behind me gasped. A second later Jack resumed breathing and the smoke started to move again, drifting out of his mouth and slowly fading away. Next Jay walked towards Jack as he pulled a packet of matches from his pocket, removing one and flicking it to Jack. Jack threw his hand up and deftly caught the match in his closed fist. When he opened it a gigantic flame erupted, eliciting a huge round of applause. The song was coming to an end when smoke began to rise from the ground up, shrouding the stage in mystery. Lifting a torch to his mouth, Jack blew one final flame, and out of the fire flew Jay’s two white doves. I swear I was almost deafened by the applause that followed. Jay caught his birds in each hand and took a bow while Jack did the same. The audience broke into cheering, hooting and clapping, and then came the big finish. Jay gestured to the ceiling and we all looked up. My heart got caught in my throat when I saw the tiny little paper hot air balloons drifting down from up high. One landed right in my lap and I marvelled at it before looking to Jack. He was staring directly at me, and in that moment I knew he’d put this part into the act just for me. I noticed something shiny inside the carriage of the balloon, and reached inside to find a small gold ring. Holding it in my hand, I noted that it twisted in a loop, forming the infinity symbol. Jack held his hand over his heart, gazing down at me, and I knew he’d put the ring in there specifically so that I’d find it. I had a feeling I knew what it meant, too. Infinity symbolised forever, and by giving me the ring Jack was telling me that’s what he wanted for us. Swallowing my emotions, and believe me I was feeling a lot of them right then, I endeavoured to blink back the tears and slid the ring onto my finger. When Jack saw I was wearing it, his eyes blazed fiercely and I mouthed a thank you at him, the sound of my voice lost amid the cheers. Time seemed to move in fast forward after that. The rest of the show played out, and before I knew it I was sitting backstage with Matilda, Jay and Jack enjoying some after show drinks. Jack kept my hand in his, smoothing his fingers over the ring, his eyes fixed on it like it gave him great pleasure to see me wearing it. “You like it?” he murmured in my ear while Jay talked loudly about how well the show had gone. “I don’t just like it, I love it,” I answered, turning my face and running my nose

along the side of his jaw. “I’ll wear it always.” Jack’s chest rumbled low with his approval. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed performing here in Vegas but I have to admit, I can’t fucking wait for a change of scenery. I have so many ideas for when we go on the road with the circus,” said Jay, pulling our attention away from one another. “You have more ideas than you know what to do with,” Matilda said to him affectionately and he gave her a wink before knocking back a gulp of his beer. “I’m also looking forward to spending more time with King. He’s a real intriguing one,” Jay went on and Jack nodded. I personally couldn’t disagree, and I was a little jealous that Jay had managed to get close to Marina’s brother so quickly. It had taken weeks for him to warm up to me. Well, I guessed buying an alcoholic a load of booze would certainly endear you to him. Jay had all the best tactics. A few of the stage crew came to join us then, and we sat socialising for another hour or two. I smiled and made chit chat, but at the same time my mind remained on King. I wondered what he would do for the next month. Would Marina let him stay with her, or would he be out on the streets, sleeping rough and drinking himself into a stupor? I worried that one of these days he was going to kill himself with it, and I didn’t want him to die. Despite all appearances to the contrary, there was something about him that struck me as incredibly vital, and deep inside I felt like he still had so much more to give to the world, or at least to somebody. I wanted to help him, but I had no idea where to begin…

THE NEXT MORNING I sat in the lounge of our suite, mindlessly browsing the internet as I tried to figure out a plan. First of all, I needed to find out who he really was and where he came from. I knew he was Marina’s half-brother and that he’d once lived a very different life, but that didn’t really tell me anything of worth. So I turned my attention back to my newly purchased secondhand laptop and started my quest where most modern-day investigations begin. Bringing up the page, I levelled my curser on the little white box and typed two words into Google. Oliver King. END.

CONTINUE the journey with the next book in the Hearts series King of Hearts. Welcome to the City, London’s most prestigious square mile, where finance reigns and Oliver King is a rising prince. I used to rule the world. There might be wolves on Wall Street, but there were crocodiles in Canary Wharf. Some of us craved money. Some of us craved power.

I liked money, and power had its advantages, but what I really wanted was to excel, to surpass the men who came before me. I never cared much for love and romance until I met Alexis. I could feel it the very moment she walked into the interview, with her outspoken charm and vivacious personality. She cast all the others in shadow, made me laugh when life held no humour. Our friendship should have remained professional, but it wasn’t long before the lines started to blur. You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? Well, I never foresaw where my plans would lead, and only in my darkest hour did I finally see the light… You can have all the money and prestige in the world and still be the poorest man alive. And love, well, I hate to use a tired old cliché, but love can be the thing that truly sets you free.

KING OF HEARTS

Copyright © 2015 L.H. Cosway All rights reserved. Cover pictures taken from Shutterstock.com. Cover design by RBA Designs. Editing by Indie Author Services. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

PLAYLIST

Discover the author’s playlist for King of Hearts! Part One Part Two

Marie you're the wild blue sky And men do foolish things You turn kings into beggars And beggars into kings — “ALL THE WORLD IS GREEN” BY TOM WAITS.

PART I

BEFORE

ONE

Johnson-Pearse Bank, Canary Wharf, London, 2009.

I wasI nervous. was also procrastinating as I sat on a bench and watched men and women

scurry by, an endless parade of people with “stuff to do.” I had ten more minutes before heading inside for my interview, and I was draining every last one of those bad boys the same way I was draining every last dreg of my coffee. Despite having lived in London my entire life, I’d never actually been to Canary Wharf. There’d never really been a reason – until now. It was a strange place, so professional, the smell of money in the air, and yet, just a couple of feet away from me, the guy running the newsstand was very obviously dealing. Growing up where I grew up, it was the kind of thing I noticed. A suit would walk up to him, buy a paper, and he’d slip a little something extra inside. Then the suit would mosey on into his office building to start his day, casual as you please. It was sort of depressing to know that even in a place like this, drugs were still prevalent. The only difference was that the people here could actually afford them. Okay, time to face the music. Getting up from the bench, I smoothed my hands down my dress, inhaled a deep breath, and put on my game face. I was determined to bravado my way through the interview, and faking confidence was one of my true talents. Today I was competing for a job as an executive assistant at one of the top investment banks in the country, with only a diploma in administration and too many years’ experience as a barmaid. I was still a little flabbergasted as to how I’d even managed to score the interview. Address profiling was alive and kicking, and I had a feeling that Johnson-Pearse Bank employed a grand total of zero peeps from my neck of the woods. I arrived at the reception area and smiled at the lady manning the desk. “Hi, I’m here to interview for the executive assistant position with Mr King.” She raised a speculative eyebrow, her gaze giving me a quick sweep up and down. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was thinking. She heard my

East End accent and immediately wondered what the hell I was doing there. She wasn’t the only one, because despite my calm exterior, I was suffering from a distinct case of impostor syndrome. Pursing her lips, she finally nodded and directed me to a large office down the hall, telling me to sit and wait outside until I was called. Several other people sat waiting quietly. Some of them looked just as nervous as I felt, while others seemed cool, calm, and collected. Maybe they were faking it, too. Minutes ticked by. A couple of the other candidates were called into the office, some leaving with smug smiles, and others looking like they wanted to go home and have a cry. I could see myself in the same boat in the not too distant future. The door opened, and an older man emerged. “Alexis Clark?” he called, scanning those of us left waiting. I stood immediately, again wiping my sweaty hands on my dress and stepping forward. I felt like everything outside my body was in slow motion, while inside my heart hammered a mile a minute. Having recently split with my boyfriend, Stu, and subsequently quitting my job at the pub he frequented on a daily basis, I needed employment. Stepping inside the room, I found I was being interviewed not only by the elderly gent who’d called me in, but by a panel including two others, one male, one female. My eyes briefly scanned the woman, who appeared to be in her sixties and who was appraising me shrewdly. My attention then wandered to the blond guy sitting at the end of the desk nearest the window. He held his phone to his ear and wore a lazy smile as he stared out at the view beyond. He was fit with a capital “F,” too handsome for a banker, if I was being honest. He didn’t have the sleaze-ball look of the young City Boys, nor did he have the cold, money-hungry eyes of the older bankers. No, he had the carefree beauty of a male model, or a Hollywood heartthrob. His eyes came to me for a brief second, looked away, then came back again in what seemed to be a double take. As he made a slow perusal of my body, a mix of amusement and intrigue passed over his features before his attention returned to his phone call. Okay, so that didn’t make me a tad weak at the knees, no siree, Bob. “Yeah, okay, Greg, I’ll believe your trash and cash bullshit as soon as I start taking up belly dancing classes and piercing both my ears.” He chuckled cynically, and I got a few goose bumps at the sound of his deep laughter. “I distinctly remember you pulling a stunt like this in ’06. All of a sudden everybody’s steering clear of The Phillips Group, and a week later you’re swanning around in a brandnew BMW.” The other two sat and waited quietly as he wrapped up his phone call, which led me to believe that despite being younger, Blondie was the one in charge. Huh. After just a minute he ended his call, sliding his mobile onto the desk and clasping his hands together. Then he shot the older guy a glance that said he could begin the interview. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexis. My name is Daniel James, senior managing

director here at Johnson-Pearse,” he began, and I shook his hand. “This is Eleanor Price, Mr King’s current assistant, who’ll be retiring soon and whose position we’re looking to fill.” I shook Eleanor’s hand next. She seemed strict but nice, in a head-mistress sort of way. I could now surmise that Blondie was Mr King, and I guessed he needed someone like Eleanor to keep him in check. If I got this job, I imagined keeping up with Mr Sexy Smile would have me well on my toes. When Mr James was finally introducing me to Oliver King, head managing director, I felt my trusty bravado kicking in. I wasn’t going to wilt and blush at his attention. No, I was going to hold my head high and be like Eleanor, tough as nails, no nonsense. “Mr King,” I said as his warm fingers slid against mine and we quickly shook hands. Yep, tingles galore, but I refused to acknowledge them. “Alexis,” he replied, eyeing me closely before sitting back down. “Thanks for coming.” I took a seat in front of the three of them and rested my hands in my lap. “So, to begin, please tell us a little about yourself,” said Mr James. Okay, good. They were starting off with the standard stuff. I could do this. Clearing my throat, I began my spiel. I told them about my high A Level results, especially in computing and maths, then moved on to my bartending experience, during which I decided to return to education and get my diploma. I told them my main reason for not going to university straight out of school was due to a lack of funds, and how I was eager to gain experience now that I had my qualification. “You understand that most entry-level staff here hold university degrees, even in our admin departments,” said Mr James. “What do you think you can bring to the role, given that you haven’t had the same level of education?” “I think I can bring people skills,” I answered promptly. “Working in a bar might seem like it doesn’t take much, but believe me, you get good experience dealing with all kinds of conflicts. I think that education is important, yeah, but I also feel that I can bring a lot more to the role in comparison to someone who’s coming in with a degree but zero experience.” “And what if you come up against a problem that requires technical rather than interpersonal skills, something that a university graduate would be better equipped to deal with?” James went on. I glanced quickly at Mr King to find him studying me closely, and all of a sudden felt a little warmer under my dress. “Then I’ll ask for guidance. If there’s a problem I can’t deal with on my own, I always ask someone to teach me. I’m all about expanding my learning, and I hold the belief we should be continually gaining new skills.” King leaned forward on the desk to shoot James a grin. It said “I like her,” and I felt a triumphant little rush in my belly. James was far more difficult to read, and Eleanor seemed to only be sitting in on the interview as a silent observer. I imagined she’d be giving her two cents after I left, informing the other two whether or not she thought I was fit to replace her.

“Okay, very good.” said Mr James. “So, why is it that you’d like to work here at Johnson-Pearse?” Relief flooded me and I was glad he’d asked this question. I’d spent hours researching the bank, so I knew my stuff. By the time I was done regurgitating all the reasons why I thought it was the ideal place for me to work, all three interviewers seemed impressed. Then Mr King clasped his hands together, finally deciding to speak. “You seem to know a great deal about this bank, Miss Clark, but tell me, if you were to implement one change to improve how we run things, what would it be?” His question took me by surprise, and I drew a complete and total blank. My mind scurried for an answer, any answer, and before I could take a second to properly think things through, I blurted, “Well, for a start, I’d call the cops on the dealer working the newsstand outside. I’m guessing high employees don’t make for very productive ones.” James’ eyebrows shot right up into his forehead. Eleanor pursed her lips, appraising me more closely, and King didn’t show any outward signs of a reaction other than the slightest curve to the edge of his lips. He glanced out the window, where there was a direct view of the newsstand, scribbled something down, then shot James a look to continue with the interview. I saw him glancing at me again, differently now, like he was seeing something interesting he hadn’t noticed before. The fact that none of them had commented on my answer made me feel sweaty and embarrassed, and my need to flee the room was palpable. Me and my big dumb mouth. James threw a few more questions at me, asking how I’d cope with a number of scenarios. Unfortunately, though, after my comment about the dealer, his distaste for me started to shine through, and he quickly wrapped things up. “Thank you so much, Miss Clark. As I said, these jobs do normally go to university graduates, but well done for coming along. Do you have any questions for us?” I eyed him, feeling like what he’d said was a little patronising. I’d spent days preparing for this interview, and the fact that he was so quick to write me off got my blood up. This was why, despite having a whole host of questions prepared to ask, I said sharply, “If I’m not the usual candidate, then why did you call me for an interview?” James’ face flashed in surprise at my question, and I inwardly groaned. Technically though, I’d already screwed things up, so I might as well speak my mind. He glanced at Oliver King. “Each of us put forward a number of resumes. I believe it was Mr King who thought yours had…potential.” Eleanor frowned, and King shot him a look that said he was in for it later, before turning to face me. I was under the impression that James was my biggest enemy in this situation, but then King spoke and flipped everything on its ear. Levelling his eyes on me, he said simply, “You included a picture, Miss Clark,

and I liked the look of you.” I swear, my jaw practically dropped to the floor. I’d sat through many interviews in my time, but this one was by far the strangest. Was he even allowed to say something like that? Since it appeared he was the one who ruled the roost around here, I guessed he was. Bristling, I rose from my seat. I knew I should have waited until I was dismissed, but I was so pissed off that I just had to get out of there. Still, I didn’t let my temper get the better of me. I settled my gaze on his and calmly gave him my best parting line. “Well, then, Mr King, if I do get chosen for the position, I’ll have to prove to you that my looks pale in comparison to what my brain can achieve.” King smiled. I turned and left the office. The very next day I received a call from Eleanor telling me that I’d gotten the job. GULPING back the last of my coffee, I slipped my headphones over my ears, hit “play” on my favourite M.I.A. album, and set off for the tube. I lived on the tenth floor of a big grey tower block in Bethnal Green with my BFF, Karla. The stairs were a hassle, but I had to admit that hauling my arse up and down them every day did wonders for my glutes. Too bad my penchant for cake undid all the good work. It was my first day working at Johnson-Pearse Bank. After the bizarre nature of my interview, and the even more bizarre fact that they’d actually chosen me for the role, I was putting my best foot forward. M.I.A.’s tracks always made me feel ready to take on a challenge; it was like my fight music. I wore my most office-friendly pencil dress under my duffel coat. I also wore gloves and a scarf, which I buried my nose under in order to stave off the chill. It was January in London, which meant it was cold enough to freeze your nipples off. Once I reached the tube, I savoured the heat of the carriage and head-bobbed my way through the journey, standing because it was rush hour, and I wasn’t going to get a seat to save my life. Finally arriving in Canary Wharf, I made my way out of the gigantic tube station and completed the walk to the glass and steel tower where Johnson-Pearse was located. This area was referred to as The City, a single square mile that housed the most powerful financial institutions in the U.K. Some of the buildings had funny nicknames. For instance, you had the Gherkin, which I personally thought looked like a giant Fabergé egg. You could divide the district into three sections. Canary Wharf was modern, towering, soulless, and where you could find the all-powerful investment banks. The Old City was historical, quirky, and mostly home to the insurers and brokers. And lastly, you had the stylish and cosmopolitan Mayfair, where you could find the hedge funds and private equity companies. I’d only become so well-informed about all this since I started my job hunt. Before that it was just another part of London to

me. But now that I’d discovered this city within the city, I’d become fascinated. With just one glance, you knew that this was a place where there was only one God, and its name was Money. I disappeared among the throngs of professional types as I entered the building. I had to sign in at the security desk, since I hadn’t yet been given my staff I.D. Once I was done, I stepped inside the elevator. I was still rocking out to my music, standing in the corner of the crowded lift, when I felt somebody’s eyes on me. Quickly glancing up, I spotted Oliver King a few feet away, wearing a suit and a smile, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Pulling my headphones off and letting them rest around my neck, I gave him a polite nod. My first instinct was to be embarrassed that he’d caught me bobbing my head, away in my own little world, but I tamped that bitch down. If I’d learned anything from growing up in a tiny council house with three overbearing brothers and limited resources, it was that you had to hold your head high in this life. Take what was your due and never let anyone make you feel uncomfortable or inferior. When the lift stopped at our floor, both Oliver and I stepped off, leaving the crowded carriage behind us. “Good morning, Alexis,” he said in that refined accent of his that screamed of Cambridge and Eton, and all those other fancy places where the upper classes received their educations. He placed his hand on my lower back for a second as though leading me out. “Mr King,” I replied, making sure to step away and put an end to the touching. I wasn’t sure if that was business as usual or what. I began removing my gloves and unwrapping my scarf from around my neck. “Cold out there today,” he went on, eyes scanning me, and I nodded. We soon reached his office, which had a large atrium area with two desks, one for Eleanor and one for the other assistant, Gillian. Eleanor had told me about her on the phone, but we hadn’t met yet. The older assistant was already at her desk, tapping away at her computer, as was Gillian, who had short blonde hair and a slim build. She looked to be about my age. When she spotted King, she immediately jumped up from her seat, gathered a bunch of folders, and walked alongside him. She barely gave me a second glance. “These are the briefs for this morning’s meetings, your coffee is inside, and Kenneth Green called to schedule a lunch meeting on Wednesday.” Her voice trailed off as they went into King’s office, and I looked to Eleanor, who gave me a warm smile. “Morning, love, come sit. You’ll be shadowing me for the week, then next week we’ll see how you do going it alone. I’ll be here on and off for another month to make sure the transition runs smoothly.” There was something about Eleanor that put me at ease, and I began to wonder if she was the reason I got this job. When we’d spoken over the phone, she’d been really apologetic for what Mr King had said to me in the interview, and stated outright it was the kind of carry-on that set the feminist movement back fifty

years. Needless to say, I liked her already. After I’d made myself comfortable, she ran through Mr King’s morning routine with me. I’d be responsible for ordering his breakfast and giving him a rundown of the headlines in each of the countries’ main newspapers, while Gillian took care of the morning and afternoon meeting schedule. Apparently, Mr King had a knack for absorbing the news and making predictions on which way the markets would turn. I was sceptical of that, but we’d see. The hours trickled by, and my new boss was in and out of his office several times. On instinct, I found myself observing how he interacted with people. He must have only been in his early thirties, yet he had this confidence that made people eager to do his bidding, to impress him. It was a little addicting to watch. It was almost lunch when Gillian appeared at my desk and told me that Mr King wanted to have a quick word. I swallowed and stood, hesitantly making my way into the office. It was pretty impressive. Two sides of the room were all windows, looking out onto the hustle and bustle of Canary Wharf. King’s attention was fixed on the screen of one of his computers (there were several set up around his desk) as his fingers typed rapidly. I wasn’t sure if he even realised I was there until he started to speak. “How’s your first day going, Alexis?” It was a little disconcerting that he wasn’t looking at me, but I answered anyway. “Very well. Eleanor’s giving me a good schooling.” A smile graced his lips. “She’s something, isn’t she? I’ll be sad to see her go, but she and her husband are retiring to the south of France, and no amount of money I’ve offered will convince her to stay.” “Well, if given the choice between soaking up the sun in St. Tropez or staying cooped up in an office all day, I know what most people would choose.” As soon as the statement was out, I regretted it. He paused typing and finally looked at me. A long moment elapsed, and I wondered if I’d been too free with my mouth again. This wasn’t a pub. This was an office. This man was my boss, and I really needed to learn that certain banter wasn’t appropriate. “Have you ever been?” he finally asked. “Huh?” “To St. Tropez.” “Oh, no, I haven’t,” I said, eyes glancing out the window and then back to him. “Then how can you know it’s the better option? We need evidence to prove a point, Miss Clark. Guesstimations are a waste of time.” “It wasn’t a guesstimation,” I replied, using his word, which definitely wasn’t in the dictionary. “I was simply using my imagination.” Plus, wasn’t his whole career based around guesswork and taking risks? Pondering me a moment, he asked, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very direct?” He smiled and tapped a finger on his chin as he studied me. “I like it. I’m direct, too. That being said, sometimes my directness can come across the wrong way. Which brings me to the reason why I called you in here. I’ve been told it would

be wise to apologise to you for my behaviour at your interview. I sometimes have a problem with tact, and it seems what I said to you could be considered offensive.” Wow, he was apologising? I didn’t want to show any weakness, so I simply stared at him head on and replied calmly, “You’ll have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to offend me, Mr King.” His lips pressed together. “Really? How early are we talking?” I suppressed a laugh and smiled. “The crack of dawn, pretty much.” He let out a playful sigh. “It’s a pity I treasure my beauty sleep.” I didn’t respond, only raised an eyebrow. In my opinion, his beauty didn’t need any enhancing. “Anyway, it’s a good thing you don’t offend easily, because teary-eyed assistants are a bother.” He paused, eyeing me closely, his voice turning serious. “I value honesty, Miss Clark. Too many people in this world hide behind lies and duplicity. Needless to say, the way you so outspokenly responded to me in your interview left me truly impressed.” His compliment surprised me. I was at a loss for words, and when I couldn’t think of anything to say, I normally made a joke. And that’s exactly what I did. “In that case, maybe I should have told you that I have a bod for business and a brain for sin,” I quipped, humorously fluffing the line from the movie Working Girl. After all, it was an appropriate theme. “Or is that the other way around?” King’s attention, which had momentarily wandered to his computer screen, snapped back to me, and for a second he looked halfway between amused and perplexed. Not the laughter I’d been aiming for, but not the worst possible reaction, either. I cleared my throat, suddenly needing to get out of there. “Well, if there’s nothing else?” “That’s all, Alexis. You can return to Eleanor,” he replied. It was only when I was halfway to the door that he muttered under his breath teasingly, “A bod for business sounds interesting.” I turned around, and he glanced up at me, flashing me a quick, heart-fluttering smile. I smiled back, and his attention returned to his computer screen. All at once, my uncertainty and embarrassment vanished. My chest felt fuller, and as I continued my way out of the room, I swore I felt his eyes return to me once more.

TWO

up some groceries for dinner on the way home, my thoughts centring I picked on my new job, but, more importantly, my new boss. Yeah, he was appealing

to look at, but there was something else about him. Something beneath the surface that got me curious. I had a feeling that there was far more to Oliver King than met the eye. Counting the flights of stairs as I climbed my way up to our flat, I tried to remember whether Karla was working days or nights this week. Being a constable with the Metropolitan Police meant she didn’t always work a simple nine-to-five. When I heard the shower running, I knew she’d been on the day shift. As I turned the TV on and made a start on dinner, I heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel and gave me a tired smile. Wet tendrils of her bright red hair fell across her forehead, and her clear blue eyes seemed weary. “Hey,” she said, voice soft. “How’d your first day go?” “It was good,” I replied. “Good but weird. I swear, it’s a whole other world over there.” She sighed and sat down on a stool by the counter, watching me chop carrots. “Tell me about it. Some days I just feel like chucking it all in and finding a rich man to marry. It’d make life a whole lot easier.” I snorted. “Yeah.” Despite her profession, Karla could actually be a very sensitive person. Some would even go so far as to say shy. She was hard-working, and tough as nails in her own way, but she was also quiet and kind. She fell into police work due to her dad being on the force, but I always wondered if that was what she really wanted to be doing. “Did something happen today?” I asked as I studied her. She seemed more tired than usual. Rubbing at the crease between her eyebrows, she answered, “I had to break up a really vicious fight between two kids today. One of them was hurt pretty badly and had to be hospitalised. He was only fourteen. I’m still kinda reeling.” “Oh, my God,” I exclaimed, putting down the knife and going to her. I threw my

arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” she said, accepting my hug. “It’s just so hard sometimes. You try your best to help people and keep them safe, but kids are still out there, killing each other, stealing, doing all sorts. You end up feeling like there’s no way the system can ever work.” I didn’t say anything, just squeezed her tighter. Finally she let out a long breath and pulled away. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being morose. A good night’s sleep and I’ll feel better.” I gave her an understanding look and returned to the carrots. Trying to take her mind off it, I said, “I think we should go out this weekend. I know money is tight, but we need to let off some steam.” Her eyes lit up at my words. One thing that the both of us loved was dancing, and every couple of weeks we’d go out to a club. “The Silver Bullet is putting on a ska night on Friday,” she said. “I saw the poster on my way home from work.” I grinned at her. “A ska night it is then. We’ll paint the town beige, since red is reserved strictly for those age twenty-five and under.” That solicited a giggle from her, and I felt good that I’d made her laugh. She picked up a carrot and took a bite. “Well, of course.” THE NEXT MORNING I arrived at work bright and early. This time I didn’t see King in the elevator, which I found curiously disappointing. Okay, all right, shut up. So my peepers found it disappointing, because he was one hot slice of A. Plus, remembering that smile we’d shared yesterday made my belly feel all a-flutter. I was sitting at the computer, completing some data entry that Eleanor had tasked me with while she scanned the morning’s papers. Gillian’s lightning fingers danced over her keyboard like a percussionist portrayal of busy, busy, work to do. Her desk was on the other side of our atrium that led to King’s large office. When he arrived at around eight-thirty, he gave each of us a nod hello as Gillian hopped up from her seat, the same as yesterday. “Morning, Eleanor, morning, Gillian, morning, Alexis,” King chirped. He gave Eleanor a sparkly-eyed look. “Have you heard the news?” She glanced up at him, licking a finger before casually turning another page. “I don’t partake in salacious gossip, Mr King. You know that.” I nearly snorted at her dismissive response but managed to hold it in. Eleanor was quickly becoming my lady hero, because I knew for a fact she was the only person who got away with talking to King like that. I also had a hunch that she was the one who’d suggested he apologise for saying what he said to me in my interview. I was seriously looking forward to being her age and gaining that “Miss Trunchbull, I don’t suffer fools gladly” vibe. King let out an amused huff and turned to Gillian. “Have you?” Gillian seemed oblivious as she nervously cleared her throat and clenched the

folders she was holding. “Oh, um, no, sorry, I haven’t.” She seemed disappointed in herself, like she considered letting down the Oliver King in any way was a failure on her part. I felt like telling her to buck up and be a woman, not a simpering girl desperate to please her boss. Finally, he looked at me. “Well, you obviously haven’t, either, newbie. God, is it so much to ask to have some ladies who like to gossip around here? I’m practically bursting at the seams.” Eleanor shook her head, but I saw her lips twitch with a hint of a smile. Mr King was obviously in an unseasonably personable mood this morning. While chatting with her yesterday, she’d told me that his moods could be somewhat unpredictable, so it was always best to err on the side of caution. “Well, tell us what you know, and I’ll be happy to oblige,” I said. “Gossiping is my forte.” “Oh, thank God.” King exhaled with false dramatics as he approached the desk and eyed me mischievously. “George Bacon, one of the top guys over at Citibank, died last night.” I let out a breath. “That’s terrible.” “A-ha! But you haven’t heard the worst of it. Poor Georgie boy popped his clogs during a rather intensive session with a lady of the night. His old ticker wasn’t up to the challenge.” He shook his head, but he clearly felt no sympathy for the man. Well, since we’d just been hit with a motherbutcher of a recession, very few people felt sorry for those working in the financial services industry these days. However, being a banker himself, I thought Mr King might be able to empathise. I stared at him, finding his choice of conversation topic surreal. Oliver King really didn’t have any tact, but oddly, I didn’t mind. In fact, I kind of liked it. When I’d taken this job, I thought I’d be stuck working with a bunch of stiffs. I wasn’t sure why I said what I did next. It was a mixture of being a smart-arse and having no filter. I grinned at King and deadpanned, “So, what you’re saying is, he came and went?” There was a beat of silence before King let out a loud guffaw of a laugh. Smiling widely, he leant in and rested his hands on the desk as he responded with a wink, “I prefer to say he arrived before departing.” I chuckled. “Well okay, then, if you want get all fancy about it.” We were still grinning at one another when Eleanor cut in, “Mr King, I do believe you have a meeting in twenty minutes that you need to prepare for.” King didn’t look away from me for a moment as his grin began to fade. Having his eyes on me made me feel a little goose-pimplish. Finally, he nodded and turned, striding inside his office with Gillian following behind. I returned to my data entry, and a minute or two of quiet passed before Eleanor said, “I think you two might be a little too alike.” She paused, and there was a smile in her voice. “After I’m gone, maybe let Gillian accompany Mr King on trips. I shudder to think what the two of you would be like unleashed on prospective clients.” I shot her a questioning look. “Trips?”

“Sometimes he requires us to accompany him on business trips. It’s only really once or twice a year.” “Oh, right,” I said, frowning a little. I must have blanked over that part of the job description, too full of glee when I saw the size of my yearly salary. Oh, yes. This year was going to see quite a lot of cake buying once the money started to roll in. The morning passed quickly. When lunch time came, I declined accompanying Eleanor and Gillian to a sushi restaurant in favour of grabbing a sub from a nearby deli. I needed the carbs, and I never felt full after sushi. And okay, maybe I should have been eating more sushi than subs, because I was carrying a little extra weight, but I just couldn’t seem to summon up the urge to care. My body was what it was. I’d inherited it from my curvaceous Greek mother, and life was too short to go around eating packets of zero-calorie jelly from Japan. I brought my food back to the office and found the place relatively quiet, since most people were either dining out, or were in the cafeteria having lunch. I had planned on eating at my desk, then making a start on the remainder of the workload I had to complete, when my attention wandered to King’s office door. My nosiness was urging me to go inside and take a look around, and I knew from his schedule that he wasn’t due back from his afternoon meeting until three. Bringing my lunch with me, I stepped inside his office and marvelled at the view. His desk was big and imposing, and there were a number of picture frames on the wall. Two of them showed his university certificates. He had a first-class honours degree in finance and accounting from the London School of Economics, and a masters in finance from Cambridge. I whistled as I took them in. An education like that must have cost a pretty penny. But then I realised that King’s family probably wasn’t hurting for cash when I took in the next frame. It showed an old concert poster for Elaine King, a world-renowned concert pianist who had her heyday in the late eighties/early nineties. She was now a renowned shut-in, think Agnetha from ABBA but classier. It didn’t take much for me to put two and two together and figure out that she was related to King somehow, and taking in her blonde hair and familiarly refined features, I’d put my money on her being his mother. Wow. I saw a door leading to an in-office bathroom and took a step inside, letting out a few choice swearwords when I saw the size of the place. It was probably bigger than my and Karla’s entire flat. It boasted a large walk-in shower, a closet, and floor-toceiling windows with that special glass that went either clear or frosted at the touch of a button. The pièce de resistance, however, was the fancy designer sofa that went along one side of the room. I mean, a sofa like that in a bathroom like this just screamed extravagance, and since I only had a crappy threadbare one at home that had definitely seen better days, I couldn’t help but to plop down on it and dig into my sub. Yes, I was eating lunch in my boss’s en suite bathroom while enjoying the view of the city beyond. Probably not the cleverest of moves. And yes, it was weird, but I couldn’t resist taking advantage of the luxury. Who knew when I’d next have the

chance? Pulling out my phone, I browsed Facebook as I chowed down, intermittently chuckling at funny statuses or shaking my head cynically at the usual whack jobs. I came across a collection of photos from a distant cousin of mine, taken at her wedding vows renewal. Hmm, bitch never invited me. I swear to God, it was the height of excess to have 350 pics of the same event, but like the weirdo that I (and, let’s face it, all of us were) I couldn’t help but to keep on clicking, like I needed to see ten variations of the same scene more than a crackhead needed her next fix. I was lost deep in the Facebook vortex when the distinct clearing of a male throat caused me to jump and drop my phone in fright. Glancing up, I found King standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a curious look on his face. He was back early. Of course he’d come back early. “Enjoying your lunch?” he said, raising an eyebrow. What was that sound, I hear you ask? Why, it was my heart plopping right out onto the floor and crawling away in mortification. “I, eh, uh….” I tried to think of an excuse, but drew a complete and total blank. Finally I went with, “You have a couch in your bathroom.” Yep, that gem was all mine. “I do. And you’re in here, why?” I let out an embarrassed laugh and hung my head in shame. There really was no excuse for this. It was like, when you see a giraffe walking by, you’re more than likely at the zoo. This was me taking liberties plain as day. Wincing, I decided to go with honesty and face the consequences. “I’m really sorry. I was looking around your office and saw that you had a couch in your bathroom and that your bathroom is swankier than any bathroom I’ve ever been in, and I just couldn’t help myself.” Oh, God, somebody gag my verbal diarrhoea, please. I stared at King. King stared at me. His expression was indecipherable until he shook his head and let out a gentle laugh. Then he surprised the shit out of me when he closed the door, stepped inside, and dropped down beside me. He threw his arms up and rested his head in his hands, kicking his legs out. “It is quite swanky in here,” he allowed. A beat of silence elapsed before I had to ask, “Am I fired?” King’s eyes slid to mine as he let out a long sigh. I thought he might be enjoying making me sweat before he finally answered, “Luckily for you, I’m in a decidedly good mood today, so no, you’re not fired. I’d appreciate it, though, if you let me know the next time you feel like eating lunch in my bathroom. I could have been in here taking a shower.” He grinned at me before putting on a face of mock horror. “Or, God forbid, having a number two.” He whispered the words “number two,” and I burst out laughing. I swear, it was the last thing I’d expected him to say. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be. I swiped my fingers over my heart. “Okay, cross my heart, I’ll give you notice the next time. Number twos are not something I want to witness.”

He waggled his brow and leaned in a fraction closer, bumping my shoulder with his. “Ah, but you wouldn’t be adverse to a shower?” His question took me by surprise, and I was doubly surprised by the faintly heated look he gave me. My surprise, combined with my frazzlement, caused me to blurt out a whopper of a lie. “Oh, well, being a lesbian and all, seeing you in the buff wouldn’t really bother me.” Why, why, why, Alexis? Why did you say that? King eyed me shrewdly, his expression incredulous. “You’re gay…seriously?” I pursed my lips together and swallowed. Now that the lie was out, there was no taking it back. Then I’d have to come up with a reason for lying, and that would mean telling him the way he looked at me made me have some very unprofessional thoughts about him. And yeah, no way was I doing that. No way. “Yep. Gay as a…spring day on the first of May.” Jesus. I had no idea where that weirdness had just spewed from. He studied my features, and I didn’t know what he was going to say next. Then he gave me a playful grin before asking brazenly, “Always or mostly?” The cheeky little…I stared at him head on and continued lying. “Always.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh, well, at least this means we’re ticking a box in the old equal opportunities survey.” I could tell by his tone that he was joking. But still, I needed to change the subject. Perhaps he’d forget about the lie. After all, he was a busy man and surely took in a lot of new information on a daily basis. Perhaps the “Alexis being a lesbian” info would get lost amid the masses. “You have a picture of Elaine King in your office,” I said. “Any relation?” His expression grew clouded, his demeanour more serious now as he answered soberly, “Yes, she’s my mother.” “Wow. That’s some talented gene pool you come from. Do you play piano, too?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, actually. Mum began teaching me as a boy. Of course, I play purely for recreation. Mum is the star.” “She’s very beautiful,” I added. “Yes,” King agreed, frowning. “She is. It’s a pity the world doesn’t get to see it anymore.” I wanted to ask him why that was, but I didn’t want to pry. Besides, I’d succeeded in changing the subject, and that was good enough for me. I wrapped up the last of my sandwich, got up from the couch, and gave him a friendly smile. “Well, Cambridge, I’d better get back to work. No rest for the wicked.” He narrowed his gaze playfully, and I was relieved to see the humour return to his features. I didn’t like him sad and serious. “Let’s leave Cambridge out of it. It’s Mr King to you, Oliver at a push.” “How do you feel about Cambo?” One eyebrow shot up as he joked, “Cambo as in Cambodia?” “Nah, Cambo as in, I came all over your boobs.” What I’d said was probably pushing the limits of boss/employee appropriate

chitchat, but he’d been overstepping the boundaries just as much as I had during our short time in the bathroom. Therefore, I wasn’t as worried about his reaction as I might have been. I’ll give him credit — King didn’t miss a beat as he laughed loudly and shook his head. “Oh, my God, you really are a lesbian.”

THREE

he rest of my first week went by, and I didn’t see much of King. The man was T one busy banker. However, on Wednesday, the day after our bathroom chat, I

arrived back from my morning break to find a Post-It note stuck to my keyboard. It was from my boss. He had really messy handwriting, but I managed to make it out nonetheless. It read: Alexis, I have lunch meetings all this week, so my swanky bathroom is free and at your disposal should you wish to avail of it. Just clean up the crumbs when you’re done. Mr King I was positively gleeful that he was giving me permission to use his bathroom as my own personal dining area and took full advantage of the offer. Besides, it was nice to have a little sanctuary away from my co-workers. I was fond of Eleanor, and Gillian was nice enough, despite her habit of flirting with any and every man who came into the office. But still, I cherished my hour in King’s bathroom. It was my thinking time to eat and relax without the constant need to be conversational. I had a swing in my step as I walked home from the tube station Friday evening. Karla and I were going to our ska night, and I couldn’t wait to get dolled up and hit the town. After a week stuck in the office, I was more than ready to let my hair down. Maybe I’d even meet a man. Since my breakup with Stu was only a couple of months in my rearview mirror, I hadn’t really given much thought to dipping my toes back in the dating pool. But now that I had this new job, I also had a newfound boost of confidence. Yeah, I could definitely pull tonight if I put my mind to it. I ate a quick dinner that Karla threw together for us, then hopped in the shower. Fresh and clean and wrapped in a towel, I stood by my closet and took inventory of my clothes, trying to decide what to wear. My wardrobe was a bit of a mishmash of styles; I liked to wear eye-catching patterns. In the end, I chose a pair of slinky leopard-print leggings, a black halter top that cupped my tits nicely, a chunky gold necklace, big hoop earrings, and a pair of stripy green and black wedge heels. Shut up, I looked fabulous. Standing by my full-length mirror, I began straightening my wavy hair and took in my appearance. The mismatched patterns were purposeful. Besides, you had to

dress funky for a ska night. It was expected. “Great outfit,” said Karla as she came into my room. “And those pants make your arse look fantastic.” “Why, thanks,” I said, grinning and switching off the hair straightener. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Karla wore a tight red pencil skirt and a stripy black and white top. She had the pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes of someone with a definite hint of Irish in their lineage. I, on the other hand, inherited my looks from my already mentioned crazy Greek mother (crazy in the best way) and had dark brown hair, almost black eyes, and an olive complexion. I also had an ample chest and a definite arse going on. After I applied a bit of makeup, we shared a quick glass of wine before heading out. The Silver Bullet was totes hipster and always putting on random themed nights. At twenty-seven, and Karla being twenty-eight, we were probably a little old to be coming here. But whatever. The day I stopped going dancing would be the day they put me in my grave. The ska night was in full swing when we walked in to the upbeat saxophone stylings of “One Step Beyond” by Madness. I didn’t even bother going to the bar first to get a drink. Instead, I grabbed Karla’s hand and led her to the dance floor, where we proceeded to bop and jump up and down like a pair of overenthusiastic toddlers. I was lost in ska heaven when I felt a pair of arms go around my waist. Turning, I found my friend Bradley grinning down at me, wearing a wife-beater vest and a pair of canary-yellow jeans. Bradley was my brother from another mother who loved the cock. And yeah, camp as a row of tents. He’d gone to school with both Karla and me, and now worked as a pretty successful fashion photographer. “Lexie! I haven’t seen you in ages,” he shouted in my ear. “What have you been up to?” Fluttering my eyelashes, I replied jokingly, “Oh, you know, the usual. Leo Di Caprio offered to whisk me away for a dirty weekend and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He let out a yip of laughter and took my hand in his, leading me towards the bar. Karla followed, and Bradley turned to give her a quick hug and a kiss hello. He called to the barman, ordering a round of shots before turning back to me. “I’m glad I bumped into you,” he said. “I’ve actually been meaning to give you a call, because I have a proposition.” I grinned and knocked back the shot; it burned good as it went down. I liked Bradley’s propositions. They were almost always guaranteed to have “fun” stamped all over them. “Oh, yeah?” “Yesss,” he said. I could tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he was more than a little tipsy. “I’ve just started working for Baha. You ever heard of them?” “Can’t say that I have,” I replied as Karla’s elbow knocked against mine while she drank her shot.

“Wellll, they’re a really popular fashion label, and I’m going to be working with them on an upcoming shoot for their plus-size range. They’re looking for some new faces, and I immediately thought of you.” I sputtered a laugh. “Me? What, like, you want me to model?” Bradley whacked me playfully on the arm. “No, I want you to make the tea. Of course, I want you to model. You’ll be perfect.” I pretended to play it cool and joked, “Oh, well, I’d say yes and all, but if I showed up, they’d probably tell me to take my Kate Moss–lookin’ self back from whence I came.” “Ha! Good one,” Bradley deadpanned. “Are you up for it or what?” “Eh, yes, I’m up for it. When, where, and can I keep the clothes after? But, more importantly, how much will I be getting paid?” He gave me a little scowl. “You’ll be very handsomely compensated, we’ll see about the clothes, and I’ll call you when I know more details.” “Coolio,” I said, and turned to try and catch the barman’s attention. I needed a drink to celebrate. It really was turning out to be my lucky week. I had new job offers coming out the wazoo. Before I knew it, I’d downed a rum and Coke, and Bradley was dragging me and Karla back to the dance floor. At one point, a brunette wearing a skintight shirt sidled up to Bradley and began what can only be described as booty popping at him. He continued dancing and arched a brow as she turned to face him, shimmying her boobs. “Oh, you are so barking up the wrong tree, love,” he sighed, and grinned. I didn’t think she heard, because she was now rutting against him. I snickered my laughter and grabbed a hold of Karla’s hands, swaying her to the music. I was a happy, sweaty, dancing mess when I felt my phone begin to vibrate inside my bag. Stepping outside for a moment, because the music was too loud for a phone call, I glanced down at the screen and recognised King’s number. Eleanor had me programme all the required numbers into my phone on Monday, and similarly, she’d passed my number on to King if he ever needed me. I was curious, and yes, too tipsy to be answering a call from my boss, when I hit “accept.” “Yo.” King’s voice came down the line. “Alexis? Is that you?” I grinned and leaned against the wall of the building. “The one and only. What can I do for you, boss?” He cleared his throat, and there was a beat of silence, as though he was considering whether to continue the conversation. Finally, he went on, “I apologise for disturbing you outside of office hours, but I need someone to go collect some folders from Monty, and both Eleanor and Gillian are busy.” “Monty as in Burns?” Yep, definitely tipsy. I heard the smile in his voice when he responded. “No, Monty as in Montgomery Charles. He works for me at the bank. He’s drawn up some certificates, and I need the originals. Are you free to collect them for me?” I sighed internally, knowing my night of fun was at its end. “Not exactly, but

since you’ve allowed me to requisition your office bathroom this week, I suppose I do owe you one.” “Great,” said King before rattling off where I had to go, alongside his home address, and told me he’d leave a key with the doorman. He also told me to keep my travel receipts for reimbursement. I went back inside, told Karla there was a work thing, and swiftly flagged down a taxi. Monty turned out to be a twenty-something guy with a big smile and a distinct eagerness to impress. He was adamant that I deliver the papers directly to Mr King, no detours. It was probably the way I was dressed that had him concerned, like I was some crazy leopard print–adorned lady pretending to be Oliver King’s assistant. The taxi was idling by the side of the road, waiting for me, when I returned and we continued on to King’s place. It turned out his apartment was located close to the Thames, in a building that screamed money. The doorman was expecting me and handed me a key card as I looked around the stylish modern interior. There were about ten floors, and King’s apartment was at the top. Choosing to take the lift, since I had enough stairs to contend with in my own building, I hit the button for his floor. I was fully sober as I walked down the long corridor to his apartment and let myself in. At first the place seemed quiet, but then I heard the music. Someone was playing a piano. As I stepped around a tall column and entered the spacious lounge, I saw him. His back was to me as he sat in front of a black baby grand, his fingers skimming the keys as he played something classical. The tune was soft and hard at the same time, so intricate and beautiful. I knew I’d heard it before, maybe in a film, but I couldn’t pinpoint where. It made my pores grow tight and my lungs feel a little bereft of air. There was something that was just so unexpected about seeing him like this, and it hit me square in the feelers. In the office I’d seen him professional, efficient, confident, and in control. But right then he was vulnerable, artistic, and totally absorbed in the music. And he was good, crazy good, so good I didn’t understand why he was a banker when he could be playing music like this for a living. The song became passionate, and his fingers pounded the keys right before my phone went off with a text. I had no clue who it was from, but I stood still as King immediately stopped playing and twisted around to face me. He seemed taken off guard, surprised to see me there even though he knew I was coming over. It was clear that he’d been completely lost in the music. A moment of heavy, unexplainable tension fell between us. Then he did a slow perusal of my body, and I swear he was holding back a grin. All in an instant, the tension was gone, and he wore a humorous expression. “Oh, go on, say it. You know you want to,” I sighed. King let out a breath like he’d been holding it, and his voice was full of amusement. “What on earth are you wearing?” “Hey, what I wear outside the office is my own prerogative.” I scowled at him

playfully. “But if you must know, I was out clubbing with some friends when I got your call, hence my fan-bloody-tastic attire.” He pursed his lips in an effort to stay his grin. “Well, in that case, I apologise for interrupting your night. Please, come and sit down. Do you have the receipt for your taxi and the certificates from Monty?” “Yes and yes,” I replied, walking to his couch, setting the folders on the coffee table, and taking a seat. “By the way, you play beautifully. Your mum taught you well.” My words were restrained. What I really wanted to do was gush about how amazing he was, how the music had given me feelings I’d never had before, how it had made me see him in a completely different light. And I really liked that light. King seemed to grow self-conscious as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, well, it’s just a hobby.” He paused and eyed my bag. “The receipt?” “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said, and began rummaging for it while he waited. As I handed it to him, I did a quick scan of his place. The Steinway sat by the window looking out onto the river, and I noticed piles and piles of paperwork stacked neatly all over the living room floor. He must have been working tonight. A bottle of red wine sat open on the coffee table, a half-finished glass beside it. There was an expensive-looking chessboard on the table, and I wondered if he played or if it was only there for show. I remained seated as King disappeared into another room before returning with his wallet. Retrieving a few notes, he handed them to me. I took them and shoved them in my bag. “Again, thank you for doing this on such short notice. I do try not to disturb my employees outside of the office.” “It’s not a problem,” I replied, and our eyes met. We both stared at each other for a moment, and my skin began to feel warm. King took in a deep breath. He didn’t seem to want me to leave yet, so I nodded towards the coffee table. “Nice chessboard. Do you play?” He glanced at the board before he brought his eyes back to mine. They were handsome eyes, intense, and so glacial blue they could almost startle you at times. I wondered if my sweatiness was from my earlier dancing or from King’s unnerving attention. “I do. Do you?” “Yep. My dad taught me. We’d spend hours playing when I was growing up.” “Hmm, my grandfather was the one to teach me.” He paused, studying me for a moment, before he said, “If you’re not in a hurry to get back to your friends, would you like to stay and have a game?” I shrugged, trying to play it nonchalant when really I was delighted with the offer. My new boss was an interesting (and sexy) one, and I wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to get to know him better. “Nah, I’m not in a hurry,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and laying it over the back of the couch. King’s gaze wandered to my chest for a moment as he took in my halter top, before shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “Such a pity.”

“Huh?” “Would you like a glass of wine? I’ve already opened a bottle.” “Sure,” I answered, still wondering about his comment. Was he referring to me being a “lesbian”? Couldn’t be. Well, it could, but I was choosing to believe it wasn’t for the sake of my employment. I didn’t need to be having unprofessional thoughts about my intriguingly talented and handsome boss any more than I already was. King went to the kitchen to grab another glass. When he returned, he handed it to me before picking up an expensive looking bottle of red. I considered asking how much it cost, but I stopped myself. Expensive indulgences always made me feel wasteful, and I just wanted to enjoy myself. After pouring the wine, King began setting up the chessboard as I took several sips, and man, it was delicious. The rest of the bottle was in serious danger of being depleted by me if I kept this up. King’s attention was on the board when he started to speak, holding a pawn between his fingers, “You know” —a pause— “you’re not the usual sort of person who comes to work for me.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Finally I went with, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” “Neither. It’s just a fact. Eleanor is strict. She steers me in the right direction when I might be about to make a bad decision. Gillian is a wonderful organiser, and she never fails to compliment me in some way when she greets me in the morning. It’s a nice little confidence boost.” I grinned at him, leant in, and mock-whispered, “Mr King, do you have a crush on Gillian?” He chuckled, and it was an attractive, masculine sort of sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I simply enjoy her compliments.” I couldn’t help teasing him. “Well, I wouldn’t go getting a big head about it. That woman would marry a cup if it showed her enough attention.” “Alexis.” Now it was King’s turn to mock-whisper. “What a horrible thing to say.” Laughing, I replied, “It’s not horrible. It’s just the truth, and I’m not judging, but that Gillian is a flirt. You forget I’m the one who has to listen to her giggle to men over the phone all day long.” King winced. “Giggle? Really?” I nodded. “Uh-huh. You’re not the only one who gets the compliments. Jealous?” King shook his head and made his first move on the board. “No. And stop interrupting my train of thought. I was saying something, now, where was I? Oh, yes, Eleanor is my compass, and Gillian is my confidence-booster. Now that Eleanor’s poised to leave, do you think you can fill her shoes?” I bent forward to take in the board, then made a move. “Be your compass? I’ll try my best,” I answered, considering my strategy for the game. “Your best is all I would ever ask,” said King, a thread of seriousness coming

into his voice. I glanced up at him for a moment, my eyes catching on a picture frame behind his head. It sat on a shelf beside a number of other pictures, and showed King with his arm around a good-looking woman with light brown hair. Since he thought I was gay, I felt relatively comfortable asking about her. I nodded to the picture. “Your girlfriend?” King turned to see what I was referring to. “My ex, actually. Mila and I broke up about three months ago.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m sorry to hear that. Breakups are tough.” “They can be, but not this one. Our parting was amicable. She wanted to get married and start a family, and right now I’m married to my job. There are things I want to achieve, and I’m quite single-minded about them. Mila is a career woman, too, so she wasn’t hurt by my decision.” “I can understand that,” I said. I could understand it, but I didn’t believe for one second that this Mila woman hadn’t been hurt. She’d probably just hidden it really well. I felt a bit sorry for King that he couldn’t see that, or maybe he just refused to see it. Eyeing his side of the chess board, I could already tell he was going to be a tough opponent and I was probably going to lose the game. We played for a couple of minutes in thoughtful silence before King spoke up. “What about you? Any special lady in your life right now?” His question and curious tone took me off guard, and I was answering before I had time to think it through. “Yes.” King rose an eyebrow. “Really? How long have you two been together?” “Not long. It’s pretty new.” “Do you think she’s a keeper?” Jesus, what was with all the questions? I felt like I was under interrogation. Needing to lighten the mood, I answered, “Who knows. For now I’m keeping my options open. I mean, just ’cause I’m tied to the fence, doesn’t mean I can’t bark at the cars.” He chuckled softly. “I’ve never had a lesbian for a friend before. I quite like it. It’s pleasant talking to a woman who’s essentially a man.” “Hey!” I protested. He raised his hands. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” I scowled at him. “Whatever. Besides, I’m not exactly your friend. I’m your employee.” King feigned a sad expression, like I’d just hurt his feelings. “You can be both.” I shot him a grin. “Well, all right, then. Let’s try that. And since we’re being friends, you won’t mind me openly kicking your arse at chess.” His answering grin was wicked, and combined with his handsome face and tousled blond hair, gave me some distinctly un-lesbian feelings down below. What, oh what, was I getting myself into? “Bring it on,” said King.

FOUR

y mind was on my boss again as Karla and I walked to the nearby supermarket M to do our weekly shopping. I’d stayed at King’s place for another hour the night

before, drinking wine and finishing our game of chess. I really enjoyed talking to him. I mean, he was so unlike the usual sort of men I’d grown up with. King was sophisticated and urbane, and he represented a world I knew virtually nothing about. And, as expected, he was the one to kick my arse at chess. I had to hand it to him — he was an excellent player. In order to preserve my job, I left before I got too drunk, and told him I’d see him on Monday. It was only Saturday, and already Monday felt too far off. There was something about being in his presence and talking to him that I craved. “Oi oi,” I heard someone call as Karla and I were passing by a betting shop. Talk about the sort of men I was used to. I turned my head to see Lee Cross, my ex Stu’s younger brother, standing in the doorway, wearing a cocky smile. Lee was a handsome little shit, and he knew it. He was about twenty-five, and was one of four brothers that made up the notorious Cross family. Despite being younger than Stu, Lee was the brains of the operation, and I was fairly sure the garage he ran was also a chop shop. He held a toothpick to his mouth, still grinning, as he took in me and Karla. “Haven’t seen you around in a while, Clarky,” he said, stepping outside and walking toward us. “What happened?” “Stu and I broke up,” I said, and remembrance lit in his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I think I heard something about that,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and back inside the bookies. That glance told me all I needed to know. Stu was inside, and I had the sudden urge to flee. I definitely didn’t want a run-in with my ex right now, especially since the last time I’d seen him, he was being arrested for stealing cars. So yeah, their garage was most definitely of the dodgy variety. Lee’s attention wandered to Karla, his gaze skimming lazily over her body and then back up to her face. By the glint in his eyes, I thought he definitely liked what he saw. “All right, Gingersnap,” he said, giving her a flirtatious wink. Karla frowned and tried to hide a blush before looking at me. Although she’d

met Stu a few times before, she’d never met Lee. And as I said, Lee was attractive in a bad boy sort of way. He had light brown hair, blue eyes, a muscled physique, and a perennially cheeky grin that promised pure naughtiness. The supermarket was right next door to the bookies, and Karla sounded a little perplexed as she said, “I’m, uh, going to go inside and make a start. I’ll see you in a minute.” And then she left, leaving me alone with the sexier, grown-up version of the Artful Dodger. Lee didn’t even try to hide the fact he was checking out her arse as she went. He also didn’t look away until she’d completely disappeared inside the supermarket, and that was when his attention returned to me. “She single?” I couldn’t help it; I sputtered a laugh. Lee’s eyebrows drew together as he chewed on the toothpick. “What’s so funny?” “My friend’s name is Karla. My friend is also a cop.” Now Lee’s eyebrows practically shot right up into his forehead. “For real? She’s Old Bill?” “Uh-huh.” He let out a low whistle. “Well, fuck me.” “Yep. She’s also too old for you.” He flashed me a dangerous smile. “All the better. I like a woman with experience.” Well, that statement was definitely wrong, because if what I’d heard on the grapevine was true, Lee had far more experience than Karla, even if she was three years his senior. He looked back inside the supermarket, and I could tell by his expression that his interest had been piqued. I clicked my fingers in his face. “Hey, don’t go getting any ideas.” He turned back to me, grinning again. “What? I didn’t say anything.” “Your face said it all.” The look he gave me next had mischief written all over it. He rummaged in his pocket, coming up empty. “Oh, would you look at that, I’m all out of smokes. Think I’ll just mosey on inside and buy a pack.” I tried to grab his arm, my voice low and threatening as I hissed, “Don’t you dare,” but he was already gone. I was about to hurry after him when another voice drew my attention. “Lex,” said Stu, stepping outside. He always called me Lex, and though it was nice to be given an affectionate nickname, it really just made me think of baldy old Lex Luther. Drawing in a deep breath, I turned to face Stu. I could do this. Slowly bringing my gaze to his, I took in his appearance. Tall, built, with brown hair and hazel eyes, Stu’s looks had never been a problem in our relationship. In fact, his looks, combined with his finesse in the bedroom, were the foundation on which our relationship was built. He might not have had much going on upstairs, but that dirty mouth of his always managed to make me forget my senses. The night he got arrested was the kick up the arse I needed to finally end things.

“Stuart,” I said, giving him a nod. He smirked at my use of his full name and took a step toward me. Clenching one hand into a fist, I summoned my reserves of willpower. If the look he was giving me was anything to go by, he was about to lay the moves on thick and heavy, and I had no intention of succumbing to them. “Missed ya,” he said, now standing directly before me and looking down. His breath hit my cheeks, smelling of cigarettes and beer, which just said it all, given it was only eleven-thirty in the morning. “Hmm, steal any cars lately?” I asked, my voice coming out clipped. He laughed before his mouth formed a hard line. “That was all a big misunderstanding. I told you. My mate forgot he let me borrow his car.” I folded my arms and rolled my eyes. Did he think I was born yesterday? A moment of quiet passed, then a low, seductive murmur, “You look good.” I stepped backward to put some space between us, but he only advanced on me. My back hit the wall, and Stu crowded me in. Leaning down, his lips brushed my ear. “Fuck, but I’ve been dreaming about your pussy. Come back to me, Lex.” Okay, so I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little flushed right then. Sex with Stu had been spectacular, and life in my bedroom was decidedly dull since I’d handed him his marching orders. Still, giving in to him wouldn’t be a good idea. Rekindling a relationship with a criminal was not something smart women did. And rekindling a relationship with a dumb criminal was definitely not something smart women did. I liked to think I was a smart woman. My vagina, on the other hand, was the equivalent of a dumb blonde. And that blonde wanted what she wanted. “Piss off,” I said, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him back. He didn’t fight me, and instead chuckled, giving me a lascivious grin as I walked away. He mimicked holding a phone to his ear. “I’m always available for booty calls, babe. Don’t forget.” I flipped him off, which only solicited more chuckling, and stepped inside the supermarket. I searched through the aisles for Karla and finally found her idling by the breakfast cereals. There was a trolley in front of her containing a couple of items. There was also a Lee Cross in front of her, and he looked determined. I caught the tail end of what he was saying. “…fucking love this hair. You’re gorgeous. Let me take you out.” “No, thank you,” Karla replied stiffly before her eyes rose to mine and relief etched itself over her features. “Hey, time to skedaddle,” I said, and gave Lee a cheeky slap on the arse. His posture grew still, and I immediately wondered if that had been a good idea. Me and my trigger-happy arse-slapping hand. When he glanced at me, he wasn’t wearing his cheeky grin anymore, and he was clearly pissed I was interrupting his attempt to woo my best friend…also, the arse slapping. Yeah, I already knew that despite his carefree, piss-taker attitude, beneath the surface lay a man not to be messed with. It was worrying that he’d set his sights on Karla. Nothing about that would lead anywhere good, and that was before you even factored in her profession.

He held up a finger to me, then turned back to the object of his affections. “One date. Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?” I resisted the urge to snort. Then Karla let out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, but no. Now, could you please move? I have groceries to shop for.” Lee stared at her for several seconds before leaning in and whispering something in her ear. I couldn’t hear what he said from where I was standing, but I did see Karla swallow nervously. Giving her one final heated smile, he strode off with that confident swagger. I let out a long breath. “Sorry about that.” She shrugged me off. “It’s no problem. Was Stu out there?” “Uh-huh.” I let my eyes wander to the shelves as I scanned the items. “How’d that go?” “As aggravating as expected. What did Lee whisper to you?” Karla looked away, embarrassed, before replying quietly, “Something a little too risqué for this time of the morning.” I finally decided on a box of cereal and picked it up before tossing it in the trolley. “Yep. Those Cross boys have some dirty mouths on them.” “Hmm,” said Karla, and I didn’t like the contemplative look on her face. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, wagging a finger at her. “Lee might be a hot little slice, but believe me, he’s not worth it.” I didn’t mention that I was ninety-nine-percent positive he was involved in some pretty dodgy dealings. I didn’t need to. Karla had been in her line of work long enough to recognise a criminal when she saw one. Don’t get me wrong, Lee had a heart of gold. In fact, alongside Stu, he’d cared for his younger brothers from the time he was fourteen and his parents died. So yeah, he had a good head on his shoulders. Unfortunately, his circumstances in life had pushed him to channel his brains in the wrong direction. Karla scoffed, but I could tell by the brief expression that crossed her face that she had been tempted, even if she’d never allow herself to admit it. “I’m not stupid, Lexie. I wouldn’t touch that boy with a ten-foot bargepole. And I shudder to think what my dad would say if I did.” I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Karla’s father was a superintendent and had raised her hard. It was where she got her tough side from. In any case, she was right when she said he’d disapprove. In fact, he’d see right through Lee the second he met him. Not that it was ever going to happen. Unless, of course he was arresting him for something. The rest of the weekend passed, and before I knew it, I was waking up on Monday morning for work. I’d just slipped into a black pencil skirt and a purple blouse when my phone began ringing. Seeing it was Eleanor, I picked it up. “Alexis, I’m glad I caught you before you left for the office. I won’t be around today. Keith and I are seeing our estate agent about the house we’re buying in France. You know Mr King’s morning schedule well enough by now, don’t you?” “Yes,” I said, nodding even though she couldn’t see me. “I’ve got this. Don’t

worry about me.” I had to use a little of my confidence-faking skills for that one. Sure, I knew King’s routine, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to mess it up. Eleanor let out a relieved breath. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” “See you tomorrow,” I said, and hung up. Rubbing my suddenly sweaty palms on my skirt, I began quickly throwing everything I needed into my bag. My hair looked a bit wild, so I twisted it into a bun and off I went. I managed to make it to the office a half-hour early, grabbed the credit card Eleanor used for office expenses, and then dashed out to the nearest newsagents. And okay, I might have gotten a little distracted chatting with the portly old fellow who was working the counter. It’s a problem. When people start talking to me, I tend to get sucked in. This was why I took longer than planned to get the papers. I had ten of them tucked under my arm as I dashed into the elevator, only to be met with the icy blue gaze of Oliver King. “Alexis, good morning,” he said, nodding to me in greeting and grinning a little at my efforts to keep hold of all the papers. Then he gestured for me to hand him some. “Here, let me help.” I silently allowed him to relieve me of half the load, our fingers grazing as I explained, “Eleanor’s not coming in today. Also, I have to confess, I haven’t had a chance to read any of these.” King’s lips twitched. “Well, given that you’re new, I’ll go easy on you. And don’t worry, I’ve already been informed of Eleanor’s absence.” “I’m sorry. I would have made a start earlier if I’d known, but I’m going to try my best not to screw up your day.” Oh, God, if my hands were free, I would have face palmed at that. Way to show him I was a nervous wreck. King’s expression warmed. “I have every faith that you won’t.” A few seconds of silence ticked by before the doors pinged open. As I walked alongside him, he commented, “You know, I hardly recognised you today without the leopard print.” I shot him an amused scowl, but strangely enough, his friendly teasing managed to ease some of my nerves. “Very funny, Mr. King.” It was nice to know that just because he was my boss, it didn’t mean he was a slave driver. I was sure if I made a mistake today, he wouldn’t berate me for it. And God, speak of a mistake and watch it appear. We walked into the office, and Gillian shot up from her seat. “Good morning, Mr King,” she greeted her boss brightly before her gaze came to me and her eyes flared meaningfully. King continued into his office. “Alexis,” she whispered, “you forgot his breakfast.” I swear, by the look in her eyes you’d think she was about to have a coronary at the horror of a breakfastless Oliver King. “Crap, sorry! I’ll take care of it right away.” “It’s supposed to be waiting for him when he arrives.” “I know. It’s my mistake. I’ll go in now and apologise.” I left before she could stress me out further and slipped inside King’s office. I held my hands up. “Mea culpa — I forgot your brekkie, but I’m remedying the

matter right now. What ya got a hankering for?” Brekkie, Alexis, really? For some reason my brain thought being funny about the mixup would make it less of a big deal. King cocked a brow as he looked up at me from the newspaper he was scanning. “Te absolvo. Eggs Benedict and a double espresso. You speak Latin?” I tried not to snicker. “Nah, I’m just clever like that. And that’s one eggs Benedict and a double espresso coming right up. I’ll be back quicker than John Travolta in a leather jacket.” King shot me a confused glance but just shook his head. He clearly didn’t get my “Greased Lightning” joke, but whatever. I headed for the nearest café and got his breakfast. When I returned, he was in the middle of what sounded like a serious phone call, so I quietly set his food down on his desk. He gave my wrist a quick touch and mouthed a thank you before he was knee deep in his phone call again. I returned to my desk and set to work, trying not to let my thoughts linger on the casual way he’d touched me. It was a touch of familiarity, and we weren’t familiar. Well, not really. Perhaps the way I joked around made him think we were, but that was just my way. I was incapable of putting on airs and graces, and tended to act the same whether I was talking to my grandma or the Queen of England. Not that I’ve ever met the Queen, but you know what I mean. Mid-morning came and went, and then there was a handsome dark-skinned guy in a suit arriving at the office to see King. His exotic looks, however, didn’t match his public schoolboy accent. In fact, he sounded a lot like my boss. “Ah, Mr Batage, it’s good to see you again,” said Gillian. “Is that a new suit?” Mr Batage smiled at her and glanced down at what he was wearing. “Good to see you, too, Gill. And yes, it is new. Glad you noticed.” Gillian preened at him shortening her name to “Gill” and gave him a demure, “Well, it looks really good on you, and I love the way you’re cutting your hair these days. Follow me — Mr King is just inside his office.” Mr Batage gave me a nod hello before following Gillian. I continued working until she returned and shut the door behind her. She made sure it was closed tight before sidling up to my desk and giving me the lowdown. “That’s Dilvan Batage. He’s a good friend of Mr King’s. They went to school together. Dilvan is a trader over at The Ring, but he comes from really old money. His family are wealthy tea exporters from Sri Lanka.” I glanced up at her. “Huh. What’s The Ring?” She looked at me like I was slow. “It’s the London metal exchange. Busy place. Mr King took me along on a visit once. It’s the only market that still trades solely in cash.” “Ah. Got ya. So he’s some sort of hotshot, then?” “Pretty much. He’s really successful.” I wasn’t mistaken when I saw the dreamy look flash across her face. “And easy on the eyes, too,” I added, giving her a wink. Gillian firmed her lips and straightened up. “That’s neither here nor there.”

“But you wouldn’t mind his heres having a go on your theres, would you?” Her pinched expression grew even more so, and I had to laugh. “I’m messing with you, Gill. Relax.” Without another word she returned to her workstation, and I thought I might have embarrassed her. Though I found it hard to believe a woman who flirted as much she did could be embarrassed by a bit of friendly teasing, but hey, what did I know. I’d have to watch my mouth with Gillian in future so as not to cause offence. I answered the phone then and scribbled down a message to pass along to King. The woman sounded adamant that I pass it on ASAP, so I rose and went to knock on his door. “Come in,” I heard him call before I turned the knob and stepped inside. King sat in his usual chair, while Dilvan perched on the edge of his desk. Both men were sharing what appeared to be a glass of whiskey. I swear, it was a scene straight out of Mad Men. I had to resist the urge to crack a joke about old broads and crazy dames. “Ah, Dilvan, let me introduce you to Eleanor’s replacement,” said King as I walked into the room and passed him the note. “This is Alexis.” I turned and gave the man a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexis,” said Dilvan. “You, too.” Dilvan shot King a smirk. “I think your other assistant has a sweet spot for me.” King grinned. “Oh, really? Gillian?” “That’s the one.” When King’s attention slid to me and I saw the playfulness in his eyes, I got a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “Alexis has a something of a theory about Gillian, isn’t that right?” “Oh?” Dilvan put in. Now both of their attentions were levelled on me, and I felt a bit hot under my blouse. “I think you’re getting me mixed up with someone else, Mr King,” I said, quiet but firm, about to leave when he continued, “No, I’m not. If I remember correctly, you said Gillian would marry a cup if — ” Before I knew it, I was taking a step back so that I could fit my hand over his mouth to shut him up. I’d left the door ajar, and there was a small chance Gillian would hear. I was so panicked for a moment that I hardly realised what I’d just done. My palm was fitted against King’s sculpted lips, which, as it happened, felt really nice. He stared up at me, his bright eyes going unfathomably dark, before I snatched my hand away like I’d just been burned. Silence filled the room. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have….” And then both he and Dilvan started laughing. “You know, I do feel sorry for you, working with this beast,” Dilvan told me. “I just didn’t want Gillian to hear,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to….” King waved my explanations away. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he said. I swallowed and nodded, turning and leaving even though I hadn’t been

dismissed. I needed to get out of there before I began stripping and giving him a lap dance. I swear, I did the stupidest things sometimes. I wouldn’t be surprised if that somehow happened. When lunchtime came, I wasn’t sure if King’s invitation for me to use his bathroom was still open. He was out of the office, though, and Gillian was dining out as usual, so I decided to chance it. I’d brought a packed lunch, because I needed to watch the pennies until I got my first month’s pay. Opening the door to the office and then to the bathroom, I furrowed my brow in confusion. The bathroom looked exactly how it normally did, only now there was a table and two chairs set up in the middle of the room, and on the table sat a chessboard. But it wasn’t just any chessboard, it was King’s. The one we’d played on at his apartment. I didn’t get the chance to ponder it further, because the next thing I knew someone was entering the room from behind me. “Ah, you’re here. Perfect. Fancy a game?” King asked, passing me by and pulling out a seat.

FIVE

“W ell, are you going to just stand there all day, or are you going to come and

play with me? I’m sure you’re eager for a rematch,” King went on as I stood by the door. I had to admit, I was flustered. “Um, I….” “Sit down, Alexis,” he urged me, but it also sounded a little bit like a command. Who knew my boss had a bossy side? I tried to concentrate on the chessboard situation, but I had to get the “my hand on his mouth” situation out of the way first. “I’m sorry for earlier,” I blurted. King only stared at me for a very long moment and arched a brow. “In your office, while your friend was visiting. I put my hand on your mouth, and it was so inappropriate I don’t even know where to start.” I glanced to the side and fidgeted with my hands. “Sit down, Alexis,” King repeated, this time with more force. Unable to resist an order like that, I finally came forward and took the seat he was offering. His knuckles brushed my shoulder as he pushed my chair in, and I instinctively sucked in a breath at the contact. Not that he noticed. Walking around to the opposite side of the table, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat. “What you did was fine. Dilvan is a friend. If it had happened in front of anyone else, it might have been a different matter. Maybe try to resist the urge to fondle me during work hours in future.” His voice was lightly teasing, but there was also a stiffness that put me on alert. He began to arrange the pieces to his liking on the board, and I didn’t know how to feel. Was he actually okay with it, or was he just pretending? Nah, a man like King didn’t pretend. He didn’t need to. “Well, I’ll be more careful the next time. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” He fingered his bishop and flicked his eyes to mine. “Embarrass me?” “In front of your colleagues. I know this business can be all about appearances.” “You think so?” I smoothed my skirt over my thighs and saw his eyes follow the movement. Huh. “Oh, I know so.” I paused hesitantly before asking, “Do you want honesty or the

polite answer?” “Honesty, always,” said King without batting an eyelid. I swallowed and gave it to him straight. “I’ve only worked here a week, and already I can tell the environment is all about appearing to be successful and acting like you’re doing well, even when you might be failing miserably. And, let’s face it, more people are losing than winning, especially in today’s climate, but you wouldn’t think it to look at them.” It was true. I might not have been working right in the middle of it all, but I’d been through the main offices often enough to be able to get the lay of the land. And the land around here was highly competitive. It was kind of a relief not to be a part of it. I had no clue why someone would actually choose this for a career. Well, okay, I did know. They chose it for the money. Though personally, I thought the amount of stress that came with the money wasn’t worth it. King seemed intrigued as he leaned forward and rested an elbow on his knee. “And am I one of the winners or one of the losers?” “I’ve worked on your spreadsheets. I think we both know the answer to that question.” King was winning hand over fist. His mouth moved in something akin to satisfaction. “You have a very cynical view of my industry, Miss Clark.” My eyes grew wide. “Can you blame me? People have lost their homes, their jobs, because of bankers speculating with their money and handing out subprime loans like candy at a fair. But really, I just see it for what it is. If somebody’s making money in this office, then it goes without saying that someone in another office is getting screwed over. There’s cash everywhere, but seemingly never enough to go around. And definitely never enough to satisfy one person’s desire for it.” I’ll give him credit, King didn’t show a single sign of annoyance at what I said. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he was actually enjoying the conversation. I was thankful my opinions hadn’t offended him. “If this is how you see things, then why come to work here?” I let out a laugh and decided to make the first move in our game. I picked up a pawn. “Because I don’t live in an ivory tower, Mr King. I live in a tower block. And I can’t afford to be picky. The way I see it, the people who while away their days living by lofty ideals are the ones who have the money to do so. The rest of us are too busy trying to keep our heads above water to have time to play around with moral codes. So yeah, I don’t believe the way the financial industry works is right or good, but if that industry is going to provide me with a way to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head, then I’m in no position to refuse.” “You’re right,” said King, eyeing the board and seemingly deliberating over his next move. “Thank you,” I said, feeling a small burst of pride that was quickly deflated. “But you’re also wrong.” I glanced up at him, surprised. “How am I wrong?” “You said we all desire money, but I don’t. My family is very wealthy, and I could

live off that wealth quite comfortably for the rest of my life if I chose to, but I don’t choose to. I want to excel, to do better than everyone else. Break records all on my own merit, no cheating, no shortcuts, no unfair advantages. That’s what drives me. The money I make in excelling could very well be empty pieces of paper for all I care.” “A-ha, but don’t you see, not caring about the money, only caring about winning, that’s a luxury. You come from money, so you have the luxury of only caring about your accomplishments. If you had nothing to fall back on, if the threat of poverty was something to really be scared of, you’d care about the money then. The money would be all you’d care about, because it’d mean the difference between having food on your plate or going hungry.” Our game of chess felt long forgotten as King stared at me for what seemed like forever. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He knew I was right. And speaking of hunger, I hadn’t yet had the chance to touch my lunch, so I picked up my sandwich and began to unwrap it. I took a bite, chewed, and all the while King didn’t say a word. Finally, he spoke. “Have you ever considered joining a debate club? You’d be a formidable competitor.” I laughed. “Maybe I will.” King watched me eat for a moment (which made me unusually self-conscious) before opening up the small food container he’d brought with him. It looked like some sort of healthy Asian salad. “Why did you bring your chessboard here? This is the same one we played at your apartment, right?” I asked as we both ate. He cleared his throat. “It is. And to answer your question, I enjoyed playing with you. I thought we could make it a regular thing.” His answer caught me off guard, and yes, I was also a little bit flattered that he wanted to play chess with me on the regular. “And you put it in your bathroom because…?” He gave me a hint of a smile. “You’re oddly taken with my bathroom. I thought you’d be more amenable to playing if I put it in here.” I laughed loudly, because even though it was so weird, it was also so right. “Oh, my God, you know me too well. It’s kinda scary.” I waggled my brow at him. “I wanted to make an effort for my very first Sapphic friend,” he replied. Christ, if ever there was a lie that would come back to haunt me, it was telling Oliver King that I batted for the other team. Still, it was a little bit funny he believed I was gay, and it was enjoyable to play along. I mean, even though I found him attractive, I had no intention of ever letting it go anywhere, so what was the harm in him believing I liked girls? “If you’d really wanted to make the effort, you could have popped a few pictures of topless birds up on the wall. You know, so I’d have somewhere pleasant to rest my gaze.” King chuckled. “My apologies. I’ll remember that for the next time I need to

butter you up.” MUM: Dinner’s on the table at 7. Don’t be late. I got the text right after lunch, and remembered I’d promised my parents I’d come around for dinner that evening. King and I hadn’t managed to finish our game within the hour, so we’d left the board as it was with an agreement to pick up where we’d left off tomorrow. Was he going to spend all his lunch hours playing chess with me in his bathroom? The question gave me troubling butterflies in my belly, and I couldn’t deny I was flattered by how much attention he was showing me. I had the feeling Oliver King didn’t show attention to new people easily, so I knew there must be something about me that interested him. I was under no illusions that I was special, but I put it down to being different from the usual women who worked at Johnson Pearse. I didn’t mince my words, I said inappropriate crap, I acted inappropriately, and seemingly King found all of this endearing for whatever reason. All I knew was, he wasn’t inviting Gillian to spend her lunch hours with him playing chess. It was five past seven when I arrived at Mum and Dad’s. They lived in Hackney, in the same little house I’d grown up in. It was far from a perfect place. The house was old and worn and in definite need of a lick of paint, but it was home, even more so when it was filled with the aroma of my mum’s cooking. My mouth was practically watering at the scent of her special recipe moussaka. “You’re late!” Mum said, one hand on her hip, her usually plump lips drawn into a thin line. “We’ve all been waiting.” By “all” she meant her, my dad, and my younger brother Kain, who had just turned twenty-one and still lived at home. My older brothers, Leon and Matt, were married with children and had long since moved out. “Sorry, sorry, today was my first day on my own, and it took me a little longer to finish up than usual,” I said, raising my hands in the air. I loved my mum to pieces, but she had a fiery temper and got mad easily. Lateness was one of her many pet peeves, especially when she’d gone to the trouble of cooking. I almost laughed as I took off my coat and saw she was holding a spatula. She pointed it at me like it could’ve been used as a lethal weapon. “The next time I will make fish fingers! Then you’ll learn to be on time.” Now I did laugh. Mum had only moved to the U.K. when she was twenty-three, so she still had an accent, and “fish fingers” just sounded hilarious when coming from her. I stepped forward and gave her a hug, which seemed to placate her mood. “I’m sorry, mamá, it won’t happen again.” She sniffed. “Yes, well, see that it doesn’t. Now come on, you look starved.” I followed her inside the kitchen, saying hello to Dad and Kain as I took a seat at the table. I filled them all in on the details of my new job, and I didn’t fail to notice

the look of pride in my dad’s eyes when I spoke. I knew the fact that I’d gone back to school meant a lot to him. He’d always told me I had brains to burn, and that I was wasting my time working in a bar. I wasn’t quite sure that I’d ever go much further in my career than working at Johnson Pearse, but at least it was something. We were just done with dinner when my phone began to vibrate. Since texting at the table was another of my mum’s pet peeves, I excused myself to the living room to check my message. Oliver King: Are you busy? Alexis: Just finished dinner. What do you need? Oliver King: I’m at a meeting that’s running late. I was due at my mother’s an hour ago, but it looks like I’m not going to make it. Can you pick up some flowers and deliver them to her? I frowned at his message. I didn’t want to blow off my family, since I usually stayed and watched TV with them after dinner, but I was really curious to meet the elusive Elaine King. Okay, so I was morbidly curious. She hadn’t been seen in the public eye for more than a decade, and there had to be a reason for it. Plus, she’d been the one to teach King how to play the piano so beautifully, and I was a little in awe of her for that. Finally, I replied. Alexis: Of course. Send me the details. Needless to say, Mum was none too pleased when I skipped out on her early. I left with a promise to visit again at the weekend, and that kept her happy. When I arrived at the florist, there was a huge bouquet of red and yellow lilies waiting to be collected. I picked them up, careful not to damage the petals, and went outside to thumb a cab. Elaine King lived in a four-story period house in Bloomsbury, a very exclusive and expensive area of London. I stood outside for a moment, gathering my nerve. I’d never stepped foot in a house like this in my life, and it was slightly intimidating. Finally going for it, I pressed the doorbell, and a moment later a female voice came through the speaker. “Hello, is that you, Oliver?” “Mrs King, my name is Alexis. I’m your son’s assistant. He had a meeting run late and asked me to deliver some flowers. I hope that’s okay?” “Flowers? Oh, yes, flowers. Okay, I’ll be right there.” There was something manic and airy about her voice that sounded kinda off. I was standing there for a good five minutes before I finally heard the door being unlocked. She opened it slowly, and I was met with an older pair of ice-blue eyes that were almost identical to King’s. She studied me for a moment, then craned her neck around the doorframe to ensure I was alone. “Do you…do you have any identification?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. Jesus, was she okay? Resting the bouquet on my hip, I rummaged in my bag for my work I.D. before pulling it out and showing her. She took her time scanning the details, and then before I knew it, she’d reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling

me inside. Her hand was cold. It all happened so quickly that I barely had time to react. I was standing in the foyer, still holding the flowers and my I.D. when she began flicking locks and pushing over deadbolts. Whoa. That door had a lot of locks on it. When she finally turned to face me, I had a proper chance to take in her appearance. Her light blonde hair was long and raggedy, and she wore a cream silky robe over a pair of peach-coloured pyjamas, slippers on her feet. Her complexion was pale, and there was a nervousness in her expression that made me want to put her at ease. She was like a twenty-first-century Miss Havisham, locked away in her big old house. I could already see that the furnishings were dusty and uncared for, which meant she probably didn’t have any household staff. “Hi,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for intruding, but like I said, Mr King wanted you to have these.” She stared at me, seeming to flounder for a moment, and I got the feeling she didn’t speak to new people very often. Then her eyes went to the flowers, and her face lit up in a smile. “Oh, my, they’re beautiful,” she said, coming and taking them from me. Without another word, she carried them into the living room and placed them on the window ledge. I noticed that she needed to squeeze them in, because there were a bunch of other vases there already. Some of the flowers were fresh, and others looked like they’d died a long time ago. I felt a little shiver run down my spine. There was definitely something not right about this woman. “Thank you so much for bringing these. Oliver knows I love my flowers. I remember when I was still performing, I’d come back to my dressing room, and it would be full to the brim with bouquets. Oh, the smell was just heavenly.” She paused, and swallowed, her bloodshot blue eyes considering me shyly. “Would you like to…to stay for a cup of tea?” I wasn’t sure if I did, but there was no way I could say no to her. She seemed so lonely, and she had clearly sequestered herself away from the outside world. I wondered if King was the only person who ever got to visit her. “Of course,” I replied. “That’d be nice.” She smiled again and motioned for me to follow. A moment later, we were entering a large, unkempt kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed dishes, but thankfully she set a clean-looking mug down in front of me for the tea. As she busied herself making it, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and pulled it out. Oliver King: Did you deliver the flowers? Alexis: Yes. Oliver King: How did she seem? Alexis: She seems okay. I’m still here. She invited me in for tea. I knew saying she was okay was stretching it a bit, because there was nothing okay about this situation, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking King about the state of his mother’s mental health in a text message. There was a long stretch in between me sending the text and King replying. Elaine had made the tea and was

pouring some into my cup with an unsettlingly shaky hand when I felt my phone buzz again. Oliver King: I’m still in the meeting. I’ll call you later. Be as sensitive as you can with her. Well, it was obvious from his response that when King had asked me to deliver flowers, he hadn’t expected his mum to invite me in. Alexis: I will. Don’t worry. Talk to you later. Elaine sat down across from me, her hand still shaky as she lifted her cup to her mouth. She took a sip, then set it back down. I clasped my hands together in my lap. This was one of the oddest moments of my life, sitting in a kitchen having tea with a woman who was once a global superstar. I drank some tea. “Goodness, you must think all this is terribly peculiar,” said Elaine, gesturing around the room. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I said, “Oh, give me peculiar over ordinary any day. It’s far more interesting.” Something about my response made a tiny smile crop up on her lips. “I would have dressed if I’d known I’d be having company.” I waved her away. “Don’t sweat it. Me and my roommate Karla practically live in our PJs when we’re at home. In fact, it’s the highlight of my day, getting home and slipping into a pair. And don’t even get me started on bras. Taking those torture contraptions off after a day’s work is pure heaven.” Surprising me, Elaine laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She settled into her seat, looking a little more at ease now. “How long have you been working for Oliver?” “Not long. His other assistant, Eleanor, is retiring soon, so he hired me to replace her.” “I haven’t met Eleanor,” said Elaine. “But we spoke once or twice over the phone. She seemed very nice.” “She is. I’m going to miss her when she leaves.” So even Eleanor, the woman King trusted the most, hadn’t met his mum? The fact that he’d trusted me to come here made me feel…I don’t know, special. Elaine shifted closer in her seat. “Alexis…what’s he like, at the office, I mean?” “Mr King?” She nodded. I chose my words wisely when responding. “He’s…extremely driven. People really respect him, and he’s a good boss. He doesn’t go crazy if I make a mistake or anything.” She seemed happy with that answer, and now I knew something else. Elaine King had never seen her son work, had never visited him at the office. She was a full-fledged hermit. We spoke for another few minutes, and then I got the feeling she wanted me to leave. Not because I’d done anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but just because being around someone new seemed to take a lot out of her. I said my goodbyes, and she walked me to the door. When I stepped outside, I immediately heard her re-doing the locks. What on earth had happened to Elaine King?

I caught the tube home and was just settling into bed for the night when my phone began ringing. It was King. “Hello?” He exhaled a long breath. “Alexis, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realise she’d ask you in. She never asks anyone in. She comes to the door to collect deliveries, but she doesn’t let people inside, except for me and her therapist. She won’t even allow me to hire any household staff.” Wow, he almost sounded upset. It was a little jarring, since he was always so suave and put together at the office. “Look, King, it’s none of my business. I know it must be difficult having a family member who….” “Did you just call me King?” he said, cutting me off. “Oh, yeah, sorry, I….” “Don’t apologise. I like it.” A silence elapsed, and then he said, “Alexis, I’d really appreciate it if you kept my mother’s current condition to yourself. Every once in a while, journalists come sniffing about. It’s a hard job keeping them away from her.” “I can imagine. But don’t worry, you have nothing to fear from me. I won’t tell anyone.” He seemed curious now. “I hope this doesn’t sound like an odd request, but could you tell me what happened? The fact she let you into the house is a big deal.” “Of course,” I answered, and then began to detail the encounter from beginning to end. When I was finished, King said, “She must have seen something trustworthy in you. I’m not surprised. I felt the same way the first day you came to be interviewed.” What he said made me catch my breath. I just hoped he didn’t hear it. “You did?” “Yes, you have a warmth about you, Alexis. I sensed it even after you got prickly when I told you I liked your picture. Do you find that a lot of people you don’t know very well open up to you?” he asked, and the accuracy of his question blew me away. I did find that happening a lot. Whether I was sitting on the tube or having a quick coffee in a café, I’d find myself being drawn into conversations with strangers, where they’d tell me things about themselves you wouldn’t normally say to someone you don’t know. It had happened just this morning, when I’d gotten caught up chatting with the man at the newsagents, thus making me late with King’s papers. “Yes, actually, I do.” “You see. People must feel like they can tell you things without being judged.” Ha! That was a laugh. I was a judgey little bitch sometimes. Just ask Karla. “Huh,” was my only response. “Well,” said King, clearing his throat. “I’d better let you go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you,” I said, and then we hung up. Dropping my phone on my nightstand and making sure to set my alarm, I thought that today had been one for the books. I was exhausted, and as soon as I shut my eyes, I was out. However, in my dreams, King’s words seemed to echo: You have a warmth about you, Alexis. I found I kind of liked the sound of that.

SIX

he following morning, I got another call from Eleanor informing me she T wouldn’t be in until after lunch, so I was responsible for the morning routine again.

This time I felt more prepared. I had King’s breakfast and his newspapers on his desk when he arrived. Once Gillian had talked him through the upcoming meetings for the day, he very subtly signalled for me to come into the office. It piqued my curiosity. Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the window as King perused a paper. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, and he didn’t start speaking right away. Perhaps he felt weird about the thing last night with his mum. Glancing out and down onto the large open square beyond the office building, I spotted a new guy working the newsstand I’d been watching on the morning of my interview. A couple of customers came and went, but it was obvious that there was no longer any dealing going on. King was still reading when I said, “Do you know there’s a new guy working the newsstand outside?” The corner of his mouth shaped into a grin before he swung around in his chair, holding a pen to his mouth as he considered me. “Does anything get past you?” I gave him a toothy smile. “Very little.” He half-sighed, half-chuckled as he turned back to his desk. “I looked into the other guy after you mentioned him. Turns out you were right — he was dealing, so I got rid of him.” He paused, letting out a derisive chuckle. “Apparently, he was well known by traders around here, went by the name of Bernie Black.” I was impressed that King had the kind of pull that he could get the guy removed just like that. I mean, he was obviously dealing for someone higher up, and this area would have been a highly profitable patch. Finally, I replied, “He actually told people his name? That’s kind of dumb.” He stared at me sharply. “Think about it, Alexis.” I did. Then it hit me, and I laughed. “Ah, so Bernie as in coke, and Black as in hash.” “Now she gets it,” said King with the tone of a patient schoolteacher.

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Do you know anybody in the office who bought from him? Because they’re gonna be pissed when they find out he’s gone.” Glacial eyes flicked up. “There’s a few I suspect, but they’ll just have to deal with it. It’s a lifestyle a lot of people who come to work here fall into. If you’re good at what you do, you can make an enormous amount of money in the blink of an eye. These people make that money, and all of a sudden they’re buying expensive cars, luxury homes, and going out every night for extortionately priced meals. However, like you said yesterday, keeping up with the lifestyle and competing for all this money is also a big part of it. Competition equals stress, and when stressed, human beings seek a way to alleviate it. One of the main outlets for stress relief is drugs. Therefore, the City is a big market for dealers, especially since the people here have more than enough money to pay for what they want. It’s a hard job keeping tabs on who’s dealing and where, especially since I’m always so busy, so I have to thank you for the heads-up.” The warmth in his gaze made me flush. “It’s no problem.” What he’d said made me curious, so I went on, “What do you do to deal with the stress?” He gave me a wan smile, and there was something in his expression that struck me as sad somehow. Rubbing at his chin, he answered, “Hmmm, when I’m stressed out…a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.” “That makes sense,” I said, and walked around his desk before taking a seat in front of him. “You know, I always thought it was poor people who did drugs, to escape the bleakness of their realities. Now I’m thinking maybe the practice is most common at the top and the bottom of the ladder. Perhaps the best place to be is somewhere in the middle.” “Not necessarily. I’m at the top. Do I look high to you?” The deadpan way in which he said it made me laugh. I leaned forward and teased, “I’m not sure. Let me have a look at your pupils.” Surprising me, King rose from his seat, walked around his desk, and came to kneel in front of me. Before I knew it, his face was mere inches from mine. “Go ahead,” he said, voice low. Whoa, Oliver King’s face right up close…I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I guess he didn’t realise the effect he had on this very non-gay lady, because he seemed entirely unselfconscious. His eyes were beautiful, his lashes long and golden, his skin smooth with a hint of stubble around his jaw, and his lips were just…I had no words. Sculpted and masculine was probably the only way I could think to describe them. I realised I was staring at those lips a little too closely when my eyes flicked back to his. A moment ago he was smiling, but now that smile was transforming into a thoughtful frown. I cleared my throat. “Your pupils look fine.” King exhaled a small breath, and I watched as his attention went from my eyes to my cheeks, nose, chin, and then finally to my lips. He looked like he was about to say something when suddenly Gillian’s voice filled the room.

“Mr King, Jenson Gellar is on the phone. Shall I put him through?” My heart beat wildly before I realised she wasn’t actually there. She was talking through the intercom. I watched King swallow, smooth down his shirt, and then rise to a standing position. Walking to his desk, he hit the button to reply to Gillian. “Keep him on hold. I’ll pick up in a moment.” “No problem,” she answered, and then the room was silent again. Whatever had passed between King and me, he seemed to be trying to push it from his mind. Unable to stand the quiet, I asked, “So what did you want to see me about?” I ran my hands over my skirt, noticing how King’s eyes lingered on the movement for the barest second before he brought his gaze to mine. Another beat of silence passed, and my throat grew dry. Had he been…? I felt like maybe he had a thing for my thighs, because I’d caught him staring at them a number of times now. A moment later, he deftly set two newspapers down in front of me, each open on a different story. “Read both of these.” I cocked a brow. “Why?” “Just read them, and then I’ll tell you why.” “Aye, aye, captain.” He shook his head at my response and brought his attention to the phone. Picking up, he immediately began chatting a lot of numbers to the guy on the other end, while I tried to concentrate on the newspaper articles. Both were about different companies. One was a silicone manufacturer who had just announced an expansion to its production facilities. The other was a start-up for a new social media website. I read each of them to the end and was done before King was finished with his call. Glancing up, he noticed I was finished reading, and reached for a pad and pen. Still holding the phone to his ear, he scribbled something down, then passed it to me. It read: Which of the two companies would you invest in? I pondered the question, unsure as to why he was asking me this. Did he need advice, or was it some kind of a test? Looking back at the articles, I tried to come up with an answer. Grabbing King’s pen and paper, I began to write down a pros and cons list, and noticed his lips twitch when he saw what I was doing. All of a sudden, I began to wonder if I was some sort of amusement to him, or maybe a pet project. The thought disgruntled me, but I was determined not to let him see it. I’d told him at the end of my interview that I’d show him I had brains, and now I needed to prove it. Five minutes later, he hung up the phone and turned to face me. Clasping his hands together, he asked. “Well, have you decided?” I sat up primly. “Yes.” “And?” “I’d choose the social media start-up.” “Elaborate.” Had it gotten hotter in here all of a sudden? My throat was feeling unusually dry. “Well, silicone is clearly a good investment, because let’s face it, plastic surgery gets more and more popular year on year, and it doesn’t look like it’s going away

any time soon. It’s the safe choice if you don’t factor in the possibility of a replacement being created that works better. However, the sky’s the limit with the social media thing. It has the potential to go anywhere. And yeah, it’s more of a gamble, but if it succeeds, the rewards could be huge.” King leaned forward, looking pleased. “So, let’s say you’re me and I’m my client. I come in and I want invest in either the social media start-up or the silicone manufacturer. You’d advise me to go for the social media?” Narrowing my gaze, I nodded. He smiled. “All right. That will be all.” “That’s it?” “I have a very busy day ahead of me, Alexis, but I hope to see you at lunch for our game of chess.” His easy dismissal irritated me, and I felt like he was being sneaky. “King, this was all hypothetical, right?” The look he gave me when I called him “King” made my knees a little bit weak. He clearly liked it, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d essentially given him an affectionate nickname, or if he just enjoyed being referred to as an all-powerful ruler. “And if it wasn’t?” “I’m only an assistant. I know virtually nothing about investing. You shouldn’t be using my advice in any kind of real life dealings.” Now I had his full attention, and he seemed annoyed with me. “Alexis, I have heard more intelligence from you in two weeks than I have from some of the people I work with in an entire year. Never underestimate the value of your decisions.” I swallowed. Blinked. Couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Never in a million years had I expected him to say something like that. And then I felt tears prickling in my eyes. It was such a huge compliment, and I wasn’t used to those. I needed to get out of there before I embarrassed myself. Not saying a word, I gave him a sober nod, turned, and walked out of the room. Despite what I’d proclaimed about having brains at the end of my interview, I suddenly realised that when it came down to it, I didn’t really believe I could do very much with them. King’s compliment showed me that I needed to seriously rewire the way I thought of myself. For the next two hours, Gillian kept giving me furtive glances. She clearly wanted to know what King had talked to me about. I gave her nothing. Not only was the woman a flirt, she was also a gossip, and I didn’t want her spreading rumours of me getting preferential treatment from my boss. Not that it had been particularly preferential, but I got the feeling he didn’t often ask his assistants for business advice. It was almost lunch when Gillian came to my desk and placed a small white envelope in front of me. “This came for you,” she said, looking curious. I glanced at the envelope and saw it had been addressed to me in pretty cursive handwriting. Opening it up, I found it was a note from Elaine King telling me she’d very much enjoyed my company yesterday, and that she hoped she’d see me again

sometime. Wow. I definitely hadn’t been expecting this. I’d just finished reading it when I realised Gillian had been craning her neck and reading over my shoulder. “You met Elaine?” she asked in a breathy, flabbergasted voice. I shot her annoyed look before answering, “Yeah. Mr King had to cancel a visit and asked me to deliver some flowers to her house.” Gillian’s eyes flared wide as she took a quick look at King’s office door to make sure it was closed. Her voice grew hushed. “Nobody around here has ever met Elaine. Rumours say she went mad with paranoia after something happened with a stalker, and Mr King keeps her locked away to hide the secret.” For some strange reason, I felt the urge to cover for both King and his mum. “Well, she seemed normal enough when I met her.” “Oh,” said Gillian, obviously disappointed. She was after a scandal, and I wasn’t going to give her one. Finally accepting there was no story to tell, she went back to her desk and resumed working. I read Elaine’s note once more, a warm feeling in my tummy to know that she’d liked me. It felt good to think I’d brightened up her day. Then I started to wonder about the stalker Gillian had mentioned. This tidbit definitely wasn’t common knowledge, since I would have read about it in the media. Given the state of Elaine nowadays, it could just as easily be true as it could be a rumour. When my lunch hour came, I waited until Gillian had left the office to head into King’s bathroom. He wasn’t around, so I tucked into my packed sandwich and browsed my personal emails while I waited. As I did this, a text came in from Bradley. He had news about the photo shoot he wanted me to do. In a nutshell, he’d shown the higher-ups at the fashion house some photos of me from my Facebook page. They’d liked my look and wanted me to model. It all felt so glamorous and exciting. I was just reading through the details for the shoot, which was to take place on Saturday, when the bathroom door opened and King stepped inside. “Started without me?” he asked, taking off his suit jacket to reveal a perfectly fitted white shirt beneath. I really needed to stop noticing these things about him. “Uh, yeah,” I said, swallowing a bite as he neatly placed his jacket over the back of his chair. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” He arched a brow and then began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt sleeves before rolling them up his arms. I didn’t know why he was doing it, since it wasn’t particularly hot in here. And really, I wished he wouldn’t, because I couldn’t take my eyes off his forearms. They were…yeah, quite pleasant to look at. He seemed to be hiding some sort of satisfaction when he nodded to my phone. “Anything interesting?” “What?” I glanced down, taken by surprise that he’d caught me staring. “Oh, right, yeah, actually. I was just texting my friend, Bradley. He’s setting me up with some weekend work.” King’s expression was wry. “We don’t pay you enough here?” I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s more of a favour. He’s a fashion photographer, you see, and the label he’s working with at the moment need plus-

sized models.” I paused and gestured to myself. “Hence, my involvement.” He seemed both interested and amused as he leaned in. “You’re going to model?” “Eh, yes, no need to sound so cynical.” A small frown. “I wasn’t being cynical. I think you’d make a great model,” he said, and then his eyes seemed travel down my body, lingering on the flare of my hips emphasised by the pencil skirt I was wearing. “Fuck, you’d make a perfect model.” This last bit was said under his breath, and my skin began to tingle. Had he really just said that, or was I having a little mini daydream for a second? I needed to alleviate the tension his comment created, so I put on a haughty voice. “Mr King, none of those F-words at the office, please.” He chuckled. “My apologies. I sometimes forget you work for me. You’re so easy to get along with that you feel more like a friend.” “Aw, shucks, thanks.” I grinned at him and took another bite of my sandwich. Well, that was kind of sweet. He seemed oddly sheepish about his admission, and picked up the lunch I’d ordered for him. It was now my job to order his meals from the local health food café each morning and schedule them to arrive by one. I swear, the man ate a diet straight out of Men’s Health magazine, all eggs, lean meat, and fresh vegetables. And there was me thinking bankers subsisted on a strict regime of coffee, steak, and whiskey. Maybe that was the ’80s Wall Street stereotype talking. “So, you’re working on a shoot this weekend?” King asked. “Uh-huh.” “Can I come and watch?” I gaped at him. “Are you serious?” “Of course,” he said, and pulled out his phone, fingers swiping over the screen. “What are you doing?” “Cancelling an afternoon tea party I was supposed to attend so that I can accompany you to your photo shoot.” “You’re not coming.” He frowned and gave me this sad little puppy-dog pout that I swear made my ovaries wake up and say hello. The man was unfairly good-looking. “Come on,” I said, “you have to admit it is weird that you want to come to this.” Now he looked sceptical. “Will there be other women there who look like you?” “I presume so….” “You see? It’s not weird at all. I enjoy looking at women, especially ones who are interested in cocks rather than vaginas.” I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. I also couldn’t resist the urge to give him a scare. Glancing over his shoulder, I said, “Oh, hi, Gillian. Were you looking for me?” King’s complexion instantly paled, and he went utterly still. I burst out laughing as he turned and found the doorway empty. “Oh, my God, the look on your face. That was priceless!”

“It was cruel.” He scowled at me, but I could see the smile he was trying his best to hold back. “It serves you right for talking about cocks and VJs at the office. I bet you don’t say stuff like that to Eleanor.” “Eleanor is old enough to be my mother.” “And what am I? Chopped liver?” “You,” said King, voice low and gravelly, “are the perfect age to be hearing words like that.” On instinct, I licked my lips, and his eyes zeroed on it. Why oh why did he pay such close attention to the small details? It was too much, and the lesbian façade I’d been putting up was slowly beginning to crumble. If he kept giving me looks like that, he’d figure out sooner or later that I was lying, because my body language practically screamed my attraction. He kept on staring at me, and I knew he was waiting for me to give in. “Fine, you can come, but no manhandling the other models. I know what you Cambridge types are like. Frisky.” He laughed. “If by ‘frisky’ you mean uptight and socially awkward, then you know us very well indeed.” “Are you seriously using the words ‘uptight’ and ‘socially awkward’ to describe yourself? Because if you are, you’re fooling no one.” King tsked. “I’m not talking about myself. I’m talking about the kind of people I went to school with. I was lucky to be born with natural charm.” He flashed me a cocky grin. “Self-professed charm is no charm at all.” “You find me charming.” “That’s true. I find you about as charming as an ’80s sex comedy.” King laughed loudly at my put-down, strangely seeming to enjoy it, and began eating his lunch while eyeing the chessboard. “So, are we going to finish this game or what?” We did. And this time, I came out the winner. We were at a draw. Oliver King: 1. Alexis Clark: 1.

SEVEN

he following morning I walked into the office, sensing an odd vibe in the air. T It wasn’t long before I discovered the reason. It was B-day at Johnson-Pearse.

And no, that wasn’t B-day as in birthday. That was B-day as in Bonus Day. Apparently, investment banking, along with the vast majority of jobs in the financial sector, orbited around yearly bonuses. And those bonuses were announced at the start of each calendar year. I’d always read about this sort of thing in the newspapers, where left-wing journalists would criticize banks for giving out exorbitant bonuses to their employees while the rest of the country suffered one of the worst recessions in decades. I had to agree with the journalists; it was pretty fucked up. That still didn’t stop it from happening, though, and now I was getting to witness it all first hand. It soon became apparent that everybody wanted to achieve a larger bonus than the one they got the year before, which accounted for the nervous tension. Nobody wanted to get a small bonus, because that meant they were losing at the game of making more money than everybody else. I learned all of this from Eleanor as we worked together to complete our morning tasks. She’d been very happy with the way I’d handled things during her absence, and was confident I was going to make an excellent replacement after she left. Her confidence in me gave me a boost. The hours until lunch passed busily. The way things worked on B-day were as follows. Each employee was called into King’s office, or the office of Daniel James, senior managing director. The bonuses were not announced publicly. Instead, each employee was told his/her bonus in private. And the absolutely bizarre thing about it all was that every single one of those employees exited King’s office looking confident and satisfied. I knew some of them had to be bluffing, because not everyone got a larger bonus than last year. And here lay the competitive nature of the business. No matter what number those bankers got told when they entered King’s office, they would never let their colleagues see their disappointment. Like I said, it was all about appearances. It was mid-morning, and another “pleased”-looking employee had just exited

King’s office when I went inside to bring him his coffee. “Hey. How’s everything going?” I asked, setting the cup down on his desk. “Monotonous,” he replied, running a hand through his short blond hair. “Don’t you enjoy telling people their bonuses? I mean, the ones who did well, at least?” I asked, curious. King only shot me a look that said it all. So he didn’t like B-day. Duly noted. “Will you thank your mother for the note she sent yesterday?” I said just before I was about to leave. King glanced up from the papers on his desk. “Note?” “Yeah,” I replied. “I got it yesterday. She wrote telling me she enjoyed my company when I’d stayed for tea.” A stressed look crossed over King’s face. “Do you still have it?” “Yes, it’s in my drawer.” “Go get it,” he clipped. Frowning, I turned and went to retrieve the note. When I returned, I handed it to King, and he hurried to pull it from the envelope. His eyes scanned the words, and then a relieved breath escaped him. “Yes, this is definitely her handwriting.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Who else’s would it be?” Shutters went down behind King’s eyes and he stood, walking to me and handing me back the note. I took it and watched as he went to the drinks cabinet at the back of the office and pulled out a bottle of expensive whiskey. In less than a few seconds, he’d poured some into a glass and knocked it back. I recalled his words from yesterday. When I’m stressed out, a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick. Why had his mother sending me a note stressed him out? And why had he thought somebody else had sent it? “King, is everything all right?” I asked, concerned. He closed the drinks cabinet and turned back, his expression hard. Whoa. I’d never seen him look at me like that before. “Everything is fine, Alexis. Now, I do believe you have work to attend to.” Brow furrowing, I gave him a quiet, “Yes, I do,” then turned and left his office. I DIDN’T GO to the bathroom for lunch that day, nor did I go the day after. Instead, I ate my sandwich on a bench outside, intermittently browsing my messages and throwing pieces of bread to the pigeons. I’d almost forgotten that King and I had anything even resembling a friendship until he sidled into the office on Friday morning looking like the cat that got the cream. And all of that smug delight was being firmly directed at me. He said his usual hellos to both Gillian and Eleanor, then came to stand in front of me, arms folded, a gigantic smile on his face. “You’re looking particularly lovely today, Miss Clark,” he said with a flourish. I glanced at him for a second, frowned, and then continued typing. What was his

game? Eleanor got up from her seat and went to use the bathroom, and still he remained standing there like a complete and total oddball, as Gillian’s voice talking on the phone filled the room. Finally, I gave in. “Can I help you with something?” “I could fucking kiss you right now,” he beamed, and I sucked a breath. Okay. Trying to play it nonchalant, I replied, “For what exactly?” “That social media start-up we discussed the other day? Well, immediately after we spoke, I lined up one of my clients as an investor, and guess what?” I stared at him. “What?” “The site has gone viral overnight. Apparently, a couple of celebrities started using it, and now they’re getting new sign-ups by the bucket load.” He leaned forward and braced both his hands on the edge of my desk. “This client was an important one, and he currently thinks I shit daisies. And I have you to thank for it, Alexis. You’re a flipping genius!” I couldn’t help my smile. He really was laying it on thick and heavy. “Shall I whip out my cock for you to suck now or later? Jeez, Ollie, tone it down a little.” He blinked at me, and then a second later he was laughing. It was good thing Eleanor wasn’t around and that Gillian was too preoccupied with her phone call to hear what I’d said. “Did you just call me Ollie?” Supressing a smirk, I nodded, still typing. A beat of silence passed. “Did you also just refer to me sucking your cock?” “Well, you’ve already opened the button and pulled down the fly. You might as well finish the job,” I quipped, and amusement lit his eyes. He stared at me for so long that I began to get uncomfortable. His smile naturally faded, and now his expression grew serious. “I’m going to put a bonus in your first month’s pay. Think of it as a consultant’s fee.” Now I was frowning again. “You don’t have to do that. Seriously, picking that start-up instead of the other business was just me thinking out loud. Hazarding a guess. I didn’t do any research. I could have been completely bullshitting for all you knew.” King leaned closer. “Alexis, don’t insult me. I know bullshit from real shit when I hear it. And what you gave me was the latter.” Now I was the one staring him down. I decided I wasn’t going to protest further, because, hey, if he wanted to give me a bunch of money for my advice, I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at it. Maybe I could use it to bring me and Karla away on a little weekend break or something. “Fine,” I said. “Give me the bonus.” “Not giving it to you was never an option,” he answered before heading in the direction of his office. Once he reached the door, he turned back. “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about Saturday. And I better see you at lunch today. No more standing me up.” Jesus, he said that right in front of Gillian. It was good thing she was still busy

with her phone call. I could just imagine the gossip spreading like wildfire if she knew we were having all these intimate little lunches together. Before I could shoot him a scowl for almost outing us, he’d disappeared inside his office. I didn’t stand him up for lunch. And this time King won the game. Damn, he was starting to get an advantage on me. Oliver King: 2. Alexis Clark: 1. BRADLEY: Don’t wear any makeup. It’ll be done at the shoot. Can’t wait to see you. Smooches <3 Alexis: Is it okay if I bring a friend? Bradley: Karla wants to come? Alexis: No, she’s working. Someone else. Bradley: A boy? Alexis: Maybe. Bradley: Send me a pic and then I’ll decide :-D Alexis: Piss off. Bradley: Fine. I’ll just have to wait and wonder. If he looks anything like the last one, then I predict I’m in for a treat. Alexis: He’s not a boyfriend. Just a friend friend. Bradley: Ooooh. I see. A gentleman’s gentleman? Alexis: Sorry to disappoint, but no. A lady’s gentleman through and through. Bradley: Sometimes I think you might hate me. Alexis: Lol. See you later. Bradley: Whatevs. On Saturday morning, King insisted we take his car to the photo shoot. I told him I’d get the tube and meet him there, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. To be honest, I really didn’t want him to collect me. I hated to admit it, but I was embarrassed by where I lived. Yeah, he was aware I wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but the thought of King actually seeing the reality of my life made me break out into a cold sweat. I doubted he’d ever set foot in a building like mine in his life. It was going to be a rude awakening when he saw the graffitiladen, grey block of despair in which I dwelled. Giving in, I texted him my address, expecting him to call when he was outside. That wasn’t what happened. Oh, no, Oliver King took it upon himself to ascend the many flights of stairs up to my flat and knock right on my door. Karla was at work, and I was just pulling on a top when I heard the knocking. Praying it was one of my neighbours coming to ask a favour, I padded my way to the door and peered through the peephole. And there in all his sexy glory was my boss. I let out a long sigh and thumped my head against the metal panel. Well, he’d already seen the worst of it now. There was no point refusing to let him inside. I opened the door and stepped back, taking in his appearance. It had quite an effect on me. He wasn’t wearing his usual fitted suit. No, today he wore a

casual black jacket, a grey T-shirt beneath, designer jeans, and a pair of Caterpillar boots. I swear I had to consciously resist the urge to swoon. His hair was casually tousled with a bit of wax, and seeing him dressed like an everyday, normal bloke did a bit of a number on me. He looked just like someone I might chat with in a bar. Catching my breath, I greeted him. “Hey, uh, you didn’t have to come all the way up here, but come in.” Stepping past the threshold, King surveyed my small but tidy flat before bringing his attention to me. “Good morning, Alexis. I encountered a couple of young girls in the stairwell.” He seemed a little flustered, and it made me smile. “Oh, yeah, what did they say?” His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure if it bears repeating.” I snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine. I just have to throw a few things in my bag, but make yourself comfortable. Be back in a tick,” I said, and went inside my bedroom to shove my phone and wallet into my handbag. I was wearing a pair of black leggings, an old Madness T-shirt, and a long purple cardigan. Oh, and no makeup, as requested by Bradley. I hadn’t bothered to dress fancy for two reasons. One: I’d be getting dolled up at the shoot. And two: I didn’t want King “warming” to me any more than he already had. I mean, the man thought I was a lesbian, and he still wanted to hang out. Perhaps it was my glowing personality that he enjoyed. Heh. Returning to the living area, I found King sitting on the couch, perusing a picture of me and my family. The sight of all his masculine beauty in my very ordinary living room struck me like a whack to the chest. He was a fucking stunning-looking man, and I was pretty much doomed to lust after him for the foreseeable future. “I’m all ready. Let’s hit the road, Jack.” His eyes came to mine. “Is this your family?” “Yep. Handsome bunch, aren’t we?” I joked, and he chuckled softly, setting the frame back on the shelf. We left my flat and walked back down the stairs. The group of girls King had mentioned were gone, so he was saved from a second encounter of them leering at him. Girls around here could spot money a mile away, and King’s every movement screamed privilege and wealth. There were a couple of young kids and teenagers hanging about when we got outside, ogling King’s car. It was a black Mercedes and came equipped with its very own driver. It was a good thing, too, because from the way the local kids were eyeing it, I imagined it would have been stolen in a hot second if left unattended. In a very gentlemanly move, King opened the door and gestured for me to get in. As I slid past him, he looked down at me, eyes intent on my face. “You’re not wearing any makeup,” he said, his focus moving over my cheeks and down to my lips. It didn’t surprise me that he noticed the change, because I usually did wear makeup to the office. “Yeah, they’ll be doing it at the shoot.”

He exhaled. “I quite like your face without it.” Well, okay then. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply continued my way inside the Merc. King slid in after me, and then we were off. The journey was quiet as I fidgeted with my hands, a little self-conscious now that he’d seen where I lived. It was one thing to casually mention it in conversation, but it was another to have him actually go there in person. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t look at him. He must have sensed something was up with me when he asked, “What’s wrong, Alexis?” There was something about him saying my name in the small confines of the back seat that made the skin on the back of my neck tingle. I flicked my eyes to his for a second before looking back out the window. “Nothing.” “Don’t give me that. You’re not your usual chatty self. Out with it.” I sighed and crossed one leg over the other, causing King’s attention to wander to my thighs for a moment. I was beginning to lose count of how many times he’d done that, and it made me swallow, hard. He was one of those real attentive types who picked up on body language. I could tell. I also wondered what he could read from me. Was I successful in hiding my attraction? “I’m….” I began and then paused, feeling ridiculous. “This is stupid. I never make apologies for who I am or where I come from, but I just feel a bit embarrassed about my flat.” “Your flat is lovely, Alexis.” I pulled my lips through my teeth. “Thank you, but I mean the outside, not the inside. It’s probably because I’ve been to your place and seen how fancy it is. I bet you’ve never even stepped foot in a building like mine before in your life.” He studied me, face drawn into a serious expression. I felt his shoulder brush mine when he said, “I haven’t, but what does that matter? You don’t always have to be stuck where you are. You can improve your life endlessly so long as you have the capability of doing it, and you, Alexis, have the capability. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you otherwise. But back to the matter at hand. You’re my friend — therefore, I don’t care where you live.” I stared at him, dumbfounded and kind of flattered by all that stuff he said about my capabilities. I didn’t want him to know I was flattered, though, so I ignored his compliment and blundered on. “And that’s another thing. Isn’t it a bit weird that I’m your friend and I also work for you? Do you normally make friends with your PAs? Isn’t this, whatever we’re doing, against the rules?” “That’s a lot of questions.” “I need a lot of answers.” He was close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. “Okay, I’ll endeavour to give you some. First, I wouldn’t say it’s weird that we’re friends. It’s more out of the ordinary.” “Same difference.” “Let me finish.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “Second, no, I don’t normally make friends with my PAs. In fact, I’d never planned to make friends with you. It just sort of happened. I like you. You make me laugh. And you’re different from the other people I know. Having you around makes the day that little bit more interesting. I enjoy the spontaneity of never quite knowing what you’re going to come out with next.” He paused to laugh gently. “And third, no, it’s not against the rules. I’m free to be friends with whomever I choose, employee or not.” He went quiet then, and I turned to see why he’d stopped talking. His eyes looked…heated. Now he whispered, his breath kissing my ear, “If I were to fuck you, it would be frowned upon, but it still wouldn’t be breaking the rules. I’m not your teacher or your college professor, Alexis.”

EIGHT

h. My. God. I felt like I’d momentarily lost the ability to speak. What on earth O was he playing at? I mean, his driver was sitting right in front of us. He didn’t show

any signs of having heard King, but still. I think I became a touch hysterical when I shakily wagged a finger at him. “You have all the wrong equipment for me, remember?” Jesus, was that even my voice? I sounded way too high-pitched. He was silent a moment, and when he replied his voice was low and quiet, “Oh, yes, how could I forget?” Now he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. This was turning out to be the most awkward, sexually frustrating car journey of my life. It was a relief when we finally reached the location of the photo shoot, a warehouse building in Shoreditch. King got out first and went around to the front of the car, leaning down and talking to his driver through the window. The man nodded and drove off after I’d gotten out, too. King glanced at me and gestured that I should lead the way. I took a few steps over to the intercom and pressed the button to be let in. A female voice answered, and a second later we were being buzzed through. King was quiet as we went up the stairs to the studio. I was dying to know what he was thinking. What had brought all that on back in the car? I mean, he was often flirtatious, but never outright lewd, unless of course we were exchanging dirty jokes. But there was nothing humorous about what he’d said to me on the drive. When we reached the first floor, we found the place a flurry of activity. There were makeup stations all along one side of the large open-plan room, and on the other side were racks upon racks of clothes. Some girls sat having their faces done by makeup artists, and others were standing about as stylists handed them clothes to wear. Music played from speakers set into the corners of the ceiling, and by the windows was a white, black, and red set where the photos were going to be taken. It was all very chaotic and exciting. King placed his hand to the small of my back, and I was just about to ask a passing girl where I could find Bradley when my friend suddenly appeared. “There you are,” he said, grabbing hold of my wrist. “I need you in makeup

ASAP.” Glancing over my shoulder, he saw King and gave him a quick perusal. He reached his other hand over to my boss for a shake. “Well, hello, I’m Bradley. And you are?” I resisted the urge to snicker at the sweet, flirtatious lilt to his voice. Unlike the last time I’d seen him, when that girl had been rutting all over him on the dance floor, now Bradley was the one barking up the wrong tree. “Oliver,” said King, shaking Bradley’s hand. “Thanks for letting Alexis bring me along.” “Oh, it’s my pleasure. Alexis is one of my dearest friends.” He was teasing now, because Bradley never called me by my full name; I had always been just Lexie to him. He took my bag and coat from me, then led me over to hair and makeup. A curvy, light-haired girl came and began talking me through the “look” they were going for, while Bradley asked King if he’d like any tea or coffee. “A coffee would be great,” said King, emitting his usual master of the universe confidence. He might have been a duck out of water in this situation, but it didn’t show for a second. “Coffee it is. Come with me while Alexis gets her face done.” They were already walking away when I suddenly realised Bradley didn’t know about my lie. And he was chatty – too chatty. That meant he’d start grilling King on the nature of our relationship. And during that grilling it’d become pretty obvious that I didn’t, in fact, bat for the other team. The makeup artist was smoothing on a base foundation when I began rummaging in my bag for my phone. My fingers glided fast over the screen as I typed out a message to Bradley. Alexis: He thinks I’m a lesbian. Play along. His response was almost instantaneous. Bradley: And he thinks this why...? Alexis: We’re friends. If he thinks I’m gay, it eliminates the possibility of him coming on to me. Bradley: And you don’t want him to come on to you why…? I snorted a laugh, the makeup artist getting cranky when I kept looking down at my phone. I told her I just had to send one more text and then she’d have my full attention. Alexis: Because he’s also my boss. Bradley: No way! :O Grinning, I finally put my phone away and let the girl do my makeup. She’d moved on to my eyes when King reappeared, holding a mug. He sipped on it, gaze grazing me, lingering on the curve of my chest. Those eyes of his were so… consuming. Then his attention wandered to another of the models who was passing by. I swear I’d never seen anyone with such perfectly proportioned junk in their trunk. King had noticed, too. The woman caught him looking at her and gave him a sassy little smile. Bitch. Okay, so I knew I had no right to be jealous. This was a predicament of my own

devising. I’d had King’s attention from the beginning, and it had been my decision to deflect that attention with a fib. Yes, I’d made my bed, but it seemed I no longer wanted to lie in it. I hated feeling like this, so I tried to shrug it off with a joke. “I call dibs,” I mouthed at him, allowing my eyes to flick to the model just before she disappeared behind a rack of clothes. He took a step closer and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I’ll thank you for the lovely visual, but how do you know she’s that way inclined?” His words made me shiver. I turned my face to him, startled when I found our lips a mere inch apart, and tapped the side of my head. “Top-notch gaydar.” King chuckled and stood up straight again. “Whatever you say.” For the next few minutes we were both quiet as King took in his surroundings, i.e. the other models. The place was jam-packed with bootilicious females. When my makeup was done, I peered at myself in the mirror, liking the results. She’d outlined my upper eyelids with black liquid liner, and used a golden-brown eye shadow to create a smoky effect. It made my usually black eyes seem brighter, like a deep chocolate brown. My lips were a glossy peach colour, and my cheekbones had been highlighted with a shimmery blush. A moment later a thin blond guy came and used a curling iron to style my hair into glossy waves. It took him less than five minutes, and right after he’d suffocated me with hair spray he was off, setting to work on the next model. I turned my head from side to side, admiring my ’do, then looked up to see King standing behind me. His focus was completely on my face. I’d been so preoccupied studying my reflection that I hadn’t noticed him watching me. “You look….” he began, but then paused, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He glanced down at his watch. “When do you think they’ll start taking pictures?” Before I could answer, Bradley sauntered over, carrying a clothes hanger. “Soonish. Here, Lexie, go put these on.” I took the clothes and went behind one of the nearby privacy screens to get changed. King followed but remained standing on the other side of the screen. “Have you ever modelled before?” he asked, curious. “Nope. First time,” I replied, and pulled off my T-shirt, trying to ignore the way my skin tingled to have him so close as I undressed. “You’re a photo shoot virgin,” he continued, a smile in his voice. “Ah, I gave you that one too easy,” I said, grinning and slipping off my leggings and boots. I turned to pick up the outfit Bradley had given me. It consisted of a tight black sleeveless dress with a sweetheart neckline, sheer tights, and a pair of bright red four-inch heels. I had a bit of trouble fitting my boobs into the dress, since the fabric didn’t have any give whatsoever. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I tried some manoeuvring, letting out a quiet grunt. Ugh, I thought these clothes were supposed to be plus-sized. I felt as though I’d been sewn into the thing, like Sandy D and her slinky black pants. “Need some help?” King asked, his voice a reminder that he was close by. “Um,” I said, “could you go get Bradley?”

Before I knew it, King had come behind the screen, and I heard him inhale a sharp breath when he saw me. Again, I tried to deflect the tension with humour. “Looks like I’ve been eating too many of the old onion bhajis. This dress is way too tight.” King stepped forward, and almost of its own accord his hand went to my nape before running down the length of my spine. My breathing hitched. “No,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.” “King.” “Yes, Alexis?” “That’s enough touching.” His hand paused when it landed just above my bottom. He ignored my comment and asked, “What did you want Bradley for?” I turned around, breaking the contact, and gestured to my chest region. “The girls can’t breathe in this infernal contraption.” King laughed tenderly. “Well, they look fantastic.” I scowled at him. “You’re not helping.” “I’m sorry,” he said and took a step closer, his voice lowering. “What can I do to help?” His eyes were nowhere near my face. No, they were glued to my heaving bosom. “You can stop ogling me, for a start.” “Sorry. Can’t do that. Anyway, why do you care?” He tilted his head and arched a brow. His question riled me. “Misogyny. That’s why I care.” Oh, God, I was officially grasping at straws. “All you men are interested in is boobs and bums.” King stepped forward again, and now he had me backed into a corner. “You forgot the third b-word.” “What?” “Brains.” I snorted. “Don’t believe me?” “Coming from the man who gave me an interview based on my looks.” I glanced away, already sensing this was an argument I wasn’t going to win. “Ah, but I gave you the job based on your quick wit. And I’ve already told you how intelligent I think you are.” “Why are you trying to butter me up?” I asked suspiciously. His chest was dangerously close to brushing up against mine. “That’s not what I’m doing.” A pause, followed by a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask a question?” I hesitated a second. “Sure.” Now he closed the remaining distance between us. His breath hot and humid on my cheeks when he whispered, “Have you ever had a cock before?” My heart stuttered as I swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. He continued talking. “You should try one, just to make sure. Who knows — you might even like

it.” I still couldn’t look at him, and a heavy silence fell between us. My head swam with visions of him prying my legs apart and ramming himself deep inside me. My knees grew weak at the thought. His voice sounded different when he finally said, “Alexis, are you…?” “Lexie, you’re up,” Bradley called, interrupting whatever King had been about to say. Acting on instinct, I slid away from him and hurried to Bradley, needing an escape. I went and stood with the rest of the models who were awaiting direction. Giving my appearance one last look in a full-length mirror, I tried to summon some calm. Oh, King had been right — my boobs did look fantastic, even if they were being suffocated half to death. The cut of the dress and the push-up bra I was given worked wonders together. I was being led over to the set to stand next to two redheads when I caught sight of King again. He was standing discreetly in the background, taking in the activity, but when his gaze caught on mine, it scorched. He was staring in the region of my cleavage like he’d just spotted the Holy Grail. God, boys. So easily distracted by a pair of tits. Perhaps they also caused momentary insanity, and that was the reason for the way he spoke to me. For the first half-hour of the shoot, Bradley focused on group shots. I enjoyed watching him work, because he got all serious and no-nonsense. He still kept his sense of humour, though, and I chuckled when he began trying to explain to a model the difference between fierce and smouldering. “To smoulder, you combine a subtle pout with a slit gaze. To look fierce, you need to put your hands on your hips and stare at me like you want to fuck me and be the one on top.” I wasn’t sure which was funnier, the look of shock on the model’s face or the idea of Bradley letting a woman ride him. He caught me snickering and gave me a playful scowl before he was back behind the camera, snapping shots and shouting orders at people. Two outfit changes later, I caught sight of King again. I was kind of surprised he was still there, because even if there were attractive woman all about, this couldn’t have been much fun for him. And okay, maybe I’d been wishing he’d get bored and leave. It would mean I’d get to avoid the drive home and the possibility of him bringing up what he’d said earlier. He really was on a mission to push my limits today. The outfit I currently wore was a lot more comfortable than the first. It was a plain white vest under a cream shirt with a pair of pale ripped jeans. Casual style. Bradley announced that we were taking a fifteen-minute break, which was a relief, because I was starving. I avoided searching for King and instead made my way over to catering. Picking up a plate, I loaded it with sandwiches and grabbed a bottle of water. Then I wandered to the far corner of the studio, sat down on a window ledge, and began to eat. “Alexis.” I heard King say my name right before he came and sat in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne.

“Oh, hi,” I said, refusing to make eye contact. It was a good thing I had the window to stare out of. I was just about to start in on my second sandwich when he caught my wrist. “Do I need to apologise for how I spoke earlier? If I do, just tell me, and I will. I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship.” Now I finally looked at him, tilting my head as I considered his words. “Do you feel like you should apologise?” He shifted closer, his knee knocking against mine. “I only said what I was thinking. I told you before that tact wasn’t my strong suit.” I let out a breath. “It’s fine. Just try not to be so…pushy in the future.” “As you wish,” said King, holding his hand out for me to shake. He was so weird, but I shook with him anyway, trying to ignore how much I enjoyed the feel of his palm on mine. A silence elapsed, and I noticed he hadn’t gotten anything to eat. “Do you want to share some of these?” I asked, gesturing to my plate, on which I’d put way too many sandwiches. “I won’t eat them all. My eyes are bigger than my belly.” King gave me a slow smile, then reached forward to pick one up. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you to offer.” God, I loved how he spoke sometimes. It was like, if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was Firth doing Darcy. We sat and chatted as we ate until I became aware of a third presence. Turning my head, I saw Bradley standing a few feet away, a camera held to his face as he snapped shots of King and me. “What are you up to?” I called, and he stopped taking pictures, lowering the camera and walking towards us. King sat beside me, silently observing. “You two look great together,” Bradley gushed before shoving the camera at me. “Here, take a peek.” I did as he said and flicked through the most recent shots. They showed me with King from various angles, chatting and laughing. We looked so…at ease with one another. And wow, King really did photograph well. He could pass for a model. And then Bradley almost echoed my thoughts when he looked to King. “How do you feel about being in some of the shots? We’d pay you for your time, of course. Baha do a men’s line, and there are still some clothes left over from yesterday’s shoot.” King eyed him, quiet for a long moment before he asked, “Would Alexis be in the pictures with me?” “Of course!” Bradley exclaimed. “That’s the main reason I want you to do it. You two look amazing in pictures.” Now he took the camera from me and handed it to King, who immediately scrolled through the shots. He didn’t say anything for a minute, his expression thoughtful as he took them in. I had no idea what he was going to say when he finally handed the camera back to Bradley. “I’ll do it.” “What?!” I screeched. “Wonderful!” Bradley exclaimed. He was already rushing off to find an outfit for

King when I turned to face my boss. “You’re going to model? Seriously? What if someone who knows you ends up seeing the pictures?” He gave a tiny shrug and stared at me dead on. “What I do in my free time is my own business.” I narrowed my gaze at him, feeling like he was up to something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. A minute later Bradley was back, holding nothing but a pair of pale blue jeans. They had tears at the knees and were almost an exact replica of mine, except they were the men’s version. “Here’s your ensemble,” he chirped, and handed the jeans to King. I gaped and pointed. “That is not an ensemble. That’s one item. Where’s his shirt?” Now Bradley waggled his brow. “He won’t be wearing one.” To his credit, King didn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, he chuckled while shaking his head. “Oh, come on,” I protested. “You can’t be serious. This is a fashion shoot, not a…a sex shoot.” “Oooh,” Bradley crooned precociously, “sign me up for one of those. And you forget, my darling Lexie, that sex sells.” He pinched me on the nose, and I scowled. Bradley shot me a confused glance then, obviously not entirely getting why I was disgruntled. It made me suddenly realise I was arguing about having to see Oliver King topless. Yeah, I didn’t understand it, either. Clamping my mouth shut, I let my friend give us both instructions. Before I knew it, the rest of the models had been told to take an extended break and it was just me, King, Bradley, and a handful of other people left in the studio. King went behind one of the aforementioned privacy screens to change, Bradley telling him to take off his shoes and socks as well. Then he told me to do the same. Good God. What was I getting myself into? It wasn’t long before a fancy lounge chair had been plopped smack bang in the middle of the set by the props guy. King emerged in jeans and nothing else, and I practically choked on my own tongue. My boss was ripped. Even his bare feet were beautiful. He had gorgeously wide shoulders, muscular pecs, defined abs, and a “V” to die for. Not to mention a light natural tan. He had an even better body than my ex, Stu, and I knew he had to be one of those annoyingly smug health freaks who got up at four in the morning just to exercise. Yes, that was it. I needed to keep focusing on the vain smugness of someone who worked that hard on their body, rather than the fact that it made me want to crawl all over him. The problem was, he didn’t look smug. King wore an expression that was all, Here I am, take me or leave me, which only functioned to make him even more irresistible. Take him, some deep, feminine part of me pleaded. I noticed Bradley looking at King in almost the exact same way I was. Biting on his lip, he muttered under his breath, “Oh, we are going to sell some serious amount of jeans after this.”

I shot him a cynical look. There was a bit of manoeuvring with the set, and I went to stand next to my boss, silent and awaiting further instructions. “Oliver,” said Bradley, “go sit on the chair. Alexis, I want you on his lap. Act natural. Try to give me that vibe you both had earlier when you didn’t realise I was taking pictures. I want you to seem like a real couple. Completely in love. Got it?” Whoa, eh, okay. I was in love with the man’s abs, if that helped. King strode over to the chair like he owned the room and sat down before his eyes found mine. Those eyes were commanding, their icy colour catching the light as it shone through the window. They were far too welcoming, those eyes, and I got the feeling he was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy it a lot. Mustering my trusty false confidence, I walked to the chair and tentatively lowered myself onto his lap. My hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance, and his hand grazed my hip. Our eyes met, and I sucked in a breath. I was up close and personal with Oliver King’s face yet again, and I couldn’t look away. “Hi,” I said, trying my best not to sound awkward. He gave me a smile that lit up his eyes. “Hey.” “Are you regretting coming with me now?” I asked, voice quiet. Bradley had already started taking pictures. King brought his mouth over my ear. “Never. It’s the best idea I’ve had in ages.” I swallowed and looked down, my lashes shading my eyes. Unfortunately, looking down also meant looking at King’s abs, and now I couldn’t look away. “That’s perfect. I love it. You two are doing brilliantly,” Bradley encouraged us. He was close, but he sounded far off. King had captured all of my attention. “Oliver, bring your hands up to Lexie’s shoulder blades. Lexie, can you move so that you’re straddling him? I’ve gotten plenty of you side-saddle for now.” I sputtered a laugh. Side saddle? Really? Letting out a tiny sigh, I moved my legs so that I was straddling him and felt a small breath whoosh out. When my gaze went to his throat, I saw him swallow. Was he having just as much of a hard time with this as I was? I was painfully aware of my ever-hardening nipples and how easily King would see them through the thin bra and white vest I was wearing. Bradley had told me to lose the shirt, so I didn’t have any coverage. Thankfully though, King’s attention was locked on me, alternating between my eyes and my lips. A minute or two passed as Bradley continued to provide us with directions. “Place your hand on her face, Oliver. I want lots of eye contact.” King didn’t hesitate for a moment, his hand gently cupping my cheek. The heat of his palm sent a tingle shooting right between my legs. I tried looking anywhere other than his face until Bradley gave me hell. “It doesn’t work unless you’re looking back at him, Lexie.” No other choice left, I lifted my gaze. My eyes met King’s, and his deep stare held me captive. One of my knees was hurting a little as I held up my weight. I adjusted myself so that King was taking some of it, and that’s when I felt him. He was hard. I gasped quietly, but King was the only one to hear. I didn’t know what to say. I

mean, how would a lesbian react to having a penis hardening against her? Maybe she wouldn’t care. The problem was, I did care, and though I tried my best to ignore it, my traitorous body had other ideas. The spot between my thighs ached, and involuntarily my torso moved by the tiniest fraction. Delightfully exquisite pressure ensued. God, that felt good. And then I was wet. So wet. King didn’t fail to notice. His brow furrowed, his gaze searching, as I tried my best not to let him see the turmoil raging inside me. It felt like an eternity had passed, a million questions in his eyes that I didn’t know how to answer. Then those eyes left me, and I felt a flicker of relief. It didn’t last long, because when I saw where his attention had moved, my heart wanted to beat its way out of my chest. He was staring at my nipples, my nipples that were practically as hard as his cock. He moved closer, his lips at my ear again, as I felt every muscle in his body go taut. His words were lethal. They held equal parts anger, triumph, and satisfaction when he whispered, “I fucking knew it.”

NINE

ubtly, he moved his hips, his hard-on lightly pushing against me as he let out S the tiniest masculine grunt. He felt heavenly, and for a moment I forgot that even though I hadn’t breathed a word, my body had betrayed me. The cat was very much out of the bag…or should I say, the fake lesbian was out of the closet. “Oh, this is fabulous! Okay, both of you get up. I want some shots of you standing by the window. Oliver, you go behind Lexie. Put your arms around her and, I don’t know, nuzzle her ear or something.” First of all, was he shitting me? And second of all, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience when I moved to get off King. Just before he let me go, he clutched my wrist, giving it a hard squeeze that said, This isn’t over. I walked to the window, sensing him follow directly behind. I felt like a small animal being preyed upon by an expert hunter. He’d caught me out, and I was under no illusions that he was going to make this easy for me. But still, he was my boss. He shouldn’t have been acting the way he was acting. Even though we weren’t in the workplace right now, I needed to remind him of that. A moment later King’s heat was on me again, this time as he wrapped his arms around me from behind. And oh, my God, in spite of everything, it felt so good to be held. “You’re attracted to me,” he whispered with a touch of curiosity. I huffed out a breath. “Can we talk about this later?” “You’re not gay, are you? You know I value honesty, so why would you lie?” I felt the tip of his nose against the back of my ear, nuzzling me just like Bradley had asked him to do. My breathing stuttered; my heart hammered. Wow. His hand moved to my belly, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of my vest. I had tingles everywhere. “I wasn’t intentionally trying to be dishonest with you. It was supposed to be a joke, but then you thought I was serious, and it kind of got out of control. I didn’t know how to take it back.” His hand moved a fraction further, his fingers digging hard into the soft part of

my lower belly. “You take it back like this: I lied, King. In fact, not only am I not a lesbian, but I also think you’re hot.” “C-cocky much?” My words came out weird and choppy. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was grinning. “Okay,” said Bradley. “Turn around, Lexie. Put your arms around Oliver’s neck and stare up at him. Make me believe you’re infatuated.” Oh, jeez. As I turned, my breasts brushed King’s torso, and I heard his breathing deepen. How on earth did professional models do this every day? Perhaps I was just more sexed up than the average person, because every single touch got my mind racing to dirty, forbidden places. I reached up, slid my arms around his neck, and hooked my fingers together. My chest was flush with his, but this way I couldn’t quite tell if he still had an erection. Perhaps that was for the best. “You really had me believing you for a while,” he said quietly. “Are you mad?” I asked, desperate to know. “A little bit. I thought we were friends.” “We were. We are.” “Then why lie?” “Because I wanted to keep it that way.” Understanding lit in King’s eyes, his expression softening as his mouth firmed. “I see.” He went quiet then, and he didn’t say anything more for the rest of the shoot. The other models were called back from their break, and I was still needed for a few more group pictures. I swear I was sick to death of smiling and pretending to be “having fun with the girls” by the end of it. When Bradley called a wrap, I went to change back into my own clothes. As it happened, I wasn’t allowed to keep the ones I’d worn during the shoot. Not like I was dying to squeeze myself back into that black number anyway. Unable to spot King, I decided he must have gone home. I said goodbye to Bradley and the other girls, and was just leaving the building when I saw the Merc idling by the side of the road. I hitched my bag up on my shoulder, having every intention of continuing on to the tube, when the door swung open. King emerged, and before I knew it, his hand was on my elbow, steering me back towards the car. “We need to talk,” he said, voice firm. “Oh, right, yeah okay,” I mumbled, climbing inside, skin tingling where his hand cupped my elbow. It was dark out already, and I was exhausted after spending the entire day in the studio. I think King must have seen me blinking my eyes to try to stay awake, because he murmured, “Come here.” His voice had grown soft, tender. And as he held his arm out, I couldn’t resist scooting over and resting my head on his shoulder. He stroked my arm as his driver started the engine and drove away from the studio.

“You’re exhausted,” said King, and my God, I’d never heard him sound like that before. I’d heard him strict. I’d heard him joking. I’d heard him business professional. But I’d never heard him bedroom-y. I really liked hearing him bedroom-y. It was almost like now that he knew I was into guys, some kind of wall had come down between us. A long sigh escaped him before he said, “We’re in something of a predicament, love.” I turned my face to look up at him. “We are?” Reaching out, he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “Yes, my darling, because I very much want to fuck you.” I inhaled sharply at his admission, but he continued talking before I could say anything. “In fact, I find myself thinking about it a lot. But I don’t fuck my assistants. I’ve never wanted to. And the problem is, I value you far more as an employee and a friend than I ever will as a conquest.” I grew slightly rigid as I listened to him speak, but couldn’t help sputtering a laugh. “A conquest?” “Love and romance aren’t things that enter my mind very often. They’re too… time-consuming, and I have so little of that as it is. I enjoy the company of women in many different ways, but I don’t have space in my life for a real partner. It would hold me back.” “Okay….” “When you told me you were gay, I was admittedly disappointed. However, I was also relieved, because it meant nothing could happen between us. But now I find out that you’re not, and I begin to want things that I shouldn’t.” He paused to give me a smouldering look. “Touching you today, being close to you, has been more arousing than anything else I can remember. It’s a heady feeling to find someone you’re highly attuned to, is it not?” All I could do was swallow and nod. “And so,” he went on, “here lies our predicament. If I fuck you, I’m going to want to keep doing it, and I don’t have time to keep doing it. Christ, even coming here today was a massive chunk of time I’d normally spend working.” He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. “I could lose the run of myself inside a woman like you, Alexis.” He paused before muttering under his breath, almost absently, “And I fear if I made you my queen, I could no longer be a king.” I frowned at him, whispering, “There are lots of different ways to be a king, Oliver.” It was one of the few times I’d ever called him by his given name, and it added a tenderness to the moment I knew he hadn’t expected. The look he gave me told me that. But really, I felt a little sad for him. He was so focused on succeeding, on winning, that he would never have time for love. That was sad. “That’s true, but my life, it’s, well, it’s always been a certain way, and I’m afraid this may be the only way I know how to succeed.” I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Our journey progressed, and we

were only a couple of minutes away from my flat when King began talking again. “You have an addicting presence, one I don’t want to give up, so I propose we try our best not to touch. I think that touching, for us, is where temptation lies.” I groaned and rolled away from him, covering my face with my hand. “What’s tempting is when you talk like that.” Peering at him through my fingers, I saw him bite on his lip and cast me a considering glance. “Maybe just once….” He stopped himself, shaking away the thought. “No, that’s a bad idea.” “Uh-huh,” I agreed with him stiffly. This was the best-paying job I’d ever had, and was ever likely to get. I couldn’t go letting a fling with my boss mess it up for me. I mean, I’d spent half my life working for minimum wage in grotty pubs and bars. I knew a good thing when I had it, and I had no intention of letting it slip through my fingers. My dream was to one day own a home of my own, someplace nice, where there were low crime rates and no junkies hanging around every corner, waiting to jump you to pay for their next fix. I knew all of this as fact. I knew it, and yet, there was no mistaking the disappointment in my gut to think we’d never explore the possibilities that lay between us. “So, we have an understanding, then,” said King. “No touching.” “Yep. Got ya.” I nodded, a weird awkwardness settling in. The car stopped, and I saw that we were right in front of my building. I got out silently, while King insisted on walking me up to my flat. I told him he didn’t have to, but he insisted. I don’t think he liked the look of the gang of teenagers hanging around by the entrance. I wanted to tell him he was doing more harm than good, because once the locals saw me with a man like King, they’d think I had something worth stealing. I didn’t. Neither did Karla. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be upsetting to come home and find our place broken into. My things held no monetary value, but they meant something to me. When we reached my door, I slotted my key in the lock and turned back to King. He was staring at me with an intensity that caught me off guard, and my heart fluttered. A moment passed. I wetted my lips. He saw. I inhaled. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll see you on Monday, then,” he said with effort. “Yes.” I nodded. “Monday. Right.” His hand rose to my cheek in a soft, forlorn sort of caress. “Sleep well, Alexis.” At long last he turned and went, and I felt every foot of distance like a cord was snapping between us. Opening the door, I heard Karla utter a quiet “fuck” and found her holding a hand to her forehead.

“Give your nosy flat mate some warning before opening the door next time,” she complained. She’d clearly been spying on us through the peephole and got clocked on the forehead in the process. I laughed, and she shot me a scowl. “That man is beautiful, Lexie,” she sighed, as though it was a bad thing. I definitely knew where she was coming from. Beautiful bosses who wanted to be your friend were a very bad thing. “Tell me everything that happened today,” she insisted, plopping down on the couch, looking cosy in her blue pyjamas. I smiled and went to join her. “Okay, so first, I’m not sure if I want to murder Bradley or send him an early birthday gift.” Karla giggled. “Oh, my God, this is going to be good. I can already tell.” Had I mentioned how much I really, really loved this girl? Getting comfortable, I told her everything. And when I was done, she threw a blanket over me, because I’d already drifted off to sleep. ON MONDAY MORNING, King needed me to assist him with a small meeting in one of the conference rooms. It was with a client company whose shares he was supposed to value so that they could be sold on to investors. At least, that was the gist I got of it. I had a folder full of spreadsheets that Eleanor had prepared, so all I needed to do was hand them out, make tea and coffee, and take notes of what was discussed during the meeting. Oh, and did I mention that King was being weird with me? I couldn’t tell if it was because of our conversation driving home from the shoot, or something else. To be honest, I thought it might be a bit of both. He seemed preoccupied, and it couldn’t all have been because of me. The clients hadn’t arrived yet, and King had just finished having a chat with Daniel James, who had dropped into the conference room for a minute, when I lightly touched my hand to his elbow. I know we’d made that no touching rule, but I felt compelled to do it anyway. “You okay, boss?” I asked softly. His posture showed that he was definitely wound tight, and all the air seemed to rush right out of him. “Alexis,” he said, and turned his body to face mine. His usually bright eyes seemed tired, and he looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He spoke low, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “My mother had a bad episode last night. She…I had to take her to the hospital.” Shocked by the admission, I gave his elbow a squeeze. “Oh, my God, is she all right?” “She’s stable now.” I wanted to ask him what had happened, but a moment later the clients arrived. King went to greet them, and I busied myself with the documents. It was a minute or two before I recognized one of them. Her name was Mila Rhodes, and I’d seen her before in a picture at King’s apartment. She was his ex-girlfriend, the one he

broke up with because she wanted more than he could give. Well, this was interesting. I wondered if they’d met through doing business together. King didn’t seem at all affected by her presence. In fact, he still seemed preoccupied, probably over worry for his mum. He shook Mila’s hand and said hello to her just like he did the three men she’d arrived with. After the pleasantries were over, we all sat and got down to business. I sat on one side of King, my work laptop open in front of me to type down notes. The entire thing would have been a complete snoozefest if it weren’t for the underlying tension emanating from both Mila and her colleague, a middle-aged man named Vincent Jones. I was good at reading people. Put it down to my years of bar work, watching how others interacted in social settings. And it was clear that something was going on between Mila and Vincent. I saw him touch her hand at one point during the meeting, but she’d very subtly pushed his fingers away, glancing surreptitiously at King, who was entirely oblivious to the exchange. Not me, though. I’d caught all of it, and surmised that Mila was having a relationship with Vincent that she didn’t want King to be aware of. Perhaps she was holding out hope he’d change his mind about settling down and come back to her. She didn’t want him to know about Vincent, that was for sure. My seat was right next to King’s, and my laptop was open as I took the minutes for the meeting. At one point King leaned over to glance at my screen, his shoulder brushing mine as he shook his head. He wanted to correct something I’d written, but instead of telling me to do it, he reached over and did it himself. Practically leaning over me, he deleted a section of my notes before correcting them. I had no idea what to do with my hands as he typed, and felt a hot blush mark my cheeks at his familiarity and closeness. His cologne smelled gorgeous. Even though Vincent had been talking the whole time, his voice filling the room, Mila hadn’t failed to notice. I saw her brows narrow in suspicion, and she cast me a considering look. And yes, just as before, King was entirely oblivious to it all, his mind focused completely on work. The whole thing just made me feel awkward. I didn’t know how to deal with posh people drama. If something like this were to happen at home, for instance, if one woman was jealous of another, it’d be handbags at dawn, earrings out, and a hair-pulling session. But here, in this professional environment inhabited by the wealthy and privileged, it was all narrow-eyed looks, passive-aggressive comments, and repressed anger. I was practically bursting with the need to simply shout, There’s nothing going on! Because that’s what I’d do in any other setting, but not here. Here my employment was at stake. Soon the meeting drew to a close, and I excused myself to go use the bathroom. I’d just left the stall and was washing my hands when the door swung open and Mila Rhodes strode in. Oh, for fu…. “Hello, Alexis,” she said, coming and setting her handbag by the sink. I nodded

hello to her and turned off the tap as she pulled out a tube of lip gloss and began smearing it across her heart-shaped mouth. She was a petite little thing, at least a few inches shorter than me, and extremely pretty. She had one of those doll faces that always looked young, no matter the person’s age. I had just turned to leave when Mila asked blatantly, “Are you fucking him?” Well. Maybe these posh types didn’t beat around the bush after all. I turned back around. “Excuse me?” “Don’t play coy. I’ve never seen him so comfortable with an assistant.” Any morsel of politeness I had in me swiftly fled as I gave her a sardonic look. “Ah, well, that means we must be banging, then.” “So you are sleeping together?” “Oh, my God, that was sarcasm. But if you need me to spell it out for you, here it is: No, we’re not sleeping together.” She snorted like she didn’t believe me, but I saw a flicker of pain in her eyes that told a thousand words. “You still love him, don’t you?” Her face hardened as she swallowed what appeared to be a lump in her throat. God, I was right. Sometimes I hated it when I was right. Gentling my voice, I took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take it from someone who’s been in many hopeless relationships. Move on. If he can’t see what’s good for him, then he’s not worth it. Find someone who is.” I paused, and Mila stared up at me, as though my kindness was the last thing she’d expected. “Vincent seems nice.” A long breath escaped her, and her entire body seemed to sag. “He is nice.” “You see? Mr King is a fool not to see what’s right in front of him. Unfortunately, fools can never be taught. They have to learn on their own.” Absorbing my words, she nodded and sounded sincere when she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.” I smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Water off a duck’s back.” She moved away and put her lip gloss back in her handbag. I was about to leave when she looked at me seriously through the mirror. “He pulls you in, you know. You start off thinking the ball is in your court, but it never is. Before you know it, you’ve fallen for him, and it’s too late to go back to the way things were.” Absorbing her words, I couldn’t quite tell if this was a warning or if she was just thinking out loud. Nevertheless, I gave her a sober nod. Leaving Mila in the ladies’ bathroom, I made my way back to King’s office, intent on having a serious word with him about his ex. However, as I reached his office door I paused, because a strange-looking woman was just leaving. She was probably in her fifties, had dyed red hair, and clothes that reminded me of a gypsy. “Oh, hi,” I said, stepping back to let her go by. She only gave me an ambiguous smile before continuing on her way. “Odd” didn’t begin to cover it. I’d never seen a woman who looked like her around here before. Shaking off the strangeness, I remained full of determination to confront

King about Mila. That was until I walked into the room and saw him sitting on the sofa by the window, an open bottle of Macallan in front of him. He poured some into a glass, knocked it back in one go, and then repeated the process. Everything I’d planned on saying immediately fled my mind as concern took its place. I’d seen him drink at work before, but not like this. The bottle was more than half empty, and I knew it had been full when I’d seen it in the cabinet that morning. Piano music was playing, something classical, but it was low enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear it outside the office. I recognised it as the same piece he’d played when I’d visited his apartment. Memories of that night entered my mind, how absorbed he’d been, completely unaware of my presence, and how beautiful his music had sounded to my ears. Quietly, I sat on the other side of the couch and eyed him. He didn’t look at me, just focused on the drink in his glass. “Has something happened?” I asked tentatively. King glanced at me, then shook his head. “Then why are you drinking?” He arched a brow. “Because I can.” There was something in his expression that made me think I shouldn’t push the matter. Still, I couldn’t help asking, “Who was that woman I just saw leaving?” There was a long silence before he spoke. “Just a relative asking after Mum.” Clearly, he had no intention of telling me any more details and didn’t seem in the mood to talk. I stood and turned to leave. Before I could do so, King grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, those eyes holding me captive. I sat back down. We exchanged a meaningful look before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit off today. I’m just worried about Mum.” Reaching out, I placed a hand on his. “That’s understandable. Maybe you should take the day. Go be with her. Is she still at the hospital?” King nodded, and then cast his eyes to mine; his seemed…desperate. “Would you do it? She enjoys your company.” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “I’m just not in the right frame of mind to see her at the moment.” I stared at him, this man who at first had seemed so put together and in control. When I looked at him now, he appeared vulnerable. It showed just how much he cared for his mother. I guessed that maybe she was the only family he had. He had definitely never mentioned a father or any brothers or sisters. I was so lost in studying him that I almost didn’t notice when his hand went to my knee. I looked down, then back up to his eyes, which seemed to be begging me for comfort. God, how those eyes made me weak. They made me want to give him anything he might think to ask for. “King,” I said, a quiet warning. He didn’t breathe a word, just squeezed my knee and leaned in closer. His hand started to move up my thigh, slow and torturous. Every tiny hair on my body stood on end as I inhaled his fresh cologne mixed with the sharp tang of whiskey. It was an intoxicating mixture, and I had no words. No funny lines or sarcastic comments

to defuse the situation. I had nothing, and Oliver King was pushing a boundary I was helpless to defend. “Oliver,” I said then, swallowing thickly on his name. He leaned closer, breathing me in, and before I knew it, his mouth was on my ear, his tongue flicking over the soft, sensitive skin. He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, and I felt myself grow wet and achy in an instant. I huffed out a breath, trembled, and fisted my hand in his shirt, meaning to push him away, but instead only succeeded in pulling him closer. He groaned and caught my chin in his hand, turning my face to his. His mouth was almost on mine when I quickly turned away, his lips colliding with my jaw. The waft of alcohol was the stark reminder I needed to be strong and put a stop to this. King was drunk and upset about his mother, though I still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to her. He’d never be acting like this if it weren’t for his current state. I needed to be the level-headed one right then. Plus, Eleanor and Gillian were right on the other side of the door. They could walk in at any moment. Pushing away from him, I stood, still feeling his lips on my earlobe and my chin, the memory giving me unwanted butterflies in my stomach. God, he was beautiful. It would be oh, so easy to give in, but the momentary pleasure wasn’t worth the long-term unemployment. And unemployed was exactly what I’d be if I were to let anything untoward happen with King. Maybe not right away, but I’d lose my job eventually. It was inevitable. “You should go home and rest. You’re not yourself today.” “Alexis, come here,” he replied, completely ignoring what I’d said. He had sex in his eyes, and it was pretty much impossible not to melt at the way he was looking at me. There was something about having a strong, powerful man look at me with such need that just melted my bones. And it went to show how much self-control I actually had, because I didn’t allow myself to give in. I was already walking backward when I said, “I’m going back to work now.” I didn’t allow him to get another word in as I turned and swiftly left his office.

TEN

ive minutes later I was sitting next to Eleanor, who was diligently typing away F when King finally emerged. I felt safe in the fact that my coworkers were there. It

meant he couldn’t say anything about what had just happened between us. He stood in the doorway for a full minute, and I could practically feel him staring a hole in my skull before he spoke. “Gillian, cancel my afternoon meetings. I have a family emergency I need to attend to.” “Of course,” said Gillian, a mixture of concern and nosiness marking her features. “Is everything okay?” “It will be,” King replied stiffly before he strode right by her and out of the office. Once he was gone, I felt like I could breathe again. My brain was a scramble of thoughts as I tried to make sense of the morning. King had obviously been going through a tough time, and his behaviour was a moment of weakness. I was just glad I had the strength not to let it go any further than it did. For the next few hours I plunged myself into work, keeping my head full of numbers and appointments so as not to think about my boss. Every time I found my mind wandering to the way it felt when he touched me, or how intoxicating it was to have his mouth on my skin, his lips sucking, I forced myself to concentrate on data. Data wasn’t sexy. It was dull and flat and two-dimensional, and the perfect bucket of cold water for my wandering imagination. I didn’t see King for the rest of the day, nor did I see much of him for the following few days. I went out with Eleanor and Gillian for lunch and avoided our strange bathroom chess games. He never called me out on the fact that I was avoiding him, which was a relief. And after a while it became easier to simply concentrate on being good at my job, rather than cultivating a surreal friendship with my boss. When it was finally Eleanor’s last day, Gillian and I got together to organise for a cake to be delivered to the office. There wasn’t a big going-away party, because Eleanor had stated firmly that she didn’t want one, and you didn’t eff with Eleanor’s wishes. I thought the least we could do was get her a cake, especially since she’d been so helpful training me into the job.

It was just after five when a couple of the other admin workers came over to our area to share the cake. We’d ordered red velvet, since that was Eleanor’s favourite. I stood chatting with my coworkers, a paper plate in hand, when suddenly I felt his presence. He’d been ignoring me somewhat, though I couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed by his drunken behaviour or angry at me for shutting him down. In my peripheral vision I saw King come to stand behind me. He observed the gathering, which was comprised mostly of women, and I pretended I hadn’t noticed him. Then I felt his hand lightly touch my elbow, followed by his breath on my ear. “Alexis, can I have a word in private, please?” I turned my head to him slightly and nodded, my posture stiff. “Sure.” He gestured for me to follow him into his office. Once I was inside, he shut the door. I still had my cake in hand, and found myself clutching the paper plate like a life raft, no clue what this was all about. Was I going to be given my marching orders? No, it couldn’t be that. King stood in front of his desk, leaning back against it and folding his arms as he eyed me. I wore a grey pencil skirt and a modest cream blouse, an ensemble I’d never be caught dead in outside the office. It was like a costume, something that made me feel like a different person, someone who belonged here in the City with the privileged and educated. King wore a navy suit with a slim red tie. He could have been a politician if he weren’t so handsome. I always wondered if men felt like they had the upper hand when they wore a suit. It certainly seemed that way to me. “We can’t go on like this,” said King. “Like what?” I asked, playing dumb. “You know what. You’re avoiding me, I’m avoiding you. There’s an… awkwardness. I don’t do awkward. I want to go back to the way things were.” His huff of annoyance almost made me laugh. I swear, sometimes he was a terrible communicator, like a frustrated kid or something. “Your behaviour the last time we spoke was worrying to me. I was trying to help.” “And I wanted you to help.” “Not in the right way, Oliver.” His eyes flared when I said his name, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he liked it or because he didn’t. Before I knew it, he stepped away from the desk and came towards me until there very little space left between us. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed. My expression softened. “I’ve missed you, too.” He levelled his eyes on me, his attention wandering over my features. “Can we put it behind us?” I thought about it for only a moment before answering, “It’s already forgotten. Put her there, buddy.” I held out my hand to him, and his lips twitched as we shook.

“So, is there enough cake left for one more?” he asked, smiling. “Of course,” I answered, and with that we went back out to join the others. IT WAS difficult getting used to not having Eleanor around at first, but I quickly got the hang of things. Soon enough Gillian and I were a team to be reckoned with, and although we didn’t click quite so well as friends, we were perfect for each other when it came to work. Gillian was the best organiser, and I was the best bilateral thinker. In other words, I could see the bigger picture and was good at figuring out problems or working my way around time-sensitive emergencies. And when it came to this particular industry, there were a lot of those. It was fast-paced and exciting, and no two days were ever the same. I also began to see how addictive King’s job could be. He always said he only made decisions based on evidence and fact, but a lot of the time the whole thing felt like a bit of a gamble to me. There was a thrill to his position, not to mention a great deal of power, and I could certainly see why he’d chosen a banking career over playing piano like his mum. We began having lunch together again, and often King would have a drink. I hadn’t noticed it at the beginning, but it was now clear to me that he was pretty big into his liquor. Not in a way that seemed like he had a problem, but in a way that made me think it could easily turn into one. I supposed he needed something to deal with the stress of playing with millions of pounds on a daily basis. It had been a long week, and I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend of doing nothing at all. I’d arrived home with Indian takeout, changed into my pyjamas, and settled in front of the TV. The forkful of chicken korma was literally halfway to my mouth when my phone began ringing. Sighing, I put it down and answered the call. King’s name flashed across the screen. As soon as I hit “accept” and held it to my ear, he began to speak. “Please tell me you have a valid passport.” His statement got me curious. “And if I do?” “If you do, you can have another bonus. Gillian just called, almost in tears, might I add, to tell me she’s lost hers and won’t be able to get a replacement for at least three working days. She’s being emotional, and I don’t like that. You’d swear she ran over my cat or something.” “Oh,” I said, brow crinkling. “You have a cat?” “Turn of phrase.” “Right.” I was unsure if I should laugh or start to panic. I now understood what was going on. All week Gillian and I had been planning King’s work trip to Rome. He was supposed to be meeting with some businessman who owned a chain of hotels, and who insisted on face-to-face business dealings. All of this was being done on behalf of a mysterious silent investor of King’s, and Gillian was supposed to be going along on the trip. The idea of me going had never even come up. Until now,

that was. “I need you to come to Rome in Gillian’s place, Alexis.” My voice was quiet when I responded, “Do you think that’s wise?” We’d both been doing so well at keeping things platonic. Going on a trip and spending lots of one-on-one time together could potentially mess with that. “At this point, I don’t have another choice. There’s too much work for me to handle alone. I need you.” It struck me that he wasn’t telling me I had to go. He was leaving it open, giving me the option to say no. I couldn’t say no, of course, but that didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate his sensitivity. We both knew that alone time outside the confines of the office was pretty shaky territory for us. I let out a breath. “I’ll come. The flights are for ten in the morning, right? Do you need me to contact the airline and change the name on Gillian’s ticket?” There was definite relief in his voice the next time he spoke. “Thank you. And yes, that would be hugely helpful.” “All right. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” “See you in the morning, Alexis.” We hung up, and I just sat there for a minute, my appetite for Indian takeout momentarily lost, which was so not okay. Indian was my favourite, damn it! The idea of going to Rome was exciting, don’t get me wrong, but the effort I’d have to expend keeping myself in check with King was scary. There was no denying we had a connection, and it was only amplified when we were alone together. This trip was certainly going to be an interesting one. I PACKED MY SWIMSUIT. I wasn’t sure why, because I was fairly certain it wasn’t even going to be very warm in Rome at this time of year, but I packed it anyway. I hadn’t been to the beach in who knew how long. Maybe I could fit in a trip while King was meeting with the “suits.” That’s what I’d started calling them, because they all looked the same to me, just a bunch of walking Hugo Boss advertisements. King had his driver come collect me from outside my building that morning. His bags were in the car, which it was my job to have checked, and apparently he’d meet me in the VIP lounge before boarding. Well, I was sitting in that very same lounge, and there was still no sign of him. I was beginning to worry, since our flight was supposed to board in just twenty minutes. In order to pass the time, I pulled out my phone and checked my emails. It was a pleasant surprise when I saw one from Bradley titled “Some Pictures from the Shoot ;-).” Opening it up eagerly, I quickly downloaded them and started to browse. There were a couple from early on in the day, showing me with the other models. Then I got to the ones of me and King, and I paused. They were…well, I wasn’t quite sure how to describe them. All I knew was that they weren’t what I needed to be seeing right then, especially since I was trying to keep my hands off the man.

The first showed me straddling him as he sat on the chair, leaning casually back and staring up at me with unmistakable heat in his eyes. Wow. Now I understood what Bradley had meant when he said we photographed well together. It was only a picture, and yet you could practically feel the need pouring out of both of us. Either we were really good actors, or we wanted each other…badly. I swallowed and scrolled to the next one, where we stood by the studio window, King’s arms around me and his lips at my ear. Seriously, this was more like porn to me than fashion. Without consciously realising it, I was squeezing my thighs together, my skin growing hot as I sat there, remembering. There were about ten pictures in total, and I flicked through them more times than bears mentioning. I was studying the one of me on King’s lap again when someone suddenly spoke low in my ear. “What are you looking at?” Startled at hearing his voice, I jumped and turned around, clutching my phone tightly to my chest. King chuckled and gave me a suspiciously amused look as he held out his hand. “Let me see.” I snorted. It was pretty fucking elegant. “Noooo.” A moment later, I took in his appearance properly, noticing that he was still wearing the same suit from yesterday. He looked more tired than I’d ever seen him, and he smelled like a brewery. It was so disconcerting that I failed to notice him lunging for my phone and pulling it from my grip. I watched as his fingers zipped across the screen before he handed it back to me. Forcing myself to look down, I saw he’d forwarded the pictures to his own email. “That was a dirty move,” I complained. He gave me a wry look. “I’m in those pictures, too. I have every right to see them.” Well, he had me there. Still, it didn’t take away my embarrassment. Those photos were verging on soft-core porn, and he was my boss. It was so many levels of wrong, I couldn’t even begin to count. This was why I needed to say no to Bradley’s propositions in future. Note to self: Don’t give in to the mischievous pixie boy next time. My cheeks began to flush as King came and sat beside me, pulling out his phone. It was ridiculous, because I was never normally embarrassed about sex stuff, but with King everything was just opposite land. I never quite knew where we stood with one another. I was silent as he focused on his phone, and I didn’t even have to look to know he was accessing his email and downloading the pictures he’d just forwarded. God, I kind of hated him in that moment. I tried to ignore him, but as the minutes ticked by, I lost the battle. Turning, I found his lips curved in what appeared to be a smug smile. The photos were displayed on the screen of his phone, and King kept scrolling back and forth, perusing them at his leisure as though taunting me to say something. “Just delete them,” I sighed. He glanced at me, brow arched. “Why would I do that?”

“Because we look stupid,” I huffed. We didn’t look stupid. We looked insanely hot for each other, which was exactly the problem. King was about to speak when an air hostess’s voice announced the flight was ready to board. I picked up my carry-on, noticing that King hadn’t brought anything with him other than a slim black briefcase. All of his things were in his checked luggage. He gestured for me to go ahead of him, and I self-consciously smoothed my hands down the back of my skirt, wondering if I had a visible panty line. I’d always had this sixth sense for when someone was looking at my arse, and right then it was telling me that was exactly what King was doing. Was he actively trying to make this trip more difficult? He leaned close, his mouth at my neck as he said, “I think we look fascinating.” Fascinating. Right. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Once we were seated on the plane, King closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Despite his earlier playfulness, something was obviously up with him. I studied him a moment, then asked, “Care to share?” One eye opened. He didn’t say a word, so I continued, “You’re wearing the same suit from yesterday, and you smell like you took a swim in a brewery. This isn’t like you.” He sighed. “You’ve known me a couple of weeks, Alexis. You have no idea what is and isn’t like me.” “Look, I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been drinking a lot, and coming from someone who used to work in a bar, I know a problem when I see one.” “There’s no problem,” said King. I stared at him, disbelieving. If he wanted to fool himself into thinking he didn’t have a problem, then fine, I wasn’t going to push it. Getting up from my seat, I reached up to the overhead compartment and pulled out my carry-on. It had a brand new set of travel toiletries inside, including a mini-toothbrush. “You can use these if you’d like to go freshen up,” I said stiffly, holding the set out to him. He looked up at me, not taking it. A long moment of silence passed, his light eyes turning stormy. Finally, and without saying a word, he took the toiletries and left to use the bathroom. About ten minutes later he returned, looking a little better than he had. Though if the smell of him earlier was anything to go by, he must have been suffering from one hell of a hangover. The flight progressed in silence, as I focused on reading a magazine I’d brought with me. When the air hostess stopped by to ask if we’d like anything to eat or drink, I practically held my breath. There was an array of alcoholic beverages available to order, and I just knew King was considering them. Instead, he shook his head, and the woman moved on to the next passengers. Well, that was a relief. Before I knew it, we were landing in Rome. After we departed the plane, I went to collect our bags from the carousel, while King excused himself to the bathroom. By the pale look on his face, I thought he might be going to throw up. I knew I was

right when he found me several minutes later, a little of the colour having returned to his cheeks. Perhaps he’d now learned his lesson not to overdo it in future. A car was waiting for us outside, and drove us to a hotel a distance from the city near a place called Ostia. King had insisted on staying there because it was one of his favourites, and I could see why. It had an outdoor swimming pool and beautiful gardens, which got me excited. I had to remind myself I was there to work, not for a fancy holiday. Rummaging for the folder of documents Gillian had sent me via email last night, I retrieved our booking and presented it to the receptionist, while King stood back, his phone held to his ear as he carried out a work conversation. I was vaguely aware of the receptionist informing me we had adjoining rooms as she handed me the key cards. King must have seen the WTF look on my face, because he lowered his phone for a second to explain, “It’s easier this way. Gillian always books adjoining rooms so that we don’t have to go traipsing halfway around hotels to find one another.” And then he was back on the phone. Well, that was…convenient. A bellboy came to take our bags, and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, flopping down on the bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. We didn’t have to meet with the clients until dinner, and Italians ate late, so that gave me a couple of hours to rest up. I lay there for a while, tired, because no matter how short the journey, flights always seemed to drain me of energy. In the end, I decided to treat myself and run a bath. I enjoyed a nice long soak and got out only when my fingers had started to turn to prunes. Wrapping a white fluffy towel around my body, I grabbed another and scrunched my hair dry. Usually, if I just towel-dried my hair and didn’t brush it, it went really curly. Just as I was laying the black dress I planned to wear to the business dinner out on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door that led to King’s room. Before I had the chance to react, the knob turned, and my boss stepped inside.

ELEVEN

hy hadn’t I thought to lock the door? Jesus, though, he could have waited for W me to call him in before opening it.

I stood there, frozen to the spot in my short towel and damp hair. King had clearly showered and changed into a new suit. In fact, he looked like a whole new man, no longer rumpled and hungover. The moment he saw me, he glanced away. Well, no, that’s not quite what he did. His gaze made a quick perusal of my body, paying particular attention to the swell of my breasts. His jaw ticked, and then he glanced away. His close attention literally made me flush from my cheeks to the tips of my toes. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be dressed.” “Well, I’m not,” I said, stating the obvious. There was a strain in his voice as he echoed my statement. “No, you’re not.” “Could you give me a half-hour? I just need to get ready.” King let out a breath. “We don’t have the time. Mr Hirota’s assistant just called to say they were moving the meeting to another venue. He’s notorious for changing things around on a whim. Unfortunately, he’s the one we’re trying to win over, so we have to pander to it.” I looked back at him. He stared at me. We were locked in a moment, and neither one of us made a move to break it, even though I was standing there almost naked. King seemed unusually stressed, and it was curious because he was never stressed to meet with clients. Over the past couple of weeks I’d witnessed him secure a number of business deals, but there was something different about this one, like he was extra determined for it to be successful. It made me wonder why. Gillian had told me that Mr Hirota was the Japanese-American owner of a chain of hotels with a deep love for ancient Roman history, which was why he lived here. There was nothing particularly unusual about him, though, so I was lost as to why King was on edge. “Okay, just give me two minutes, then,” I said, finally breaking the silence and picking up my dress. King nodded, his eyes lingering on my bare thighs as I turned and went inside the bathroom. Not helping, Oliver.

I wouldn’t have time to put on makeup, so I guessed the au naturel look was going to have to do. I also wore ballet flats instead of heels. I had just enough time to give my appearance one last perusal in the mirror. I looked fine, definitely not business fancy, but fine nonetheless. I realised just how much taller King was than me when I stepped outside and stood before him without any heels on. He glanced down, eyes tender, and I wondered if he was noticing the same thing. He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, and I busied myself. Grabbing the contracts we needed for the meeting, I shoved them in my handbag and allowed King to lead me out the door. We took the elevator down to the lobby, King resting his hand on the small of my back for a moment. It reminded me of my first morning at the office, when he’d touched me in a similar way. It had confused me then. Now I knew it was intentional. I thought that maybe King was a man who enjoyed pushing the boundaries of his own willpower. A car provided by Mr Hirota was waiting for us outside the hotel. King was busy working on his tablet during the drive, while I enjoyed the passing scenery. I got to see a few cool ruins and even the Coliseum before we entered a busy district full of bars and restaurants. Then we stopped in front of what was very clearly a strip club. King glanced out the window, did an almost comical double take, then swore under his breath before letting his head fall back against the headrest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” A small moment of quiet elapsed, and I couldn’t help it — I laughed. King turned to face me, his eyes narrowed, but I could tell from the set of his mouth that he was resisting a smile. “This isn’t funny, Alexis.” “Oh, come on,” I said. “You have to admit, it’s a little bit funny. I feel like I’m in some gangster film and we’re about to meet with a scary mob boss.” I expected my joke to make him laugh. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. His expression grew serious and he turned away, clearing his throat. The driver emerged from the front of the car and came around to open my door. Kind of fancy behaviour for someone who was essentially dropping us off at a titty bar. “Why, thank you, sir,” I said to the driver in a humorous tone. It got a tiny smile out of King, which was something at least. I liked that I could still amuse him even when he was in a decidedly dour mood. As we approached the entrance, King slid his arm through mine. “You stick close to me tonight, Alexis.” “Why?” I asked, curious. “Because,” he answered low, “if Mr Hirota is willing to do business in a place like this, then I worry how he might behave with a woman who looks like you.” I chuckled and deadpanned, “Tell me about it. Wherever I go, I’m constantly terrorised by men getting spontaneous erections around me. It’s such a chore being a sex bomb.” Again, King appeared to be fighting his urge to laugh. In the end, his serious side won out, and I gave in. “I’m joking. And don’t worry — I’ll stick to you like glue,

Oliver.” He gave me a warm look, and then we were entering the darkness of the booby cave. Okay, I’ll stop. Nudity just made me giddy like a five-year-old. A scantily clad woman greeted us and led us to a VIP section at the back of the club. All the while I was wondering if this was still going to be a business “dinner.” I was far from stuck up, but the idea of eating food prepared in a strip club just didn’t float my boat. Yeah, I was definitely going to wait until we got back to the hotel, and then I’d be making one hell of an order to room service. What with all the travelling, I’d hardly had the chance to eat all day. It was kind of funny that I paid more attention to the topless dancing ladies up on the stage than King did. Call it morbid fascination. I knew King was slightly ticked off about the venue, but it probably wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. I hate to stereotype, but businessmen liked to look at boobs. It was a known fact. In the VIP section there were a few more dancing ladies and a large table where several men sat. I immediately recognised Mr Hirota as the Japanese guy in the white suit, black shirt, and white tie. A white suit! How oh how was I going to keep from commenting on that? Mr Hirota immediately stood when he saw King, holding out his hand for a shake. King took it, and the two exchanged the usual pleasantries. “This is my assistant, Alexis Clark,” said King, distracting me from the glare of the white suit and ushering me forward. “Alexis, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Mr Hirota while giving me a quick once-over. “Likewise, Mr Hirota.” He grinned. “Please, call me Kei.” We sat, and the woman who’d greeted us at the door came and asked if we’d like any drinks. King requested a Scotch, and I just went with orange juice. Somehow, I got the feeling this wasn’t a scenario I wanted to get drunk in. Knowing me, I’d end up doing something to embarrass myself. Even though it was a strip club, I was there in a professional capacity, so I needed to act like it. “How was your flight, Oliver?” Mr Hirota asked. “It was fine,” King replied smoothly. The woman returned with our drinks, and King picked his up, bringing it to his lips for a sip. I took in my surroundings, trying not to be weirded out by the tanned woman shaking her hips on a stage just shy of the table. She had golden tassels on her nipples and bright purple lipstick. Man, I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Karla all about this. “I understand your client wishes to remain anonymous,” said Hirota. “That’s correct. He appreciates you agreeing to his terms.” “Yes, well, I haven’t signed anything yet.” “Of course,” said King, gaze now travelling around the room. He seemed disinterested as he scanned the half-naked women before returning his attention

to Hirota. “Nice place. Is it yours?” Hirota nodded. “A recent purchase. I’ve grown bored of the hospitality industry of late, which is why I’m interested in selling to your client. It will take a couple of years for me to offload the majority of my assets, though. This club is just the beginning. I’m hoping to make my foray into producing pornographic films once I learn the lay of the land.” I swear to God, I almost spat out my orange juice right then. King showed no outward signs of surprise or judgement, but then again, he rarely did. I, on the other hand, was practically bursting at the seams to make a joke. You want to get into the porn industry. Is that why you’re wearing a pimp suit? “Well, I wish you the best of luck with all of your new ventures,” King said, and turned to me. “Alexis, may I have the contracts?” “Sure,” I replied, and reached for my bag before pulling out a thick folder. Hirota waved his hands in the air. “No contracts right now. Tonight is for pleasure. Tomorrow we’ll discuss business.” I put the folders back in my bag, and I could sense King’s dissatisfaction. He didn’t want to draw this out any more than he had to. Unfortunately, Hirota seemed determined to do just that. “Are either of you hungry?” Hirota asked. “We have a spectacular menu here.” “That’s all right. We both ate at the hotel,” King lied, and I was glad he was just as against eating here as I was. Hirota didn’t seem bothered, and he began talking about his two sons, and how they were currently learning how to horse ride out on his countryside estate. Chatter filled the table, mostly from Hirota and his men. King seemed on edge, like he’d rather just finish the business they had with one another rather drag things out by being social. Usually he wined and dined his clients, but not this time. Right then I could sense his agitation, like he really wanted just wanted to get things over and done with. It was probably why he kept drinking, and that worried me. About an hour went by, and most of the men were now paying attention to the woman who had just come on stage for a special performance. A slow, sexy number played through the speakers as she began her striptease. It was right about then that the humour I’d originally found in the situation began to dissipate. At that point I’d seen enough boobs to last me a lifetime. “I’d much prefer to be looking at you on that stage, wearing nothing but that towel from earlier,” King whispered, and my heart did a somersault. This was the first time he’d commented on the strippers, and it was more a comment about me than them. My chest fluttered and I tried to think of a funny response, but my brain let me down. I knew it was the alcohol that was prompting him to speak so freely. “I’m tired,” I said. “Would it be all right if I took a taxi back to the hotel?” King’s eyes flitted back and forth between mine as he studied me closely. It was a long moment before he finally nodded, pulling out his wallet and handing me some money for the trip. My immediate reaction was to tell him it was fine, that I could pay for my own taxi, but then I remembered this was work. He was supposed to be paying. It was so easy to forget the real nature of our relationship sometimes.

I stood and walked out of the club, while Hirota and his men were still fixated on the exotic dancer. It only took me a minute to flag down a taxi. The second I got back to my hotel room, I felt a huge flood of relief. There was something off about King and this trip, but I was completely in the dark as to what it might be. Changing into some boy shorts and a T-shirt, and relieving myself of my bra, I called for room service, then checked out what films were available on pay per view. I settled for a romantic comedy. My food arrived soon after, a massive bowl of spaghetti carbonara and an equally massive glass of white wine. Now that I was off the clock, I could afford to indulge. About a half-hour into the film, while I lay in bed, sleepy from pasta and wine, a knock sounded from the door adjoining mine and King’s rooms. “Yeah?” I called. “Can I come in?” King called back. I hesitated. Why did he want to come in? I was trying to veg out and relax here, ferchristsakes! “Uh, sure.” “Are you decent?” I glanced down at my PJs. “Kinda.” “I’m coming in.” A second later he was in my room, wearing only his shirt and slacks, the suit jacket discarded. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone, and he looked like he’d been running his hands through his hair a few too many times, because it was attractively ruffled. He seemed…stressed, but he didn’t seem drunk. He must have stopped drinking right after I left the club. A moment passed as he took in the sight of me tucked up in bed, the empty plate and wine glass on the floor and the romantic comedy playing on the flat-screen TV. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” he asked. His tired voice held a hint of humour. I picked up the remote and pressed “pause” on the movie. King dropped down onto a seat, and I rose to a sitting position. I remembered I wasn’t wearing a bra only when his eyes lingered a few too many seconds on my breasts. I said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at his obviousness. With the tiniest grin, he shook his head and looked away. “Do you mind if I order up some food?” he asked then. “Not at all, go ahead.” He stood and walked to the phone, dialling room service. “I haven’t had the chance to eat yet,” he said as he waited for them to pick up. “Not in the mood for a side of gonorrhoea with your steak?” I asked, grinning. King half-smiled, half-grimaced back at me before he began speaking down the line. He ordered a pizza, and I kind of liked the sound of that. What? I enjoyed eating, and I was in flippin’ Italy, of all places. I was determined to take every chance to sample the cuisine that I could. King finished his call and returned to his seat. “You look comfortable.”

“I am.” A silence elapsed, King staring at me dead on, before I said, “Can I ask a question?” His eyes pierced me. “Go ahead.” “What’s up with this deal? Something about it has you agitated.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again before replying, “It’s a little difficult to explain, but you’re right, I am agitated. Let’s just say I’ll be happy when we have the contracts signed and are on a plane back to London.” “Huh.” A silence elapsed as I studied him, then asked gently, “How has your mum been?” My question took him off guard, as he brought his eyes to mine. For a split second I saw the sadness in them, and it caused my heart to thump harder. “She’s okay,” he answered, then paused, shaking his head. “Well, no, that’s not quite true. You saw how she’s been living — there’s nothing okay about it. But she’s been unwell in her mind for a long time, and sometimes that’s the worst type of illness. At least with a physical ailment you can find the cause and treat it. Mental illness is so much harder to get a handle on. Some days are better than others, but they’re never what you’d consider normal.” “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, my voice soft. “Severe anxiety and paranoia, paired with a bad case of agoraphobia. She rarely likes to leave the house.” I wanted to ask what had caused all that, but I knew it was none of my business, so I simply took his hand in mine and squeezed. “That must be awful.” When he looked at me, his expression was pained, and for a second it felt like all the turmoil inside him was about to flood out. “It is awful. Do you ever wish, Alexis, that your heart was just that little bit smaller, so that you didn’t have to care quite so much?” His question knocked the air right out of me. When we’d started having this conversation, I never expected it would turn so deep. I squeezed his hand once more and whispered, “Never. The bigger our hearts, the more beautiful our souls.” Our eyes connected, his moving back and forth between mine as he absorbed my words, my meaning. I hadn’t anticipated my answer; it just seemed to come out naturally. For a long moment we sat there in contemplative silence. I didn’t want him to be down, though, and tried to cheer him up when I said, “So, how do you feel about romantic comedies?” He blinked at me, bringing himself back to the present, and with no small amount of sarcasm, replied, “Oh, I adore them.” “Well, isn’t that just fabulous, because you’re going to join me in watching one,” I said, ignoring his sassy attitude and patting the space beside me. King rose from his seat next to the bed and crawled on. I don’t know, there was just something about the visual that gave me tingles. A bed was new territory for us, and it inevitably made my mind wander. I hit “play” on the movie and King settled

in next to me, our elbows touching. I tried to ignore the clean smell of his shower gel and the familiar scent of his cologne, but it was hard. Man, I could seriously go for a bottle of that stuff…you know, just to have at home and spritz on my pillows every time I wanted to torture myself. “What kind of cologne do you wear?” I blurted, because I’m me and that’s what I do. I blurt. King’s eyes came to mine slowly, and they seemed curious. “Do you like it?” I sucked in a deep breath. “Uh-huh.” “It’s Estee Lauder Pleasures for Men.” I let out a guffaw. “Ha! Why do they always insist on giving these things embarrassing names? It’s almost like they don’t want people to buy them.” King shifted in his place and sighed. “Cynical marketing ploy, I assume. By naming it ‘Pleasures,’ they imagine our brains will make the connection that if we buy the product, it’ll somehow bring us exactly that: pleasure. I, for one, just like how it smells.” “Ah, but has it ever brought you pleasure?” I teased. “That’s the question.” He shot me a lazy glance and tilted his head. “I’m still waiting to find out.” “Oh, you’re a scoundrel,” I declared, and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. King just shook his head and returned his attention to the TV while muttering under his breath, “I wasn’t joking.” I shot him a wide-eyed glance, but he was still staring at the screen. A silence filled the room. It would have been worse if it weren’t for the movie playing in the background. I felt a blush creep up my neck and glanced down to see King flex his hand, repeatedly opening and closing his fist. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, so I could see his forearms, and as usual they were way too much of a distraction. I began to feel a funny sensation, both in my chest and between my legs. An ache. My imagination was working overtime, showing me just how easily it would be for him to roll on top of me right then and make me see stars. I wondered what he was like during sex…. He said he wasn’t one for love and romance, but I bet he put his all into a good old-fashioned fucking session. And really, if he put even half the effort into it as he put into his work, then he was probably more than I could handle. And, funnily enough, I had a sudden craving for more than I could handle. The tension had almost reached its boiling point when there was a knock at the door. It was room service, and King slid off the bed to go let them in. It was a good thing, too, because I seriously needed a moment. I feared the blush that had begun on my neck had spread all the way down my body by now. “Do you want some?” King asked, picking the plate and his glass of wine up off the tray and carrying them to the bed. “Sure,” I answered. I never said no to pizza, and this one looked delicious. King settled back in place and took a quick bite, then held the pizza to my mouth. Now, normally I’d say something cheeky in this circumstance, perhaps make a joke, but my sense of humour was no longer present. I was aroused, and

King’s eyes held a game. I wanted to play. Making eye contact with him, I bent forward and took a bite right from where he’d taken one. His nostrils flared, a new intensity in his eyes. He returned the pizza to his own mouth before bringing it back to mine again. He was hovering over me, his fit, delectable body right there, and my hands itched to feel him. The movie was long forgotten as we continued our strange interaction. I had barely any clothes on, and since King was still in his shirt and slacks, I felt vulnerable and a little bit naked. His breathing grew heavy, and I saw his attention wander to the dip of my collarbone, fixating on it. “We should….” he began, but then faltered. “What?” He looked down, his thick golden lashes shading his eyes. His voice was so quiet and gravelly when he continued, “I need to get this out of my system, Alexis.” “Get what….” Before I could finish the sentence, he was taking the pizza crust from my hand, tossing it on the plate, and levelling his icy blues on me. “We can fuck.” He paused, his accent over-emphasising the “K” and making my bones turn to jelly. “We can have sex once and still remain the same. I’m sure of it.” “Well, we are both very pragmatic,” I agreed, my entire body coiled tight. I might not have believed a word I was saying, but right then I wanted him inside me, and my vagina was willing to let me lie to myself in order to make that happen. His hands were already on my hips, massaging. “We are,” he echoed, voice lowering to a whisper as he brought his mouth to my collarbone, to the spot he’d been staring at so intensely. A moan escaped me, and I tilted my head back to give him greater access. He licked at my skin, humming in approval as he trailed his nose across the rise of my bosom. He nuzzled lightly at my cleavage, then began planting kisses all the way up the centre of my neck. I undulated beneath him, and when he reached my jaw, he nibbled at my skin, soliciting another moan from me. His lips made a quick journey to my mouth. But once he was there, he pulled back to stare into my eyes, and it took my breath away for a fraction of a second. He looked at me like I was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Leaning in again, King placed surprisingly tender kisses to either side of my mouth, and I kissed him back. These tender kisses continued for a while, each of us nibbling at one another, learning each other until the kisses began to deepen. He slid his tongue gently past my lips, teasing me, tasting me. I was melting into a puddle on the bed, gripping his shoulders, his hard pecs pressing into the softness of my breasts. It wasn’t long before we were full-on snogging, grasping for each other, drinking one another in like we couldn’t get enough. My hands went to the buttons of his shirt, eager to get it off. He started to help, and as soon as he was bare, he reached for the hem of my top, pulling it up over my head in one fell swoop. There was a moment where we both just stared, me taking in the perfect contours of his chest and abdomen, him studying the curves of my

breasts, the flare of my hips and the hard peaks of my nipples. I was so turned on, I felt empty. I needed him inside. “Fuck,” he swore, all his breath escaping him. He moved forward, lowering himself over me and bringing his mouth to my breast. The sound I made when his lips closed over my nipple would have been embarrassing if I wasn’t so lost in arousal. His hand trailed over my thigh, squeezing before running up my hip and stomach until it came to my other breast. I arched my back off the bed, eager for his touch as he massaged and licked. He startled a yelp out of me when his teeth pressed down on my nipple in a teasing bite. God, this. Just this. Sometimes you didn’t realise how much you needed something until it was happening. I felt like I’d been unconsciously locking up my all desire for this man since the day we first met, and now it was pouring out of me like a waterfall. “King,” I moaned, and a grunt emanated from him as he moved his body, deftly pulling my thighs apart and settling himself between my legs. His fingertips dug desperately into my skin, marking me with his need. And I could feel him then, the thick length of him pressing into my core until I couldn’t find enough air. My breaths grew laboured to match his, and my brain was completely out of the picture. I was nothing but feeling and sensation, and all I wanted was more. Suddenly, his mouth left my nipple, and I wanted to whine in protest. But then he was at my ear, and I was hot, so hot I couldn’t formulate words as he growled, “I want to fuck you so hard, Alexis, so hard you’re still feeling me inside you tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow….” Okay, did he just hit me with a side of Shakespeare in his dirty talk? I died. I died dead. All right, I didn’t die dead, but I did have a mini brain orgasm courtesy of the sexy-as-fuck Cambridge graduate who was currently trailing his tongue along the shell of my ear, sending goose bumps running all down my spine. “Do you know how bad it’s been for me, huh?” he growled. “Being around you at the office, you wearing those tight little skirts that made me want to bite my way up your perfect thighs and then sink my face between your legs until you screamed for it. And your fucking arse, Alexis — Jesus Christ, half the time I’m walking around with a semi just at the sight of it.” “Shut up,” I gasped. Don’t shut up. He was making his way down my body, licking and kissing the soft part of my stomach until he reached the hem of my sleep shorts. He paused, nuzzling my belly, face pressed to my skin as he let out a long exhalation. “I adore your body,” he breathed, almost like he was in pain. “I’ve been dying for this.”

Whoa, it wasn’t like I’d had a small amount of sex in my life, but this was definitely the most intensity I’d ever felt from a man. It was probably because I was reflecting that exact intensity back at him. His fingers teased at the elastic, inching it down bit by bit until he was pulling the sleep shorts clean off and I was left in nothing but my black knickers. King stared down at me, breathing heavily as I lay there watching him, enraptured. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. And then he pressed his face to my vagina, mouthing it through the fabric and miraculously finding my clit. He sucked it into his mouth, dampening the material and sending me to the edge of desperation. I needed my knickers gone. Now. A second later they were; King pulled them off smoothly before returning his attention to my sex. I could practically feel myself pulsing with anticipation as his hot breath warmed my skin and his eyes devoured every inch of me. “So pretty,” he whispered, and then leaned forward to give me the lightest of licks. I shuddered, so turned on he could have kept doing only this and I’d have come within moments. He didn’t keep doing it, though. Only a second passed before a wave of fierce need overcame him and his mouth was sucking hard, his tongue licking fast and his fingers trailing up my inner thighs. One hand found my entrance, a finger slowly dipping inside and a feral growl erupting from him as he did so. I fisted my hands in the sheets, pleasure filling my every pore as I felt him devour me. Own me. Stu had been good at going downtown, but nothing like this. King possessed skill, yes, but it was the intensity with which he wanted me that made it so much better. It was royalty-level cunnilingus, and I momentarily wondered if any man who came after King would ever be good enough. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted any other man after King. I was bewitched by him, enamoured. The concept should have sobered me, put a dampener on what we were doing, but it didn’t. It only made me want him more. I wanted him to consume me; I wanted to consume him before life got in the way and ruined it for both of us. This might be our only chance to forget about everything and just lose ourselves in the moment. King levelled his eyes on me, his expression dark and sexual as he licked right up my slit, slow and hard - purposeful. My entire body shook, and the orgasm that had been quickly building hit me suddenly. Warm goose bumps spread across my skin, and my hands went instinctively to his hair and then his face, marvelling at him in wonder. “You…I…we….” I mumbled incoherently, not even sure what I meant to say to him. There were no words to describe what he’d just done to me, what he’d just made me feel. I felt sated, but somehow even emptier. His mouth was all well and good, but it didn’t satisfy the deep need I had for his cock. He climbed up the bed until his hands were braced on either side of my head.

He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes travelling back and forth between mine as he swiped his thump across my bottom lip. His voice was husky when he spoke. “The way you come is fucking devastating.” The way he spoke was fucking devastating. My eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of his erection standing to attention beneath his trousers. I tugged on the belt and whispered, “Take these off.” One end of his lips rose in a smirk, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to my lips. I could taste myself on him, something that had never particularly appealed to me before, but with King I wanted it. Some primal inner part of me wanted to leave my mark all over him. “What’s the magic word?” he asked playfully. God, he was gorgeous all sex-mussed and turned on. His light eyes seemed even brighter. “Please,” I moaned with no inhibitions whatsoever. “That’s better,” he purred, and sucked my earlobe into his mouth. “You need me inside you, love?” He was whispering now. “Yes,” I whimpered, nuzzling my face into his neck, loving how he smelled. “What way do you want me?” I didn’t even need to think about it. I knew exactly how I wanted him because I’d fantasised about it many a time during quiet periods at the office. A wave of shyness came over me suddenly, and I hesitated to tell him. “No, no, no,” he chided me, still whispering. “There’s no room for embarrassment here. You’ve thought about this. I know you have. Describe to me how you imagined it.” Oh, God. Finally, I spoke. “We’re in your bathroom, at the office. You corner me on the couch and flip me over onto my stomach.” King’s eyes sparkled at my description and his hands went to my hips, one arm around my stomach. “Like this?” he asked, voice low, and then flipped me onto my belly. “Yeah, just like that,” I moaned as I felt him press his cock into my arse, his breath hot and heavy on the back of my neck. “What next?” he urged. “You’re hard. You undo your belt buckle and pull down your fly, then you push my skirt up my hips and shove my knickers to the side. You touch me, feel how wet I am.” He moved as I spoke, hands completing the description I was giving him until his fly was open and his fingers were running over my folds, caressing them. “You pull me up onto my knees.” He gripped my hips, lifting me to all fours. “Then you pull yourself from your pants, and you run your erection over my arse before sliding it lightly over my vagina. You tease me with it, find my entrance, and push in just a little, torturing me until I’m begging for it.” I had to give it to him, King took direction just perfectly. His cock was free now,

sliding inside me the tiniest bit before pulling back out. Sensation filled my entire body at the barest connection. His hand went to my neck, gripping it as he growled in my ear. “I think this is your cue to beg, love.” “Please,” I moaned. “Not good enough.” “I need you, please, I’m begging.” “Almost there.” My voice grew strained and demanding. I didn’t want to play anymore; I just wanted him inside. “Oliver, fuck me, please. I want to feel all of you,” I cried out. “That’s better,” he purred, his voice laced with deep male satisfaction as I heard him pull something from his pants pocket. There was the brief sound of foil tearing before he positioned his cock, then drove it inside me, hard and so deliciously deep. I felt myself pulsate around him, like my body was thanking him for finally giving it what it needed. We went still, and I felt his mouth move over my shoulder blade before his face sank into my hair. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “Oliver, I need….” “Hush, I know, darling, I know.” He rose up again, hands finding my arse and squeezing. He growled and gave one cheek a light slap before grabbing my hips and gripping them tight. My fingers dug into the pillows as I held myself up even though my body just wanted to go limp. Everything just felt too good, and my muscles had turned to jelly. King pushed back into me, in and out deliciously slow. Then his movements sped up, and I swear I lost the ability to think. I’d never felt anything so heavenly in my entire life. My little breaths and moans filled the room; I was unable to hold anything back. King delighted in my sounds, murmuring worshipfully how much he loved them, how much he loved my body, my pussy, how perfectly we fit. I’d never forget his masculine grunts as he hammered into me, the thick, hard feel of him as he filled me up. I felt like I wanted to die when he suddenly pulled out, but before I knew it, he was flipping me over and pushing me onto my back. “I want your eyes,” he growled, lifting my thighs around his hips and driving back into me once more. He cupped my jaw in his hand, his thumb rubbing at my chin as he levelled me with his stare. He was beautiful in that moment, captivating. I wanted to look down, take in the sight of his gloriously chiselled body, but he wouldn’t allow it. He held me in place, never allowing my eyes to leave his, and something clutched at my chest and throat. It was an emotion I wasn’t quite sure I could identify: sharp and stingy but warm and lovely at the same time. King’s expression grew serious. “Do you feel that?” he asked on a laboured breath. All I could do was nod, and in the next second we both seemed to understand that we were completely and totally screwed. No way was this going to be a onetime thing. Already I wanted to crawl beneath his skin and never leave.

“You’re so beautiful, Alexis. You feel fucking beautiful on the inside, too.” “Oliver….” “Yes, darling?” “Will you come for me?” I asked, my words a desperate plea. “Anything for you,” he whispered, his movements slowing down but growing in intensity. He seemed to get even harder as his climax built, and just as I saw he was about to come apart, I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him desperately, swallowing all of his noises, letting them become a part of me. I felt him spill into me, groaning low and gravelly as he came hard, his body shaking a little with the effort. A soft layer of perspiration coated his skin as his delicious weight fell on top of me. His arms went around my body, pulling me to him tight and squeezing as he rested his face in the crook of my neck. I stroked his hair, and he moved us into a more comfortable position so that his entire body surrounded mine. Feeling him plant light kisses to my neck, I let out a little purr of approval as his hand went between my legs. “You think you could come again?” he asked in a sleepy voice. “You’re exhausted, Oliver. Go to sleep.” “But my hand is jealous of my mouth,” he whined playfully. “It wants to feel you come, too.” My tender laugh soon transformed into a low moan as he started to stroke me. His fingers circled my clit, then dipped inside. I shifted and felt his cock begin to harden again next to my arse cheek, and already I could have gone another round. My body was sleepy, though, so I was content to simply lay there and let him work me up. “I knew it would be like this for us,” he purred. “Effortless.” His other hand came around and palmed my breast, moulding it and then pinching the nipple. He began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the tight peak, the motion matching his fingers as they stroked my clit. In the next moment, I was coming with a stark cry. King murmured soothing words in my ear and I turned into his body, cuddling him tight and pressing kisses to his pectorals. Soon after, we both closed our eyes, and then it wasn’t long before sleep pulled us under.

TWELVE

to a warm mouth on my thigh. I woke Oliver King’s head was between my legs as he kissed and licked. I stared

down at him, and he gave me the most handsome of smiles. “Morning, love,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep. “Morning,” I murmured. “What ya doin’ down there?” He let out a low groan. “Teasing you, I’m afraid. I wish I could stay here all day, but unfortunately I have a breakfast meeting with Hirota in forty minutes. I need to shower.” “We could share one,” I suggested, and he groaned again. “Sharing one will last a whole lot longer than I have time to spare. I may lure you into taking a bath with me later, though.” “In that case, I looked forward to being lured,” I replied, and King pressed one final kiss to my thigh before leaning up on his hands and bringing his mouth to mine. Our kiss grew hungrier than expected until we broke apart, breathless. King hummed and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip, eyes fixed on my mouth as he spoke. “I’ll need you later, but take the morning. There’s a beach just a short walk from here,” he suggested as he rose from the bed and began picking up his discarded clothes from last night. My interest piqued. “There is? I haven’t been to the beach in years.” King walked back and placed a final kiss to my temple. “Then go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you later.” He disappeared through the adjoining doorway to his room, leaving me slightly flabbergasted. I’d half expected him to be distant this morning, withdrawn after he’d finally gotten what he wanted. Put it down to my experience with a whole bunch of real charmers in the past. But no, King had been warm and affectionate with me; it was almost like he’d completely forgotten the whole one-time agreement we’d made. I glanced out the window to find it was an unseasonably sunny day, perfect for a trip to the beach. Hopping up from the bed, I went and took a quick shower, then packed my bag. I put my swimsuit on, red with a ’50s vintage cut, and wore a light

flower-print dress over the top with some sandals. I definitely caught a few odd looks from the locals as I made the quick walk from the hotel to the coast, as they clearly didn’t consider it beach weather. Having lived my entire life in cold, rainy London, though, it was positively tropical to me. As expected, there weren’t many people around. I spread a towel out on the sand, slipped on my sunglasses, pulled my dress off over my head, and lay back to soak in the rays. An hour or two passed in blissful peace as I listened to the waves crash against the shore. I never got to hear these sorts of sounds back home, only traffic and honking horns. Sensing a presence, I opened my eyes and slid my sunglasses down my nose. King sat next to me on the sand, his chin resting in his palm and a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared out at the water. He looked a million miles away, and the fact was confirmed when I said his name but got no answer. “Oliver,” I repeated, and saw him blink. He turned his head. “I thought you might be sleeping, didn’t want to wake you.” “Wouldn’t it be kind of dangerous to fall asleep on a public beach?” I asked, but he only shrugged and turned his attention back to the sea. I sat up, reached forward, and placed a hand softly on his arm. “Hey, are you all right?” Either he didn’t hear my question, or he chose to ignore it. “I envy those with clear consciences,” he murmured, as if to himself. What he said made me frown. “Why wouldn’t your conscience be clear?” His eyes flicked to the side as he realised he’d voiced his sentiments out loud. A long breath escaped him. “Bad luck and circumstance.” “You’re one of the luckiest people I know,” I whispered. Yes, his mother was unwell, but aside from that he had a pretty spectacular life. Turning, he levelled his eyes on me, and they seemed so much more beautiful with the sun glittering through them. “My luck is only on one side of the mirror,” he murmured, and reached out to caress my cheek. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all morning.” His words and his touch made me shiver. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” What I said made him smile, but there was a sadness behind it. I wanted to find its source, snuff it out. He was having these episodes more and more lately, melancholy mixed with random philosophising. “Mr Hirota is going to sign the contracts tonight. He’s invited us to his villa for dinner. Did you bring a dress?” “Of course. I always come prepared.” I smiled and crawled over to kneel in front of him, placing my hands on each of his shoulders. Staring at him head on, I said, “A problem shared is a problem halved. Whatever’s been troubling you, you can tell me about it. No judgement.” The moment dragged on forever as he breathed in and then out. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such a long and meaningful stretch of eye contact with another human being before. Voices sounded from nearby, a family taking pictures. King’s

eyes went to them and then back to me. “Stay here,” he said, and stood up. I watched as he walked to the family and began speaking to the father, who had one of those vintage Polaroid cameras. Words were exchanged, and then the father handed the camera over to King. He walked back to me, and as I sat there on my towel, he lifted the camera to his face. “Smile, Alexis,” he said, and I had just enough time to plaster a grin on my face before he snapped the shot. The photo emerged from the front of the camera and King caught it, shaking it out. “Hey, a little warning next time!” “Come here,” he said, voice low. I went to him. He threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, holding the camera up in front of us and taking another pic. This time I was the one to grab it from the slot. It had managed to capture us up close. I was staring into the lens, smiling, and King was in profile, staring back at me, a look of such affection in his gaze that it almost took my breath away. “I’m keeping this one,” I practically whispered as King watched me. “Only if I can keep this one.” I shrugged, trying not to sound emotional. “Sure.” He went and returned the camera to its owner, and an odd atmosphere fell between us. I packed up my things, and we made the short walk back to the hotel. I knew exactly what accounted for the tension but was too afraid to voice how I felt. I was falling in love with him, and if the way he looked at me in the picture was anything to go by, he was falling in love with me, too. SINCE KING HAD A BIGGER ROOM, we went there to work for the rest of the day. I sat on his bed, my computer on my lap, while he sat at the desk. There were lots of small details to tie up before Hirota signed the contracts that evening, so both of us were buried in work for a couple of hours. I Skyped with Gillian so she could take care of everything that needed doing back at the London office. I’d just finished my call with her when King’s phone began to ring. I saw him glance at the screen, and I swear his face instantly transformed. He was no longer relaxed and concentrated. He now seemed irritable and stressed. Standing, he didn’t glance at me once as he walked from the room and stepped out into the hallway. He only closed the door over halfway, so I could still eavesdrop on the conversation. “Yes?” he answered, voice flat. A pause. “Of course. It’s all moving forward as planned. The contracts will be signed tonight.” Another pause. “Very well. Just remember our agreement. This is the last time.” I heard him let out a long, frustrated breath, and I could just imagine his jaw

clenching. He didn’t sound happy at all. “Bruce, I mean it. This is the last time. You’ll have your paperwork by the morning. Goodbye.” A second later he stormed back into the room, and I practically yelped in surprise when he came right at me. He shoved my laptop away, then began undoing the buttons on my dress, revealing my bra underneath. “All afternoon I’ve had to watch you sitting here, torturing me in this little dress cupping your perfect fucking tits,” he growled, and brought his mouth to my cleavage, dragging his lips over the swells of my breasts. A whimper escaped me as my hands went to his hair. He wasn’t the only one who’d been tortured. Having Oliver King close was always a test to my willpower. “Oliver,” I breathed as he pushed down the cup of my bra, then took my nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled, and I squirmed beneath him. “Oliver, who’s Bruce?” His entire form stilled, his mouth leaving me. “You shouldn’t have been listening to that conversation, Alexis.” “I’m sorry. It’s just that as soon as you got the call, you became really stressed out. It worried me.” “You don’t need to worry,” he said, and I could feel him withdrawing. “But I do.” He was off the bed now, picking up his coat. “I’m going to take a walk. Finish what you’re working on and be ready at seven. Hirota is sending a car for us.” And with that he was gone. I lay on the bed, equal parts turned on and confused. I didn’t understand why he was being so closed off about this Bruce person. My gut sank, and I quickly fixed my dress back in place. Collecting my things, I returned to my own room, and this time I remembered to lock the adjoining doors. The dress I wore for dinner was a deep purple colour, lace on top, velvet material on the bottom. My phone pinged with a text just as I was putting the finishing touches to my makeup. Oliver King: I’m waiting in the lobby. I tapped out a quick response. Alexis: Be there in two minutes. I saw him standing by a tall column when I arrived downstairs. His back was turned to me, and he wore a black suit that made his golden hair stand out. His broad shoulders and confident, masculine posture gave me a fizzy sensation in my tummy, and I immediately wished we weren’t on awkward terms. Why did I have to be so nosy asking about this Bruce person? It wasn’t like I had a right to know. Anyhow, I’d put two and two together, and decided that Bruce either worked for King’s silent investor or he was the silent investor. I knew that for whatever reason, King wasn’t thrilled to be working on this deal. My guess was that he owed the investor a favour, and this was how he was repaying him. “Hi,” I said, and he turned at the sound of my voice. “Alexis,” said King, his eyes skimming my form before his hand went to my lower back to lead me from the lobby. He didn’t say a word about my appearance,

didn’t give me any heated compliments, and my gut sank. We entered a sleek black limousine, where King immediately slid across the seat and went to open the mini bar. I sat and fiddled with my phone, while at the same time taking surreptitious glances at my boss. You could have cut the tension between us with a knife, and for once it wasn’t sexual. Well, okay, it was sexual. It always was with us, but on this occasion the tension tension outweighed the sexual tension. King studied the bottles, deciding on which drink he was going to have. His eyes flicked to mine as he held up a bottle of Scotch. “Would you like a glass?” I shook my head. Something else I was starting to notice about him was that he was very specific in the way he made his drinks. He did it lovingly and with a certain finesse. I knew there were only three reasons why a person was that particular about their drinks preparation. One: They’d worked in a bar, and it was grilled into them for life. Two: They were collectors/hobbyists who collected vintage and expensive liquors. Three: They were alcoholics. I hated to be so callous in my labelling, but it was true. I just hoped King fell into group number two, because I knew he didn’t belong to group number one, and group number three was too painful to contemplate. I remembered our conversation about Bernie Black, the dealer who supplied drugs to those working high-powered jobs in the The City. I was reminded of what King had said, and not for the first time. When I’m stressed out, a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick. It took us just over thirty minutes to reach Hirota’s place, which was a quintessentially Roman villa surrounded by acres of lush land and gardens. It was dark; however, the place was illuminated by lights placed all around the entrance and lawn. I noticed some horse stables off to the side, and there were a couple of fancy cars parked out front. I’d been counting King’s drinks on the drive, and he’d had no less than four large glasses of Scotch. The fact that he wasn’t even acting tipsy indicated a high tolerance, which was also a worrying sign. It felt like the more time I spent around this man, the more clearly I was beginning to see him. The more I got the sense he had secrets he tried his best to keep hidden. He slid across the seat until his thigh met mine, and I felt him lean down to smell my hair. His closeness caused me to tremble, and I knew he saw it. “I’m sorry, Alexis,” was all he said before the driver came around and opened the door for us. We both stepped out, and I saw King’s eyes go to my hand a few times, as though he wanted to hold it. And I got the sense he wanted to do it for comfort rather than as a social show. The thought made my heart ache, because I always wanted to be able to comfort him if he needed it. In the end, he never touched me, and one of Hirota’s household staff let us inside before leading us to a spacious dining room. “Oliver, Alexis,” said Hirota, standing. “So glad you both made it.”

This time the businessman wore an even stranger outfit than before; he was decked out in British countryside chic. Something posh folks back home might wear to go on a hunt or clay pigeon shooting. We were introduced to his wife, a slim blonde who had the desperate look of a woman who took prescription meds just to get through the day. I felt bad thinking it, but it was the truth. He also had twin sons. Both were in the awkward chubby phase of puberty, and looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. The remaining parties at the table were the same men who’d been at the strip club the previous night. All employees of Hirota. I sat next to King as the meal was served, our arms brushing every so often. King was left-handed, I was right-handed, which meant there was an awful lot of elbow knocking going on. My heart leapt as we were being served dessert and King’s hand disappeared under the table to rest on my thigh. His mouth was close to my ear when he said, “Stay with me tonight.” I wanted to say yes, but he had continued his drinking all through dinner, and my concern was outweighing my lust right then. So, even though his touch melted my insides, I pushed his hand away and answered, “I don’t think that’s wise.” I could feel him staring at me as I swallowed, trying to remain stoic when I really wanted to stand up and demand he tell me what was going on. I was so preoccupied that I was hardly able to take three bites of my dessert. Then the staff came and collected my plate before refilling the wine glasses of those still drinking. “Laura,” said Hirota to his wife. “Be a dear and take Alexis on a tour of the house. Mr King and I just have one or two matters to discuss before I sign the contracts.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. The last thing I wanted right then was one-on-one time with Laura Hirota, but I didn’t have another choice. Their sons had already left to go play video games in the lounge, and seemingly Hirota was a sexist ape who didn’t think women had any place in business dealings. “Of course,” said Laura, eyes finding mine. “I’ll show you my collection of china.” Laura’s collection of china was truly riveting. I stood there as she oohed and aahed over the design details and boasted how expensive it all was, wishing I were anywhere else in the world. Oh, did I also mention that she expelled a shitload of venom about her selfish husband and her spoiled children along the way? It was like, oh, yeah, go right ahead and use me as an outlet for all your dissatisfaction. She walked me through the various rooms, and then we did a quick sweep of the garden before returning to the house. Laura yawned. “I think I’ll go get some sleep now. It was lovely meeting you, Alexis.” She didn’t sound like she thought it was lovely at all; she sounded like it had been a burden. I made my way through a spacious lounge area, trying to find King, when I spotted him sitting in front of a grand piano that I was sure Hirota placed there purely for show. King stared out the window, a glass of wine in his hand, as I closed the distance between us.

“Well, Laura Hirota hates her life,” I deadpanned, and King shot me an arch look. “The contracts all signed and sealed?” I went on as I came to stand in front of him. He turned his head to face me and nodded. “Everything’s been finalised.” A silence elapsed. I leaned a little too hard against the piano, an off-key sound ringing out. I shot King an apologetic look and remembered again how beautifully he played. Our eyes locked for several moments, feelings passing back and forth but no words. “Play something for me,” I urged him. His eyes went to the keys before returning to mine. “What would you like to hear?” “Anything.” I stood back as he twisted around and ran his fingers across the ivories. And then, just like that, he began to play.

THIRTEEN

he tune started out low and soft, but quickly sped up. It became faster, louder, T until his fingers were dancing over the keys in a way that knocked the breath from

my lungs. I’d expected him to play a little rendition of a modern song, something simple, romantic maybe. But this, this was on another stratosphere, and I knew from his skill that he played it often. Unlike the piano here at Hirota’s, the one King had at his apartment was definitely not for show. He was playing the exact same piece as he had at his apartment that night. Almost unconsciously, I lowered myself onto the bench beside him, both my eyes and my ears enraptured as he continued the melody. In that moment he was transformed; his entire body was at one with the instrument as he filled the room with perfect, heart-aching, sweet and soulful music. I fell. I’d already started falling, but the way he played finished the job. It was so beautiful in its realness that I couldn’t help but be owned by him. Elaine King had obviously passed her talent down to her son, and it was almost a tragedy that this wasn’t what he did all day, every day. I wasn’t sure how long he had been playing when the piece finally drew to a close. I sat there, staring at the piano in stunned silence, as he turned to face me. “Why so quiet, darling?” he asked, taking my chin between his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.” “So say nothing.” His mouth went to my jaw as he gave me a feather-light kiss. “What was that song?” King sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2. It’s the last piece my mother ever played to a live audience.” And just like that, it all made sense. The piece was clearly very special to him. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasted as a banker. This is what you should be doing,” I stated outright. King laughed gently. “I think I told you before that Mum is the star. Pianists are ten a penny in this world, and that’s usually how much they make for a living, too.” His joke fell flat. “I thought you didn’t care about money.”

“I don’t. I care about prestige, and my mediocre piano skills will never bring me that.” “Mediocre? Are you serious?” His low, affectionate laughter did something to the pit of my stomach. Well, it was the laughter combined with the music he’d just played. His fingers were trailing up my thigh, finding the hem of my skirt and dipping beneath when I spoke without thinking. “Make love to me,” I blurted. King’s gaze grew heated, and his mouth was at my ear again, whispering a single word, “Love?” The second it left his lips, his finger slid past my underwear and right inside me. My breath came out in a rush. His voice grew dark. “One day I’m going to spread you out on my piano at home and fuck you until you forget your own name.” Jesus Christ. “Oliver.” “You’re so wet.” The sound of approaching footsteps echoed around the room, and King instantly withdrew, leaving me feeling empty. A member of Hirota’s household staff cleared her throat. “Mr King, the car is waiting to take you both back to the hotel.” “Yes, very good. Thank you,” King replied smoothly, and stood. I walked alongside him back to the same limo we’d arrived in. As soon as the door closed, King pressed the button for the privacy screen, and then he was climbing on top of me. He pushed me back so that I lay stretched out on the seat, his hard body over mine as his hand returned to where it had been before we were interrupted. I threw my head back and tried not to make a sound for fear of alerting the driver to what we were doing. King shot me a devilish grin. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was up to. His fingers slid in and out of me fast, working me up into a heated frenzy. My hands were already fumbling for his pants, desperate to get them off. All day my mind had been fixating on last night, my body wanting more. Within seconds I had him free as I ran my hand down the hot, silky length of him. He felt beautiful, perfect, and right then I wanted all of that perfect beauty deep inside me. His entire body shuddered as I fisted him, and his face fell to my neck as some realisation lit in his eyes. “I didn’t bring protection,” he groaned. Well, shit. “Oh.” “The journey back to the hotel won’t take long. We can wait,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Our eyes connected, and I knew instantly that we were both thinking the same thing. Should we risk it? “I’m on the pill,” I blurted. It was the truth. I’d been taking it for years and hadn’t stopped even after Stu and I broke up.

His gaze held a warning. “Don’t.” “I trust you.” He groaned again. “Fucking hell.” I wriggled beneath him, shoving my knickers aside and carefully guiding his cock closer. His resistance cracked and his hips jutted forward, closing the remaining distance between us as his hard, bare length pushed inside me. I moaned and closed my eyes, the feel of him with nothing between us a little more than I could handle. I was twenty-seven years old and this was the very first time I’d had unprotected sex with another person. I never imagined how amazing it could be, especially when you added my continually growing feelings to the equation. “Alexis, darling,” he murmured. “You feel…incredible.” I stroked a hand down his back and gazed up at him. Barely a few minutes passed, but they felt as though they lasted an eternity. King made love to me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. This certainly wasn’t what either one of us had intended by having sex in a limo. I certainly hadn’t thought it’d be so…emotional. I wanted to say something, anything, to warn him that I was beginning to grow attached, but I couldn’t find the words. And then he was coming, his mouth capturing mine and his sounds reverberating through me. And when it was over, we lay there in each other’s arms, a startling awareness filling the small space and so many words being left unsaid. IN SPITE of our hunger for one another, we were exhausted. Arriving back at the hotel, we lay in my bed and just kissed for a while, King making me come with his hand before we both passed out cold. The following morning we had an early flight back to London. A sense of dread filled my gut as I wondered if things would remain the same when we got home. It was unwarranted, because King was being warm and affectionate with me. He wasn’t giving me any cause for concern, and yet I still felt it. I mean, we could hardly be a couple at work. Even if it wasn’t against the rules, I didn’t want people thinking I was some low-class hussy who slept with her boss. Even though, let’s face it, that’s what I was, though I refused to accept the lowclass bit. Damn me and my dumb blonde hussy of a vagina. She just couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Everything was a mad rush as we packed our things and made our way to the airport. I barely had a chance to catch my breath until we were seated on the flight. We’d just landed at Heathrow and were making our way to the baggage carousel when King’s phone began ringing. I didn’t pay much attention to the conversation until I heard the concerned tone in his voice. “Mum? No, no, shit, stay where you are. I’ll be there within the hour.” I placed a hand on King’s elbow. “Is everything all right?” He turned to me and looked down, his agitation clear as day. “No,” he answered, almost absently. “No, it isn’t. We have to go.”

I nodded and grabbed our bags as we hurried to catch a taxi. King barely uttered a word, and I was half convinced he’d forgotten I was even there. It sounded like something had happened with his mum again. Perhaps she had to be taken back into the hospital, though I still didn’t know what had happened the last time. King clutched his phone in his hand, his knuckles turning white. I wanted to do something to calm him, but I was at a loss. He was wound so tight I feared he might snap if I tried to touch him right then. It took us longer than an hour to reach the house (London traffic), and King almost got into a fight with the taxi driver along the way. He was upset and stressed, and I knew his anger was only due to whatever had happened with his mum. I tipped the driver well when we got there, apologising for King’s behaviour as my boss practically leapt from the car and hurried to the front door. He fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a set of keys, and then a second later he’d disappeared inside. I brought our small suitcases into the entryway as King called out, “Mum, I’m here! Mum!” “Oliver,” came the sound of a weak, scratchy voice. I followed King’s calls until I found him in a small library room. His mum sat on the floor, her knees huddled to her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked like she’d just been through something horribly traumatic and wore only a silk robe, her long hair all tangled. Some of her chest was exposed, but King didn’t even bat an eyelid; he simply pulled the robe tighter to cover her modesty. There was nothing weird or awkward about it. He did it with love and care, and it was in that moment, finally seeing them both together for the first time, that I realised this woman meant the world to him. I got the feeling King had been caring for his mother for a really long time. His hands went to her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “What happened?” “He was here. He got inside. I don’t know how, but he threatened me, Oliver. He said you were messing him around, and he wouldn’t stand for it. He…he hit me.” King’s entire body went still. “Where?” Elaine slowly pulled up the sleeve of her robe to reveal an awful welt. “He’s the fucking devil,” King fumed, and I’d never seen him so angry. “I’m going to kill him.” “No,” Elaine cried. “That’s what he wants. He wants to make you like him. Don’t ever become like him.” “Mother, we can’t go on like this. It’s been…Christ, it’s been too many years.” “Just call him,” Elaine urged King frantically. “Explain everything. I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.” King, kneeling in front of his mum, pulled back and slammed his hand down into the floor. “Don’t you see, he’ll never leave us alone. Not until one of us is dead or in prison.” “Please, Oliver, please, he said one last time, maybe he meant it. Maybe he’ll go away after this.”

King stared at his mother and ran a hand down his face. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhausted that only accumulates from years of worry and lost sleep. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt so out of place. I shouldn’t have been listening to the exchange, but I couldn’t take it back now. I’d heard everything, and what I’d heard had frightened me. I felt cold, colder than I’d ever been. He’ll never leave us alone. Not until one of us is dead or in prison. A moment passed before King pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through his contacts. Rising to his full height, he turned, and that’s when he saw me. The startled look in his eyes told me he’d completely forgotten I was there. I’d never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life. King’s gaze was hard, and it was only after a long few moments that it began to soften. “Alexis….” “I should go.” “No,” he said quickly. “Don’t go. I have an important phone call to make. Could you take Mum up to her room? It’s on the second floor, the third door on the right. Then come find me and we’ll talk.” I nodded, and he walked past me, lifting his phone to his ear. Elaine’s reddened eyes found mine, and she seemed ashamed that I was seeing her like this. I hated that she felt that way, because she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. Going to her, I gently slid an arm around her waist and helped her up to a standing position. She was weak and I had to take most of her weight, but it was nothing. She was waifish, insubstantial, and it made her seem that much more vulnerable. She didn’t say anything as I led her to her room, but when I pulled her sheets back and helped her into bed, there was gratefulness in her gaze. “Talk to him. Make him see sense,” she urged me, and I wasn’t sure what she was asking of me. I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before murmuring softly, “Get some sleep, Elaine. Oliver and I will be just downstairs if you need us.” Leaving her room and going back down, I found King in the library. The drinks cabinet was open, and half a bottle of Southern Comfort sat on the desk. His eyes rose to meet mine. “Want one?” Normally I’d decline, but the situation called for a drink, so I nodded and took the seat next to him. He poured, and I watched. Then he handed me the glass, and I knocked it back. The room was quiet for a long few minutes, and I wasn’t sure why, but I felt the urge to hug him, to bridge the monumental gap that seemed to linger between us. I threw my arms around his shoulders, and he stiffened. I didn’t let go. He resisted my embrace for so long that I was sure I’d have to give up eventually, but then he softened. It all happened at once. His body melted into mine as his arms went around my waist and pulled me close. He clutched me so tightly I felt the air rush from my lungs. It was in that moment that I knew I’d given him just what he needed.

He didn’t need words or sex or platitudes. He just needed a hug. Human comfort. His hands tangled in my hair, and mine laced around his neck. “I’m here to help. Whatever you need,” I whispered, and his body sagged. I didn’t expect him to speak, didn’t really expect anything at all other than for him to accept my hug, which was why hearing his voice startled me. “Yesterday you asked me who Bruce was,” he said, speaking into my neck. “He’s my father.” I grew still, and King pulled away a little to meet my eyes. “He’s also been blackmailing me almost my entire life.” My brow furrowed as I shook my head. “I don’t understand.” King let out a long breath, picked up his glass, and knocked the entire contents back in one go. “My mother has been playing piano since she could walk. Her family were wealthy, and when they saw she had a natural talent, they invested a lot in her career. Once she hit her mid-teens, she began to get attention, and soon she was performing with orchestras, travelling around the world.” I stared at him, absorbing his words. King poured more liquid into his glass. “She was playing at the Royal Albert Hall on a night when my father was in attendance. He saw her on stage and decided he wanted her. She was just seventeen, but Bruce Mitchell was a man who got what he wanted. He was a lot older and very rich, but he was also dangerous, which was probably what attracted Mum — the danger, the excitement. They were from different worlds, still are, and Bruce is not a good man. He’s a criminal, a very powerful one. All of the most despicable things you can think of, my father has most likely had a hand in them.” “Oliver, I….” “Hush. Just let me speak. I’ve never told anyone this before.” He paused to meet my gaze, tilting his head. “I trust you, Alexis. That doesn’t make me a fool, does it?” I frowned. “Of course not. Anything you tell me will never leave this room.” He took a swig of his drink and breathed out. “Anyway, long story short, Mum had a brief affair with Bruce and fell pregnant with me. Her career really took off after that and she became very famous for a number of years, while Bruce sort of drifted into the background. Then, just after I turned eighteen, Mum started having trouble with a stalker. It was a scary time for both of us. We’d come home to find the house had been broken into, the valuables left untouched but personal items of my mother’s stolen. He’d write creepy, obsessive letters, and Mum had to set the police on the case. Months passed, and Mum started to go out in public less and less. She was frightened of running into her stalker, and a lot of what he’d written in his letters indicated he wasn’t of sound mind. And then, one night during the summer before I was to start university, I came home and found my mother beaten up and restrained, a man readying himself to rape her. I lost the plot, went crazy, and beat the living daylights out of him. I couldn’t stop.” King’s voice choked up, and I saw his eyes fill with emotion as he remembered. I was so absorbed in his story, so horrified by it, that I’d almost stopped breathing for a moment. I took his

hand in mine, squeezed it tight. “I…I thought I’d killed him. I couldn’t find a pulse, so I panicked. I swear, Alexis, thinking you’ve killed a man is the most terrifying feeling in the world. It’s like everything is over and your whole future is gone. I didn’t know whether to call the police or start thinking about where I could bury the body, but then Mum spoke up. She told me to call Bruce. I’d only met my father a handful of times, barely knew anything about him, but I was in such a state that I simply did as she told me. “A little while later he showed up at the house, finding Mum beaten and bruised, and me covered in another man’s blood. I thought he was our saviour back then. He took care of everything. Got the man I’d beaten to a hospital, paid him to keep quiet, and made sure no one knew I’d almost killed him in my anger and fear. The experience would always stay with me, but at least it was over. And then, several months later, Bruce began making his presence known. He wanted to get to know his son, spend time with me. I was more than happy to oblige him at first. However, once I became familiar with my father and his way of life, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Bruce, unfortunately, was unwilling to let me go. He told me he’d never taken Mum’s stalker to a hospital that night, but instead had him killed and buried in a shallow grave. He told me that if I didn’t start doing as he said, he’d see to it that the police found the body and I’d be done for murder.” I stared at him, flabbergasted and appalled. I clutched his hand so tight that I was probably cutting off his blood supply. “So…your dad, I mean, Bruce has been blackmailing you to do his bidding ever since?” King leaned closer. “The things I’ve seen, Alexis, the things he’s forced me to witness, don’t even bear thinking about. I built my entire career cleanly, never cheating, never doing anything underhanded, for the sole purpose of never becoming like him. But now….” King sighed, his jaw working as his chest fell, “Now he’s looking for new ways to clean his money, and he’s decided to do it by having me invest for him. I told him just once, that I’d do this one deal with Hirota, and then I never wanted to see him again. But if coming here today and threatening Mum is anything to go by, he has no intention of leaving us alone.” He glanced at me. “Remember when I told you Mum had to be taken into the hospital?” I nodded. “She’d overdosed on anxiety medication, because she was so worried about what Bruce would do to us if the deal didn’t go through. I can’t let her live like this anymore. My mother is the only family I have left in the world, and she’s spent more than a decade as a ghost. She’s too anxious and paranoid over Bruce’s threats to even leave the house. I want to see her live again, see her go outside and be like any other ordinary woman on the street.” My heart pounded at his words, at the sincerity of them and the pain he had so obviously been harbouring for years. I wanted to fix this for him. I needed to. And I knew just the person to go to for help. I’d grown up in a lower-class neighbourhood, and having been best friends with Karla all my life, a policewoman raised by a superintendent, I knew my fair share about how criminals operated.

I sat up straight and levelled my eyes on King’s. “If Bruce is the man you say he is, then you have to fight fire with fire. Beat him at his own game. That’s the only way you’ll ever be rid of him. There’s probably a wealth of information out there about things he’s done he doesn’t want anyone to find out about. You just have to know the right people to ask.” “Nobody talks about his business, not if they want to keep their lives, Alexis. Bruce is one of the most notorious and powerful crime lords in London. Only someone with a death wish would sell him out.” I moved closer, took his hands in mine, and met his eyes. “Do you trust me?” He let out a breath. “You know I do.” “Then let me try something.”

FOURTEEN

he following day at work was tense. King couldn’t concentrate because he was T worried about Bruce coming back for his mother, even though he was having

security watch her house day and night. Apparently, after King had finalised the deal with Hirota, he hadn’t had the chance to forward the documents to Bruce. Then we’d had to catch our flight, which delayed things further. Bruce had jumped the gun and thought King was giving him the runaround, hence the reason for him showing up at Elaine’s and making threats. We were dealing with a real prize. Anyhow, we had a plan to set in motion. When I arrived home after work, I found Karla in the living room, watching TV and eating a bag of chocolate peanuts. She must have sensed my nervous energy because she sat up straight and eyed me curiously. “What’s up with you?” “I’m having some people around tonight. I hope that’s okay.” “Sure, go for it. Who’s coming?” “Um, King.” “And?” “And Lee Cross.” Karla practically spat a peanut out of her mouth. “Oh, hell no. I’m not having that little shit knowing where I live.” “The little shit already knows, Karla. Stu’s been around here lots of times, so if he wants to find out where you live, all he has to do is ask his brother.” “Yeah, but there’s a big difference between him knowing and actually inviting him over. That’s like sticking a big ‘come and get me’ sign on my forehead,” she sputtered. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. I’m sure he’ll be able to resist you while he’s here,” I replied sarcastically, which only seemed to rile her further. It was a little bit funny, and I needed some comic relief right then. “Hey! I wasn’t saying it because I think I’m irresistible. I said it because I know how men like him operate. They want to shag a cop so they can brag about it to their mates. I’m just a trophy to him.” She slumped back into her seat and folded

her arms, muttering under her breath. “Nothing to do with my looks.” It had everything to do with her looks. She was gorgeous, she just didn’t know it – probably because she had to wear that godawful shapeless black and white uniform every day. “Anyway,” I began, changing the subject, “I need to ask you something.” “Go ahead.” “What do you know about Bruce Mitchell?” Karla’s eyebrows shot right up into her forehead as she let out a low whistle. “That’s some serious name to be throwing about.” “It is. So tell me what you know.” “I know he’s a big-time criminal. Fingers in every pie imaginable, but mostly suspected of running a large drug ring in and around central London. He’s been around so long he’s practically his own institution.” She paused, eyeing me suspiciously. “Why are you asking me about Bruce Mitchell, Lexie?” And here was where I told her the lie I agreed upon with King. We wouldn’t tell anyone Bruce was his father, nor about the past with his mum’s stalker. What we would tell them was that Bruce had blackmailed King and threatened to frame him for crimes he didn’t commit. Therefore, our plan was to ask Lee, who was shrewd as a fox and knew everything about everyone in this city, if he could get some dirt on Bruce. We’d then use that dirt to get Bruce to back off King and Elaine. Like I said, it was fighting fire with fire. Lee was a safe option because I knew him well enough to know he could be trusted, but he was also someone with his own level of power, so Bruce wouldn’t try to retaliate against him as our middleman, so to speak. After I’d finished speaking, Karla stared at me, gobsmacked. “Are you seriously standing there telling me all this and expecting me not to report it? What planet are you living on?” I reflected her indignation right back at her. “Are you seriously sitting there expecting me to let you report it? If I’ve learned anything from living with you, it’s that the criminal justice system in this country is bullshit. Bruce has been getting away with murder for decades. What makes you think that’s going to stop now? Don’t you think hundreds of people have gone to the police about him over the years? And has any of it worked? No. We need to beat him at his own game.” Karla slumped back into the couch, giving up. “Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother with this job.” I came forward and squeezed her shoulder. “You do it because you’re a good person who wants to help those who need it. It’s not your fault the system is corrupt.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why you’re trusting Lee.” “I’m trusting him because he’s got an in. And yes, he might not technically live his life on the right side of the law, but he’s a decent person. He’s got a good heart, and when it comes down to it, he’d never intentionally hurt someone. He’s not like Bruce.” Karla eyed me speculatively. “You seem very sure about him.”

“I spent a lot of time around him when Stu and I were together. He might not make his money in a legit manner, but I’ve seen him use it to take care of his family. He even buys food for the kids next door whose junkie parents aren’t fit to care for them,” I told her. “So yeah, he’s not perfect, but he’s not a bad person, either.” Her expression softened for a brief moment before she gave me a sober nod and returned her attention to the TV. I could tell she still wasn’t entirely happy with the situation, but she also wasn’t going to continue protesting. I’d just changed into a light T-shirt and some leggings when a knock sounded at the door. I called to Karla that I’d answer it, and then hurried to let King in. He’d changed out of the suit he’d been wearing earlier and now wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a khaki jacket. I swear, even with the current circumstances, the sight of him made my heart speed up. “Hey,” I greeted him quietly, giving him a tentative smile. “Alexis,” he said, and bent down to press a kiss on my lips. I could practically feel Karla’s eyes bugging out of her head, because I knew she had to be watching us. I hadn’t yet had the chance to fully explain my relationship with King to her, but I imagined she’d put two and two together. We hadn’t had sex in almost two days, and despite everything that was going on, my body longed for his touch. It felt like for the rest of my life, I was always just going to want more of him. I stroked a hand down his arm before lacing my fingers with his. “How are you feeling?” “Worried, stressed.” He bent down to whisper the last part in my ear, “Horny.” A shiver trickled along the back of my neck as I tried to resist the urge to drag him into my bedroom. Instead, I led him over to the couch and introduced him to Karla. “This is Karla, my roommate and BFF. I’ve already filled her in on the situation. Karla, this is Oliver, my eh, uh….” “Your boss?” she finished for me, arching a brow. I frowned at her. “Yeah, my boss.” Before the conversation could continue, there was another knock at the door. I went to answer it and was met by not just Lee, but his brother, too. Yeah, that’s right, my ex had decided to tag along. Sometimes I wished I had a butler to answer my door and inform visitors on my behalf, I’m sorry, but not today. Why the hell was he here? My first words voiced that very same sentiment as the two men stepped inside without even waiting to be invited. “Uh, why is Stu here?” I asked, gesturing wildly. Lee shot me a grin. “He’s my muscle.” “As far as I can see, you’ve got enough muscle of your own,” I shot back. “Ah, yeah, but you know society’s a bitch. Ya have to be a tall bastard for people to be afraid of ya these days. They don’t realise us little guys are quicker on our toes.” He paused, eyes darting across the room to give Karla a wink. “Plus, we have the advantage of a lower centre of gravity.”

Lee wasn’t exactly little, but I got where he was coming from. My ex was well over six feet, the big dumb oaf. I had to resist the urge to laugh when Stu gave his brother a vacant stare at his mention of “a lower centre of gravity.” “How’s it going, Lex?” said Stu as his attention came to rest on me, his eyes doing a quick sweep of my body. “It’ll be going a lot better when you piss off out of here. None of this concerns you.” Lee held up a hand. “Now, now, don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, Clarky. You called me asking for help. I was kind enough to answer, but if you want me to stick around, you’ll have to deal with my brother being here, too.” His voice was hard and broached no further argument. In the next second, King was beside me, introducing himself. “We haven’t yet had the pleasure,” he said urbanely. “My name is Oliver.” Lee gave him a quick once-over before glancing at me, his lips twitching in amusement. “Bagged yourself a posh bastard, did ya?” He nudged his brother with his elbow. “She’s moving up in the world.” “Don’t be an arsehole,” said Karla in an annoyed tone. Lee seemed to enjoy her barb. “I’ll never be an arsehole to you, Snap. In fact,” he went on, his voice lowering, “I’ll be so fucking pleasant, you’ll never want me to leave.” Karla rolled her eyes, not bothering to retort. I noticed Stu was now eyeballing King, and I didn’t like the angry slant to his mouth. Jesus, all of this would have gone so much more smoothly if Lee had just left his brother at home. Stu flicked his gaze between me and King. “You together?” My posture grew stiff. “And if we are?” Stu snorted. “If you are, it’s a fucking joke.” King, who was silently observing the exchange, spoke up, seeming unthreatened by Stu’s presence. “I believe we have more important matters to discuss.” “Yeah, we do,” said Stu. “Like how you’re trying to take what’s mine.” Oh, for Christ’s sake. I cast Lee a pleading look while King stared emotionlessly at my ex. Deciding to be less of a prick, Lee nodded to the door. “Eh, Stu, go wait for me outside. Make sure no one tries to come into the flat.” Stu didn’t look happy about his brother’s order, but he did as he was told all the same. Between the two of them, it was clear who the alpha was. As soon as Stu left, I finally felt like I could breathe. I sent King an apologetic look as he leaned in and whispered, “An old flame of yours?” “Unfortunately, yes.” “He wants you back.” “Well, he can go on wanting.” “I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” he went on, and the dark note in his voice made me shiver. I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.” I paused to eye him meaningfully. “He’s my past.” I left the

second part unspoken. You’re my future. If his satisfied expression was anything to go by, he caught my meaning. Turning, I found Lee had plopped himself down on the sofa beside Karla and was sitting a little too close. She shifted away, being none too subtle about putting distance between them. “Oh, Snap,” he chuckled. “It’s so funny how you want me.” Karla bristled. “Don’t call me Snap.” “You don’t like it? It’s short for Gingersnap. I thought you’d appreciate my creative efforts and shit.” “Well, I don’t. Go focus your creativity elsewhere. In fact, pretend I don’t exist.” He shot her a heated look, his eyes trailing slowly down her body. “Sorry, can’t do that,” Lee whispered quietly. Karla took a deep breath, as though summoning the willpower not to slap him. I felt bad for subjecting her to Lee, but I needed her there for moral support. Tugging King forward, I led him over to a chair and perched myself on the edge. His hand went to my thigh, and I savoured the warmth. “So, what have you got for us?” I began, looking at Lee. “This needs to be good.” Lee scoffed. “Don’t insult me with low expectations.” Pausing, he eyed King. “Did you bring the money?” Oh, yeah, did I fail to mention that Lee wanted 50K for this favour? It was pocket change to a man like King, but still, Lee had some balls asking for that amount. I’d expected it, though. He might have had a good heart, but he was a survivor, and surviving meant making money in any way he could. King slid a briefcase across to him and Lee took a peek inside, letting out a low whistle when he saw the cash. One eyebrow went up. “Shit, should I have asked for more?” It must have been Lee’s tone that made King chuckle. Karla let out a long sigh and glared at me. “I can’t believe you’re making me be a witness to this. You seriously owe me one, Lexie.” Lee cocked his head to her. “I’ll owe you one any day of the week, babe.” She scowled at him and he grinned in delight. I mouthed a silent “sorry” at her and thought maybe she should stop being so disgruntled with him, because it was obvious that he liked it. A moment of quiet passed before Lee clasped his hands together and started to speak. “So, Mr King, it seems you’re in luck. I’ve done some discreet asking around, and it appears Brucey’s been getting sloppy in his old age. If you ask me, it’s all the prostitutes. Syphilis fucks with the brain.” King grew stiff at Lee’s words, and I reached over to lace my fingers with his. Silence followed. Lee chuckled. “What? Was that poor taste?” No response. He raised his brows. “Okay, I’ll keep the jokes to myself in future. So, word has it that Bruce shot a copper a couple of months back.” Karla gasped. “What?” Lee nodded. “True story. But don’t worry, this cop was dirty. It won’t happen to you, Snap. You’re lily white. I can tell.”

“Fuck off.” Lee flashed her a toothy smile. “Feisty. I like it. Anyways, shit went down. The cop was on Bruce’s payroll but sold him out to the competition, a bloke named Tiny McGee. Ironic, since he’s a fat fucker. I’ve managed to get my hands on the gun Bruce used to shoot the cop. He chucked it in the Thames, but one of his men, seeing an opportunity for blackmail down the line, as you do, fished it out and kept it for future use. This fella’s agreed to sell the gun to me for 25K,” he said, and glanced at Karla. “See, I’m not completely despicable. Half the money isn’t even for me.” “Oh, yeah, you’re a real saint,” Karla deadpanned. Lee brought his attention back to King. “So all you need to do is sit back, relax, and let me take care of the rest. Shooting a cop is bad business, and he’s not going to want this to go public. I’ll give Bruce a little call. Tell him how it’s gonna play out, and see if he wants to be clever or stupid. I can’t guarantee he’ll be clever. Like I said, it’s the syphilis.” He paused, waiting for us to laugh. “What? Still not funny? Fine, I give up.” Lee stood as King addressed him. “When can I expect to hear from you?” Glancing down at his watch, Lee answered, “Around this time tomorrow.” “Very good,” said King, holding out his hand and shaking with Lee. “It was a pleasure doing business with ya.” Lee stood to leave, but before he did, he bent over the couch, startling Karla by giving her a surprise peck on the cheek. It might have been a sweet gesture if it wasn’t so brazen. She immediately recoiled, glaring daggers at him. He winked at her. “Little something for you to remember me by, Snap. Until next time.” “There won’t be a next time,” she called after him. He flashed her one final grin. “We’ll see.” When he opened the door, I saw Stu standing there impatiently. “I want to talk with Lex,” he told his brother. Lee put a hand on Stu’s chest, pushing him back. “Nah, mate, you’re good.” Stu grew irritable. “It’ll only take a minute.” Lee held firm, eyeing his brother sharply. “If I say you’re good, you’re good. Now come on, she’s not interested.” I knew Stu wanted to protest further, but he must have realised his brother wasn’t going to budge on the matter. I wondered why. Perhaps Lee saw something in the way I interacted with King. He definitely had an intuitive nature; maybe he’d figured out there was no way I was going back to Stu, come hell or high water. The door finally closed over, and King excused himself to use the bathroom. “I’m sorry about Lee. He’s such a flirt,” I said to Karla. “No worries. I can handle it.” Her voice grew hushed as she leaned forward, eyes flicking to the bathroom door. “What the hell is going on with you and Mr Tall, Blond, and Perfect, though?” I heaved out a sigh. “It’s complicated.” “I can see that. Isn’t it against company policy for you to be seeing one

another?” “No. He said it wasn’t. We haven’t really discussed things properly yet. I think we’ll wait until this whole thing with Bruce blows over to start figuring stuff out.” I went quiet when I heard the toilet flush, and then King re-emerged. “So, I should probably make a move. I need to check on Mum,” he began. Karla turned up the volume on the TV a little and focused on the screen, discreetly giving us some privacy. Bless her. I walked over to King and took his hands in mine. He raised them to his mouth and brushed his lips across my knuckles. I trembled, remembering our brief time together in Rome. It had only been two days, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. But I knew now wasn’t the time for sex. Everything was too tense. God, life, why do you have to be such a cockblocker sometimes? “Come spend the evening with me tomorrow after work,” said King, his voice hushed. “I’m having someone watch Mum’s house. You can bring an overnight bag. I’ll cook dinner.” “That sounds perfect,” I replied quietly, shivering when he rubbed the inside of my wrist with his thumb. King bent in and pressed a chaste kiss to my mouth. Neither one of us dared to deepen it for fear of making things a little too raunchy. After all, we did have an audience of one, who was right at that moment doing her best to pretend to watch television. “Until tomorrow, then,” King murmured, and left. As soon as the door shut, I leaned back against it and let out a frustrated groan. Eyes still on the screen, Karla let out a laugh and shook her head. “Oh, Lexie, you are so fucked.”

FIFTEEN

he following day I didn’t see King until after lunch. He had meetings all T through the morning and was away from the office. I missed him. This was

probably why I went to him as soon as he got back, under the guise of having work for him to look over. Gillian had just left for a coffee break when I made my move. “How’s your day been?” I asked quietly as I closed the door and stepped inside, the printout of a spreadsheet from last week held to my chest. King was typing an email when he heard me speak. He paused instantly and shot me a warm look, his eyes drinking me in, lingering on the flare of my hips. “Come here.” I went to him. He caught my wrist and pulled me to his lap. I shifted in place, feeling him harden already. His hands moulded to my hips, squeezing them, as his mouth pressed against my neck. “You fucking kill me with these little outfits.” “Oliver.” His hand moved up my body until it reached my neck. He cupped it, then rose, leading me backwards to the bathroom as his thumb applied the perfect amount of pressure to my nape. His speediness and lack of pretence surprised me. I’d expected him to at least protest a little about sex at the office. But no. A moment later he was lowering me face first onto the couch. I twisted in place as he began undoing his fly. “Wait,” I said, breathless, sitting up and reaching for him. “Let me try something.” King remained still as I pulled him into me by his belt buckle and finished the job of undoing his trousers. I was aware of the heavy rise and fall of his chest, of his eyes glittering with heat, as I shoved them over his hips and pulled his cock free. I gripped him, licking my lips and looking up to meet his gaze. Without further hesitation, I brought my mouth to his head and licked softly. He felt hot and silky. I loved the feel of him. He let out an agonised groan, and I lowered my mouth onto him, taking him in fully this time. The deep, throaty sound he emitted made me instantly wet as I pressed my thighs together to dull the ache. “Alexis,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Da…arling.” I continued to work him with my mouth, my lips sliding wetly along his length,

relishing the feeling of complete control. He might have been standing over me, but I held all the power. It was kind of exhilarating. I quickened my pace, and his words grew choppy. “Take off your top,” he said, face contorted with pleasure, eyes worshipful. I continued sucking him off as my fingers trailed down my blouse, undoing the buttons one by one. Giving him a show. His breathing accelerated the more skin I revealed. Once I had the blouse off completely, I unclipped my bra, and the straps fell from my shoulders. King practically growled at the sight of my breasts and reached forward to cup them. “Perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.” Flickering my tongue and taking him in deep, I watched as King’s eyelids fluttered closed while an agonised expression crossed his face. “Jesus Christ, you’re good at this.” His hips moved, matching my pace. Then he grew still as he came, warm liquid filling my mouth. I swallowed. His gaze turned fierce as he pulled me to my feet and spun me around, pressing my body flat into the wall. His hands were purposeful, authoritative, turning the tables from a moment ago. Now he was the one in control. A few quick movements, and my skirt was pushed up around my hips, my knickers pulled down, and his cock was inside me, hard and unforgiving. I was both flattered and impressed that he could get it up again so soon, and tried not to be too noisy while he pounded into me, making me forget my senses. I felt owned, and I loved it. Loved him. God, it scared me, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I felt so much for him, so, so much. His hand around my stomach brought me back to my senses as he held me possessively. Gillian was probably back from her coffee break by now. I could just imagine her sitting at her desk, typing away, totally oblivious to what was going on inside King’s office. I swear it was almost like my mind summoned her when I heard a knock on the outer door. King didn’t stop fucking me, his hand coming around to cover my mouth and muffle my whimpers. My heart rate picked up, panic setting in. “Mr King?” Gillian called. Her voice was way too close. King sounded completely normal, not at all breathless as he answered, “Yes, Gillian?” Oh, my God, I could have killed him in that moment if I hadn’t been so lost to him, my body grateful that he wasn’t stopping while my brain screamed, Cease this madness right now! Gillian sounded awkward, probably because she thought King was using the toilet. I wondered what she’d think if she knew what he was really doing. “I have a couple of messages for you. I’ll leave them on your desk.” “Thank you. I’ll be out shortly.” How on earth did he manage to stay so calm? Sweat coated my brow, anxiety flooding my system. King’s mouth went to my shoulder, playfully biting. I bit at his hand, which was still plastered to my mouth, and he let out a quiet, satisfied chuckle. The bastard was enjoying this. I heard Gillian’s heels tapping on the floor

as she made to leave. Relief flooded me for only a moment, until she stopped. “Mr King, you haven’t seen Alexis, have you? She’s missing from her desk.” “I sent her out on an errand,” King replied smoothly. “She won’t be long.” After this she continued out of the room, closing the door with a click. Relieved air escaped me. King’s hand left my mouth, trailing down my body and between my legs. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I ground out. He chuckled again. “No, you’re not. I’ll make you come, and then you’ll like me too much to kill me.” “Not likely.” “Is that a challenge?” I didn’t reply. Couldn’t. His cock was hitting all my sweet spots, and I no longer felt the urge to reprimand him. I kind of hated that he was right. He found my clit and started to rub, and I wasn’t sure I could take it. The feel of him inside me and his skilled fingers working my clit was too much. I was going to come so soon. Too soon. I wanted to give him hell for playing with fire like that, fucking me while Gillian was right outside, but I couldn’t summon the willpower. Everything felt too good. “I can feel you squeezing me,” he growled. “Do you like that?” “Yes,” I sighed. “Will you come?” “Yes,” I repeated. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and at the same moment I shattered under his hand. He groaned and continued to fuck me while I orgasmed, drawing out each and every wave until he was coming, too. I’d never felt so possessed, so owned, in my entire life. King filled me up, and it was only at that moment I realised we’d been so gone for each other that we didn’t even remember protection. We hadn’t used it before in the limo, either, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Still, having unprotected sex with him felt closer than anything else. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but I was scared. I was usually a person who voiced what they were thinking, but not in this instance. My apprehension of the small chance that he might not return my feelings kept them locked inside, waiting for a rare moment of bravery. King wrapped his arms around me from behind, his body melding to mine as he breathed into my skin. “I….” he began, but faltered. “Oliver?” I whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you, love. Even with everything that’s going on, I can’t stop.” “I think of you, too. All the time.” His lips traced my ear. “What are we doing?” “I think….” I paused, losing courage. Come on, bravery, don’t fail me now. “Oliver,” I started over and turned in his hold, bringing my arms up around his neck, my eyes searching his. “I think we might be falling for each other.”

His throat moved as he swallowed, and his hand came up to cup my jaw. His eyes were so fierce right then, so full of words unspoken, that I found it difficult to breathe. Every tiny hair on my body stood on end, and his thumb stroked at my throat, sending shudders skittering through me. Then his mouth came to mine, his tongue sliding in deep, and I shut my eyes. He wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. His kiss told me how he felt. Told me more than words could convey. IT TOOK a bit of sneakiness to get me out of King’s office without Gillian seeing. After we’d both cleaned ourselves up, King went out and asked if she could go to the kiosk outside and grab him a coffee. She hopped up immediately, thankfully providing me with the opportunity to escape. That evening King changed our plans slightly, and I was a little disappointed. I wanted more one-on-one time with him, but his mum wasn’t doing so well, so he decided we’d spend the evening at her house and he’d cook us dinner there. I’d changed out of my work clothes, which were rumpled after our bathroom encounter. And yes, Gillian had been eyeing me suspiciously all evening. I think she knew something was up; she just didn’t know what exactly it was. I sent King a message that read, I think Detective Gillian might be on to us. No more office shenanigans. I mean it. Right after I sent it, I heard him chuckle loudly from inside. He didn’t reply, but his laughter said it all. I wanted to be annoyed, but I just couldn’t seem to manage it. A smile shaped my lips. That man made me so happy inside it was almost frightening. Anyway, I sat in King’s mother’s living room in a loose cotton dress and cosy knitted socks as the smell of roast beef wafted in from the kitchen. There was the tinkling of utensils and pots and pans as King cooked in the next room. Somebody had cleaned the place up a little, too. I knew it had to have been King, since Elaine wouldn't allow any workers into the house. It touched me to imagine him cleaning; I guess because it was so at odds with the boss I knew. Elaine sat beside me in clean pyjamas, a photo album from King’s childhood in her lap as she showed me his baby pictures. Unlike some people, who were awkward or ugly as children before growing into their looks, King had always been gorgeous. He was one of those little boys who you could look at and just know they were going to be a heartthrob when they got older. The only difference was that when he was little, his hair was snowy white. He looked almost Scandinavian. Then, as the years progressed, it got darker, became more golden than white. About a half-hour went by, and I could tell Elaine was enjoying herself. She was remembering a simpler time before King’s father began insinuating himself into their lives. “Mum, would you like to eat at the table or in the living room?” King asked, standing in the doorway and watching us. There was something in his eyes that

gave me pause; it was contentment, an affection for both of us. I liked how it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like I was truly a part of his life now even if certain things were still up in the air. Elaine glanced at me, a twinkle in her eye. It was so nice to see her relaxed and comfortable, such a contrast to the terrified, panic-stricken woman I’d encountered on our arrival back from Rome. “Let’s be uncivilised and have it in here,” she suggested with a sheepish grin. “Hear, hear,” I agreed. “TV dinners are the best.” King shook his head, smiling, then went back into the kitchen. Five minutes later he returned, handing each of us a plate with roast beef, sautéed vegetables, mashed potato, and the most delectable gravy I’d ever tasted. He placed two glasses of wine on the coffee table for us, then went to sit on an armchair with his own plate. I noticed he was drinking wine, too. It was quite a large glass, but I chose not to comment on it. Obviously, the evening wasn’t total domestic bliss for him. He still had his father on his mind. We’d just finished eating when King’s phone began ringing. Standing up, he stepped out of the room to answer it. I could hear him speaking, but his words were muffled. In the end, he returned to the living room, a sort of relief etched on his features…but there was also a hint of strain. His eyes came to mine, and his voice was light and airy when he spoke, disbelieving almost. “That was Lee Cross. He said Bruce has agreed to back off. He’s going to leave us alone.” Elaine gasped, her hand going to her mouth as her eyes grew wet with tears, though they were obviously happy ones. I stood and walked to King, giving him a tight hug and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. The moment I let go, he went to his mum, scooping her up into his arms and squeezing her tight. Their embrace lasted a long time. It was full of relief, years of worry and stress being let out all at once. I thought maybe I should give them a moment alone, but then King pulled back, his eyes on his mother. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. Maybe tonight you’ll sleep soundly for once.” Elaine nodded and bid me goodnight before King led her from the room. I sat back down on the couch, picked up my wine, and knocked back the last of its contents. By the time King returned, I felt tired. I was relieved, yes, but there was also a knot of apprehension in my gut. I knew this had all been my idea, but there was something about it that felt too easy. I didn’t for a second think Lee was conning us. He might have been a criminal, but he was an honourable one. Yes, there was such a thing as honour amongst thieves. Besides, I’d seen enough dodgy characters during my years of bar work to recognise a good though slightly tarnished egg when I saw one. Still, something just didn’t sit right with me, and I hated feeling like that. Like there were invisible loose ends we weren’t quite grasping. King returned to the living room and dropped down onto the couch beside me. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. I could sense his relief was short-lived,

just like mine had been. He’d been putting on a brave face for his mum, trying to give her some semblance of peace, even if it might have been misleading. He stretched his body out on the couch and pulled me to his chest so that my head was resting on his sternum. The silence continued as neither one of us spoke. I pressed my ear to his skin, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was reassuring, amid the uncertainty, to have his strong body so alive next to mine. To know one beat would be followed by the next. His hand started to stroke my hair, my bare arm, my shoulder blades. I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch. “What you said today at the office, did you mean it?” King murmured, his voice almost hesitant. His question gave me pause as I lifted his my head to meet his eyes. “What I said?” “About us falling for each other,” King whispered. “Do you believe it?” “I don’t need to believe it,” I replied fervently before taking his hand and placing it over my chest. “I feel it.” King sucked in a breath, eyes flickering back and forth between mine. His voice was barely audible when he said, “I feel it, too, Alexis.” My heart stuttered, and a smile spread its way across my mouth. “Well, then, Oliver, that’s all we need to know.” And then I kissed him. SEVERAL WEEKS PASSED BY. King began taking me on dates. The rest of the time we were both rushed off our feet, only stealing brief moments together. Some nights King came to stay at my place, and then others I went to his. I preferred going to his. It meant I didn’t have to worry about scarring my best friend for life with our sex noises. What was most surprising was the phone calls I’d started to get with job offers. Not for secretarial work, but for modelling. The shots from Bradley’s shoot had been published in a popular fashion magazine, and I’d caught the attention of several agencies. I didn’t want to give up working for King, but still, I thought it was a bit of good luck. I had a couple of shoots booked for the coming weeks, and, depending on how profitable it became, maybe I could quit my job as his assistant. After all, I wanted to be his girlfriend far more than I wanted to be his assistant, and there was only so much sneaking around I could handle. Plus, Gillian was right on the cusp of discovering the truth. The other day she’d walked in on me standing by King’s desk as he ran his hand up the outside of my thigh. He’d explained it away by saying he’d spotted a spider on my skirt. And yes, it might have been the most obvious lie ever told. Amen. It was a mildly sunny morning when I made my way to the newsagents to collect King’s papers. I thought Arnold, the shopkeeper who I was now on first-name terms with, was acting a bit weird, but I didn’t pay it too much attention. I picked

up the papers and said my goodbyes before returning to the office. It was only when I reached the entrance to Johnson-Pearse that I noticed the swarms of journalists outside. They hadn’t been there when I’d first arrived, but I’d gotten in earlier than usual. There must have been some sort of story going on. Perhaps the economy was taking another nosedive. As I struggled my way past the crowd, I heard lots of chatter but couldn’t make out enough details. In the end I tugged a youngish guy holding a camera aside and asked him what the deal was. “Do you work here?” he asked excitedly. “Yeah, but I’m only an assistant. What’s with all the journos?” His excitement seemed to deflate when he heard I wasn’t anybody important. “One of the directors at the bank has been accused of illegal insider trading. It’s all over the papers,” he said, and nodded to the stack I held under my arm. My heart almost stopped beating, and I walked past him in a daze. As soon as I’d scanned my ID and made it by reception, I found a bench and set the papers down. There on the front page of the very first one was all I needed to know. It showed a picture of King, which looked to be taken at some function a couple of months ago. He wore a suit and an aloof expression while the photo was being captured. The slant to his mouth made him seem cruel and uncaring, which I thought was probably the intention. The article read: Oliver King, head managing director at Johnson-Pearse Bank, has been accused of insider trading after an investigation into the financial institution’s public and private accounts. The claims were brought forward by an exemployee of the bank, who wishes to remain anonymous. This individual is said to have left their job after discovering the unethical practices of the managing director. Mr King is the son of classical pianist Elaine King, who left the public eye over a decade ago after a long and successful career on the international stage…. And on the article went. I felt like I was going to throw up as I comprehended what was happening. I was on autopilot when I left the newspapers sitting there and hurried for the elevator. There were a number of other people inside, but I barely noticed them as I hit the button for my floor. Moments later, the door pinged open and I was out, almost running as I made my way to King’s office. I saw Gillian first. She sat at her desk, her expression as pale as a ghost, and I knew she’d heard the news. “Where is he?” I asked, breathless. Her worried eyes came to mine before she nodded to the closed door of King’s office. It was a rare moment that Gillian was lost for words, and this was one of them. Grasping the handle I turned the knob and stepped inside. King stood by the window, his hands buried in his hair as he stared out at the view. On his desk was an empty bottle of whiskey, his favourite tipple. “Oliver,” I whispered, and he turned, eyes bloodshot and face contorted in misery.

“Leave me,” he said, his voice pained. I took three steps. “No. We both know this story is bullshit. It’s Bruce. I’m sure of it. He’s orchestrated all of this, planted the evidence.” “Of course it’s fucking Bruce!” King cried, startling me. “How naïve were we to think he’d back off? Men like Bruce don’t back off — it’s not how they’re drawn. By backing off, he might as well be admitting he’s a dead man. It’s weakness, you see. I don’t know why I ever allowed myself to believe otherwise.” All at once, the guilt hit me. Blackmailing Bruce had been my idea. Therefore, what was happening right now was my fault. Tears filled my eyes as the strength fled my body. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. King’s eyes came to mine, so blue, so beautiful, so sad. He shook his head, seeming to read my thoughts from my expression alone. “No, Alexis. Don’t even think it. All of this was going to happen eventually. Bruce has always despised me for not being like him, for making it my life’s mission to never be like him. He was always going to try to destroy me. It was only a matter of time.” “But King, I….” In a few short strides he was in front of me, his fingers going to my lips to stop me from continuing. “I said no, my darling. No. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Just by breathing, you make all this a million times more bearable. I’ve lost the respect of my peers, of everyone I know. I’ve lost.” He paused, choking up, his posture projecting his misery. His hands fisted, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve lost everything I worked years to build. The pride I held, the respect I commanded from others, it’s all gone. I’m no longer the best at what I do, no longer surpassing anybody, because everybody thinks I got where I am by cheating.” “But you didn’t cheat. You know it. I know it. Your mother knows it. We’re the only ones who matter.” All the breath left him at once. “Oh, Alexis,” he said, his voice the saddest I’d ever heard it. “You don’t understand. If I don’t have respect, I have nothing. I might even go to prison for this.” In that second, the whole world went still. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and my legs almost buckled out from under me. I’d been so preoccupied with what Bruce had done to shame King that I hadn’t even thought about the consequences. Insider trading was illegal, and breaking the law meant prison time. I stared at him, mouth open, despair filling me up, when there was a knock on the door. We both turned our heads, expecting Gillian, but somebody else stepped inside. It was the strange woman I’d seen just once before. The one with the dyed red hair who looked like a gypsy. “Oliver,” she began, but he interrupted her. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” King fumed, stepping by me to face the woman.

“But I can help,” she insisted. “You can’t. You never have. All you’ve ever wanted from me was money. When I look at you, all I see is him, so leave. Leave before I have security come and physically remove you.” The last part of what he said was dark, seething, and the woman’s face grew frightened. “Okay, I’m going. Just remember, I’m here if you ever need someone. I’m here, Oliver. All you have to do is come find me.” And with that, she went. I wiped the tears from my face. “Who was that?” “Nobody.” “King.” “I said it was nobody,” he shouted, and I stilled. Deathly quiet filled the room until his phone started to ring. I thought he was going to ignore it, but then he saw his mum’s name on the screen. He picked it up and held it to his ear. The room was quiet and the volume was loud, so even though I was a foot away, I could hear the voice on the other end, and that voice didn’t belong to King’s mother. It was a deep, scratchy, seedy London accent, and my chest seized as I guessed who it belonged to. King’s entire form turned to stone as he listened. “’Ello, son,” said Bruce, layers of cruel satisfaction lacing his voice. “What are you doing with my mother’s phone?” King demanded, a tremor in his words. “Thought you could fuck me over, you little shit. Me and your mum are just having some quality time now. You know, reminiscing. I was hoping you could come and join us.” A feminine cry rang out, and then an audible slap. Bruce’s voice moved away from the phone. “Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about. You knew what he was doing, didn’t you, you stupid bitch. The both of you tried to fuck me. Well, now you’re gonna learn that no one fucks with me and gets away with it.” “If you harm her,” King began, voice low and angry, but he couldn’t seem to hide his emotion. His sheer panic was evident, and I knew Bruce was enjoying it. “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will kill you. You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. I have nothing left to lose now, Bruce. Nothing.” Cruel laughter sounded from the phone, and in a split second, King smashed it into the wall, the screen cracking to pieces. He grabbed his coat and fled the office. I ran after him, begging him to wait, but he wouldn’t listen. I followed him to the back exit of the building where no journalists were waiting, and before I knew it, we were in a taxi headed for Elaine’s house. I tried to hold King’s hand, but he wouldn’t let me touch him. The air between us felt cold and I scrambled to try to think of something that would calm him down. Stop him from doing anything stupid. The journey was too short, and before I knew it, King was throwing money at the driver and running to his mum’s. The front door, which I knew King had new locks put on after Bruce’s last break-in, had definitely been meddled with. The door was closed, but the lock was bent out of shape. King pushed it open, and we both hurried inside. A tall,

broad-shouldered man stood waiting in the hallway. He folded his arms over his chest and shot King a confident smirk. He was obviously muscle for Bruce. He also appeared to think he could easily take King. That’s why it surprised us both when King walked right up and elbowed him hard in the side of the face. I heard bone crack, and the man stumbled into a wall with a pained grunt. Then King brought his foot down on the guy’s shin. The brute let out a strangled cry, but both of us were already gone, rushing to find Elaine. The house was silent, which somehow felt more frightening than if she were crying out in terror like we’d heard her on the phone. We entered the kitchen to find an older man standing by the sink, casually using a dishcloth to wipe the blood from his hands. He looked to be in his seventies, his hair almost completely gone. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, and there was a scar that ran just above his right eyebrow. He looked fit for his age, his build stocky, the only sign of weakness a little bit of pudge around his middle. His eyes came to King, and his gaze narrowed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. There was a coldness about him that chilled my bones. “You’re too late,” was all he said. Dead voice. Dead eyes. Black heart. I knew all this within seconds of looking at him. King was still, so still, and he wasn’t looking at his father. It confused me at first, but then I followed his gaze to the floor. Time ceased to exist. There on the expensive stone tiles lay Elaine. She wore her favourite peach pyjamas – her favourite peach pyjamas, which were drenched in blood. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, but I refused to accept she was dead. She looked so…small. No. No. No. I didn’t even realise I was shaking my head until King dove for his father, his hands going around the older man’s throat. I couldn’t hear over the sound of my heart thundering in my ears. Couldn’t move. So I stood there, frozen in shock, as King started to beat his father to a pulp. Bruce lay in a couple of punches, but he was old, and his strength was no match for King’s. I was about to scream when I saw him pull a gun, but King was quicker, knocking it from his father’s hand and sending it sliding across the floor. He drove a final punch into Bruce’s skull, and the man fell limply to the tiles. The heavy thud was an awful sound, and I thought I heard bone crack once more. A deep, all-encompassing shudder ran through my body. King’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared down at his father’s lifeless form. I remained frozen, not understanding how this was happening. “No, no, no, no, no,” he began to mutter, running his palms down his face as he shook his head. “What have I done? What have I done?” King repeated his words over and over, his entire form shaking. He went to his mother and dropped to his knees, pulling her into his embrace.

“No, Mum, wake up. Wake up.” Tears filled my eyes and ran down my face. This was all too much. Too much. This couldn’t be happening. I didn’t know what to do. What could I do? Should I call the police? Should I not call the police? I felt like calling Lee, but I wasn’t sure I should be involving anyone else in this situation. King’s father had just killed his mother. And King had killed his father. It was a Greek tragedy come to life, and I felt like I’d suddenly stepped out of reality and into a dream. I’d woken up this morning to the sun shining. It had been just another ordinary day, but not anymore. I wanted to rewind the clock so I could erase it all. But that wasn’t possible. King was crying now, holding his mother to his chest and just letting the tears flow. The sounds of his weeping filled the room. A cold sweat covered my skin, and my heart was thrumming a mile a minute. My hands were shaking. I took a few steps forward until I was beside him, and dropped to my knees. He didn’t even register my presence until I put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped crying. Silence filled the room. He turned his head. He stared at me in horror and realisation that I’d been a witness to everything that had just happened. His face contorted, and so many emotions flickered past I could barely count them. Shame. Pain. Loss. Fear. More shame. So much fucking shame I could barely breathe with it. He reared away from my touch like it had burned him, his mother’s body slipping from his arms as he stood, backing away. “King,” I said, a crack in my voice. “Oliver.” He began to shake his head, his eyes huge with fear as he took in the scene. And then he was gone. It took me a moment to get to my feet and run after him. I dashed from the kitchen, down the hall, and to the front entryway, where Bruce’s muscle still lay crouched on the floor in pain. I ran outside, looked up and down the street, but he was nowhere to be seen. I returned to the house, searching each room to make sure he wasn’t still inside. The place was empty. I walked back down to the kitchen, my gut recoiling at the sight of Bruce and Elaine’s bodies and all that blood. I’d never get it out of my mind, would never be able to wash my memories clean. I had to do something, had to act. I saw the phone on the wall and knew calling the police was the right action. King beating his father was self-defence. He wasn’t in his right mind. Bruce Mitchell was a criminal. Bruce was the one with the gun, the one who killed Elaine. Any jury in the country would be able to see that. I walked to the phone, picked it up, and started to dial nine-nine-nine. I was on the final nine when I heard a weak cough and looked to my left. My heart soared when I saw Elaine’s eyes flutter open and her chest move up and down with her breathing. She was alive!

There was so much blood I wasn’t sure how it could be possible, but it was. I hit the final nine on the dialling pad. “Nine-nine-nine emergency services, how may I help you?” “I need an ambulance,” I croaked out. “I need an ambulance right away.”

PART II

AFTER

SIXTEEN

London, six years later.

MY HANDS WERE SHAKING. All I was doing was holding a piece of paper, and my bloody hands were shaking. I was standing by the open window, trying to get some air, but it wasn’t working. I felt woozy. I had to sit down. I’d already read the letter three times. So I read it again. Dear Alexis, I hope you don’t think my letter intrusive, but I found you through the agency you run and some of your past modelling work. My name is Lille Baker, and I’m an artist. I work in a travelling circus, the Circus Spektakulär. We perform all over, but right now we’ve stopped to do some shows in London. I’ve wanted to send you this letter for weeks, but I held out. I had to wait until we were close enough for you to come. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just email you. Or call. Letters are sort of a lost art form now, right? But what I have to tell you is of such great importance that I felt an email would be too impersonal. A call too abrupt. I apologise. I’m going off topic. So yes, the circus. It’s run by a woman named Marina Mitchell. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? Anyway, Marina has a brother. His name is King, Oliver King. He stays with her most of the time; other times, he wanders on his own. I suppose you could say he doesn’t really have a home. King carries around a picture of you, Alexis. It was taken six years ago on a beach in Rome. Do you remember? He treasures this picture, goes crazy if anyone tries to take it. Why is the picture so important to him? Did you love each other once? Do you ever think of him, wonder about him? I’m sorry. I ask a lot of questions sometimes. It’s just that I worry for King. He’s been on a destructive path for years, and I fear that if something drastic doesn’t

happen soon, he’s going to kill himself. He drinks far too much, more and more each day, it seems. I try to help him, we all do, but there’s no point trying to help a person who doesn’t want it. Then I think, if you came, if he could see you, then maybe he would want to be helped. Maybe he’d have something to live for. I see glimpses in him, Alexis, glimpses of a fascinating mind, of a great man from whom circumstance has stolen everything. Please come and see us. I think you’re the only one who has a chance of saving him. Yours sincerely, Lille. Tears filled my eyes again as my heart pounded. King. He was alive. For so long I’d lost hope. I hadn’t seen him since that night at his mum’s house, where he’d fled after he thought he killed his father. He hadn’t killed him. The paramedics managed to revive Bruce, and just a few short weeks later, he was sent to prison for the attempted murder of Elaine. It was a hard time for all of us, especially since King had all but become a ghost. We searched high and low, spoke with everyone he’d ever known, but he’d vanished without a trace. I even quizzed Elaine about the gypsy woman, but she had no clue who I was talking about. She was the one missing link, and I knew deep in my heart that if I could just discover who she was, I would find him. Now I held a letter in my hands that explained everything. On the other side of it was an inner city location where the circus was currently camped for shows. It was no more than a car journey away, and my skin prickled to think he was so near. Was this real, or was someone playing a trick? No, it had to be real. No one other than Bruce would think to do something so cruel, and he’d died in prison six months after he was put there, shanked by a young guy who didn’t want him coming in and taking over. I thought it was a fitting death. Bruce Mitchell. Marina Mitchell. King had a sister. How had I not known this? How had Elaine not known? A memory of the gypsy woman King once said was family flashed in my mind again. This Marina must have been his half-sister, born of Bruce and a different mother. That’s why Elaine didn’t know her. But why the hell would King be living with someone who had anything to do with that monster? It was all too much to take in, too confusing. I leaned back in my chair, trying to make sense of it. After he’d disappeared, I’d gone through all the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and then finally acceptance. Now each of those stages were rushing back all at once, becoming a strange muddle of hope and anger, happiness and fear. I’d finally settled into my life. How could a single letter flip everything on its axis? Four years ago, I’d stopped modelling and started up my own agency. It did so

well that I’d finally saved up enough money for a mortgage, and had purchased a small two-bedroom house in Waltham Forest. Elaine, who I’d grown close to over the years, sold her big house in Bloomsbury that held too many bad memories, and bought herself a small cottage in Waltham in order to be close to us. Us. The very thought made my tears increase. Life had been so hard since King disappeared. For a long time, I couldn’t move on. My heart refused to believe he’d stay away of his own volition, but at the same time I understood the trauma he must have been suffering to think he’d killed a man with his own bare hands. Now I was being told he was out there, close enough for me to reach. To touch. To pull close. And yet, here I was living in my little house with the love of my life. The one who’d come along after King and mended my broken heart. I heard him pull on the doorknob and step into the room, probably wondering why I was upset, why I was crying. I wiped at my tears and tried to plaster on a brave face, not wanting to worry him. “Mummy,” he asked, “what’s wrong?” My boy was so beautiful, so like his father with his pale blond hair and blue eyes. I didn’t even realise I was pregnant for a long time after King vanished. I’d put it all down to heart sickness. Yeah, I thought I was vomiting my guts up every morning because of how much I missed him. I soon came to realise that wasn’t the case. Apparently, the pill isn’t always one hundred percent effective. But still, some small part of me was grateful. My love had disappeared, but he’d left something of himself behind. Nevertheless, I was depressed for much of my pregnancy. Karla and my parents were worried sick. Elaine, too. She wanted a grandchild so badly. And then, my Oliver came along, and I fell in love again. My strength returned. I needed to live for the little one who needed me. So I put my all into my career, began modelling as much as I could. Elaine helped out with money until I was doing well enough to go it alone. I think the combination of Oliver’s birth and Bruce’s death changed something in her. She started going outside more, becoming independent. She even played piano every once in a while. She was often sad, as she grieved for her missing son, but she was no longer the shell of a woman she once was. Even though I’d accepted the fact that he was gone, I grieved, too. Every day. For King. I think it was the fact that we had so little time together that made it worse. I had all these possibilities to wonder about. What might our lives have been if certain events hadn’t come to pass? It’s different from losing your love at eighty after a lifetime together. The pain is so much sharper, more cutting. It guts you to the core, because you’d once held perfection in your hands, only to have it drift away like mist. You have to go on knowing you’ll never feel how he made you feel ever again, knowing no one else will ever compare. I had to go to him. And yet, I hesitated.

The words in Lille’s letter frightened me. What would I find at the circus? What sort of man? Summoning some strength, I knew I still had to go. For him. For our son. For my heart. I pulled Oliver up onto my lap and gave him a soft squeeze. “I was just thinking of a sad story, that’s all.” “Why do you think about sad stories?” he asked, curious, fingers going to my damp face. “Because sometimes my brain makes me,” I answered, and his hands travelled to my forehead, giving it a poke. “Brain, stop making Mummy sad.” His words made me laugh. In just a couple of months he was going to turn six. The time was flying by so fast. Sometimes he’d ask about his dad, ask if he had one, because all the other boys at school did. I told him that his daddy was far, far away. I hated the sad tilt to Oliver’s mouth afterwards and wished I could have come up with a better answer. It felt unnatural to see him sad, because he was such a happy, gregarious child. He was never shy or insecure, always open to the world and the possibilities each day might bring. He made friends easily, too. The teacher of his Montessori class said he was always the one bringing the kids together, making suggestions for new games they might play. I let him off my lap and went into the kitchen to prepare lunch. It was Saturday, my day off. Usually, either Elaine or my mum took Oliver when I was working, but I always had him on weekends. If I asked one of them to babysit tonight, they’d want to know why, and I didn’t want to explain Lille Baker’s letter yet, not to anyone. I especially didn’t want to tell Elaine in case it wasn’t real. Getting her hopes up would be too cruel. After I’d made Oliver his food, I went and called Karla. We were still as close as ever, even though we no longer lived together. We didn’t get to see each other as much as we used to, but we spoke on the phone almost every day. Having been my rock when Oliver was a baby, she loved my boy just as much as I did, and I knew she’d jump at the chance to have him for an evening. In fact, she’d be so happy she wouldn’t think to ask questions. Not asking questions was key. I gave her a quick call, and she said she’d be over in a couple of hours. With that sorted, I tried to play with Oliver for a while, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t focus. Slotting a DVD into the player, I settled him in front of the TV so I could go shower. I was nervous. I’d gotten out and was wrapped in a towel when I began to shiver. My stomach twisted and turned. I hadn’t been able to eat a bite since morning. My throat was clogged with nerves and hope, annihilating my appetite. I stared into my closet with no clue what to wear. My fashion sense, if anything, had only become more distinct over the years. When you work in the industry, you tend to become a little obsessed with the latest trends. My hands were shaking again as I pulled out a pretty lace top and some skinny jeans. I paired them with some leather boots and allowed my hair to dry curly.

My heart thrummed. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. He was out there, alive and breathing. For a brief second, it took all my willpower not to rush out of the house right away and go find him. Shakily swiping on some lip gloss, I gave my appearance one last glance before I heard Karla knocking on the front door. I hurried down to answer it and found I was wrong about her not asking questions. “You look nice. Going anywhere exciting?” I rummaged in my bag for my car keys. “Just meeting up with Bradley and his new boyfriend for some drinks. I should only be a couple of hours.” “Ah, right, well, have a good time.” Her brows knitted together, which was usually a sign that she thought I was lying. I didn’t know why she’d suspect anything, because my story seemed airtight. It was only as I slid into the driver’s seat that I realised my mistake. If I was going for drinks with Bradley, then why the fuck would I be driving? I swear, this whole thing was turning my brain to jelly. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, and I just wanted to get to the circus and see King with my own two eyes. Prove to myself this was real. Hope flooded my veins, filling me with anticipation. I could have him back. We could have him back for good. It took forever to find a parking spot close enough to the circus, and in the end I had to leave my car a ten-minute walk away. It was seven-thirty, and the tent was all lit up for the night’s show. People queued up outside to buy tickets, and I didn’t know where to go. Should I buy a ticket? Should I ask around after this Lille person? I’d brought the letter in my purse, as though I’d need to show definitive proof before they’d let me see him. Unsure of what else to do, I got in line and bought a ticket. I walked alongside a couple of young women as I went into the tent and took a seat close to the back. My skin prickled with awareness. My body hummed. King was here somewhere. It was almost like he’d shown up on my internal radar, sending everything into a fritz. There were about another twenty minutes before the show would begin, and I was too antsy to just sit there. Standing, I made way down the aisle to an open doorway that led backstage. The place was a flurry of activity as I stepped through. A middle-aged woman wearing some kind of glitzy stage outfit passed me by. “Excuse me,” I said, and she turned to face me. “I’m looking for Lille Baker.” The woman smiled. “She should be out front at the face-painting booth.” A tall, dark-haired man who had seemingly overheard my question stopped, arching a curious brow. “You’re looking for Lille?” he said. His voice was deep, his accent Irish. I stared up at him, a little intimidated, if I was being honest. He had dark shoulder-length hair, and wore jeans, boots, and a wife-beater vest. His body was a fucking masterpiece of muscle and sinew, and it was a little much for me to take in all at once. I hadn’t been with a man in a long, long time, and he was one of the hottest male specimens I’d ever seen. He must have been a part of the show. These

types always were. Finally, I nodded. “Who are you….” He paused for second, trailing off, as something like recognition lit up his eyes. He looked like he knew me, which made me feel weird. Running a hand over his stubbled jaw, he swore under his breath. “Fucking hell, Lille.” “You know Lille?” I questioned breathlessly, my heart rate picking up as I stepped closer. “Yeah, I know her.” He nodded to the back of the tent. “Come with me.” Instead of leading me out to the front, like the woman had instructed, he led me in the opposite direction. We exited the tent and he stopped, pulling out a smoke and lighting up. He side-eyed me, not saying a word. “Um….” I began, feeling nervous. He might have been sex on a stick, but he was also scary and intimidating. These days I was used to hanging around my clients (who were all women) and my little boy. Men were an area I was completely out of practice with. Of course, I had my brothers, but I didn’t see them very often. “How did you know to come here?” he asked. Anxious, I fumbled in my bag. “I got this letter.” Now he was swearing again. “For fuck’s sake.” I frowned. “What?” He seemed apologetic. “I’m sorry. My girlfriend likes to meddle. You shouldn’t have come.” “You’re Lille’s boyfriend?” He nodded. “Uh-huh.” My voice grew so quiet it was practically a whisper. “Do you…do you know King?” His eyes went sad, like he felt sorry for me. Something thick and heavy lodged in my throat. Was I too late? Had his self-destructive path reached its end? The thought took the strength right out of me. I was about to ask him what had happened when another man exited the tent. He was tall, too, but with shorter hair and a smarter dress sense. He was also very handsome, and I wondered just how many drop-dead gorgeous men just so happened to be hanging around this circus. “What’s happening, bro?” he said. American. It was becoming hard to keep up with all the accents. Before the first man, whose name I still didn’t know, could answer, the American’s eyes wandered to me. He took me in quickly, shrewdly, and seemed to immediately recognise who I was. It didn’t take him a few minutes like it had the first man. And his reaction to me was a whole lot different, too. A wide, almost giddy smile spread across his lips. “Holy shit! It’s you,” he said with a gasp, and came to put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them as he beamed down at me. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Okay, now I was confused. “Uh, me neither?” “I’m Jay,” he went on. “The grumpy one’s Jack. He’s my brother. Crappity crap, you’re real, Alexis. You’re a living, breathing woman. For a while there we thought you might be a ghost.”

“Hold up a sec,” Jack, the grumpy one, interrupted. “Don’t fucking tell me you were in on this, too?” Jay rolled his eyes and grinned. “Of course I was.” “And Matilda?” Jack asked. “Nah, it was just me and your woman. We were kinda sneaky about it.” “This isn’t a joke, Jay. This is serious. King isn’t….” “King will be fine,” Jay intoned meaningfully, turning his head to his brother before looking back at me. “Once he sees his beautiful Alexis, he’ll be doing fucking cartwheels.” “No, he won’t.” “He will.” “He won’t.” Seriously, I was going to get whiplash going back and forth between these two. I interrupted loudly, hands on hips. “Will one of you just bring me to him?” I stated, my voice on the shaky side. Jay’s face went serious. “Yeah, sorry, come with me.” “I’m going to find Lille,” Jack muttered before stomping off. He sounded like he had a serious bone to pick with her, and I didn’t fancy being Lille right then. I tugged on Jay’s shirt sleeve and he stopped walking to face me. “What’s wrong, darlin?” I bit on my lip, emotion filling my lungs and my eyes growing watery. “How is he?” “Ah, shit, babe, don’t cry,” he said, and stepped forward, startling me when he pulled me into a hug. I’d been alone for so long, lonely, and this stranger hugging me just made things worse. His kindness was more than I could handle as I let him embrace me. It felt good to have a man close, to smell one, clean and warm. I couldn’t have anticipated the emotional effect it would have on me. He began rubbing the centre of my back soothingly, and I tried my best to blink away my tears. I stood back, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been searching for him for years. This is all a little much right now.” Jay’s brows drew together in empathy as he let out a gruff breath and placed his hands on his hips. He stared at the ground before meeting my gaze. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. He’s in a bad way. Lille didn’t exactly say it explicitly in her letter, but fuck, your man’s got a serious drink problem. I’m gonna take you to him, you’re gonna see him, but he sure as hell isn’t gonna be the same as you knew him. You need to prepare yourself for that, Alexis, okay?” I inhaled, and even though his words were a grave warning, there was something reassuring about them. “Okay.” Jay nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, this isn’t going to be easy, but I think that if he sees you, if he knows you still exist, then we can all work together to pull him back from the brink. You’ll be the catalyst. You’ll be the goal for him. I mean, if he knows he can have you back, then I think he’ll even do all the hard work himself.” A pause as he eyed me. “He can have you back, right?”

Without thinking, I nodded. Then I simply stared at him, absorbing everything he’d just said. A silence fell between us. Memories bombarded me, all the things that King had been through in his life. Jay’s voice was a soft whisper, his eyes flittering over me, studying me like I was a book and he was straining to see the words. “Jesus, Alexis, what the fuck happened to him?” My face went sad. “So much and too fast. I have a feeling he still doesn’t know that he didn’t do what he thinks he did.” “What does he think he did?” I wasn’t sure what it was about this guy, but he had a way of pulling all the information right out of me. My voice was a whisper when I replied, “He thinks he killed someone.” Jay absorbed this quickly, his posture stoic. “But he didn’t?” “No, he didn’t. He should have. If anyone deserved to kill that bastard, it was King, but he didn’t.” “Christ.” “Jay.” “Yes?” “Take me to him. Please.” “Okay, darlin’, okay. Come on,” he said, and threw his arm protectively around my shoulders. He led me farther from the circus tent and towards a cluster of mobile homes camped out nearby. In the centre of them was a large open-air gazebo with tables, chairs, and a few gas cookers. There were a couple of people milling about, but not many. My eyes scanned the space frantically, desperate for a glimpse of King. Jay stopped walking, and so did I. That’s when I saw him. He was so changed, I wasn’t even sure how I recognised him, but I did. My heart would know him anywhere, in any guise. He sat on a bench, his body slumped over the table, his fingers clasped around a bottle of liquor. His hair was long and dirty, his face heavily shrouded by a beard. He wore filthy, unkempt clothing, a grey jacket with a woollen jumper beneath, worn jeans and muddy boots. I couldn’t believe this was the same man who once sat in his office overlooking the Thames, a ruler of his own universe, the best at whatever he set his mind to. Now he was reduced to a homeless drunkard, completely unrecognisable. I really didn’t understand how the world worked sometimes. At thirty-three, he’d been at the top. Now thirty-nine, almost forty, he was at the bottom. And yet, his very presence still made my heart pound, still made my lungs fill up with too much air. He was alive. He was breathing. And I didn’t care what form he took, so long as I could have him back. My legs gave out, but Jay steadied me. I couldn’t take my eyes off King, and he didn’t even know I was there. A small commotion sounded from nearby, and I turned to see a tall blonde woman come running up to us. She was followed closely by Jack and another

woman, a short brunette. She stopped in front of us, hands going to her hips as she tried to catch her breath. Her beautiful grey eyes danced as she took me in. “You’re here,” she breathed. “I can’t believe you came.” I stared at her, taken aback, but I knew instantly that this had to be Lille. She confirmed my assumption when she threw her hand out and introduced herself. “I’m Lille, the one who wrote you the letter.” Slowly, I reached forward and shook her hand, feeling shy and out of place. “I’m Alexis.” She nodded, smiling, and replied loudly, “Yes, I know.” She was clearly excited. “Quiet the fuck down,” a broody, scratchy voice demanded from nearby, and every hair on my body stood on end. His voice, so changed, yet so the same. I couldn’t help closing my eyes, blinking away another tear. I’d turned my back to him when I shook hands with Lille, and now I heard hard boots crunching on the ground. I turned back around as he neared. His blue eyes, once so bright and sparkling, were now dull and reddened. I sucked in a breath. He stopped in his tracks. Time slowed down, the world became as small as a grain of sand, as we stared at one another. It was a moment I’d never forget. The bottle he’d been clutching like a life raft fell from his grip. The harsh sound of glass shattering shot through me, making this all so real. King didn’t even notice he’d dropped the bottle. He reached up, rubbing at his eyes to the point that it looked painful. “Stop it, stop it, stop showing me. I don’t want to see her anymore. No more.” He was hurting himself, and I couldn’t watch. I stepped forward, my voice lighter than air. “Oliver,” I whispered. I stood mere inches away, the smell of him hitting me. He stank of booze and dirt. My heart cracked in two. It was a physical pain to see him like this. “No!” he screamed, hands flying out and pushing at me. I stumbled backwards but managed to find my feet before I fell. Grumpy Jack strode forward, his size formidable, and gripped King by the shoulders. “Calm down, friend, calm down.” His words seemed to soothe something in King, whose body slumped forward. Jack’s eyes wandered to his girlfriend, who stood frozen in place. “I told you, I fucking told you, Lille.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t think….” “That’s just it, you didn’t think at all,” Jack fumed, eyes now flashing accusingly at his brother. “Neither one of you did.” There was something in the way he spoke that made me feel like this was personal to him, like he was truly angered that Jay and Lille had brought me here to King, who clearly wasn’t in a fit state to see me. Again, my tears came. I felt like my heart, my very soul, was being torn in two. I didn’t want him to be like this. I just wanted the old King back. Now I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. Then, all of a sudden, the anger hit me. How could he let himself become like this? How could he leave me for all these years and never once try to make contact? There had to be a reason, but I just

wasn’t seeing it. Perhaps it was the tears filling my eyes that caused my blindness. Jack led King away, and I stared after my love, a lump in my throat and a brick in my stomach. Nothing about this was okay. Nothing.

SEVENTEEN

all the way home, thankful it was dark and no other drivers could see me I cried wailing like a crazy person in the front seat. After Jack had taken King away, I’d

spoken with Lille and Jay for a while, and the brunette, Matilda, who turned out to be Jay’s wife. They were all so kind and apologetic, pleading with me to come back in a day or so. They promised they’d do their best to clean King up, get him sober. I nodded vacantly, but all the while the image of him in his current state branded itself into my mind. I didn’t know how to feel. Should I be angry? Sad? Happy to have him back even if he wasn’t the same? I thought it might be wise to give him space for a while, but I knew it was going to be impossible to stay away. I was already concocting plans, figuring out ways in which I might bring him back to his old self. Even though it had taken years, finding him had been the easy part. Healing him would be the greatest challenge I’d ever faced. I decided not to tell anyone about our son yet, but I’d let King know that Elaine was alive as soon as I could. I thought that would ease his mind somewhat, give him hope. I also needed to tell him that he hadn’t been the one to kill Bruce. He needed to know. When I arrived home, I sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to compose myself. It was pointless, though, because Karla was going to know something was up the second she saw me. The house was quiet when I stepped inside and dropped my keys on the end table. The TV was on low, and Karla sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages on her phone. “Hey,” I said quietly. She turned to me and looked up, her eyes taking me in. “Hey, you’re back.” “Yeah, how was he?” “Well-behaved but chatty, as usual,” she told me with a soft smile that quickly faded. “Lexie, is everything okay?” I couldn’t help it — I sniffled. She was up from her seat and taking me into her arms within seconds, holding me close. My words were tiny, barely audible, when I whispered, “I found him.”

Karla sucked in a shocked breath and pulled back to look down at me. Several emotions crossed her face, mostly surprise. “King? You found King?” I nodded. “Where is he?” “Not far, but Karla, he’s changed, so changed. I’m not even sure if….” My voice broke and was replaced with sobs. Karla pulled me close again. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’ll get through this, you have me. I’ll do everything I can to help.” Her words soothed me a little, and even though I’d been there for her through some really tough times over the past few years, I felt embarrassed that I was crying. After a minute I pulled away and went to grab a tissue to dry my face. “Can you take Oliver again tomorrow?” Karla nodded. “Of course. Anything you need.” A few minutes later she left, and I climbed the stairs for bed, knowing I probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. I ducked my head inside Oliver’s room and found him sleeping soundly, his light breathing filling the space. I loved him just as much as I loved his father, but I’d only managed to keep one of them safe. The thought almost broke me. Closing the door over gently, I went to my own room and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes, but, as predicted, sleep never came. I finally drifted off after hours of racing thoughts, and was woken up the next morning by my son poking at me. “I’m hungry,” he complained. I’m not sure why, but there was just something about his cranky, entitled little face that made me laugh amid all the sadness. I sat up and pulled him to me, pressing a soft kiss to his head and cuddling him close. He giggled, and I lifted him up with me, tickling him under the arms and making him wriggle like crazy. “Stop it!” he yelped in glee. His words instantly sobered me, and I set him down on the floor. They echoed what King had said last night, when he’d thought I was some spectre concocted by his mind just to torture him. Remembering, I led Oliver downstairs and began absentmindedly pulling out pots and pans to make breakfast. I let him help me put the bread in the toaster. He loved to help. Then he sat and watched as I cracked some eggs, stirred them up, and poured them into the pan to make an omelette. “Are you sad again, Mummy?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he was particularly tuned in to people’s emotions, or if he was just good at reading me because we spent so much time together, but he always seemed to sense how I was feeling. I mustered a smile for him. “No, I’m not sad, baby, just tired.” “After breakfast we can bring all our blankets downstairs and watch The Lego Movie,” he suggested, like it was a sure fire way to cheer me up. “I have to go somewhere today,” I told him regretfully. “But your Aunt Karla is coming again to mind you. Maybe she’ll want to watch it.” He scrunched up his nose. “But she always sings the song. I like Aunt Karla, but I

don’t like it when she sings the song.” His response surprised a laugh out of me, because it was true — Karla didn’t have a note in her head. “Okay, maybe I’ll tell her not to sing during the movie. How does that sound?” He looked appeased, replying fervently, “Yes, please tell her that.” After we ate I made quick work of bathing and dressing him, then did the same for myself. I put on some dark green skinnies, a yellow blouse, and ballet flats. I had an idea to get King to interact with me, but it was going to be a long shot. I planned to bring my chessboard to the circus and see if he’d play. We didn’t have to talk at all, but if I could at least get him to play, it’d be a start. Karla arrived and I was off, driving back into the city again. I’d exchanged numbers with both Jay and Lille the previous night, so I tapped out a text to them saying I was on my way. It was almost lunchtime, but I wasn’t sure if the circus did daytime shows or just nighttime ones. Anyhow, I hoped it was quiet so I could find a decent parking space. A couple of minutes before I arrived, I received a text from Jay, telling me he’d meet me at the front of the tent. I parked close by, got out, hitched my bag up on my shoulder (it was heavy because of the chessboard and all the pieces), and made my way to the entrance. When I got there I almost stumbled over my own feet, because standing beside Jay was the gypsy woman, Marina. King’s half-sister. She’d hardly changed at all since I’d last seen her, and when she looked at me, her eyes held a mix of warmth and wariness. “Hello, love,” she said in greeting as she held her hand out. “I’m Marina. This is my circus.” “You’re King’s sister,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. She nodded, those wise old eyes of her eyes blinking slowly. A small capuchin monkey sat on her shoulder, which I would have found odd if she didn’t own a circus. I could just imagine Oliver’s excitement if he were here. Whenever I’d taken him to the London Zoo, he’d always gone apeshit for the monkeys – no pun intended. “So Bruce Mitchell was your father?” I went on. “That’s right, though I’d say by blood only. That man was never much of a parent.” Her voice was hard when she spoke of him, and I instantly knew she must have had just as much of an awful time with Bruce as King did. Perhaps that’s how they bonded. Also, she used the past tense, so I presumed she knew he was dead, but did she know that King hadn’t been the one to kill him? “King didn’t kill him, you know that, right?” I blurted. Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “I didn’t, but I do now. Young Jason here informed me.” My attention wandered to Jay, and I remembered how I’d told him last night, how he had a knack for pulling information out of me. “Though honestly,” Marina continued, “even if he had killed him, I wouldn’t have blamed him. Bruce was a despicable human being.” For a second I was taken aback by the harshness of her words, the stark honesty

in them. A silence fell between us, and I began to feel self-conscious as she studied me. What she said next almost knocked the wind out of my sails. “You’re a mother,” she stated. I sucked in a breath. “What?” How the hell could she know that? She nodded to my hand, where there was a Disney-themed Band-Aid wrapped around my thumb. I’d cut it chopping vegetables the other day and hadn’t had any other brand in the house. Embarrassed for some reason, I hid my hand behind my back. Marina gave me a soft smile. “How many do you have?” “Just one,” I answered. “What age?” I didn’t want to tell her, but I had no other choice. “Almost six.” She gasped, her face growing serious as she mentally added up the years. “King’s?” I nodded. She looked away, frowning. Beside her, Jay swore under his breath. “You can’t tell him,” I pleaded. “Not yet. It’s too early. I saw how he was last night. He’s so vulnerable. If you put this on him, he’ll freak.” “Alexis, nobody’s gonna tell him,” Jay reassured me. “It’s your story to tell.” Something in his voice, in the way he spoke, calmed me. I shot him a grateful look. “Thank you.” “Come with us,” said Marina, composing herself. “King spent the night in my camper. Jack washed him and gave him some clean clothes. He hasn’t had a drop to drink since yesterday, so he’s sober, but he’s shaky, taciturn. He’s not going to be in the best mood, love. It’s the withdrawals — they make him sick because his system is used to having alcohol. Just know that if he’s cruel or mean, it’s not because of you or how he feels about you. It’s because he’s in physical pain.” Her kindness surprised me, because up until now I couldn’t quite tell whether or not she was happy to have me there. Now I knew she was; she just worried how my presence was going to affect her brother. “Jack told him you were coming, so he knows. He hasn’t said much, but I can see the change in him. I can tell he wants to see you.” Her words gave me hope. We came to one of the larger mobile homes, and that’s when I saw him for the second time in so many years. There was a table and two deck chairs set up outside the van. King sat in one of the chairs, a half-finished cup of tea in front of him and what looked to be a bowl of porridge. I instantly noticed the changes from last night. His long golden hair had been washed, and hung over one shoulder. In a way, it was beautiful. He still had the beard, but it was clean. He wore clean clothes, too, a navy work shirt and dark jeans. I stood there, watching as he used a shaky hand to lift the spoon and bring some porridge to his mouth. It looked like he had difficulty swallowing, and it was a hard thing to witness. His build was the same as before, but a little more filled out, less wiry and athletic. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t fat, just thicker around the neck and shoulders, as seemed to happen when men neared forty. His face had aged

somewhat, but I thought that had more to do with the drinking than the years that had passed. He must have sensed he had an audience, because he glanced up, and I swear air caught in my lungs the moment his eyes landed on me. He got up abruptly from the table, the deck chair falling to the ground behind him. My skin prickled with awareness when he started to move forward, my heart pounding fast the closer he came. His chest bumped mine softly, his eyes glittering in the sunlight just like they used to. I could hardly breathe as his hands rose to my face. His fingers started at my temples, then began to move slowly down to my cheeks. I swallowed harshly, my chest fluttering with butterflies to have him touching me. His fingers were callused, yet so tender, so gentle. I felt like I was holding still and allowing a wild animal to suss me out, realise I wasn’t a threat. His fingers came to my jaw, and I remained standing there, as still as a statue, my breathing intensifying the longer his inspection continued. His gaze was intent on me, so intense, and I found it difficult to meet his eyes. Finally, I lifted them and they locked with his. His fingers were at my throat now. It was a vulnerable spot, sensitive. His fingers dug in a little, and air whooshed right out of me. Uncomfortably, I became aware of my arousal. He smelled clean, like soap, and he was the only man I’d ever loved. My body was programmed to respond to his, no matter the circumstance. My nipples hardened, a long untended-to ache lingering between my thighs. He was still touching me, his fingers exploring the rise and dip of my collarbone. I could feel that his hands were shaking and remembered what Marina had said about the withdrawals. I soaked him in, confused by how he felt so weak and yet so vital at the same time. I saw his throat move as he swallowed before muttering a timid, “Hello.” It broke my heart. “Hi,” I whispered back. I heard Marina speaking close by, but could hardly concentrate on what she said. “We’ll give you both some privacy. Alexis, if you need anything just call Jay’s phone, okay?” “Okay,” I replied softly, not taking my eyes off King. They left, and his body leaned closer until I could feel that he was hard inside his pants, just the barest touch against the lower part of my stomach. I must have made some small sound of surprise, because his eyelids began to flutter nervously and he looked away, pulling back. He seemed embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m sorry, I….” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” “It’s not,” he grunted, and turned, stalking back to the deck chair and picking it up off the ground. He sat and grabbed the cup, downing the rest of its contents quickly. Letting my bag fall from my shoulder, I approached the table and took the empty seat. King watched my every move warily as I opened my bag and began to remove the chessboard. I didn’t say anything, because everything seemed to have

been going fine until we spoke. Sometimes words just overcomplicated things. Memories flashed in his eyes when he saw what I had. I saw a kaleidoscope of images too, all of our private little games together. I opened up the board so that it lay flat on the table, then began to pull out the pieces. They were made of solid wood, so they were heavy, but they were quality. I’d bought the set just recently, having planned to start teaching Oliver how to play. Oliver. How on earth was I going to tell King he had a son? The prospect sent a sharp pang through my chest. He’d missed out on so much, and he didn’t even know the half of it yet. Slowly, I reminded myself. I needed to take this one step at a time. King’s eyes didn’t leave me, his gaze focused on my hands as I set up the game. Picking up a pawn, I opened the play. He watched me, and a silence followed. It seemed to go on forever, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to join me. Then, almost shyly, he leaned forward and made a move of his own. My heart leapt. It was such a tiny thing, and yet the fact that he was playing meant the world to me. We sat in quiet for a long while. I kept taking surreptitious glances at him to make sure he was still engaged. Concentrating on the game seemed to be doing him good. His hands were still shaky, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. I hated that he was in pain and there was nothing I could do to ease it. We were silent for so long that I startled when he spoke, staring at the board as though calculating his next move. “How did you find me?” he asked, voice low. “Lille,” I answered simply, and his jaw seemed to tighten. “That girl never stops. Bloody do-gooder.” “I’m glad of it. I searched for you for years.” He scratched at his beard and frowned, still not looking at me. “Why would you do that?” He seemed genuinely perplexed. “Because I….” My words fell off, my throat clogging with emotion. I wanted to say it was because I loved him, but even when we were together, we’d never really told one another properly. We both knew; we just never said it. For some reason, I couldn’t say it now, either. I felt like it might scare him off. “Because I care a great deal for you, Oliver.” He let out a long, pained breath. “You saw what I did.” I didn’t speak, just waited. “You saw what I did, and you still care for me. How is that possible?” Disbelief coloured his every word. In an instant, I could see him that little bit clearer. He’d been so ashamed of what I’d seen him do that he thought he’d destroyed himself in my eyes. He’d thought that any future we might have had together was destroyed, too. It had all happened years ago, and yet, I could see that he was still traumatised. It had simply morphed into something else, something ugly. Self-hate. “King,” I said, frustration building at how he wouldn’t give me his eyes. “King, would you look at me?”

He lifted his head, and wow, every time he levelled me with his stare, I felt breathless. He was still so beautiful, even changed. “What happened that day, it didn’t turn out how you think. You should have called me, made contact.” His chair legs scraped at the ground as he shifted in place, agitated. When he spoke, his words were stilted and gruff. “What do you mean, it didn’t turn out how I think?” I reached forward and took his hand in mine, but he pulled away sharply from my touch. “I mean that you never killed Bruce. He survived. He was sent to prison and was killed by another inmate. Your mother survived, too. She gained consciousness right after you fled.” The air all around us seemed to still as I comprehended the stupidity of just blurting all that out. King stood angrily, shaking his head in disbelief as he pushed up violently from the table, almost knocking over the board. “No,” he said harshly. “No.” Fuck. I was bombarding him with too much too quickly. What the hell was I thinking? King turned and stalked away, his gait slightly unsteady, like he might collapse at any moment. I wasn’t sure if it was from the withdrawals or the shock of what I’d just told him. I ran after him and caught his arm. He reared back from my touch, so I threw my body in front of his. He stopped walking, barely an inch between us. “I’m sorry,” I said, breathless. “I shouldn’t have told you all that. Not yet. You’re not ready.” “I’m not an invalid,” he hissed. “I know that.” “Well, then, don’t fucking treat me like one,” he ground out, his voice choking up as his eyes grew watery with tears. He tried blinking them away, but it was no use. Agony marked his every feature. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. His emotion didn’t surprise me so much as it made me feel about two inches tall. How bloody tactless could I be? I watched his face, seeing all the realisations fall on him like a tonne of bricks. I knew exactly what he was thinking about. He was imagining all the time he’d lost because he thought he was a murderer. He’d hidden himself away, drinking himself half to death, thinking the only other option was prison. If only he’d reached out, gotten in touch. But no, he’d been too lost, too buried under a mountain of alcohol and guilt. I could see that I was losing him, and I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let him get lost in regrets and what-ifs. “Come back and play with me, please. We don’t have to talk, just play,” I said, desperate. His face grew intense, and my skin prickled. “No. You should go,” he said irritably, moving away from me. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us once more, and stared at him openly, not hiding any of the vulnerability I felt inside. “Please, King,” I whispered. A shudder went through him as I said his name, and we stood there, locked in a

staring contest that felt like it might never end. After a long time, his distress seemed to die down as he realised I wasn’t going to give up and leave. Finally, he ground out, “Fine. Let’s play, then.” Relief flooded me. I gestured for him to lead the way back. He turned. I followed him until we were at the table, sitting down to continue our game. It was mid-July, and the weather was warm. It was a bit too hot for a jacket, so I shrugged out of mine and hung it over the back of my chair. A couple of the buttons on my blouse had come undone, revealing the edge of my black lacy bra. I hurried to button it back up, feeling his attention on me. If anything, my boobs had gotten slightly bigger over the years, probably because I’d put on a few pounds after I had Oliver. King wore no expression, but his eyes practically scorched me, and I was already too hot from the sun. I was a little glad, though. At least this way he might be thinking of something other than how fucked up the past was. We continued playing in silence, but I could feel his need now like a physical touch. I wasn’t sure which one of us was more desperate for human comfort, him or me. Perhaps we were on an equal footing. However, I knew that, unlike me, King didn’t want to acknowledge he felt it. I was winning the game, which was out of the ordinary, because he always used to win more than I did. I glanced at him to see his brow was furrowed and his upper lip was sweaty. Without even thinking, I knew he was in pain. His head must have been thumping with alcohol withdrawals, not to mention the ugly truth of everything I’d just told him. “Is this Marina’s camper?” I asked, hesitantly gesturing to the van. He nodded. “Shall we go inside? It’s getting too hot out here. I need some shade.” Without a word, King stood and opened the door to the camper van. He stepped back and let me go in first. By the décor, you could tell the place belonged to an older woman. The couch was made of a flower print material, and there were doilies on the coffee table and old-fashioned ornaments everywhere. The moment King closed the door behind us, I regretted suggesting coming in here. It felt too small, too close. But I knew the sun was taking its toll on him, and he looked like he needed to lie down. “Is it okay if I get a glass of water?” I asked. King shrugged. “Would you like one?” Another shrug. If the way he was sweating was anything to go by, though, he must have been thirsty. I filled two glasses and walked over to where he was sitting on the couch before handing him one. He took it and downed a long gulp. There was nowhere else to sit, so I took the place beside him, a few inches between us. “Alexis, do you…do you know how my mother is, where she is?” he asked, and he sounded so vulnerable right then it made my heart squeeze. “Yes, of course,” I hurried to answer. “She lives close to me now. I have a house in Waltham Forest. Your mum sold her place in Bloomsbury and bought a small cottage nearby. We grew close after what happened, became friends. You should

see her these days, King. She goes out for walks all by herself, shops for her own groceries, she even….” I caught myself just in time. I’d been about to tell him, She even takes care of Oliver when I’m working. I needed to be better at censoring myself around him, at least for a while. When I looked at him, he seemed conflicted, yet hopeful. The world suddenly wasn’t as shrouded in black clouds as he’d thought. “So she’s doing well, doing better?” “She had a lot of help, Oliver. Me and my parents, we sort of took her in after…I mean, she still misses you every day, mourns for you, wonders where you are. We both do…we both did.” He went quiet, like he was dealing with some kind of inner turmoil. I cleared my throat and did my best to change the subject. “I started my own business a couple of years ago. It’s a plus-size modelling agency. Only a small one, but it’s doing well so far. I have a tiny two-room office space in Finsbury Park,” I said, a little selfdeprecatingly. “It was like, I saw how all these agencies worked and kept thinking to myself, I can do this with my eyes closed. And I always remembered you telling me I could do anything, go anywhere, that I had the ability. Your faith in me was where my confidence to go it alone came from.” I could see that my words meant a lot to him. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for saying that.” “Thank you for showing me I could be more than just an East End barmaid,” I said with a tiny smile, feeling more emotional all of a sudden. “If I hadn’t met you, I’m not sure I ever would have gotten out of that shithole tower block.” “You would have.” He stared at the glass in his hands, now empty. “Want another?” I asked, gesturing to it. He didn’t answer, just handed it to me. I went to the sink to refill it, then walked back to the couch. King had grown even paler, and he looked like he might want to get sick. He also seemed uncomfortable, like he didn’t want me there to witness it. I set the glass down on the table and picked up my bag, making a show of looking at my watch. “Well, I have a few errands to run while I’m in the city, but I’d like to come back later, if it’s all right with you?” I said quietly. It took him a second to respond as he swallowed thickly. “Yes, yes, it’s all right.” “Good,” I said, feeling awkward. “I’ll see you later, then.” He didn’t reply, only nodded. I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and made my way out of the camper. The sun beat down on me, making me feel a little woozy. I walked out of the circus and down a side street to where I’d parked my car. Once I was safely inside, I let my head fall back and exhaled. I hated this. I hated that I had to leave him there to suffer all alone, but I didn’t want him to feel weak in front of me. I knew he’d be humiliated if I saw him being sick. Once I’d calmed down, I picked up my phone and dialled the house. Karla answered after a couple of rings, and I spent a few minutes talking to her, asking

how Oliver was doing. She was good at not prying into how my day had been, and that’s what I needed right then. I needed to not talk about King, because if I did, I’d just end up having another crying jag. We hung up, and I got out of the car. Taking a walk to a nearby café, I got something to eat, barely even noticing what I ordered since my mind was so elsewhere. I sat outside for a long time, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee and wondering how on earth this was all going to pan out. I’d been gone about three hours when I finally made my way back to the circus. I went to Marina’s camper first, but there was no one there, so I headed in the direction of the gazebo from last night. There were a whole bunch of people milling about, some eating meals, some chatting. I spotted Jay, Jack, Matilda, and Lille at a table having dinner, and King was sitting by the end of it, drinking a beer. The sight of him with alcohol did a number on me, and my heart somersaulted in my chest. Why on earth were they letting him drink?

EIGHTEEN

a few steps forward until I was standing by the table. It was Jack who I took spotted me first, and he must have seen where my eyes were trained, as he

started to explain gruffly, “He can’t go cold turkey. It’ll kill him. The beer is light, good for weaning him off the hard stuff.” “Oh,” I whispered, suddenly understanding. “Yeah, remember what happened to that Amy Winehouse?” Matilda piped in. “Such a sad story.” There was an empty stool beside King, but I hovered, unsure if I was welcome. I locked eyes with Jay, and he shot me a look that said, Stop being an idiot and sit. So I walked around the table and sat. I could feel that King was aware of my presence, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t look. I wondered what he was thinking, wondered if he was still coming to terms with everything I’d told him earlier. Tendrils of unspoken words hung between us. The others chatted a little, but an awkward atmosphere had descended upon the group, and I knew it was down to my arrival. That was why I did what I often did and tried to fill the silence with my own chatter, faking that I was comfortable when really I was the exact opposite. “So, is there going to be a show tonight?” I asked, forcing a casual tone. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked what you all do here yet.” “Don’t be silly,” said Lille, her voice gentle. “You’ve had so much else to think about.” I caught her grimace slightly after she said it, like she thought she might have been a little clumsy with her words. I didn’t mind. Not at all. I much preferred clumsy words to silence. “Well,” Jay began explaining, “Jack and I are both performers. I do illusions, and Jack’s a fire-breather.” He waggled his brows and flashed me a grin. “Real dangerous, like.” Jack rolled his eyes at his brother and took a bite of his chicken. “Lille paints faces for the kiddos, and Matilda here designs the show costumes.” He slung an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Well, I’m only really starting out,” Matilda added shyly. “I’ve designed stuff for Jay for a while, so some of the acts are letting me try my hand at creating some designs for them, too.” “Oh, that’s cool. I work in the industry myself. Well, not in design, but I run a

small modelling agency.” Matilda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes, that’s right. Lille told me.” We chatted for a while about fashion, but the whole time I never really felt at ease. I could sense King watching me intently. I didn’t have the courage to look at him. His fingers were clasped tight around his beer bottle, and I wondered if he felt weird about me being there, trying to fit in with all these strangers who seemed to know him so much better than I did. Well, they knew the man he was now better than I did anyway. My participation in the conversation died away as I became more and more aware of his attention and presence. “Hey, Watson, did you get around to mending that shirt for tonight? I need it for the second part of my act,” Jay asked his wife. “Yep,” Matilda replied. “It’s all done. I left it in the closet for you.” “Good, I don’t wanna go giving the ladies in the audience another eyeful,” he said, and shot me a playful smile. “Last night I was doing a costume-change skit, and I had a wardrobe malfunction. Cheeky slip of the nip doesn’t even cover it.” “You definitely gave Janet Jackson a run for her money,” Matilda put in, chuckling. I laughed and knew Jay had sensed my unease when he sent me a warm expression. That’s why he’d made the joke. I was grateful to him. Lille laughed, too, while Jack smirked and seemed to be supressing another eye roll. I chanced a surreptitious glance at King to find he wasn’t smiling at all. It made my skin prickle. Maybe he didn’t want me there. The thought jolted me, and I suddenly wanted to flee. I picked my bag up off the floor and slung it over my shoulder. “Well, it’s getting late. I should probably be going. Maybe I could come visit again tomorrow?” The insecurity in my voice was palpable, and I hated how it sounded. The second I made a move to stand, King’s hand clamped on my wrist. It shocked me, since he’d barely registered my presence, and now he was touching me. The feel of his skin on mine sent a tremor through me, and I looked down at him, seeing a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Don’t go yet,” he said, voice low and pleading. All of a sudden I realised what had really been going on. He wanted me there; he was just embarrassed and ashamed of how he was, of how I had to leave so quickly earlier so that I wouldn’t witness him throwing up. I lowered myself back onto the stool, and he let go of my wrist. “Okay, I can stay for another while,” I said quietly. My eyes remained on King as Lille announced, “We should all start getting ready for tonight’s show. It was great seeing you again, Alexis.” I nodded to her, smiling, and everybody rose from the table to leave. A few moments later it was just King and me, sitting alone while the circus workers chattered and ate around us. My pores tingled as I felt King’s close attention, his warmth right next to me. All it would take was for me to reach out a few

centimetres, and I’d be touching him again. But I didn’t do that because he was still wary, still feral in a way. “Does my mother know you’ve found me?” he asked, a vulnerability in his voice. My eyes softened as I whispered, “Not yet,” then spoke a little louder as I cleared my throat. “Do you want me to tell her?” Some kind of turmoil passed over his features, and he shook his head fervently. “No. I…I don’t want her to see me. Not like this.” And there it was again, the shame. I hated it so much. Out of instinct, I reached forward and tried to take his hand in mine, but he flinched away. He’s feral, Alexis, try to remember. I had to keep reminding myself to treat him with care, like he was a wild animal not used to touch. It was hard, because I was so tactile these days, especially at home with Oliver. We were always cuddling or play fighting, or just generally goofing around. “I have to tell her eventually,” I said gently. He just stared at me then, and it was too much. I had to look away. “Am I so awful to you now?” he asked with chagrin. Immediately, I brought my gaze back his. “Never. You’ve always been beautiful to me.” I let my eyes wander over his features, older, kind of distinguished. His mane of golden hair and his full beard. No, he wasn’t awful at all. In fact, he might have been more beautiful now that he was flawed, more human. He seemed to grimace in something close to discomfort, or maybe it was embarrassment. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with people looking at him. It was also clear that it had been a long time since anyone had used the word “beautiful” to describe him. “Why did you never contact me?” I whispered. I thought I knew the answer already, but I wanted to hear him say it. It took him a long time to speak, and when he did, the ferocity in his voice startled me. “After you saw what I’d done, the violence I was capable of, I thought you wouldn’t want me. And I didn’t want to know anything about my old life because it wasn’t mine anymore. I’d destroyed it with my own two hands. All of that potential, gone in an instant. Mum was dead, and to you I was a killer. There was nothing left for me in that world.” He held his hands up as though in pain. “But what about Marina?” I went on. “Why had she never looked into Bruce or your mother?” “Marina doesn’t live like most people. This circus is her everything. The nomadic lifestyle is what makes her happy. She’s never really embraced technology, doesn’t use the Internet, doesn’t even really read the papers. It’s how she lives.” “I don’t understand….” King rubbed a hand over his mouth, like he didn’t really want to talk, but was forcing himself for me. So that I wouldn’t leave yet. I tried my hardest not to lose the run of my emotions. Every time I looked at him, I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry and kiss every inch of him, or shake him in anger for mistreating himself so badly. It was a strange sensation to love somebody so completely yet fiercely hate

their actions. His words broke me out of my thoughts. “Marina was our father’s first child, born when he was still a teenager. She bore the brunt of his cruelty because he was in her life more than he’d been in mine. And he was a brutish, violent parent. She wanted to get away from him, and she made it happen by disappearing. The circus was the perfect escape, the perfect way to vanish. “It was only through the small contact she had with her mother, who was still married to Bruce, that she found out about me and how he’d been blackmailing me. So she got in touch. She wanted to help me because she’d never had a sibling, but also because she knew how awful Bruce’s treatment could be. We became friends. She’d visit me whenever she was near London. I even helped her out with money when the circus wasn’t doing so well. And then, when I thought I’d” — he stopped, his voice growing strained — “when I thought I’d killed Bruce, when I thought I’d lost everything, this was where I went. If Marina had managed to fashion a life of obscurity here, then maybe I could, too. I neglected to foresee that it didn’t matter where I went. My own mind would become a prison.” I sat there, absorbing his words, for some reason feeling like this was the most he’d spoken to anybody in a really long time. I wanted to touch him, but again reminded myself that I shouldn’t. “What do you mean?” I asked, frowning. He started to cough and it sounded terrible, heavy and wheezing. “The mind becomes a prison as it replays its images, and all you want to do is drown them out. Dull the repetition. Alcohol is such an easy way to do it, to quiet everything down. It becomes a basic need, like water or air. Suddenly, you can barely go an hour without having it in your system.” He rubbed at his eyes and then his temples, as though to soothe an ache. “I feel fucking awful when I don’t have it. Right now it’s like there are these purple ants on my skin, crawling all over me, and I can feel every single one of them as they itch.” I tried not to let my fear show as he expressed what he was feeling out loud. It was so easy to just accept that he was weaning himself off alcohol without thinking of how it felt. I wasn’t the one inside his body, having to feel every second of the agony. “Do you think you can quit completely?” I asked before amending my question. “I mean, do you want to?” He looked at me then, his eyes full of pain and regret. “I really don’t know.” I swallowed, trying not to let his answer hurt me. It would be ridiculous to think that just because I was there, just because I’d found him, that he’d suddenly make a miraculous recovery. That his addiction would simply be forgotten because the woman who loved him had come to find him. Yes, I was upset, angry, even, but I wasn’t offended. It was unrealistic to think he could get better in the blink of an eye. I wasn’t an angel or a magical princess. I was just a person, and he was just a person, and together we were scrambling in the dark to try to understand each

other. King began to fidget, peeling the label from his now empty beer bottle. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign that he was antsy for more or if the conversation was making him irritable. I didn’t have it in me to offer to buy him a drink. A subject change was all I could manage. “Do you know that your apartment is still there? Your mother has been taking care of its upkeep. All of your things are still there, too, and your piano. Have you played….” “No,” King answered abruptly. “I don’t play anymore.” I nodded, not pushing the matter, but simply told him, “You used to play so beautifully.” “All of those things…they might be there, but they don’t feel like mine anymore. You should tell Mum to sell them, sell the penthouse, just, I don’t know, get rid of it. I don’t deserve any of it.” “Of course you do. You worked your arse off to pay for everything.” “There’s no point if no one else believes it.” I didn’t get what he was talking about at first, but then it hit me. “You mean Bruce’s smear campaign? Oh, Oliver, all of that was exposed years ago. It came out during his trial. Your name has been completely cleared.” His mouth moved in an odd way as he comprehended what I was telling him. He looked distressed, and again I felt like an idiot for so unceremoniously laying the facts on him. I just didn’t feel like there was any proper way to do it. No matter how careful or sensitive I was, the truth was going to be a difficult pill to swallow. King rose from his seat, standing in place for a second. I thought he was about to leave, distraught by the news that he’d been cleared of any misconduct. But then he started coughing again and sat down abruptly, his hand going to his chest like he was in serious pain. This time the wheezing sounded even worse, and my stomach tightened with worry. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?” I asked, concerned. His look was all the answer I needed. He hadn’t seen a doctor in years. I was suddenly desperate to take him to the hospital and have him looked over, afraid he might have some awful illness caused by his alcohol abuse. Once his coughing fit died down, I suggested quietly, “You should let me take you.” He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” His abrupt answer rose my hackles, and before I had the chance to censor myself, I told it to him straight. “You used to be the smartest man I knew. So don’t give me that.” I expected him to get angry or to fight me, which was why I got a surprise when a pained smile shaped his lips. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” I returned his smile, the tiny expression practically lighting me up from the inside out. I wanted to keep that smile, box it up as proof that happiness was still possible for him. “Nah, if anything, I’ve only gotten better with age.” His intense eyes practically bored a hole in me. “I don’t doubt it.”

I shivered, and it was clear that he saw. “Cold?” I shook my head. His eyes heated, and his chest rose and fell slowly as he took a deep breath. “What, then?” “Just….” I sighed. “Memories.” He raised a questioning brow. I kept staring at him until he finally understood, and then something in his posture shifted. He was less of the sick, vulnerable man and more of the old, confident King I once knew. It was only a glimpse, yet it affected me right down to the tips of my toes. A shudder ran through me, and King shifted closer, gaze alight, his words barely a whisper. “Tell me.” “Do you remember the photo shoot?” King smiled again, and my heart thudded. More, it urged, I need more of those to place in the sacred box of smiles. “The one where I figured out you were a dirty little liar? Why, yes, I believe I do.” He was teasing me now, and my stomach did a somersault of glee. I needed to keep this going, keep him from thinking about the pain he was in. “Well, I was just thinking of you in those jeans and how you didn’t even care that you were half-naked in a room full of people. You were so at ease with yourself.” He shrugged and glanced down at the table, then back at me. “Nudity never bothered me.” “I could tell. It was so fucking sexy. I was like, kill me now because there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep pretending I’m a lesbo with this perfect male specimen.” I loved the sound of his soft answering chuckle and watched his reaction to my words carefully. I was delighted that they’d had the desired effect. They made him feel complimented, proud, to have once been worthy of female admiration. It meant he could feel that way again. I wanted him to see that there were things worth living for, and sometimes the small things were the best ones. Like when a woman notices you walking down the street, or when someone flirts with you and signals their attraction. “I had started to become suspicious,” King admitted. “The way you looked at me sometimes….” “What?” I prompted, eager to know what he’d been about to say. He levelled me with his eyes. “Sometimes you’d look at me like you wanted me.” I grew hot suddenly, and laughed to try to defuse the moment. “Well, your suspicions were spot on.” He turned to face me fully then, his head tilting to the side in curiosity as his gaze drifted down my body acutely. “How long has it been for you?” His question both surprised and took me off guard. Oh, how he could read me so well, even after all these years. It made my pores tingle to think he’d been paying attention. Yes, I knew exactly what he was asking, but the honest answer embarrassed me. In truth, it had been years since I’d last had sex. King had been gone for months, disappeared without a trace. I’d just found out I

was pregnant and was feeling terribly sorry for myself. Lee was still sniffing around Karla as they played their old I hate you, but I want to fuck you head games with each other. We were at a pub one night when the brothers had shown up. I wasn’t drinking, of course, but I wasn’t in my right mind, either. And when Stu came over and started laying on the moves, I succumbed to them. Admittedly, not my finest hour, but I was lonely and depressed and just wanted to feel the comfort of another human being. That was six years ago, and also the very last time I’d had sex. I decided immediately that I wasn’t going to tell King about that night with Stu, because it would be counterproductive and pointless. However, I also wasn’t going to mislead him into believing I’d been with no one since him, either. “Too many years,” I answered finally. His eyes lingered on my mouth before moving up to meet my gaze. “You’re not with anyone now?” I shook my head. He frowned and asked another question. “Why not?” I pulled self-consciously at the hem of my blouse. I’d been wearing it all day, and it was starting to feel a bit clammy. “I’ve just been busy,” I answered, then hastened to add, “With the agency, keeping everything running smoothly. You hardly get a moment to yourself when you run your own business.” And have a five-year-old to take care of, my conscience put in. King stared at me, and the silence lasted for a long time until I had to break it. “What about you?” I whispered, and now it was his turn to become self-conscious. “I haven’t, I mean…some of the women here, they try with me, but I’m always… I’m never really present enough, you know.” What he said caused my protective instincts to kick into high gear. “They never tried to be with you against your will, did they?” King’s eyes flared at my question, and he hurried to correct me. “God, no.” I let out a sigh of relief. “So you haven’t?” He shook his head, and my heart ached for him. He really had been imprisoned. So alone. It shocked me to realise that I might have preferred for him to have someone. Don’t get me wrong, I hated the idea at the same time, because in my heart he belonged to me and no one else. But the fact that he hadn’t had any companionship shone a stark light on his suffering. I would have wanted him to have a moment of relief amidst the turmoil, even if it did make me jealous as all hell. We shared a moment of deep, intense eye contact, and then I heard music begin to play from inside the circus tent. It was a sound check, and light, tinkling piano drifted all around us. King’s expression morphed at the very sound of it, and I knew he was remembering how much he used to love playing. “I told you that Elaine started playing again, didn’t I?” King stared at me. I cleared my throat. “Well, not for audiences or anything like that. Just at home. I think it’s therapeutic for her. You should think about….” “I’m not playing the piano again, so please stop pushing.” “I’m only trying to help you,” I whispered.

“You are helping me. Just by being here, you’re helping. Trust me.” I swallowed. “Okay.” A pause. “Will you at least consider seeing a doctor? That cough doesn’t sound too pretty, and if left unchecked, it could turn into something nasty.” It already sounded like it had turned into something nasty, but I was just so desperate for him to go and get checked out that I’d latch on to any reason. He stared at the floor. “I told you I didn’t want to.” “Yeah, you did,” I said, losing my gentle tone. “And do you know what else that tells me? It tells me that you don’t care about yourself enough to worry that you might be badly sick, and that is the scariest fucking thing, Oliver. The scariest.” He let out a dark, miserable laugh. “Look at me, Alexis. Everything about me should tell you that.” Now I grew upset, my voice shaky with unshed tears. “But I want you to care.” I saw his self-hatred wriggle its way into his expression. It was awful to look at, so ugly. I wanted to kill it dead, but it had been corrupting him for years. You didn’t kill corruption like that in a day. What he believed to be true had moulded him to hate himself. “It’s hard to care for something that’s already falling apart,” he said vehemently. I stared at him, suddenly pissed off at the way he spoke. “That’s a fucking copout, and you know it. Just because something’s broken doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. It’s just takes guts, guts and a whole lot of effort. But clearly you don’t want to even try.” My words were a challenge, and I desperately needed him to stand up to them, counter them. I saw the flash of temper in his eyes and knew what I’d said had riled him. He leaned forward, his expression sharp and his gaze narrowed. “There’s broken, Alexis, and then there’s irrevocably broken. Maybe I’m the latter. Maybe trying is futile.” The way he hissed his words made me stand quickly from the table, my stool scraping harshly at the plywood panels that had been set down to create a makeshift floor. “You’re not irrevocably broken until you’re dead, King. You can try — you just don’t want to.” My voice quivered as my anger was slowly overtaken by self-pity. “Perhaps you don’t think I’m worth it.” A single tear fell down my cheek, and King rose from his seat. The hardness in his expression had vanished, and in its place was remorse. He reached out to touch my cheek, and I stepped back. “Alexis, I….” “When you speak like that, when you hurt yourself with alcohol, you’re being cruel to both of us. You know that, right? Don’t think you’re the only one suffering here. When I told you I care for you a great deal, I was telling the truth. Every bit of damage you do to your body, you might as well be punching me in the gut at the same time.” My words made him flinch. “That’s not true.” “It is true! I know how I feel.” He grew incensed again and pulled at his hair. “Yes, but you don’t know how I

feel. You don’t know how hard this is.” I shook my head at him. “Another fucking cop-out. The Oliver King I used to know never backed away from a challenge. He relished them. Challenges were what he lived for.” Before I could move, he was all up in my space, his face stormy. “But don’t you see, I’m not the Oliver King you used to know. For fuck’s sake, Alexis, I’m not him anymore.” He was fuming, but so was I. I was about to throw more words back at him when suddenly Jack was there, pulling King away from me. “What the hell?” he said, looking between the two of us. All of a sudden, the wind went out of my sails. What on earth was I doing, arguing with King like this? It wasn’t going to help. He was sick, and I was putting my own feelings before his illness. In that moment, I felt horribly ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should…I should probably go.” “Yeah,” said Jack. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

NINETEEN

go back to the circus the next day. Mostly because I had to work, but I couldn’t also because I was upset and angry at myself for letting things get so out of

hand the night before. I needed to have more control, needed to understand that King wasn’t going to be completely logical when he was having withdrawals, and there was no sense arguing with an illogical person. It was just so hard not to get emotional. I was upset by how much he devalued himself just because he wasn’t the same man he was before. I’d never judged people by their status in life or what job they had. I judged people by who they were as people. Anyhow, I was thankful to have work to focus on to take my mind off things. Elaine had arrived at the house bright and early to watch Oliver, and I’d stood in the doorway, bag over my shoulder, car keys clutched in my hand, as I listened to them chatter. Grandmother and grandson. The strength almost fled me in that moment. I wasn’t the only one King needed to be saved for, and it made me that much more determined to see him pull through this. I’d concocted something of a plan, but it was going to take a bit of trickery. There were always lots of classical shows going on in London at any given time, but by some stroke of luck I’d managed to find a recital of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 at the Royal Albert Hall. It was the same piece and the same location where he’d last seen his mother play. I thought the significance might bring him back to himself somehow. A step in the right direction. Anyway, the trickery would be needed in getting him there, because I knew if I suggested it outright he’d refuse to go, the same as he refused to see a doctor. I’d purchased four tickets online, planning to ask Lille and Jack along, too. I could tell that Jack was closest to King; he seemed to have a calming effect on him. This meant that if my plan backfired and King freaked out, I’d have someone there who could calm him down. Jay had told me that the circus was staying in London for the next three weeks, which gave me time to take things slow. I thought that was key, because forcing stuff to move too fast never worked. So, even though it killed me to do it, I decided to stay away from the circus for a day. I’d return on Tuesday evening after work, but this way I was giving King some space to get his head around everything. I was

home from work and eating a bowl of spaghetti for dinner (Oliver’s favourite) when I got a text from Jay. Jay: Where you at? King’s been asking. The text made me want to hop up, throw on some shoes, and go to him immediately, but I had no sitter for Oliver, and it was too late to call Karla or Elaine. Therefore, it would have to wait until tomorrow. Alexis: I can’t make it tonight, but I’ll visit tomorrow evening after work. About 6 or 7. My attention was drawn away from my phone and across the table, as Oliver made a loud slurping noise sucking the spaghetti into his mouth. “Today I asked Granny Elaine about the flowers,” he said randomly. I would have called my son the master of random statements, but I knew that was just all kids. They said whatever they were thinking. “The flowers?” I asked. “The ones in her garden. She told me they’re called tulips,” he said, sounding out the new word. “Oh, you went for a walk to Granny Elaine’s house today?” Oliver nodded, red spaghetti sauce all over his mouth. Elaine often took him out and about, especially when she was having a good day. If she was having a bad day, and feeling down about King, she usually stayed indoors. I took it as a sign that today had been a good day. I also took it as a sign that maybe I needed to tell her I’d found her son sometime soon. “Yep. They’re yellow with green….” “Stalks?” I provided, smiling fondly. “Yellow with green stalks. I asked her if the colours were the same to her as they were to me.” What he said made me smile. I swear my boy was already a little philosopher, thinking about perception in his own particular way. God, and now I was thinking about how I needed to tell King he had a son. Why did all the explaining have to fall on my shoulders, huh? The emotion hit me quite suddenly, but I reminded myself that although it might be a stressful experience at first, I was excited for King to find out about Oliver, to get to know him. I was certain he’d fascinate him just as much as he fascinated me. “And what did Granny Elaine say?” “She said the colours were the same for most people, but some people have colour blindness. That means they don’t see the colours the same.” He paused, his brow crinkling in concentration as he looked at me. “I have blue eyes and Granny has blue eyes. Is that why we see the same? You have brown eyes, Mummy. Does that mean you see different?” “No, Oliver, that’s not how it works.” He frowned, confused that his logic wasn’t making sense, so I tried to explain it to him. “It doesn’t matter what colour our eyes are — it’s our brains that tell our eyes what colour we’re looking at. So our eyes have three message receivers in

them. One for red light, one for blue light, and one for green light. We see colour through the light. These receivers see the light and send a message to our brains, and then our brains interpret the message to tell us what colour it is.” I tried to explain it to him simply, insofar as I could. “However, some people have a defect in one of their message receivers, which means they see the light wrong and send the wrong message to the brain. That makes them colour blind.” Oliver seemed worried now. “I don’t want to have a defect in my receiver.” His statement caused me to let out a soft laugh. “You don’t have a defect.” He rose up by levelling his hands on the table, totally distressed. “But how do you know?!” Oh, my God, I honestly couldn’t take how cute it was when he got stressed out about stuff, like it was a matter of life and death. “Well, actually, I don’t. We’d have to test you.” I twisted some spaghetti around my fork, concentrating on my food again. “What are you waiting for? I want you to test me now, Mummy.” I gave him my stern look. “I will, but first you have to finish eating your dinner.” He wasn’t happy with my answer, but he settled back in his seat nonetheless and finished his food. I had to go look up a colour blindness test online and do it with him afterwards. When he got the result that he wasn’t colour blind, he literally jumped for joy, throwing his small arms around my neck and squeezing. “Oh, Mummy, I’m so glad I’m not colour blind. I don’t want a dog.” I laughed harder this time, realising what had caused him so much distress. He thought he’d have to get a Seeing Eye dog if he was colour blind. Seriously, sometimes he was too cute to handle. “All those poor blind people. Not getting to see the colours,” he went on, his words striking a chord in me. King used to see the colours, but he didn’t anymore. The world was all in grey. I needed to teach him how to see them again. “Yeah, baby,” I whispered. “All those poor people.” THE NEXT DAY after I closed up the office, I drove straight to the circus. I lied and told Elaine I’d be home late because I had a business dinner. She accepted my explanation without question, which made me feel even worse for lying. It was a necessary evil, though. For now. The same as the first night, I couldn’t find a decent parking space because lots of people were arriving for the show. I spotted Lille out front, a queue of kids lined up at her booth, waiting to have their faces painted. I was just about to go over and say hello when I saw King. He was over by the entrance, pacing frantically, his eyes searching the faces of those who passed him by. The second he spotted me, he was on the move, determinedly threading his way through the crowds. “Hi,” I said awkwardly when he stopped a few feet away. He ran a hand through his long hair. “You didn’t come yesterday,” he stated gruffly.

He sounded annoyed, and I don’t know, there was something about it that satisfied me. I liked that he’d noticed my absence. Maybe it would help him realise he still wanted things, and that there was stuff worth getting better for. Or, more to the point, that there were people worth getting better for. “I had to work,” I answered. He frowned hard. “Do you work all through the night?” “No.” “Well, then, why didn’t you come?” I arched my eyebrow and restrained a laugh. Seriously, his entitled tone reminded me so much of our son right then it was too funny. I made sure to keep my expression neutral, though, not wanting to distress him further. “Because I was exhausted, and I’m not sure about you, but some of us use the nighttime for a little thing called sleep.” Being sassy with him was a risk, because it could have sent him off the deep end. It was a relief when it didn’t, as he continued fingering his long hair and apologised. “I’m sorry. I’m ten hours sober. It’s making me tetchy. And I thought you might have stayed away because of how I spoke to you the other night.” I eyed him meaningfully. “We had a little fight, King. It was nothing, and certainly not enough to make me give up on you. But anyhow, I thought you weren’t supposed to be going cold turkey?” He let out a gruff breath. “I’m testing the waters, seeing how long I can go. I feel like shit, but I can handle it.” His eyes came to rest on me, and their intensity made me a little breathless. “I’m glad you came. I need a distraction. And I’ve missed you.” I inhaled sharply at the stark honesty of his statement, and felt my heart give a hard pang of yearning. He was tugging at his hair now, but I wasn’t sure he realised he was doing it. Stepping closer, I tentatively reached up and untangled his fingers from the long strands. It was a little dirty, and I wondered if he’d washed it since two nights ago when Jack helped him. “You’re going to end up pulling it out from the root,” I said softly, and he let me lower his hand, watching me closely all the while. Feeling a strange need, I sank my hands into his hair and ran them right down to the ends. King didn’t stop me from doing it, only continued stoically watching, and it gave me courage. “You know, I really like your hair like this.” “You do?” he asked, perplexed. “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “It’s gorgeous, but it’s in need of a wash. What kind of sink does Marina have in her camper?” King shrugged. “I don’t know. Never really noticed.” “Well, do you think she’d mind if we used her bathroom for a half-hour to wash your hair?” He narrowed his gaze. “You want to wash my hair?” “Yes, Oliver, I do. Now, do you think she’d mind?” Shaking his head and exhaling heavily, he answered, “No, she won’t mind.”

“Good. Come on, then,” I said, and gestured for him to follow. I led the way to the back of the circus where the mobile homes were stationed, feeling King’s curious gaze on me as he walked a foot or two behind. I was wearing jeans again, and my spidey senses went on alert. I could practically feel him checking out my arse. He always used to do it before, and the thought gave me a rush of excitement. Any small sign of the old him was cause for optimism. When we reached Marina’s camper, he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a key to unlock the door. I let him lead the way inside as he walked to the bathroom. “It’s a bit small,” he said, looking around. I brushed off his comment and began rolling up my sleeves, sensing his apprehension. He was radiating want and…whatever the opposite of want was, like he was dying for me to wash his hair but at the same time dying for me not to. I understood. He wasn’t used to people touching him these days, and if my gut feeling was right, he wasn’t used to washing, either. He’d been living like a hobo, but I planned to gently guide him back into the land of soap and water. It was of the utmost importance. I saw him pull a small packet from his jeans as I went to grab one of the chairs from Marina’s kitchen table, and then he popped something in his mouth. “What was that?” I asked, carrying the chair into the bathroom and setting it down in front of the sink. “A mint. Jack said I should suck on them so that I have something to do with my mouth.” His words were said without any sexual undertones whatsoever, but still, they got my mind wandering to places it had no business wandering. I remembered him going down on me, the heavenly skill of his lips and tongue. He’d been really, really good at that. Blinking, I shook myself back to the present. “Oh, right,” I said, looking away and sticking the stopper in the sink before turning on the hot tap and letting it fill. “He says it will keep me occupied, so that I don’t think about having a drink.” “Huh. That’s actually a good idea. Is it working?” He lifted his shoulders. “A little.” “Come here,” I said, gesturing to the chair. “Sit.” Warily, he stepped inside the tiny bathroom, and I realised he was right, it was small. It felt even smaller with the two of us inside and a warm, tingling heat began to creep its way to the surface of my skin. King sat down as instructed, then stared up at me, waiting for what I was going to do next. My black shirt had a sweetheart neckline; it was modest enough, but it showed a hint of cleavage, and I was distinctly aware of King’s eyes resting there. Then he glanced up, saw I’d caught him, and looked away. “You’re allowed to look at me, you know,” I said, picking up a bottle of shampoo. He continued to stare at his lap, a frown causing his brows to furrow. What he said next made my heart hurt. “I wasn’t sure if…you’d find it distasteful to have

someone like me looking.” “Hey,” I whispered fervently. He glanced up slowly. “I like it when you look.” He swallowed and his eyes grew dark, wanting. I swallowed, too, and set the shampoo down on the edge of the sink for when I needed it. I turned off the tap, then brought my hands to his shoulders. “Just lean back a little,” I said quietly. He did exactly as I asked, and my eyes fixed on the masculine line of his throat when he reclined. It was kind of sexy. I slipped a towel around his shoulders so as not to get his clothes wet. Then I filled a jug with warm water and lifted it above his head before pouring it over his hair. I repeated the process several times, King watching my every move like it was fascinating. Grabbing the shampoo, I poured some into my open palm, then sank my hands into his hair, massaging it in and creating a lather. King exhaled heavily as I dug my fingers into his scalp, massaging. I saw his throat move, his blue eyes bright as he stared up at me. They dipped to my chest for a moment, and I let him look his fill. I wanted him to know I found nothing distasteful about his attention, that I wanted it, relished it. Leaning forward, I worked the lather through to the ends, which brought me closer to him, my breast brushing his cheek ever so slightly. He seemed to struggle for a moment, his hand clenching into a fist. I was struggling just as much, trying to concentrate on washing his hair rather than the fact that I wished he’d touch me. Run his hand up my thigh, maybe lean close and nuzzle his nose against my collarbone. The room was way too silent, but I didn’t want this to end. Being close to him, touching him, felt intimate, and I wanted to make it last as long as possible. “Do you remember the first time you caught me having lunch in your office bathroom?” I asked in an effort to make conversation. He gave me a warm smile, and I swear the heat of it thawed my lonely bones. “How could I forget?” “I was so embarrassed when it happened, convinced you were going to fire me, but you didn’t. You were so cool about it. You must have thought I was a complete nutter.” King shook his head. “It was endearing. You were like a breath of fresh air. I loved how impulsive you were. It made me want to be around you.” We locked eyes, and I knew I’d done all I could with the shampoo, so I began to rinse it out. I noticed a few lesions on his scalp, and a bit of redness, but they’d heal fine so long as he kept up a decent hygiene regime. It was his cough I was worried about. “Have you given any more thought to seeing a doctor?” I asked gently, taking advantage of his momentary good mood. “Would it make you happy if I did?” His eyes flickered back and forth between mine. “Yes,” I answered. Determination formed in his gaze, and I knew my not coming to see him yesterday had given him a fright, made him realise he didn’t want to lose me.

“Then I’ll go.” I opened my mouth, closed it. It was hard to find words for a second, and then I finally found the perfect ones. I hoped he heard my gratefulness. “Thank you.” I continued rinsing his hair then, and felt his hand come to rest on my hip. He left it there, and neither one of us commented on it. Warmth suffused my skin, radiating out from where he touched me. Once I’d wrung out all the excess water, I pulled the towel from his shoulders and wrapped it around his wet hair until it sat in a bundle atop his head. We shared a moment of eye contact as I laced my fingers through his and pulled him up to stand. Leading him out into the living area, I brought him to the couch and sat him down while I went to rummage in my bag for a hairbrush. Then I came and lowered myself to sit beside him. I pulled the towel from his hair, let it fall around his shoulders, and scrunched it dry before I started brushing out the tangles. King sat there all the while, still as a statue, and allowed me to groom him. The act was so simplistic in its intimacy. He was turned away from me, and I’d just about finished when he suddenly moved, his eyes meeting mine. I startled when I saw his tears and gasped when he suddenly grabbed me, pulling me into a desperate embrace. The speed at which he moved was shocking, but the tenderness of his actions stopped my heart. He rested his head on my stomach, and I couldn’t find my voice. He was open to me in that moment, laid bare, and his vulnerability provoked tears of my own. His breathing was deep, the rise and fall of his chest heavy, as I brought my hands to his hair and started to stroke. I felt his face move and realised he’d placed a kiss on my stomach over the fabric of my top. I swallowed deeply, unsure whether I should touch him back or allow him to take the lead. His hand came to the soft part of my belly and began to push up the hem of my top until it revealed skin. The old, faded lines of the stretch marks I’d gotten when I was pregnant with Oliver were a stark reminder of everything I still had to tell him. I couldn’t stop him, though, didn’t want to, and he didn’t seem to draw the connection between the little silver lines and the fact I might be a mother. He simply marvelled at my skin, like it was a thing of wonder. He started to stroke me, almost reverently, and every pore on my body drew tight. His hand was warm and big and manly, and I loved the feel of his callused fingers on my soft skin. I lay back, completely still, and allowed him to find his own way, go as far as he was comfortable. But he didn’t try anything else, seemed content to simply run his hands over my bare stomach and concentrate on the movement of his fingers. After a long time, his hands stopped and his eyes fell shut. I closed mine, too. I only realised we’d both fallen asleep when the buzzing of my phone startled me awake. King still slept, but I managed to reach inside my pocket to check my text without waking him. It was a message from Elaine, asking when I’d be home. I had to go, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to go back to sleep, lie here with King for hours, and just feel the peace of being with him. Unfortunately, life had other ideas. His breathing

was loud and steady, with a little bit of a rattle. It reminded me that he’d agreed to see the doctor, and my heart felt suddenly lighter. As quiet as a mouse I slipped out from under him and left the camper, and almost walked straight into Jack as I was leaving. “Oh, my God, you gave me a fright,” I whispered loudly, my hand going to my chest. He seemed awkward. “Sorry. I get that a lot.” “You’re one of those big men with silent feet, huh?” I went on. Unexpectedly, Jack smiled. He was gorgeous when he smiled. Well, he was already gorgeous, but he frowned a lot. It made him seem closed off. The only time I’d really seen him smile was when he was with Lille or his brother. “Yeah, you could say that,” he agreed. I glanced back toward the camper. “King’s inside sleeping, but listen, he’s told me he’ll go see a doctor. I work during the day, so I won’t be able to take him. Do you think you could do it? Maybe make an appointment for tomorrow.” He nodded. “Sure. I’ll take care of it.” “Thank you. Oh, and there’s another thing. Do you know that he used to play the piano?” Jack shook his head. “No, but I did know that his mother played.” “That’s right. Well, King used to play, too. Music meant a lot to him, and I’ve bought tickets for a concert I want to take him to see. I think it’ll be good for him to hear a live orchestra again, therapeutic maybe, but I’m not sure I can handle taking him alone. So, do you think you and Lille could come along?” Jack arched a brow. “Like a double date?” He was teasing me now, and it made me grin. I didn’t realise Jack had it in him to tease. I placed a hand on my hip. “Yeah, like a double date.” His lips twitched. “I think we can manage that. When’s the concert?” “Next Saturday. Will you have a show?” “Yes, but I can fix to have the night off.” “Great. That’s great. Thank you so much. This means a lot.” Jack’s eyes wandered to the camper. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Alexis. I’m sorry if I was rude before, but I’ve spent years watching that man suffer. It’d be nice to see his suffering come to an end.” His words made me slightly emotional, so all I could do was nod and turn to walk away. The following day at the office, I couldn’t help checking my phone every five minutes. I sent Lille a message, asking if she’d let me know how things went at the doctor’s with King. It was almost the end of the day, and I still hadn’t heard a peep. It caused me to worry. What made matters worse was when I called Elaine to tell her I’d be home late again, and she asked questions. She was starting to become suspicious, especially since I told her I’d be home by nine yesterday and didn’t get back until after midnight. I hated lying to her. In the end, Lille met me when I arrived at the circus. I’d worried myself sick,

thinking something might be terribly wrong with King. She sat me down in her and Jack’s camper to give me the details. It turned out that he did have quite a few ailments, but nothing that couldn’t be dealt with. He had acute bronchitis, which accounted for the coughing. He also had a few patches of eczema. They’d done some tests on his liver but wouldn’t get the results back for a couple of days. It was also looking likely that he had a stomach ulcer. The doctor had prescribed antibiotics for the bronchitis and the ulcer, some specialist creams for his skin and a drug called Disulfiram to help him stop drinking. As regards his liver, the fact that he was making an effort to quit was a big help. Even though all this wasn’t exactly news that he was healthy, I was incredibly relieved to hear that he didn’t have anything incurable. I could see light at the end of the tunnel. When the door to the camper opened and Jack walked in with King following behind, I gasped. He’d shaved off his beard. Standing, I walked over to him and instinctively brought my hand to his cheek. “You shaved,” I whispered. His eyes, dull and bloodshot only a couple of days ago, had regained some of their colour. They look clearer, bluer. “I thought it was high time.” “I can see your face now,” I smiled, noticing the lines that weren’t there before. They gave him character. He also had a small scar on one of his cheeks. “How did this happen?” “Honestly, love, I can’t remember,” he replied, and I shivered at his term of endearment. He always used to call me “love” when we had sex, and several goose bump–inducing memories swept through my mind all at once. “Drink will do that to you,” said Jack, giving King a firm pat on the shoulder. “It’s the elixir of memory loss.” King shot his friend something of a smile while Lille widened her eyes at her boyfriend. “Jack.” “We need to be able to joke about it. Takes away its power,” Jack explained, and I thought he made a lot of sense. I looked back to King. “Come for a walk with me?” Without a word he moved to the side and gestured for me to lead the way. I said goodbye to Lille and Jack before exiting the camper. When we got outside, I gently slid my arm through King’s so that we were linking. He glanced down at me, his eyes lingering on our linked arms. “Where did you go last night?” he asked tensely. I was still trying to get used to the sight of him without the beard. Plus, his question made me strangely shy as I remembered his hands on me, his tender, worshipful touches. I looked at my toes as we walked. “I had to get home and didn’t want to wake you.” “You could have stayed,” he said quietly, and I didn’t know how to respond. A silence ensued as we made our way past the front of the tent. A couple of the circus workers went by, and I noticed some of them doing double takes when they saw King. He’d cleaned up a lot in the last few days. I reached up and playfully

tugged at a strand of his hair. “I hope you don’t plan on getting rid of this like you got rid of your beard,” I said. His eyes practically twinkled. “You like my hair long?” “I already told you I do.” “Then maybe I’ll keep it.” I shot him an amused scowl. “Only maybe?” He laughed, low and deep, before shrugging. “If you like the hair, I’ll keep the hair.” “Good,” I said, satisfied. We chatted as we continued our walk. I asked him how he was feeling, and he told me he was still in pain but not as much as the day before. We entered a busy shopping district, buses and cars clogging the roads since it was rush hour. The streets were crowded with people, all scurrying by on their way home from work. “Are you hungry?” I asked as I felt my stomach rumble. I’d been in such a hurry to leave the office today that I’d completely forgotten about dinner. King looked away uncomfortably. “I don’t have any money.” I didn’t point out the fact that he did have money. He had a bank account full of it, not to mention a gigantic apartment that had been left unlived in for the last six years. He hadn’t considered any of that his for a really long time. Perhaps he thought all his property had been seized by the authorities. After all, he never knew that his name had been cleared. Still, I had no intention of pushing the matter right then. I just wanted to eat with him and enjoy his company. I’d always loved the lunches we shared together in his office, the conversation. “My treat,” I said as I steered him in the direction of a small bistro. He didn’t protest, but I got the sense that he wasn’t too thrilled about me paying. Neither one of us was dressed fancy. I wore a cream knit top, pale blue jeans, and ballet flats. King wore a work shirt and khaki combats. But the bistro was a casual affair, so it didn’t matter. A waitress led us to a small nook at the back and handed us each a menu. I scanned down the list. “The roast chicken looks good,” I said, and was met with silence. King was looking around the room, clearly uncomfortable. I didn’t have to ask to know it had been a long time since he’d eaten in a restaurant. The waitress came back to take our drinks order. King seemed overwhelmed, so I hooked my foot around his ankle under the table for a second as a show of solidarity. It seemed to comfort him a little, but the waitress was still waiting for his order and he wasn’t talking. In the end, I ordered two Cokes and told her she could put us down for two of the roast chicken dinners as well. King seemed relieved after she left, glancing at me and muttering a quiet, “Thanks.” “She was being pushy, if you ask me,” I joked to try to make him feel less uncomfortable. “So,” I continued casually, “Lille and Jack invited us to go out with them next Saturday night.”

His brows drew together. “Out where?” “I’m not sure. Probably to dinner and a show or something. It could be fun,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I didn’t want him to know how desperately I needed him to say yes. “Do you want me to go?” I nudged him with my foot. “Of course I do.” “I’ll go then, if I’m feeling well enough.” My heart soared. He’d said yes. We were going on a date. It was a little sad how deliriously happy that made me. “Lille told me you went to see a doctor today.” King nodded and stared down at the menu, where his fingers fiddled with the edge of the paper. “I’m taking some medicines, and I haven’t had a drink since two days ago. I’m still not over the worst of it, but I don’t want to go back. It feels like it’s either win or lose at this stage.” What he said surprised me, since I hadn’t even been certain he wanted to give up. “The other day you said you weren’t sure you wanted to quit, but you seemed determined now.” His eyes flared meaningfully. “I’m trying.” “All you can do is try,” I said, giving him a warm smile, remembering how he’d told me something similar years ago. He smiled back, sending my hopeful little heart into overdrive. We sat side by side in our nook, the restaurant noises surrounding us. “Maybe in a week or so, do you think you’d like to see your mum?” I asked tentatively. He cleared his throat, coughing a little. “Yes,” he nodded. “I just need some more time to…get better.” “I can understand that,” I said, glancing up at him. I’m not sure why, but there was something in his eyes then that held mine captive. He leaned the tiniest fraction closer, and whispered so that no one else could hear, “I dreamt of you last night.”

TWENTY

“Y ou did?” I replied, my voice more air than sound.

“I think it was something about having you close, your smell, your warmth. We were sleeping just the same, but we were skin to skin.” His hand drifted across the table to mine, his fingers covering my fingers. I shivered, my throat growing tight with need. He stared at me so intently that I became selfconscious. It wasn’t often that someone looked at you like they were seeing every piece that was on the surface, as well as every piece that lay beneath. Almost instinctively, my head drifted towards his, mere centimetres between our mouths. “Don’t stop,” I breathed. “You were beneath me, all soft and languid. I ran my hands from here,” he said, and touched a finger lightly to my temple before moving it down the side of my face, along my neck and chest until he reached the rise of my bosom. “To here.” I let out a huff of a breath. “Is that all?” King’s eyes sparkled as he slowly shook his head. His look, so carnal in its intensity, like he was vividly remembering the dream, got me wet. I let my head fall back against the seating, sighing heavily. “Life is so unfair.” The very corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “How so?” I narrowed my eyes at him, irritable and well, horny. “Don’t give me your demure little ‘how so’ — you know what exactly what I mean.” “Alexis….” he began, his tone apologetic, but he was cut short when the waitress arrived with our meals. I didn’t know what to do – continue with the conversation or pretend it hadn’t happened? In the end I dug into my food, happy for the distraction. At least this way one of my hungers was being satisfied. King picked up his utensils and began to eat, too. There was something soothing about the quiet that ensued. It was a salve to the ache inside me that yearned for him. When we were both finished eating, I sat back a moment, hesitating. Finally deciding to hell with it, I laid my head on his shoulder. I heard him suck in a breath at my move, but I couldn’t help it. I needed the contact. Tentatively, he lifted his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. The waitress came and asked if we’d like some dessert. I ordered a cheesecake for us to share, mainly because I wanted

to prolong our time together, but also because, well, I wanted cheesecake. Once she delivered it, complete with two spoons, King and I ate from either end of the slice. We kept taking glances at one another. It became so ridiculous that we both burst out laughing in the end. King set his fork down and reached forward to cup my cheek. My laughter died away, my smile fading, as his eyes drank me in. “You’re so beautiful.” “I’m old and fat,” I huffed self-deprecatingly. And look, I know I should have just accepted the compliment, but I was terrible with praise. Couldn’t handle it when people said nice things. When I was younger I might have given him a sassy, Aren’t I, though? But not now. Life had had its way with me. I wasn’t so brighteyed and sarcasm-tailed anymore. King frowned. “You are not old or fat. In fact, you’re somehow more beautiful now than you were before.” “Maybe I just wasn’t very beautiful before,” I joked. “That’s not true. You were stunning. I really shouldn’t have employed you. Even when I agreed with Eleanor that you’d be her replacement, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was fucked.” I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, come on.” “I’m being serious,” he said, his voice lowering, his hand still at my cheek. “Sometimes we see someone and they just suit us. They’re beautiful to us in every way. You’re that person to me.” Well. How was I supposed to reply to that? He’d always had a way with words, always knew exactly the right thing to say to melt my bones. It seemed in all these years he hadn’t lost that ability. “You’re that person to me, too,” I finally managed to whisper in response. King’s chest rose and fell sharply, a turmoil in his eyes. I knew exactly how he was feeling, because I was feeling it just the same. We wanted each other, but it was too soon. He wasn’t well, and I had to give him time to heal, to gain a level of stability. So I simply cuddled closer into him, and enjoyed what he could give me in that moment. And it was enough. THE FOLLOWING DAY I had my assistant, Dara, cover for me for the afternoon so I could leave work early to go and see King. Our time together the previous evening had gone so well, and I was eager to spend more time with him. When I bumped into Matilda, she told me she’d seen him walking towards the gazebo, so I went in that direction. The place was crowded with people having lunch, a lot of hustle and bustle, and I couldn’t spot King at first. Almost every seat in the place was taken, and as I scanned the heads, looking for his recognisable long blond hair, I spotted him sitting alone in the far corner. I got the feeling that most of the circus workers tended to avoid him. Making my way past the people, I saw that there was a meal in front of him. A dark-skinned man

walked past, saw King, and pulled a small bottle of vodka from his coat. When he spoke, his accent sounded foreign. “King, my friend, got a little something for you.” He placed the bottle down on the table, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off. King’s eyes went to the bottle, and I stood there, staring in disbelief at the man as he walked away. Did he not know that King was trying to give up drinking, or was he intentionally trying to sabotage him? My skin began to prickle as worry coiled tight in my belly. King’s hand moved toward the bottle then stilled, his palm resting flat on the table. His jaw firmed, and his hand formed a fist. I forced my feet to move until I was standing before him. “What are you thinking right now?” I asked, keeping my voice level as his eyes rose to meet mine. He was momentarily surprised to see me there, but then he winced when he realised I’d witnessed him about to pick up the vodka. He looked ashamed. “I’m thinking that I really want to grab that bottle and down the whole fucking thing.” “Why would that man give you alcohol?” “His name is Pedro. We used to drink together a lot. I’m not sure he knows I’ve given up.” “Right now you don’t look like a man who believes he’s truly given up. You look like a man who’s tempted.” King let out a long breath, his mouth firming into a hard line. “Of course I’m tempted. This isn’t easy, Alexis.” My gaze softened, along with my tone. “I know it’s not easy. I’m on your side, never forget that. But think about it this way — if you drink that bottle, you’re back to square one. If you don’t, you’re taking another step towards getting better. You want to get better, don’t you?” His expression was fierce. “Of course. I don’t want to go back to how things were, but fuck, Alexis, I….” He took another mournful look at the bottle, clenched his fist again, and then abruptly shoved it off the table until it smashed onto the floor. The shatter caused a few people to look up from their lunches, but nobody said anything. King ran a hand through his hair and stared up at me, his eyes pleading, “Distract me.” Taking a seat across from him, I dug into my handbag and pulled out my monthly planner. It was where I kept all my work appointments, because I preferred hard copy. From the inside of the leather cover, I pulled out the Polaroid I’d kept there for years. Often I’d take it out and just stare at it, remembering that day on the beach in Rome and how King had taken two pictures. I’d kept one, and he’d kept the other. I placed it down on the table and slid it across to him. “Do you remember when you took this?” I asked gently. King marvelled at the picture, picking it up carefully like he might damage it. “Yes,” he whispered. “I love how you looked at me.”

His eyes flickered to mine. “I adored you.” “And I adored you,” I replied with a sigh. “I still adore you.” His throat moved in a way that made me think he had difficulty swallowing, and his brows knit together. Quite like me, he wasn’t used to accepting compliments these days. He placed the picture back down before rummaging in his pocket. My heart jolted when I saw he had the other Polaroid, the one of me in my swimsuit, smiling into the camera like I hadn’t a care in the world. Lille had mentioned it in her letter, saying how King would go crazy if anyone tried to steal it from him. It must have been just as much of a comfort to him as mine had been to me. “I kept mine, too,” he said, a thread of sadness in his voice. “How funny that I’ve lost so many things over the years, have been so far gone that there are whole weeks I can’t remember, and yet I’ve always managed to keep this picture safe.” A tiny silence elapsed before I replied thickly, “Maybe you didn’t want to forget everything. Maybe there were some memories you wanted to keep.” His eyes found mine, intense and probing, “Yes, maybe so.” ALMOST TWO WEEKS PASSED, and I arranged for my parents to have Oliver for a couple of nights. I didn’t like being away from him, but I needed the time with King. It was a critical period. He was making progress, and I felt like having me near was helping. That was only a tiny part of it though. After resisting the vodka, his own inner strength was beginning to shine through, his determination taking over. It was like when he was younger, and he’d work through the night in order to do the best job he could. That potent drive was returning, and he was using it in his quest to give up alcohol for good. Don’t get me wrong, he had a few worrying moments where he really, really wanted a drink, but with my help and the help of his friends, he managed to stay strong. And strong was what he needed to be, because he was sick a lot during those two weeks. In fact, it was a horrible time. I’d been doing a lot of reading up on alcoholism, but it felt like every case was different. Successful recovery all depended on the individual. Marina let us have lots of time in her camper. I tried helping King with his medicines and such, but he didn’t want me around for that. He even got a little cranky at one point, saying he was quite capable and didn’t need a nurse. It might have rubbed me up the wrong way if it didn’t make me so unbelievably happy. In fact, I was happier to have him do stuff himself than to rely on anyone else for help. Supporting himself meant he had a greater chance of succeeding. Then the night of the concert came, and my stomach was doing somersaults the whole day leading up to it. I was scared that King would be pissed at me for tricking him, but I was determined to take the chance. The potential payoff was worth the risk. Dressing up, I wore a dark blue body-con dress with black heels, and styled my hair into glossy curls. I wanted to look good for King. In fact, the anticipation of

seeing him was almost too much. We hadn’t really touched since our dinner together in the restaurant, but there was always that energy between us. It was a little addictive. I decided to leave my car at home and instead splash out on a taxi. This way I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a parking spot. I texted Lille as I sat in the back, having just given my makeup one last check in my vanity mirror. The driver gave me a sarcastic, “Yer gorgeous, lav.” Total cockney geezer. He reminded me of my dad’s friends. You know, the kind of blokes who can’t help making these annoying little comments, like, Smile, it might never happen. It was a real special kind of wanker who came out with that one. Alexis: Be there in 5 mins. Her response was instant. Lille: Great. We’re all waiting outside. My tummy started to roil with nervous tension as we pulled up outside the circus. I spotted Jack, Lille, and King immediately. All of them were dressed nice, but not as fancy as I was. I felt a bit embarrassed that I’d gone all out. Then they climbed into the cab, King sliding into the space next to me. He smelled clean, and his hair hung long over one shoulder. God, he was handsome. I clasped my hands together tightly. “Hi.” “Hello, Alexis,” he said, eyes dipping momentarily to my dress then back to my face. “You look beautiful.” In that moment, all the effort became worth it. The word “beautiful” on Oliver King’s lips when directed at me was always worth it. “Thanks.” The taxi started to move. I’d already told the driver our final destination; that way, King wouldn’t know where we were going until we actually got there. He didn’t ask questions, and seemed content to simply sit next to me, our thighs touching, arms brushing whenever the cab went around a corner. The area outside the Royal Albert Hall was busy, so King didn’t immediately recognise where we were. My heart was beating a mile a minute. And then, almost in slow motion, he glanced up and took in the location. I saw his throat move as he swallowed, and all the noise surrounding us seemed to quiet as I waited for his reaction. Jack and Lille were off to the side, hand in hand. Jack stood tall, watching King almost as closely as I was so that he could dive straight in if things took a turn for the worse. King’s gaze came to rest on me, his brows drawn together in consternation. “Why are we here?” My throat went dry. “Because we’re going to see a concert.” The second the answer was out, he spun around, checking to see if there were any posters on display. There was a big one right next to the entrance, and his entire body grew still. He didn’t turn back around as he spoke, emotion filling his voice. “I told you not

to push this.” “I only push because I care.” My words were uttered so quietly, I was surprised he heard them. Jack took a step forward, as though predicting King was going to fly off the deep end. He shot Jack a rather unfriendly glare. “Leave it out, McCabe. I’m not an animal. I won’t make a scene.” And then, without further ado, he walked towards the concert hall, determination in his gait. Jack, Lille and I all exchanged surprised glances before I hurried to catch up with him, fumbling for the tickets in my handbag. I handed them to the attendant at the door, and he directed us to our section. We all bypassed the bar (obviously) and went straight into the hall. Our seats were on the ground floor, right in the middle. King hurried his pace and went ahead of us to take his seat. His posture was strung tight, his hands flexing into fists. I stood in the aisle and turned back to the others. “Do you think he’s all right?” I asked them with worry. “I think he’s trying to be,” said Jack. His answer caused me to emit a long exhalation, and then I made my way to our seats. Taking the one beside King, I sat. He stared directly ahead at the empty stage, and I tried to make conversation. “This venue is beautiful, isn’t it?” Nothing. “It’s funny that I’ve never actually come here before. I should make it more of a regular thing.” Still nothing. “Would you like anything to drink?” I asked, and then winced. “I mean, like water or orange juice or something.” “I’m fine,” he finally said on a long exhalation. “Oh, right, good.” I paused, glancing around. Lille and Jack were being just as silent as King, which wasn’t helping matters. I got the feeling neither one of them were the chatty kind, but it could just as easily have been the awkwardness causing them to flounder for something to say. All of a sudden, my dress felt too tight, and my throat clogged with nervous tension. “Well, I think I’ll go use the bathroom and maybe grab a programme before the concert starts.” King glanced at me for a brief moment, nodded, then turned his attention to the stage again. I stood, making my way past him because lots of people had already taken their seats on the other end of the row. I did my best not to brush off him as I went, and then I hurried to find the ladies’. Once I got there, I really wanted to splash some water on my face, but couldn’t because it would ruin my makeup, so I settled for holding my wrists under the cold tap for a minute. When I was done, I bought a programme and hovered, browsing the selection of CDs available. Then the final call for the start of the concert was announced over the speakers, so I made my way back inside. I had to go by King again to get to my seat, and my heel caught on the toe of his shoe, causing me to trip backwards. His

hands went to my hips to steady me and I pulled myself back up, apologising profusely. Once I was safely seated, his hand squeezed my knee, the affectionate gesture surprising me. I was even more surprised when he leaned close to my ear and whispered calmly, “Relax, Alexis.” My skin heated everywhere his breath touched, and he moved his hand away. I wished he’d leave it there. A moment later the concert began, the orchestra musicians taking their places on the stage. The pianist was the last to walk out, a woman in her thirties wearing a long black dress. The audience clapped for her, and then the conductor was standing by his podium, signalling the start of the concerto. The lights in the hall were dimmed, which made the gigantic room feel small somehow. The second the pianist started to play, I had chills. With each stroke of the keys, she moved her body with a fierce elegance. It reminded me of that night in Rome, when King had played the same piece and I’d been fascinated by his talent and skill. The orchestra joined in after a couple of notes, and I was swept away with the music. It was so…passionate and consuming. Several minutes passed before I even thought to glance at King. He stared straight ahead, his hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes were glassy, his jaw clenched firm. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was angry or because he was trying to control his emotions. Feeling brave, I reached out and slid my hand into his, our fingers intertwining. He didn’t push me away. Instead, he clenched my fingers tight, almost to the point of pain. He hadn’t heard music like this in a really long time, and I could tell it was having a profound effect on him. Hell, it was having a profound effect on me, and I knew nothing about classical music. There was just such beauty in the piece that it was hard not to let it capture your imagination. Everything this man had been through flashed in my mind’s eye. The fear of his mother’s stalker. Thinking he’d killed him and then having his father come onto the scene, making it seem like he could fix everything, when really he was only going to make it worse. Bruce trying to force his way of life on King when he wanted no part in it. Making him bear witness to violence and crimes he could never wash from his memories. Blackmailing him for years. And then, the last straw when King finally snapped and almost killed his father. Running away and leaving behind everything he worked so hard to achieve because he thought he was a murderer. The music continued, and before I knew it, the concerto had come to an end. When the audience rose in a standing ovation, King jumped up from his seat, hurriedly making his way out of the hall. “Where’s he going?” Lille asked, but I could only give her a blank stare. I had no clue, but I knew I needed to follow him. I pushed my way out, spotting him a couple of yards ahead of me. It was hard to keep up with his long strides, especially since I was wearing heels and had considerably shorter legs. “King,” I called out. “Where are you going?” I didn’t expect him to answer, but then he responded loudly over his shoulder, “I have to…I have to go somewhere.”

I couldn’t seem to catch up with him, so I pulled out the ballet flats I always kept in my handbag (I was practical like that) and quickly swapped them out with my heels. Finally catching up, I grabbed his elbow. “King, will you wait a second?” He didn’t stop. “I just need to walk, okay? You don’t have to come.” I steeled my resolve. There was no way I was leaving him alone right then. “I’m coming.” Little did I know I’d come to regret that decision when we’d walked for over an hour, and my feet felt like they wanted to crawl away from my body and die. King didn’t seem to be walking in any random direction, though; I sensed he had a destination in mind. It became apparent that was the case when I recognised his old apartment building in the distance. “Your old place,” I said, winded. Yeah, I definitely needed to work out more and, I don’t know, eat more carrots or something. I was in worse shape than King, who was overcoming an addiction and some serious illnesses to boot. It was kind of ridiculous. Damn you, cake! I inwardly groaned. We’d just reached the entrance to the lobby when King turned back to me, his eyes fierce as he took me in. “Are you all right?” I waved away his concern sheepishly as I tried to catch my breath. “Yep, that walk was just a little more, uh, vigorous than I’m used to.” The fierceness quickly fled his expression as his lips shaped into something akin to amusement. He didn’t comment on it, though, and his expression sobered soon after. He turned back around, walking toward the door and holding it open for me. We stepped inside, and the night doorman pulled out his earphones, eyeing us curiously. “I’ve lost my keys,” King announced with authority, and the doorman frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognise you. What number is your apartment?” “Twenty-two. The top floor. My name is Oliver King.” The way he said it gave me a little shiver of awareness. This was the first time since I’d found him that he’d so confidently stated his name, like he had regained a sense of his identity. It felt monumental, made my heart thump hard. The doorman’s eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the penthouse? Do you have any identification?” King’s expression darkened in annoyance, and I suddenly remembered that I had keys. Elaine had asked if I’d drop by and check on things a few weeks ago, and had given me her spare set. I’d completely forgotten to drop by, of course, and the keys were still sitting safely in the inside pocket of my bag. I quickly began to dig for them before pulling them out triumphantly. “Ah! Crisis averted. I found the keys,” I declared, jingling them in the air. King shot me a perplexed look, and the young doorman appeared relieved to be able to avoid further disturbance. Whatever he’d been listening to on those headphones, he seemed eager to get back to it. I faked a confident tone. “Come on, honey,” I said, holding my hand out to King. “Let’s get going. I’m exhausted.”

He stepped forward and took my hand as I led him toward the lift. Once we were safely on board, King turned to face me. “Honey?” I shrugged. “I was aiming for casual.” His lips twitched in amusement again. “You have the keys for my apartment?” “Your mum gave them to me. She wanted me to stop by and check on things. Make sure the plants got watered.” “I never had any plants.” I made a weird sound in the back of my throat. “Oh, you know what I mean.” The doors to the lift pinged open, and there was a beat of silence where King just stared at me. I both loved and hated his stares in equal measure. I loved them because they made me want him. And I hated them because they made me want him. He made his way out of the lift, and I followed. When he reached the door, he stood and waited for me to open it. I did so quietly and he hurried inside, going straight to a drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil. I found it fascinating that he remembered exactly where he’d left things. Then he went to his piano, which sat by the large panelled window that looked out onto the river. I watched as he sat down and opened the lid, revealing the keys. He ran his fingers over them, feather light, as though saying hello to an old friend. I watched him with rapt attention. His face rose, and I noticed he was staring at something. Following his gaze, I saw it was fixed on the drinks cabinet on the other side of the room. Elaine hadn’t known about King’s alcohol abuse, so obviously she’d never thought to clear out the cabinet. King was still staring at it when he spoke, his voice strained. “Can you empty all those bottles down the sink, please?” “Sure,” I said, slightly flustered, and hurried over. As quick as I could, I removed the bottles and carried them to the kitchen, where I promptly poured their contents down the sink. I was a mixture of nervous and triumphant, because the way in which King stared at the bottles was nerve-wracking, but the fact that he’d told me to empty them meant his strength had won out. Once it was all done, I turned back around and gave him a firm nod. King’s body sagged in relief, and he shot me a stoic look in return before his attention was back on the piano. I suddenly became aware of my sore feet, and I just knew I had a bunch of blisters from the long walk. Why the hell hadn’t I suggested getting a taxi? Or even catching a tube? I’d been so anxious, so worried about how the concert had affected him, that my brain didn’t seem to be working like usual. Seeing that the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, I left King to his own devices as I stepped inside and slipped off my shoes. Just as I thought, my feet were red and raw from the walk, the edge of the flats having dug into the backs of my ankles and the sides of my toes. The place was spic and span, courtesy of Elaine’s upkeep. In fact, there wasn’t a hint of dust or mildew in sight. Perhaps she’d always known her son would come back here one day. I made my way over to the large corner tub and filled it with a couple inches of water, just enough to soak my feet in. I ran the tap for a while,

waiting for the water to heat up, and heard King press down on a couple of keys, testing. The piano must not have been in tune, because I heard him fiddling around with it for a while. With the tub filled, I sank my feet into the warm water and practically groaned in relief. King started to play something, a melody I didn’t recognise, and I closed my eyes, savouring the sound. He was playing. I couldn’t believe he was playing. The song was sweet, and somehow reminded me of springtime. I wanted to go inside and watch him, drink in the skilled movements of his body as he created something close to true perfection. But I didn’t move, just listened, afraid if I went inside, I’d break the spell. The music stopped, and I heard him muttering something absently to himself. Then it started up again, stopped, started once more. I got the sense that he was either trying to remember something old or compose something new. Whichever it was, I had no intentions of interrupting. I laid my head back against the tiles, enjoying the relief of the water at my feet and the sound of the music in my ears. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the door to the bathroom creaked and King stepped in. I opened my eyes, glanced up, and saw him studying me. His eyebrow quirked upward. “What are you….” “My feet were sore,” I explained quickly. “Oh,” he said. “I forgot you might not be used to walking.” “And you are?” Self-consciously, he scratched his head. “Sometimes, when the circus is on a break, I wander.” His answer intrigued me. “You wander? Where?” “Anywhere. I never really care where I’m going, so long as it’s somewhere different than before. Somehow, though, I always manage to find my way back.” Something painful hit me right in the chest, as I comprehended what he was saying. “And when you wander,” I whispered, “where do you sleep?” “On the streets.” “Oliver,” I said, my voice wavering. “You’re upset,” he stated. “Of course I’m upset. You’ve been sleeping on the streets, and yet you’ve had this place here all along.” “I told you, I stopped thinking of it as mine.” “Well, you need to start again. Because this is your home.” His face grew strained. “Alexis, I haven’t had a proper home, my own bed, in a really long time.” He paused, looked around, and gestured with his hands. “All of this is going to take a lot of getting used to.” On one level, what he said irritated me. This place was his, for crying out loud. But on another level, I completely understood where he was coming from. The apartment was practically palatial, and everything in it was expensive and luxury.

My own house was positively quaint compared to this penthouse. My voice was quiet as I offered, “You can come and stay with me, if you like. My house is seriously tiny. It could be a way of phasing you in.” I shot him a smile, for a moment forgetting that he couldn’t come and stay with me until I told him about Oliver. I had to tell him about Oliver; I was just waiting for the right moment, which never seemed to arrive. “I couldn’t impose on you,” he said, and walked to the rack to pull off a towel. He neared me, towel in hand, then knelt in front of the tub. I watched with rapt attention as he reached in and lifted out one foot and then the other, drying both with care. His thumb rubbed down the arch of my foot, applying just the right amount of pressure. I had to bite my lip not to groan, because it felt so good. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, while at the same time not wanting him to stop. His eyes came to mine, and the towel fell away as he looked back down and started to examine my feet. Sucking in a harsh breath, he said, “You need to bandage these cuts.” “They’ll be fine.” He shot me a look of reprimand, and I shut my mouth. “I think I used to keep a first aid kit in here somewhere,” he said, and looked in the cupboard over the sink. Sure enough, there was a white box inside. He pulled it out and began looking for antiseptic cream and Band-Aids. “The song you were playing inside, it was lovely,” I said as he worked. “Yeah, I was watching the woman play tonight, and I realised something.” He frowned, hands stilling on my foot. “What was that?” His gaze met mine. “That I was jealous.” I didn’t know what to say, but then he continued talking. “I wanted what she had so badly, it was almost a physical type of pain. I’ve been away from real music for so long that I didn’t realise how much I needed it. It used to be my favourite thing, something I did to decompress. But now it feels like I can’t breathe if I don’t get it back.” My lips grew dry, still not knowing what to say. “Well, I’m just glad you enjoyed the concert.” “I did. Thank you for taking me there. I know it took a lot of courage.” He held my foot in his hand, fingers deliciously warm on my skin. I stared, transfixed, as he began to feel his way up my shin. My lips grew drier. In fact, I was dying of thirst right then, and it wasn’t for water. King’s mouth hung open a little as he admired my bare legs, his eyes wandering as far as my thighs before they came to my face. We communicated silently, and seconds later he was pulling me to him, water splashing as he caught me. His hands gripped either side of my neck, and he lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was soft at first, maybe even a little hesitant, but then his tongue slid ever so slightly against my own, and I moaned deep in my throat. The sound caused King to let out a quiet grunt as his fingers dug into my skin and the kiss deepened.

Every fibre of my being came alive as our tongues tangled, our lips biting, nibbling, seeking, and I felt the spot between my thighs grow wet and needful. I might have come from the kiss alone, it was that intense. We kissed like our lives depended on it, like we were dying of thirst in the desert, and I would have been embarrassed by my obvious need if he hadn’t matched it with his own. Long minutes passed, but his fingers never wandered from my neck and mine never left the front of his shirt, the material bunched in my fists. The fact that we were barely touching made it so much more feverish. It was only when I moaned a second time, much louder than before, and King gave a deep, masculine growl, that I knew I had to break the kiss. If we didn’t end this, he was going to be inside me soon, and I knew I wouldn’t have the willpower to stop him. My chest was heaving as I broke away, seeing stars, all of them gold like his hair. We locked gazes, and it was at that very moment that I blurted out, “There’s someone I need you to meet.”

TWENTY-ONE

K

ing didn’t want to stay in his apartment that night, and no matter how much I tried to convince him to give it a try, he was determined to return to the circus. He wanted what was familiar, and his old apartment was foreign to him now. We shared a cab, and I made him promise to meet me the following day at two, because I wanted to go see the show and introduce him to a friend. What he didn’t know was that the friend wasn’t a friend, but our son. I’d decided that there wasn’t ever going to be a perfect time to tell him, and that showing him would explain things far better than any words. Elaine had come over for breakfast, and we were currently sitting at the table, drinking coffee and eating pancakes. You always knew I was overcompensating when I made pancakes. Oliver was in the living room, eating a bowl of Cheerios and watching television. He didn’t want the pancakes for some reason and was determined to have cereal. Oh, the whims of a five-year-old. “I have to tell you something,” I said nervously, and Elaine glanced up from the magazine she’d been browsing. Her naturally pale eyebrows arched in concern as she sensed my apprehension. “Yes, darling?” she said, giving me a warm, open smile. Did I mention how much I loved that she called me darling? She had this well-bred, upper-class fanciness about her. Sometimes I felt like maybe I could gain some of it by osmosis. Okay, in for a penny, in for a pound. I didn’t want to beat around the bush, and Elaine wasn’t so vulnerable these days that she couldn’t handle a bit of a shocker. “I found Oliver.” She blinked at me in disbelief, her eyes darting to the doorway that led to the living room. “You mean, my Oliver?” I nodded. She got up from the table and began fanning herself with her hands as she paced back and forth. I watched tensely, worried that she might have a meltdown. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Her voice was breathy with emotion and excitement when she finally spoke. “How did you find him? I mean, where is he?” I told her to sit down and that I’d explain everything. And I did. All about Lille’s

letter and how King had a half-sister who owned a circus, how he’d been living with her for years. How sick he’d become and how he was slowly trying to get better. She was wide-eyed and speechless by the time I’d finished recounting it all. “Do you think he’ll want to see me?” she asked timidly. “I know he does. He just wants to get better first, make himself presentable.” She nodded, her eyes watery as she stared over my shoulder, and I knew her mind was elsewhere. “I’m bringing Oliver to the circus today to introduce them. I can’t hide the fact that we have a son any longer.” Elaine’s face grew concerned. “Is he ready for that?” “Yes,” I said, “I think he is.” “WHERE ARE WE GOING, Mummy?” Oliver asked from the back seat of the car. I’d dressed him in his Sunday best, a little navy blue shirt and grey corduroy pants. His hair was neatly brushed to the side, and as I glanced at him through my overhead mirror, I felt my chest constrict. He looked so fucking adorable. There was just something about little people dressed like big people that got me every time. But more than that, he looked so much like his dad. “We’re going to the circus,” I answered before concentrating back on the road. “The circus!” he screeched with sheer excitement. This was the reason I’d held back on telling him. I knew he’d get all hyper and would be impossible to control. He bounced up and down in his seat, a gigantic smile on his face. “Mummy, you sneak! You kept this under wraps.” I burst out laughing at his turn of phrase. “That I did.” I grinned at him. “Will there be elephants?” “Yup.” “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed, putting his hands to his cheeks like he simply couldn’t contain himself. He bounced with more vigour now, his giddiness amping itself up to eleven. Jesus, I loved him. I parked along the street leading up to the circus and felt my heart begin to thrum. My entire body was full to the brim with nervous tension, and I felt a bit like I was walking on air. Or about to vomit. Glancing at the clock on the dash, I saw it was five to two. We’d be meeting King in five minutes. In five minutes’ time, King was going to meet his son. I took Oliver’s hand and led him down the street. All the while, my skin was breaking out into a cold sweat. When we arrived at the circus, I went and bought two tickets, but as soon as I let go of Oliver’s hand, he ran off ahead of me to the side of the tent, where there was a large cage containing two male lions. “Liiiiiooooons!” he yelled giddily, waving his hands in the air. I hurried to catch up with him, swung my arm around his body, and lifted him into the air. “Oh, no, you don’t,” I warned him. “You stick with me. You don’t go running off like that again, do you hear?” He pouted. “Yes, Mummy.”

I let him down and then heard someone clear their throat from behind me. Jay and Jack stood a couple of feet away, both staring at Oliver with wide eyes. Oliver saw the two men and became uncharacteristically shy, grabbing my hand and hiding behind my leg. “Is this…?” Jay began, and I nodded. “Uh-huh.” “Does King know?” Jack asked. I shook my head. “Not yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, shit.” Jay whacked him on the shoulder. “Hey! Language around the kid, bro.” Jack slid his hands in his pockets and shot me a sheepish look. “Sorry.” I blinked at him, hardly hearing what they were saying because I was still drowning in nerves. Oliver was staring up at them both like they were another species. Other than my dad, he wasn’t around men very often, and especially not men who looked like this. “Alexis,” I heard a voice call from nearby, and had to close my eyes. What was I doing? This was way too soon. I silently wished I could teleport us right out of there, but I couldn’t. I had no other choice but to face the music. Footsteps sounded as King approached, and I forced myself to open my eyes. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, and boots. It was startling to see him in short sleeves when usually he wore several layers even in the blistering heat. “Hi,” I said, hardly recognising my own voice. I glanced at Jay in panic, and he nodded his head in encouragement, as if to say, You can do this. I could do this. I could. King was still focused on me, a frown taking shape as he observed my nervous posture. Several beats of silence passed while my heart thumped loudly in my ears. It felt like the moment lasted an eternity, and then boom. King suddenly glanced down and saw Oliver. His glacial blue eyes returned to mine, a question in them. “Your friend?” he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. I swallowed thickly and summoned my courage before blurting out, “This is my son.” “Hello,” said Oliver, waving, entirely oblivious to the momentous occasion. His voice brought King’s attention back to him, and I saw him take in his every feature, from his blue eyes to his blond hair, to the face that was almost a carbon copy of his own. They say that you resemble one parent more at different times in your life. Well, right then Oliver resembled his dad far more than his mother. King’s jaw moved and he swallowed thickly, his eyes not leaving Oliver as he asked, “How old is he?” “Five,” I answered, voice wavering even though I’d only uttered one syllable. King ran both hands through his hair and looked away, a strain marking his form. I knew exactly what was happening; his mind was piecing together the information, doing the maths. When he looked back to me, his eyes were wet, and I felt the weight of everything he was feeling like a blow to the chest. Our gazes

locked, the atmosphere heavy with unanswered questions. Finally, Oliver interrupted by tugging on my hand. “Mummy, I want to go inside now.” “Hey, buddy,” Jay said, stepping forward. “You wanna see something cool?” Oliver nodded, and Jay pulled a deck of cards from his pocket, doing an impressive shuffle. Oliver let go of my hand and stepped forward, staring at the cards in fascination. “Do it again!” he exclaimed with delight. “I will, but first, do you want to come see the elephants before the show starts?” Oliver nodded profusely, and I wordlessly let Jay take him, knowing King and I needed to talk. A moment later they were gone and we both stood there, people passing us by, wading through the ocean of questions that lay between us. “I don’t understand,” he said, confounded. I looked to the ground, shoving my hands in my pockets and muttering, “It’s not that complicated.” King stepped forward hastily, his expression frantic and his voice airy. “He’s mine, isn’t he? Fucking hell, you only have to look at him to know he’s mine.” He turned away, staring at the people walking by, his mind clearly racing. Vaudeville fair music began to play through the speakers at the entrance to the circus, like a stark exclamation point at the end of his statement. “He’s yours,” I breathed. King rubbed at his jaw, where an attractive bit of stubble had started to grow. And then, just like that, he turned and walked away. Jesus. My shoes felt like they were stuck in a tub of cement as I stood there, not knowing what to do. When I finally regained my senses, I hurried after him. He’d rounded the tent and was making his way toward the camper vans when I got close enough to grab his elbow. “Wait, don’t be angry with me, please,” I begged. He stopped walking and turned around, his features contorted in anguish. His eyes flickered between mine, his voice coming out strained and raspy. “Christ, Alexis, I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself.” “Why? You had no clue I was pregnant. Hell, I didn’t even figure it out until months after you’d disappeared.” He huffed out a breath, hands frantically running through his hair again. “Yes, but I’ve been hiding for years, burying my head in the sand, and all the while you were out there, alone with a child that was mine. It just…it makes me feel worthless.” I moved closer and lifted his hands from his hair, like I had to before when he was tugging it to the point where he was almost tearing it out. Sliding my fingers through his, I held both of his hands in mine and looked him in the eye. “You are not worthless, King. You’re the strongest person I know right now. I mean, look at you, look at how far you’ve come since I found you. Don’t you dare think for one second that I blame you for not being there. I had help. I had Karla and my parents, and your mum, too. The only thing I regret are the years you’ve missed, but I’m not

going to dwell on them, and I won’t let you, either. He’s still young, King, and there are more years ahead of us than there are behind.” Tears streamed down his face as he stared at me. “He’s so…perfect.” He paused, brought his hands to my face to cup my cheeks. “He’s like this perfect little human that we made together, and I don’t even know him.” I reached up and placed my hands over his. “You’ll get to know him. And I wouldn’t go throwing around the word ‘perfect’ just yet,” I joked. “When he’s having a tantrum or coming into the house with dirt all over himself, he’s far from perfect, believe me.” King let out a quiet, sad laugh and gripped me tighter. The quiet was punctuated by the pounding of my pulse, which I was sure he could feel. A long silence fell between us as we simply stood there, communicating without words. Finally, I spoke. “Come on, let’s go back so that you can meet him properly.” Indecision clouding his expression, he drew in a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. There was something so heartachingly beautiful about the moment, and I wondered why I’d ever been scared to tell him. If anything, the discovery had brought more of the colour back into his eyes, and I was determined to replace every last bit. We walked hand in hand to where the elephants were being kept, and found Jay with Oliver up on his shoulders so that he could reach out and pet one of their trunks. “Hey!” I called, and he twisted around to see me. “Mummy, I’m petting the elephant. Look!” he called back, and reached out again to touch it. “I can see that, baby. Come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I could feel King’s intense stare on me when I spoke to our son, and then I saw his attention go to Oliver as Jay let him down off his shoulders. He came running at me and I caught him, lifting him up into my arms. He was getting taller by the week, his long legs dangling down from my hold. I turned him to face King and said, “This is my friend. His name is Oliver.” Oliver made a face. “But my name is Oliver.” “That’s right. You’re both named Oliver.” He let out a cute laugh. “That’s crazy.” I laughed, too, and saw King smile. I could tell that he was still struggling with his emotions, but was making an effort to hold it together. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, little man,” he said, and reached out to take his hand and shake it. Oliver was quiet as he studied King, trying to suss him out. It was kind of adorable. I gave him a little nudge. “What do you say back?” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” King’s smile grew larger, and I felt like my heart was about to burst. I’d visualised this moment for years, imagined it happening in so many different ways,

but now that it was actually here, there was no comparison. It was like a little piece of me that was broken was finally being healed. And if the look on King’s face was anything to go by, he was feeling exactly the same way. “Oh, I know what we can do,” Oliver announced suddenly. “I can be Oliver 1 and you can be Oliver 2.” “That sounds like a good idea,” King chuckled, the tenderness in his voice as he interacted with our son causing a deep, feminine part of me to ache. I really wanted to tell him he could call him Daddy, but it was too soon. Oliver was an open, accepting sort of kid, but still, I knew I had to ease him into the idea that King was his father. Letting him down from my arms, we headed inside the tent for the start of the show. I bought Oliver some candy floss, so he was quiet as a mouse as he concentrated on stuffing his face. King seemed at a bit of a loss for how to act, but I just squeezed his hand to let him know he was doing fine. When we found some seats and King sat down, Oliver made his way over and unceremoniously began to climb onto his lap. “I’ll sit here,” he said without preamble. I laughed. King stared at him, a mixture of amused and perplexed. This was typical Oliver behaviour, though; he befriended quickly. I shrugged and took the seat beside King as our son sat on his lap, happily eating away at his candy floss like he hadn’t a care in the world. I looked at King then and whispered, “You okay?” He swallowed and blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I smiled and shot a glance in Oliver’s direction as he watched a few stage hands set up the props for the start of the show. “I think he’s decided you’re both going to be friends. Not sure you get a say in the matter. Sorry.” King laughed gently. “That’s fine by me.” “Thank you for being so cool about this,” I went on, voice soft. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve fully comprehended what’s happening yet.” His bemused tone made me chuckle, because I completely got where he was coming from. If I had been in King’s shoes right then, I’d probably be freaking the hell out. Oliver twisted in his lap and practically shoved the candy floss in King’s face. “Want some?” “Uh, sure,” he said, and picked off a piece. “Oh, yeah, don’t bother to offer me any,” I mock-complained, and then the candy floss was being shoved in my face. I picked off a larger piece. “Don’t eat it all,” Oliver whined before looking to King. “She always eats it all.” King chuckled, his eyes alight and fascinated by every little thing that came out of Oliver’s mouth. A second later, the lights were dimmed and the start of the show was being announced. It turned out that Marina was the ringmaster, and she walked out wearing a long red coat and a top hat. Her capuchin monkey sat on her shoulder, and, just as I’d imagined when I first saw it, Oliver almost lost his shit. “She has a monkey! Look, Mummy, she has a monkey!” He bounced on King’s

lap, who bent down to tell him, “That’s my sister Marina. Her monkey’s name is Pierre.” Oliver looked up at him, a massive grin on his face and bits of pink candy floss stuck to his cheeks. “Can I meet him?” King smiled at him, and again it made my heart go whoosh. “I’m sure I can arrange it.” “You’re the best,” Oliver declared, and without warning reached up and threw his little arms around King’s neck for a hug. He seemed startled at first, but then his eyes came to mine and I saw the emotion in them. He squeezed him back, and somehow I knew in that moment that everything was going to be all right. I had to look away for a second and clear my throat to keep from getting all weepy. The show began with Marina announcing the elephants. “That’s the one I got to pet,” Oliver shouted, pointing to one of the large creatures. He was mesmerised by the entire show, in particular Jay’s part, which even had my jaw hanging open in slack-jawed amazement. After Jay came Jack, but Oliver didn’t like this bit so much. In fact, all the fire frightened him, and he turned in King’s lap, shoving his face into his chest because he didn’t want to watch. King startled, hands in the air like he didn’t know what to do. I gave him an encouraging look and gestured to his hands. Finally he got the hint and wrapped his arms around Oliver as though protecting him from what scared him. Unlike my son, I wasn’t scared by Jack’s act at all. On the contrary, I was a smidge titillated, especially since the man wore jeans and no shirt. I caught King shooting me an arch look, so I shrugged and mouthed a what? at him. He only grinned and shook his head, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous. The thought made me oddly giddy. During the intermission, Oliver was a chatty cat, as per usual. And he was more than fascinated by King. “Why have you got long hair?” King gave me a devious smile before replying, “Your mum likes it like this.” Oliver turned to me, all inquisitive. “Why do you like his hair long, Mummy?” I shot King an annoyed scowl, trying not to smile back, but my effort was useless. “Because it’s pretty and blond just like yours.” By the look on his face, he didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m a boy. I’m not pretty. I’m handsome.” His response made me laugh, and I was staring at King when I answered, “Sometimes boys can be pretty and handsome.” “Granny Elaine tells me I’m handsome all the time,” Oliver preened. A pained look crossed King’s face at the mention of his mother, and I knew exactly what I had left to do. I had to get him to go see her. The show came to an end, and Oliver wouldn’t hear a word about going home until he’d gotten to meet the monkey. King led us backstage, and Marina was more than happy to introduce Oliver to her furry companion. I even saw a bit of a shine in her eyes as she took in

my boy. She kept looking between him and King, noting the similarities. I thought she might well up at one point, but she managed to hold it together. “Do you want to come home with us for dinner?” I asked King quietly as Oliver giggled excitedly while Pierre stuck his monkey hands in my son’s shirt and trouser pockets, searching for loot. King breathed deeply, standing close enough for me to feel his breath hit my skin. “Yes, I’d like that, Alexis.” There was something intense in the way he said my name. It caused the tiny hairs on my arms to stand on end and my breathing to turn shallow. I started remembering our kiss from the night before, his tongue hot and wet in my mouth and his cock hard and ready in his pants. I blinked and looked away, trying to clear the images. I had no business thinking those sorts of thoughts right then. A few minutes later, I finally managed to pull Oliver away from Pierre. Suddenly, all he could talk about was getting a pet monkey. We made our way to where I’d parked the car, and Oliver asked King to sit in the back with him so that they could talk. By the time we arrived at the house, he’d told him all about his friends at Montessori and how he was going to be starting at the big school in September. Every once in a while my gaze would lock with King’s through the overhead mirror, and every time it happened, my skin tingled. He was here, in our lives, talking to our son like it was the most normal thing in the world. Feeling dizzy with happiness, I got out of the car and went around to let Oliver out. King exited from the other side and stood in our small garden, surveying the house in front of him. “This is a nice place,” he said as I gestured for him to follow me inside. “Thanks. It felt like it took me forever to save for the down payment. I’d put aside a bunch of money from my modelling work, but then when the agency took off, I could finally afford it.” I stopped talking when I realised I was rambling “You like living here?” he asked. “I love it,” I answered simply. “It’s home.” Slipping my shoes off in the hallway, I padded barefoot into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the ingredients for dinner. I planned on making roast pork with potatoes and apple sauce. King took a stool by the counter and watched, while Oliver situated himself in the living room to play. He had this set of toy cars that he was currently obsessed with. All I’d hear was various renditions of vroom vroooom out of him for hours on end. “It’s a good look for you,” King said randomly as I peeled potatoes. “What is?” “This place. I like how happy you seem here.” “Well, like I said, I kind of have you to thank for it. You always used to big me up, tell me I could do whatever I wanted once I set my mind to it. And owning a home of my own has always been a big dream for me.” His stare grew thoughtful. He didn’t say anything in response, and I suddenly felt awkward. It was probably because of the way he was looking at me so intently. I fingered the collar of my shirt, bashful, and his eyes wandered to the movement.

His breath escaped him all at once before he blurted, “Is it strange to feel like I love him already, and I’ve only just met him?” My heart gave a single hard thump, and I knew instantly he was talking about Oliver. His words caused my pulse to accelerate as I shook my head. “It’s not strange at all. I loved him from the moment I saw him.” Now he frowned as he reached forward and clasped my hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the birth. That’s not something you should have had to go through without me.” I stared at him. “It is what it is. We can’t change the past. You’re here now, though. That’s all that matters.” He squeezed my hand once before letting go, and I returned to preparing dinner. It was sort of disconcerting how he simply sat there and watched. Well, disconcerting and sexually frustrating, because the way he looked at me felt sensual. It always had. King had this intense way of studying people that was guaranteed to get any woman hot under the collar. Speaking of which, I was tugging on mine again, and he seemed to notice. “You okay?” “Yeah. It’s just a bit warm in here with the oven on. I think I’ll go upstairs and change into something lighter.” King nodded. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?” “Sure, come and I’ll show you where it is.” He followed me up the stairs, and I indicated the bathroom door on the right. Then I slipped inside my room and opened a drawer, searching for one of my light cotton T-shirts. Finding it, I slipped off my top and pulled the T-shirt on over my head. I heard the toilet flush, and a few moments later, King stepped out of the bathroom, the floor creaking under his step. The house felt so silent then, save for the low volume of the TV playing downstairs. My skin prickled to have him there, so close to my bed. I heard him pause on the landing, not making his way back downstairs yet. “King?” I called softly. As though my voice was an invitation, he stepped inside my room. His eyes travelled around the small space, wandering momentarily to my bed, where a couple of my things lay unsorted. Mostly underwear. It added a new tension to the moment, and I stood frozen to the spot, unsure how to act. Sad though it was to admit, I’d never had a man in this room before, and his presence made the place feel smaller. He frowned and turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I came in here.” “You came in because I called you. Is everything all right?” I felt like I was always asking him this, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I constantly wanted to make sure he was feeling okay and not overwhelmed at all. He finally lifted his eyes to mine, and my tension ratcheted up a notch, a heavy thickness settling in my throat. The weight of the atmosphere between us was almost unbearable. “You named him after me,” he whispered.

All I could do was nod, mouth falling open slightly, heart squeezing with so many different feelings all at once. He breathed in and out, then took a step forward. I gripped the shirt I’d just taken off tightly in my hands and couldn’t help admiring his form. His T-shirt fit nicely around his broad shoulders, his hair hanging slightly forward to shield his face. Even before, I’d rarely seen him in jeans, but they hugged his slim waist attractively, accentuated by a simple brown leather belt. He looked so earthy and, well, just plain manly. It was hard to imagine a time when he’d donned designer suits and had his hair styled in a top London barber’s. He continued moving toward me, and I started to back away. I wasn’t sure why, but I enjoyed the feeling of being trapped. Before I knew it, my back hit the wall, and he was right there, eyes holding me captive. The shirt fell from my hands as I sucked in a sharp breath. His chest met mine, and then he leaned his entire weight on me until I was flat against the wall. His weight wasn’t unpleasant — in fact, it felt nice. I savoured how our bodies aligned themselves together, and my breathing increased in speed. “I like your bedroom,” said King, voice low and seductive. I couldn’t believe how confident he was being, how he so aggressively took the lead. Yet still, there was a tenderness, a certain level of hesitancy, as though he wasn’t quite sure if I’d allow him to get close. Right then, he couldn’t have gotten any closer. “Thanks.” His head dipped forward, his chin at my temple and his nose and lips in my hair. He inhaled deeply, and a shudder ran through me. He felt it, leaning on me even harder then. I was so wound up I thought I might melt into the wall. The way his body felt was causing my heart to race and my head to fill with images. My bed was right there. How easy would it be for him to throw me down on it and take me? In that moment, I wanted to be taken. “I keep thinking about last night and kissing you,” he murmured. I gasped sharply when he took my earlobe into his mouth and gently sucked. His tongue slid along the shell of my ear, and tingles radiated down my spine. “Oh, God.” He continued tonguing my ear, then shifted his body so I could feel his hardness pressing on my stomach. I wanted to moan, but bit down on my lip to keep it in. Oliver was just downstairs, and I didn’t want him to hear. “I want you so badly. I wanted you from the very moment you walked up to me that day in the circus.” His words provoked the memory of him standing abruptly from his chair and walking towards me like I was the only thing he saw. How he’d touched me almost reverently, his fingers tracing my features like he didn’t believe I was real. I moved a little, squeezing my thighs together to dull the ache he’d created. He noticed, and his lips began to curve into a smile. “What’s wrong, love?” I stared at his throat. “Dinner. I need to go down and check on the food.” “The food is fine.”

“It could burn.” “It won’t. I want to touch you.” I lifted my gaze, meeting his fierce eyes, and whispered, “Then touch me.” The second the words left my mouth, his hands flew to the waistband of my trousers, undoing the fly and venturing inside. His fingers slid beneath the elastic of my underwear, and then he was feeling me, his touch warm and probing. We both trembled. He fingered my slit, then sank further, exploring my folds, and I felt my entire body spasm at the contact. I was soaking wet already, and when he found my opening and drove inside, I had to bury my face in his shoulder and bite down to keep from screaming. All at once he was filling up years of emptiness, and it was too much. My body went limp, but his strength held me up. He moved his fingers slowly, fucking in and out as his eyes sparkled, soaking in my reaction. My nipples grew hard, rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of my bra. King continued to finger me, his thumb coming up to rub circles into my clit. I undulated beneath him, letting out a sigh that he captured with his mouth. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was hard and demanding, his tongue moving in unison with mine, sending my every nerve ending into a tailspin. I was completely open to him as he explored. “You feel incredible,” he gasped, breaking our kiss for a split second before his lips were back on me. His thumb circled my clit one more time and I came in an instant, shivering and shaking against him. He let out a low groan as he kissed me, and it vibrated through me as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami. His kiss grew gentler, until he was nibbling at the edges of my lips, allowing me to enjoy the after effects. I was vaguely aware of my embarrassment, since I’d just been victim to the female equivalent of premature ejaculation. King didn’t even seem to be aware of how quickly I’d come, though, so I didn’t dwell on it. I met his kisses, exploring his jaw and then his neck. He groaned when I licked at his earlobe, just like he’d done to me. My hand had just started to move along his stomach in the direction of his crotch when a voice called from downstairs. “Something’s beeping, Mummy!” My hand paused its exploration as I dropped my head to his chest and sighed.

TWENTY-TWO

aware of several things at once. One, my son was downstairs – our son I became was downstairs. Two, I’d just let King finger-fuck me to within an inch of my

life, and I wanted to take things further. Three, I didn’t have time right then to take things further (sad face.) And four, I really did need to check on dinner. I drew away from King, voice breathy. “I should go down.” “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless himself. I was aware of him going inside the bathroom to wash his hands instead of following after me. In the kitchen, I busied myself by turning off the oven and checking to make sure the roast was cooked through. I knew it was since the timer had gone off, which accounted for the beeping. Still, I checked it all the same, mostly to keep from thinking about what had just happened. It was weird, because I certainly hadn’t forced his hand down my pants, but I had this ridiculous notion that I was taking advantage of him. I wasn’t, of course. I’d never do that, but it was just how I felt. Probably because he was still in a state of recovery. When King came downstairs a minute later, he went inside the living room to Oliver. I listened to them talk as I dished up the food, smiling at my son’s neverending questions and King’s bemusement at the random small talk. I could tell he was completely besotted, though, and it made my heart soar. After a couple of minutes, King came in and silently began setting the table. I cast him a look of thanks, and we worked together quietly for a couple of minutes. Once everything was ready, I called Oliver in, stuffing a napkin into his collar because he was a messy eater. All the while I was aware of King watching my every move, like how I cut Oliver’s meat into small pieces, or how I reached over and dabbed some apple sauce from his mouth at one point. Every once in a while I’d look up from my food and catch his eyes on me. His attention made me flush, because it was obvious that he was thinking about what had just happened between us in my room. When we were finished eating, King insisted on doing the dishes, so I brought Oliver upstairs for his bath. By the time I had him in his pyjamas and ready for bed, the kitchen was spic and span. I’d just walked in when King was drying his hands with a tea towel. Stepping forward, I went up on my tiptoes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” I whispered. It was nice to have someone else do the dishes for a change. “No problem.” “I was going to read Oliver a bedtime story. Do you want to come sit?” A thoughtful look crossed his face before he cleared his throat and asked, “Would you mind if I did it? Read him the story, that is?” I studied him, surprised by the request. “Of course not. I’ll tell you what — I wanted to take a bath myself, so how about I do that and you read to him?” King’s answering smile took my breath away. “That sounds like a plan.” I tried not to be disgruntled when Oliver acted pleased as punch to discover King was going to read him his story. If it didn’t make me so happy, I might have been jealous by how quickly they’d taken to each other. But then again, they were father and son. It was only natural for them to have a connection. The thought suddenly made me get a little weepy (happy tears, of course), so I quickly went to run my bath. Didn’t want King seeing me acting like a hormonal mess. His voice trickled in from down the hall as I settled into the warm water. It made me ache for his touch and to have him whisper naughty things in my ear. I had a sudden urge to touch myself, but I resisted. His voice just did strange things to me. I’d gotten out and dried myself off when I heard him close Oliver’s bedroom door and quietly step out into the hall. Quickly slipping into a robe, I opened the door and found him standing there, staring at the floor in consternation. When he looked up, he took in my appearance slowly, and my tummy did a little flip-flop. “Hey,” I whispered. “Is he asleep?” King seemed to be trying to muddle through a maze of his own feelings as he nodded and answered, “Yeah, he’s sleeping.” He looked like he needed a hug, so I went to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. His arms went to my middle, his fingers innocently brushing against the curve of my bottom. We hugged for a long time, soaking up each other’s warmth and breathing one another in. Then suddenly he was backing me into my bedroom, and I didn’t stop him. We were already inside when he asked, “Is this okay?” “Yeah, it’s okay.” “I don’t want to leave yet,” he said, nose in my wet hair. “I don’t want you to leave yet, either.” And it was true, not only because I savoured his presence, but also because my little urges in the bath hadn’t yet dissipated. I swear, just hearing him speak could probably get me off. He looked down at me then, and he must have read something in my face, because his eyes turned heated. His arms fell away from me as he seemed to consider something. Then, with a gravelly voice, he gestured to the bed and ordered me, “Lie down.” Whoa. That was unexpected. The authoritative tone he used got my blood up. Swallowing thickly, I took three steps backward until my legs hit the bed. I lowered myself onto the mattress until I was flat on my back, chest rising and falling heavily, and waited for what came next. King’s eyes darkened as he sat on a chair

and rubbed at his chin. I loved how his gaze traced me, eating up every detail. “Undo your robe.” Unlike his first order, this time I heard a slight tremor in his voice. Was he nervous? I never took my eyes off him as my hands fell to the tie and followed his command. Slowly, I brushed either side apart until my nudity was bared to him. He hissed in a breath and sat forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes were levelled on my breasts and my nipples, which were hardened into tight peaks. Then they moved lower. His voice was thick when he spoke. “Lift your knees up and open your legs.” On the surface his words were crude, but it was the way he said them that held tenderness. Inside my chest, my heart was pounding with excitement. I loved this, loved how he was telling me what to do. Once I’d done as he’d asked, King let out an audible groan before muttering, “Jesus, you’re wet.” He was right, I was. I was also aching, pulsing with a deep need for him to come and give me some relief. His next words, so tender and warm, made me moan. “Touch yourself for me, love.” Instinctively, I allowed my hand to run down my chest, caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples. I could hear King’s breathing fill the room, and when I looked at him, his hands were balled into fists. He must have been using all his willpower to keep from touching me, and I felt exhilarated. Slowly, I ran my hand down my stomach and between my thighs. My body shuddered when I brought my fingers to my sex and rubbed, my clit a tight bundle of need. “Fuck,” King swore, and I shuddered, rubbing my wetness up and down my folds before circling my clit gently. I met his eyes, silently communicating that this was for him. His nostrils flared, his gaze on fire, and he was leaning forward so much he was about to fall off the chair. I would have found it funny if I weren’t so turned on. “Put your fingers inside yourself,” he said gruffly, and I moaned again. I tried not to be too loud, since Oliver was sleeping just down the hall, but it was hard. King’s penis was a stiff length, outlined sharply against the crotch of his jeans. I stared at him, imagining it inside me, as my fingers slid in, filling me up. My hips rose off the bed as I moved them in and out. My eyes locked with King’s, and I never looked away, never stopped fingering myself as he devoured me with his gaze. Then I pulled them out and caressed myself up and down before rubbing at my clit again. My skin was hot and feverish, and my stomach was tight with the need to come. “Let go for me,” King urged me, and I increased my speed, my little pants and moans loud in my ears. I was so wet it was almost embarrassing, because he hadn’t so much as touched me yet. Feeling the pleasure rush forward all at once, I gave my clit one final, hard rub, and my vision went blurry for a second. I orgasmed with a sharp cry. I was rubbing out the waves when suddenly King loomed over me, his intentions clear on his face. He wanted to make love. The tender look in his eyes made me feel truly cherished. He was pulling his T-shirt off over his head as I scrambled for my bedside dresser to grab a condom. I’d bought a packet only days ago, in the hopes

that maybe something would happen between us. Never in a million years did I think it would be like this, mind-blowingly kinky and earth-shatteringly hot – yet so emotional. His shirt was off first, and as he focused on his pants, I took in the contours of his body. He was thicker than he used to be, still muscled but not as defined, yet somehow it was sexier for its lack of contrivance. In fact, in that moment he was the most arousing thing I’d ever seen. I shivered as I watched him. There were a couple of scars on his arms and one on his chest. I knew he probably didn’t remember where they’d come from, collected over the years he’d lost to his addiction. Life on the streets wasn’t easy. It was hard and brutal, and I was certain he’d found himself in fights on more than one occasion. Anyhow, it wasn’t like my body hadn’t changed. I had old stretch marks and had gained a few extra pounds. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just human. King’s eyes practically glowed, and I knew I was just as sexy to him as he was to me. It wasn’t so much about the shell but about the soul contained within. When his pants were gone, I brought the condom to my mouth in an effort to seductively tear it open with my teeth. The foil wouldn’t rip, though, and we both shared a laugh at my epic fail. King placed a hand on my cheek, and murmured, “Christ, I love you.” His words made me gasp and I stared at him in disbelief, the packet falling inelegantly from my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t believe him. I guess I’d just spent so long wishing to have him back that it was hard to believe it had become a reality. Anyhow, my disbelief didn’t last long, because even if my brain was hesitant, my heart knew he meant what he’d said. He chuckled and bent down to nip at my chin as he took the condom from where it had landed on my chest. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted with it. “No need to look so shocked, darling,” he told me gently. “I never stopped loving you, not even in my darkest hour.” “I’m not shocked,” I said, choking up. “I’m just trying to…absorb. I never stopped loving you, either.” The smile he gave me in response made my chest ache. I watched as he tore open the condom with far more finesse than I could’ve mustered before rolling it down his hard length. I swallowed in anticipation as he brought his hands to my thighs and pulled them tightly around his hips. His erection brushed against me teasingly, and he bent to capture my lips with his. He kept his eyes open as he kissed me; it was both strange and captivating. I stared at him, fascinated by his every move. I loved the tension in his shoulders as he held himself up, and the strain of his biceps as he kept from entering me. Then his hips began to move, slowly in and out, his cock nudging at my opening. I gripped his arms and moaned in frustration. He just barely slid inside before pulling out again and then finally drove himself in to the hilt with an almost feral growl. I cried out at the invasion, my body tight and out of practice. He felt amazing, so hot and slick. Not moving, he continued to kiss me, his tongue silky

and wet, his eyelids fluttering closed from the pleasure. A shudder ran through him, but still he didn’t move. I loved the feel of him so deep inside me, filling up every inch. On instinct, I clenched around him, and his mouth fell from mine as he let out a quiet grunt. “Jesus.” “Oliver,” I breathed, a quiet plea. “Just… just give me a minute.” I lowered my mouth to his neck and sucked, causing him to shudder a second time. Then I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and down his spine until I reached his lower back. Pressing my fingers in gently, a silent urge for him to move, I looked up and found him staring down at me in fascination. His icy eyes danced in the lamp light, his mouth hanging open. I rose up a little and took his lower lip in my teeth, giving him a soft nip. He growled low in his throat, a sexy, playful sound. “Make love to me,” I whispered. It was a sweet relief when he finally moved his hips, pulling out, then driving back into me hard. I let out a breathy sigh, fingers digging harder into the base of his spine. “I fucking love your body,” he whispered like a vow. “I’ll never leave you again. Never.” His words fixed something in me, sealed up any lingering doubt. He was here to stay. And I’d never let him go. And then he was driving into me fiercely, expelling years of hunger and loneliness. I knew the feeling. It was almost euphoric to finally have someone, to connect at the most base and human level. I ran my mouth over his jaw, tried to catch his lips in mine, but they evaded me as his body moved fast. His muscles were coiled tight, his breaths harsh. I wanted his kiss, dammit. Just as though he was attuned to my every need, he slowed his pace and gave me his mouth. As we kissed, our lovemaking became slow and languid, but somehow more feverish. I felt every second, found myself shivering as I relished the push and pull and savoured every inch of him inside me. My pores beaded tight, my skin was hot and flushed, and a light layer of sweat coated my skin. He lowered his face to my neck, still fucking me, and breathed in deep. There was an urgency to his movements, and I knew he was going to come soon. “I love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Always.” And then he grew still as he came, before falling hot and heavy onto my chest. SOMETHING FELT WONDERFUL. I thought I might be dreaming, but there was this fluttering tightness in the pit of my stomach that set my heart thrumming, and I realised the feeling was all too real. I stirred a little in the bed, blinking open my eyes and looking down to find King’s head between my legs, his tongue lapping at me hungrily. I inhaled shakily at the sight, and the first sound I made was a low

moan. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a whisper. “Not teasing you,” he said, his words recalling a memory of the first night we spent together in Rome, and how he’d woken me up by planting kisses along my thighs. Before I could respond, his fingers were inside me, pumping fast as his tongue worked its magic on my clit. I had just enough energy to turn my head and check the time on my alarm clock. It was five-thirty in the morning, and therefore early enough that Oliver wouldn’t be awake yet. I could enjoy this. I let out a sigh of relief that mixed in with my moans. King had thrown my legs over his shoulders to give him greater access, and I swear to God I could have died from the heavenly sensation of his lips and tongue. “Have I mentioned that I love you?” I sighed. He chuckled into my skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly through my body. Then he hummed low in his throat, a sound of sheer pleasure like he was truly enjoying himself. I relished the feeling of lazy arousal, of just having to lie there playing me like a piano. The thought caused an image of him with his instrument to flash in my mind, and then I was even more turned on. God, this man. Sinking my fingers into his hair, I pulled his face in closer, his stubble scratching maddeningly at my thighs. He chuckled again, and I huffed out a breath. “Shut it.” He came up for air. “Tell the truth. This is why you wanted me to keep my hair long.” I ground my jaw and replied breathily, “I said shut it.” More chuckling, and then he was back at me, licking me until I was coming long and hard on his mouth. His hand stroked my stomach, trailing up my body and caressing my breasts, my nipples. I trembled from the after effects and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up to me. “Come here,” I whispered, and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. His breathing was deep and relaxed, and I loved how chilled out going down on me made him. My thighs were around his waist, his delicious body heavy on top of mine. I stroked his hair, enjoying the silky feel, and felt him drift off back to sleep. I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up, but I knew it had to be later than my usual hour. King and I had moved while we slept, and now he lay behind me, his big body encapsulating mine as we spooned. The duvet was pulled high, covering us completely, and it was a good thing, too…because I opened my eyes to find two curious blue ones staring back at me. Oh, Jeez. Oliver stood there in his PJs, an inquisitive look on his face as he held one of his teddy bears to his chest. He took in the sight of me and King in bed, but he didn’t seem upset by it. He only seemed curious. I might have felt ashamed if the man in my bed wasn’t his father and if I didn’t plan on spending the rest of my life with

him. “Oliver 2 is asleep,” he whispered, and pointed. I gave him a tight smile, and honestly, I kind of felt like laughing. Hadn’t I learned by now that there was no privacy when you lived in a house with a fiveyear-old? I really should have thought to lock the door. Then again, if he’d woken up and found my door locked, he either would’ve gotten scared and started crying, or thrown a hissy fit until I let him inside. Well, it wasn’t exactly perfect, but I guessed this was one way for him to find out that King and I were together. “Why is he sleeping in your bed, Mummy?” Oliver asked, still wearing that curious expression. It was sort of adorable. “Because he’s my…special friend,” I answered, immediately cringing at my choice of words. Seriously, I could’ve done better than pulling out the “special friend” card, but there just wasn’t a right way to explain this situation to a child. “Will you do something for me, baby? Will you go downstairs and grab Mummy’s handbag from the kitchen? The blue one?” Oliver hopped to attention at my request, nodding and hurrying to complete the task. I sat up from the bed quickly and pulled on my robe before leaning over and shaking King’s shoulder. He blinked his eyes open, saw me hovering over him, and smiled lazily. He slid his arm around my waist to pull me closer, his hand dipping inside my robe to palm my breast. I gently pushed him off. “I’m sorry to wake you, but Oliver just came in and found us sleeping together,” I said, not sure why I was still whispering. Everybody was awake now. King was too sleepy to interpret what I was saying at first, but when he realised, his eyebrows shot right up. “Ah, hell,” he said, rising to sit and running a hand over his face. “Yeah, you need to put some clothes on. He’ll be back in a second.” “Okay,” he murmured, leaning close to press a kiss to my lips before going and pulling on his boxers, jeans, and T-shirt. I went about making the bed as he slid his belt through the hoops and fiddled with the buckle. There was something satisfied in his expression as he watched me, and I didn’t like it. Okay, that was wrong. I liked it a lot, but I didn’t like that I liked it. It said something to the tune of, Yeah, I made you come several times last night, no need to thank me. Real cocky, like. I had just enough time to narrow my eyes at him and suppress a smile before I heard little feet trundling back up the stairs. “Here, Mummy, here’s your bag,” Oliver announced, holding up my handbag triumphantly. I took it from him and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you, honey.” King stepped forward and ruffled Oliver’s hair, the three of us standing together in a circle. I was momentarily hit with a pang of emotion to have them both so close. My two men. Our small family. King shot me a warm smile like he could read my exact thoughts. “Come on, little man, let’s go downstairs and make breakfast. Give your mum a

morning off.” “Okay,” said Oliver, bobbing his head. He seemed to enjoy how King called him “little man,” like he was one of the grown-ups. He also seemed excited to have him there. It must have been because it was usually just the two of us, so having someone new around in the morning added an element of fun. I went and took a quick shower while the two of them chattered down in the kitchen. I had no idea what they were cooking, but they were making a hell of a lot of noise. When I heard King laugh, full and deep, it sent a pleasurable tremor right down my spine. It felt nice to have a man around, just doing normal man stuff, like making breakfast with our son and giving me orgasms. Once out of the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on a comfy navy dress with cream polka dots. Then, removing the towel, I twisted my damp hair into a knot and went downstairs to see what kind of havoc those two were wreaking on my kitchen. Surprisingly, the place wasn’t too messy, and the heavenly smell of French toast filled the room. King stood by the cooker, holding a spatula. He’d placed Oliver on a stool so he could sit and watch. I went and peeked in one of the cupboards, grinning happily when I found we had maple syrup. King hadn’t even realised I’d come in, because he was too focused on cooking and talking to Oliver. The two of them were so cute together, the similarities in their looks particularly striking. It was like looking at two pictures of the same person, one as a boy and the other as a man. Somehow, even though he was smaller and not as strong, I felt like maybe the boy would be the one to save the man this time. Having my love was all well and good, but there was just something about King’s eyes when he looked at our boy that brought the life back into them. It was in that moment that I truly believed he’d never drink again. I hadn’t realised it, but I hadn’t been certain before. Now, somehow I just knew. Sitting by the counter, I placed my chin in my hands, watching them interact. It made me happy. King only saw me when he turned, holding the pan. His lips twitched with a smile as he plopped the food onto the plates. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Shut up,” I said. “Oi! You’re not allowed to say that,” Oliver said. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he giggled. King dished up the French toast, and I poured an unhealthy amount of maple syrup onto mine. Oliver made a face at me, because he didn’t like maple syrup and preferred strawberry jam. We were eating for a minute or two when I heard a key slot into the front door. My eyes widened and went straight to King, whose brow was furrowed curiously at the sound of someone entering my house, someone who had a key. It wasn’t at all what he thought, though. I heard Elaine’s light footsteps sound down the hall before she stepped inside the room. She often stopped by unexpectedly, but since she’d visited just yesterday, I didn’t think she’d be back so soon. When I saw the

bunch of flowers she was holding, I knew she’d come just to drop them off. Every once in a while she liked to bring me flowers. King turned in his place to see who’d come in, and his fork clattered loudly to his plate. “Oliver,” said Elaine, her voice laced heavily with emotion. “Mum,” he breathed, so quiet it was almost a whisper. She looked to me, and I knew instantly that she hadn’t intended to intrude. She lifted the flowers weakly, as though to prove her visit was innocent. And then her eyes filled with tears. Seconds later King was standing, taking long strides towards her and pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace. They hugged for a long time, the flowers getting squashed between them. Oliver looked at me, his mouth open and his eyes big. He clearly sensed something important was happening, but he wasn’t sure what. The long silence was broken when he whispered, “Why is Granny Elaine crying?” I didn’t know how to answer, but then I heard Elaine’s soft chuckle as she pulled back from King and turned to face him. She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over Oliver’s hair. “Because this is my son,” she answered gently. “And I haven’t seen him for a very long time.” I watched Oliver as his little brain put two and two together. “You’re his mummy,” he said finally, and Elaine nodded. King had come to place a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “I belong to her the same as you belong to your mum,” he explained. “Oh,” said Oliver. “I’d be sad, too, if I didn’t see my mummy for a very long time.” His words made us all choke up, and I stood to go grab a plate for Elaine and some coffee. It gave me a chance to settle my emotions. She sat down at the table, talking to Oliver mostly. I got the sense that she really wanted some alone time with King, so once we’d finished eating, I made a suggestion. “How about Oliver and I go out for a couple of hours? Give you both some time to catch up.” Elaine nodded like it was a good idea, but King looked a little more hesitant. I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to spend time with her, but more because he didn’t want to talk about all the painful things they had to discuss. “I don’t want to go,” my son complained grumpily. “I want to stay here with Oliver 2!” In any other situation, his grumpiness would have annoyed me, but no. The fact that he’d grown so attached to King made my heart do wild flip-flops in my chest. “Oliver 2?” Elaine asked, her lips tugging into a smile. I sighed and smiled back at her. “He thinks it’s crazy that they’re both named Oliver. Don’t ask. Do you mind if he stays? I have a few things I need to take care of anyway, and it’ll be easier if I leave him here.” “Of course not, you know I always love having him.” And that was how I found myself grabbing my things and making my way to the front door. King followed me out, leaving Elaine and Oliver in the kitchen. Then he

placed his hand to the small of my back, and my body gave a little shudder. “Don’t feel like you have to leave,” he said quietly, his touch warm. I turned and looked up at him. “You and your mum need to talk. I’ll only be gone a couple of hours.” “Yes, but this is your house….” I quieted him by placing a finger to his lips. “No buts. Seriously, you need to talk to her. Get it all out. If you put a DVD on for Oliver, he’ll be quite happy to sit and watch it. He won’t give you any trouble.” “It’s not about that. You know I love him.” Without thinking, a soft sigh escaped me. “God, I love that you love him.” “Well,” said King, leaning closer, voice low, “I love that you love that I love him. And I love you, too.” I shot him an amused scowl. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me.” My hand moved from his mouth to his jaw, my touch a caress as my expression sobered. “How are you feeling, though? Any headaches or nausea?” His mouth firmed as he swallowed. “Honestly? Yeah, a bit of both. But I’m handling it.” “Yeah,” I breathed, ready to burst, I was so proud of him. “You are.” His strength in dealing with all this as well as feeling like shit from quitting drinking continually amazed me. He backed me into the wall and bent to press a kiss to my jaw. “I’ll miss you today.” “I’ll miss you, too. Now, I’d better go. Otherwise, I might drag you back upstairs to bed.” His answering chuckle vibrated through my chest as I slipped out the door and headed for my car. It was only when I was halfway down the street from my house that I realised I had no clue where I was going.

TWENTY-THREE

“O

h, my God, don’t even get me started,” Lille harrumphed. “That flippin’ monkey has stolen dozens of my hair ties, several tubes of lip gloss, packets of face paints, and any number of small coins since I started living with this circus. Somebody needs to call the cops on the little fecker. I swear, I don’t know where he hides it all.” “Maybe he has a secret stash where he goes to admire all his pretty treasures,” Matilda suggested with a grin. Lille sighed. “He was walking around with green all over his tail the other day, and my green paint was suspiciously missing from the case.” “Well, this isn’t good news for me. After meeting Pierre, Oliver is determined to get a monkey. I may have to dazzle him with a new toy just so he’ll forget,” I joked. The girls laughed as we sat at the tiny kitchen table in Lille’s camper van, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about Marina’s monkey/thief, Pierre. When I’d tried to think of somewhere to go earlier, I found myself instinctively driving in the direction of the circus. I’d lied when I’d told King and Elaine that I had things to do, but it was a white lie. I could have gone to my parents’ house, or even to Karla’s, but for some reason I wanted to spend time with these women, talk to them about King because they were the ones who knew him best these days. Somehow though, we’d managed to discuss everything other than the father of my child, and it was oddly relaxing. Sometimes it was a relief to just talk about random crap, like monkey hijinks. Matilda had a dress in front of her as she handstitched a detail into the neckline. Jack and Jay had been around, but mostly they were in the tent, rehearsing. I was interested by the dynamic between the two couples, and truthfully, dying to know how they’d all met. So, like the Nosy Noreen that I was, I asked. An hour or so later, the bottle of wine had long since been emptied, and I’d lived through the stories of two pretty spectacular romances. It made me feel relieved to know I wasn’t the only one whose heart had been twisted around, chewed up, and spat back out again. I thought that maybe the best loves had to suffer the greatest hardships. You had me and King, Jay and Matilda, Jack and Lille. Hell, there was even Karla and her husband, but that was a story for another day.

Matilda had just gone to use the bathroom when Lille bent forward and placed her hand over mine. At thirty-three, I was almost eleven years older than her, and yet, there was something about Lille that felt wise beyond her years. Her touch comforted me, and when she spoke, my heart felt too full. “I’m so glad we found you, Alexis. Seeing King get better has been truly amazing to watch, and it’s all down to you.” I stared at her for a long moment, then wrapped my fingers around hers to squeeze her hand. “I’m so glad you looked.” It was late evening when I finally said my goodbyes. I’d only had two glasses of wine, and that was hours ago, so I knew I’d be okay to drive home. When I got there, I found Elaine curled up on armchair in the living room, asleep and a blanket draped over her. King sat on the couch with Oliver, and a kid’s movie played on the TV. Oliver was sitting comfortably in his lap as King absently stroked at his hair. If I wasn’t so taken by the sight of them, I might have pulled out my phone to take a picture. It was just too bloody charming. “Having fun?” I asked softly, careful not to wake Elaine. King looked up at me, and I was struck by the calmness in his features, the sense of peace about him. He didn’t answer, just shot me a lazy smile and nodded for me to come sit. I dropped my bag on the floor and shrugged out of my jacket before taking the place beside him. After a second of hesitation, I rested my head on his shoulder. He exhaled heavily, turning his face so he could nuzzle his nose into my temple. “Did you and Elaine get enough time to talk?” I whispered. “Yes,” King whispered back and I could feel him smiling into my skin. “Thank you for giving us some time. We needed it.” “It’s no problem. And Oliver wasn’t too much trouble?” I asked, our son too engrossed in the film to hear his name. King shook his head, still smiling. “No, love, he was good as gold.” Only a minute or two passed before Oliver bolted upright and announced, “I have to pee.” He was up and out the door a second later, climbing the stairs to the bathroom. I let out a quiet laugh and glanced up to find King looking down at me warmly. Elaine stirred in her seat, Oliver’s announcement having woken her. “What time is it?” she asked, voice sleepy. “Just after eight,” I answered. She took in the sight of me and King sitting together, and smiled fondly. “Well, I’d better be going,” she said, running her hands down her dress and standing. King stood, too. “Shall I walk you?” She seemed taken aback by his offer, shy even. “Well, I’m just down the street, but I wouldn’t mind some company.” King held his arm out to her, and she slid hers through it before he led her from the room. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” he called over his shoulder just as the front

door opened and shut. I took the opportunity to go upstairs and get Oliver ready for bed. On a normal day he would have been asleep already, but this wasn’t a normal day. Catching him just as he left the bathroom, I lifted him into my arms. “All right, mister, bedtime.” “But I was watching a film,” he complained. “And you can finish watching it tomorrow,” I said firmly as I carried him into his room. I needed to stop lifting him, because Jesus, he was getting heavy these days. I was going to end up doing my back in. “Where’s Oliver 2?” he asked as I went to get his pyjamas from the drawer. I let out a breath and answered, “He’s just walking Granny Elaine home. He’ll be back in a few minutes.” “I like him.” His statement made me smile. “You do?” He nodded and leaned forward, whispering, “If I ask him to be my best friend, do you think he’d say yes?” I swear, I didn’t know where he got his guilelessness from, because it certainly wasn’t from me. I’d been a little terror at his age. There was something about the moment that made me feel like testing the waters. “Baby, you know how Granny Elaine is Oliver 2’s mummy?” He stared at me, nodding, and I continued, “And Granny Elaine is your grandmummy? Well, that means that Oliver 2 is your daddy.” He looked at me for a long time, his expression concentrated like he was trying to figure out the logic. “You said my daddy was far away.” “He was. That’s why Granny Elaine hadn’t seen him in a very long time, but now he’s back.” Oliver was frowning then and I wasn’t sure why, but his lips went all full, like he was going to cry. “Is he going to go away again?” I pulled him into a hug. “No, honey, he’s not going to go away again. I promise.” And just like that, the possible crying jag had vanished as he bounced in my arms. “He’s my daddy. I can’t wait to tell Timothy that I have a daddy now.” Timothy was his friend from Montessori. And seriously, he needed to stop saying things that made me emotional. Trust my son to accept King was his father without a single hesitation. There was a knock on the door, and I went down to let him in. “Hey,” I said as I held it open and he stepped inside. “So, you and Elaine really had a good talk, then?” I’m not sure why I felt the need to reaffirm that everything was all right between them. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay and didn’t feel like things were moving too fast, especially since I now had a another bomb to drop. Perhaps it could wait until morning. He nodded and answered, “Yes Alexis, we’re good. Stop worrying.” I told him I was just putting Oliver to bed, so he followed me up. The very second we entered the room, Oliver shouted out, “Hi, Daddy!” Well, waiting until morning was out of the question then. King stopped, frowned, looked to me, looked to Oliver, then looked back to me

again. He wore an expression of disbelief, like maybe he’d been hearing things. I was sure I was wearing a terribly guilty expression. Looking at the floor, I said, “Sorry, uh, I might have told him that you’re his dad.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Okay. All right. Eh, that’s…that’s….” “It had to happen sooner or later. Might as well bite the bullet.” “I’m not annoyed with you, Alexis.” “Oh, no, I didn’t think you were. I just, maybe I should have talked with you first.” He stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Relax.” His words worked to calm me. “Do you want to read to him again?” “Sure.” I left them to it and went into my room, taking deep breaths. For a second there I was certain I’d fucked up. I lay down on the bed and tried to focus on reading the paperback I was currently working my way through. After about twenty minutes, I looked up to find King standing in my doorway. We locked gazes, and a pregnant silence fell between us. “I should go,” he said at the same time I blurted, “Stay the night.” Ugh, why was I being so awkward? King shot me a cocky grin, so I threw a pillow at him. “Don’t give me that face.” He moved farther into the room and asked coyly, “What face?” “That one.” I pointed. “The face that says you think you’re the shit. I hate that face.” He was at the foot of the bed when he countered, “You love this face.” “Okay, I’ll adjust my statement. I love your face. I hate your expression.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure you love my expression, too.” He was leaning over me now, climbing onto the mattress and levelling his hands on either side of my head. I was about to say something clever, but it immediately fled my mind when he kissed me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and all I could do was moan. “Thank you for telling him,” he breathed as he broke away to kiss along my jaw, moving down to my neck. I strained beneath him, hands going to his shoulders. Everywhere his lips travelled, they left tingles in their wake. “I thought you might be angry with me for a second.” “I wasn’t angry. I was just taken aback. He called me Dad.” “Well, you are his dad.” He was lower now, his face levelled with my boobs as he nuzzled into my cleavage. “Yes, I am.” I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the trajectory of our conversation rather than the fact that his nose was brushing against my ever hardening nipple. “I’m not gonna lie,” I said breathily. “He got a little upset when I told him. Not because you’re his dad, but because he thought you might go away again.”

King paused to look at me, his face serious. “And what did you tell him?” A beat of silence elapsed as I swallowed. “I – I told him you were here to stay.” His eyes held mine for a long moment before he nodded, “Good, because I am.” And then he licked his way across the top of my breast, and my brain turned to mush. THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I woke up to my alarm clock bleeping loudly at six-thirty a.m. King was spooning me just like he had been the day before. His body was hard and warm, and I really didn’t want to leave. Duty called, unfortunately, and I sat up in bed, which solicited a groan from him. “Where are you going?” he asked groggily. “I have work. Go back to sleep.” Despite my order, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing his bare torso, and I had to use a good lot of willpower to look away. We’d made love well into the early hours of the morning, and I could still smell him on my skin. God, how I wanted to crawl back into bed and spend the entire day there, just the two of us. “Could you drop me off at my apartment?” King asked, surprising me. “Uh, sure.” I didn’t ask why he wanted to go there, but I took it as a good sign. I gathered my things for the shower and made my way into bathroom. I’d just turned it on and stepped under the spray when a large, warm body joined me. Best. Shower. Ever. Elaine arrived to take care of Oliver, and I drove us into the city, dropping King off at his old place first and then heading out to the office. It was a busy day, and though one half of me really wanted to go straight home and put my feet up, the other half wanted to go get King. I liked having him in my bed, in my home. In fact, if I had my way, he’d be moving in with me and spending every single night there. I knew not to push him, though, knew I had to take things one step at a time. It was just after six when I parked outside his building and went in. He buzzed me up, and I took the lift to his place to find him sitting by his piano, sheet music everywhere and an electric sort of aura about him. The very sight caused an exhilarating tremor to go skittering down my spine. I took a peek at the pages, noticing a lot of them contained his own handwriting, musical notes scribbled down in pencil. Was he composing something? He started to play a gorgeous melody, and I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. “Do you mind?” I called. “No,” said King absently. “Go ahead.” I found a small box of peppermint that Elaine must have left there and turned on the kettle. When I returned to the living room, King was still sitting by the piano, practicing. “So, you’re playing again?” I asked tentatively as I lifted the cup to my mouth

and took a sip. King’s eyes were alight when he turned his attention to me. I swear they almost glittered, and I could tell his mind was racing. The creative muse was upon him. “Yes, the music, it’s, well, it’s pouring out. The focus is liberating. I’ve barely stopped all day.” What he said concerned me. “Have you eaten?” He furrowed his brow as if trying to remember. “I think I ate some toast at lunchtime.” Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one. Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly dialled my favourite Chinese takeaway and put in an order. With that done, I stood in front of the piano and levelled him with a reprimanding look. “You have to eat, King.” He reached forward to cup my cheek. “I will. Don’t worry, darling. It’s just that I get so absorbed when I play that I forget everything around me, and it feels like there’s never enough hours. What Rachmaninoff once said was true: Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.” “Yeah, well, what Selina Kyle once said is also true: A girl’s gotta eat. I think that goes for boys, too,” I told him with a wink. He grinned. “I don’t think Catwoman can trump Rachmaninoff, darling.” Oh, I could have smacked him right then for his superior little tone on “darling.” Somehow though, it made me grin. Any signs of his old self always made me grin. They mixed in with his new self to create something I loved so much better. Anyway, I didn’t bother to retort, because I was far too curious about the sheet music. “Have you been composing?” His expression turned guarded, but he answered me anyway. “Yes.” “Will you play some of it for me?” When his body stilled, I knew I’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m wary,” he said and then paused, his eyes meeting mine. “Don’t get me wrong — you’re the one who inspires me, but I just don’t want to fall into the trap of playing for praise. That’s what I used to do before. I worked so hard so that people would respect and look up to me, praise me for a job well done and tell me how bloody fantastic I was. Then when I lost it all, I felt like I had nothing left to live for. I want this music to be something I do because I love it, not for the sole purpose of being the best.” “That’s understandable,” I said, coming and taking a seat next to him. “I want you to do what makes you happy. And if you never play for me or for anyone, then that’s fine. So long as it’s what you love.” “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I’m acting crazy. Sometimes the way my mind works baffles me.” I reached out and took his hand, sliding my fingers through his. “Don’t be sorry. I like your mind. It suits my mind.” The smile he gave me lit up his entire face, and my heart beat faster at the sight of it. I squeezed his hand as I continued meaningfully, “But just remember, your music doesn’t have to mean praise for you. It can be the gift you give to other

people.” He stared at me, thoughtful, before his attention wandered to the piano keys. I could tell he was thinking about what I’d said. A few moments passed as we sat there in silence, the weight of the years surrounding us and the love we held for one another making all the heartache worth it. I swallowed the last of my tea and bent to place my cup on the floor. My top rode up at the back, exposing skin, and I felt King’s palm press down on the base of my spine. I went utterly still as he leaned down to murmur seductively in my ear. “I think I remember telling you once that I was going to fuck you on this piano until you forgot your own name.” He paused and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Shall we try that?” I didn’t need to speak, because my body had already told him the answer. Yes, Oliver, let’s try that.

TWENTY-FOUR

TWO MONTHS LATER.

K

ing had a secret. Well, I wasn’t exactly sure if it was a secret, but he was definitely up to something. Every couple of nights he’d go missing, not telling anyone where he was going. If I wasn’t such a good judge of character, I’d think maybe he was drinking again, or worse, having an affair. But no, he definitely wasn’t drinking, nor was he having an affair. His love and desire for me was something that felt impenetrable. Solid. Constant. In fact, he kept asking me to marry him, and it was becoming a bit of a bother. The first time he asked, he’d arranged for a romantic candlelit dinner in his penthouse. He was keeping it as a place to store his piano mostly (I know, weird.) But other than that, he’d basically moved in with me and Oliver. I loved having him here, loved his smell on my sheets and his voice in the mornings as he spoke to our son. This was why I surprised even myself when he popped the question and I told him no, I wouldn’t marry him. At first he’d been upset, but when I explained to him that the answer was no for now, but yes for the future, he’d gotten a gleam in his eye, determined to wear me down. I just didn’t want to rush into marriage. It felt superfluous to me. We loved each other. Neither one of us was going anywhere. A wedding was a pointless expense. Not to mention I wanted to be a bride about as much as I wanted to stick pins in my eyes. No, if we were ever going to get married, it would have to be a small affair. Quick and painless. It also wasn’t going to be something I dived right into. Unfortunately, King was a singularly focused individual, which meant I was proposed to at least once a day. Sometimes two or three times. I’d find Post-It notes inside the tea caddy. Voice messages on my phone. Texts with picture attachments of “Marry Me?” written in sand or on foggy car windows. He’d even sent one of him topless, with the words scrawled in marker pen across his chest. Kinda sexy? Yes. Bordering on ridiculous? Also, yes. I was standing by the cooker, heating up some soup for Oliver, when King came up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my

shoulder. I geared myself up for yet another proposal, but it never came. Instead, he told me, “I’m heading out for a couple of hours. Don’t wait up for me.” I nodded quietly, he pressed a kiss to my cheek, and off he went. He’d started driving his old Merc, but he’d sold his other cars, which had been stored in the underground garage beneath his apartment, and donated the money to charity. In fact, he’d donated a huge sum of his wealth to foundations for homelessness and alcoholism, keeping just enough to live off. After years of living with nothing, I didn’t think he felt comfortable with wealth anymore. I also didn’t try to stop him. In fact, I supported the action. In my opinion, money only brought happiness up to a certain level. Any riches over and above that just made you as miserable as being poor. Okay, maybe not for everyone, because the Kardashians seemed pretty fucking happy with their lot. Perhaps I should adjust my statement. Vast riches for those with hearts and brains made you just as miserable as being poor. Elaine was already spending the evening with us, so as soon as King left, I hurried to the living room, asking if she’d watch Oliver for me while I popped out for a bit. I was behind the wheel of my car and pulling out of the driveway just in time to see King’s Merc turn the corner at the end of our street. I followed a few cars behind him all the way into the city, biting my fingernails the entire time. Where the hell was he going? Finally, he parked down a side street in Camden, got out, and walked off. I hurried to park, too, then discreetly followed him. He didn’t suspect a thing, never once looking back, and then he slipped inside the door to a hipster-looking bar. Oh, shit. A bar? He’d sneaked off to a bar? Maybe I wasn’t such a good judge of character after all. This wasn’t looking good. I stood on the street for at least ten minutes, freaking out and trying to convince myself that this wasn’t what it seemed, while my brain was all, Bitch, how can it not be what it seems? FYI, my brain was a skinny gay guy who worked in a hair salon and loved to gossip cynically about other people’s love lives. When I managed to calm myself down, I noticed that a long queue had formed outside the bar, but King had managed to walk right past it. Figuring I didn’t have any other option, I got in line. It took forever for me to get inside, because the place was packed out and the bouncers were staggering the queue. The bar was dark and crowded, and I instantly hated it. That was, until I heard the music. It was beautiful, transforming the room from something annoying into something wonderful. It was a unique mix of classical and modern, and it was just one instrument. The piano. I felt it all around me, right down to my toes, and instinctively I knew it was his, knew this was the music he’d spend days on end composing alone in his apartment. I couldn’t see the stage because it was surrounded by people, but my heart began to pound as my suspicions about King being back on the beer slowly faded into the background. Pushing my way past the bodies, I finally reached a spot where I could see. There on the tiny stage he sat, playing glorious music on a worn-out, beaten-

up piano that looked like it had been in the bar for over twenty years. Nevertheless, his audience was captivated, and so was I. The way his body moved as he played, the way his hands manipulated the keys so fluidly, set my every nerve ending alight. He’d kept his hair long, just like I’d asked him to, and it hung attractively over his face, making him appear elusive and mysterious. His eyes were closed, too, adding to his enigmatic vibe. He wore only a simple white T-shirt under an open grey shirt and jeans. Basically, he looked nothing like what you’d expect from a classical pianist, but then again, he wasn’t exactly playing straight-up classical. It was an unusual sound, something new and different, which was probably why he’d attracted such a crowd. Somehow I knew that if King wasn’t playing, this bar wouldn’t be half as packed as it was right then. I could tell because the patrons were focused completely on him rather than chatting amongst themselves and socializing. He must have been doing this for weeks, telling no one. The thought made me both happy and sad at the same time. But then I remembered our conversation weeks ago in his apartment, where he’d talked about playing for the love of it rather than the praise. I also remembered telling him that his playing didn’t have to be either of those things, that it could simply be a gift to other people. In that moment, I knew he’d taken my words to heart, because every person in the bar was getting a gift right then. A worker moved past me, collecting empty glasses, and I pulled her aside, nodding to the stage. “Does he play here often?” I asked. She glanced at King, then back to me. “Not often. He performs in different places around the city. A couple of weeks ago he showed up at a bar in Soho and asked the manager if he could play. The place was quiet, so the manager said yes. He’s been gaining a following ever since, but he never announces a gig, just shows up randomly, and people spread the word.” “Oh,” I said, absorbing her answer, skin tingling at the idea of King just randomly playing piano for people wherever and whenever it took his fancy. “What’s his name?” I asked just before she turned to leave. “They call him Oliver,” she answered. “Just Oliver?” “Yeah, just Oliver.” And then she was gone and I was looking back at King, everything about him holding me captive. The fact that he kept his eyes closed most of the time and never really looked at anyone in the audience meant he didn’t see me there. Still, I made sure to stand behind a couple of other people just in case. For a second I thought of waiting around until the end, pouncing on him, and declaring I’d discovered his secret. But no, that wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted him to go on playing, to keep doing what made him and the people he managed to touch with his music happy. I’d never be the one who turned what he loved into something that required praise, something that had once destroyed him.

So, when he finished his final song of the night, I inhaled a deep breath, savoured the moment, and soaked in the reactions of those around me, the catharsis they felt from the emotions portrayed in his wordless song. Then I turned and left the bar. A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER, I found myself waking Oliver up on a Monday morning and getting him ready for his first day of school. I had his uniform all set out: a white shirt, grey tie, navy jumper with the school crest, and grey slacks. I swear he looked so handsome, tiny yet grown at the same time, and I felt like crying. I bet all mothers cried on their kid’s first day of school. It was programmed into our DNA. Oliver was full of questions and enthusiasm. He’d been gearing himself up for this for a year. Often we’d drive by the school and he’d see the kids, and I’d tell him that’s where he’d be going soon. I marvelled at how he never acted frightened or apprehensive. No, his eyes lit up at the prospect of something new. King was sitting in the kitchen, eating a slice of toast, when I came down with Oliver, all clad in his new uniform. “Daddy! Look at me, don’t I look handsome?” he said, and King turned to take him in. Unlike me, he didn’t get-teary eyed. No, his lips twitched in amusement. “You’re looking very dapper indeed, little man,” he said, shooting me a smile. “What’s dapper?” Oliver questioned. “Your daddy’s being fancy again. He always tries to be fancy,” I teased. “And it means you look sharp. Sharp and handsome.” He seemed pleased with my answer, and King went about getting him some breakfast. Once it was time to go, all three of us left the house to walk him to school. It was only ten minutes away, and it was a sunny morning, so we decided to forgo the car. I held one of Oliver’s hands and King held the other. All the while, our son strolled along between us, chatting away about how he was going to make friends with everyone and how he was going to play hopscotch in the yard during his break. I glanced at King at one point to see him smiling down at Oliver, affection and love in eyes as he listened to his every word. Then, too soon almost, we were at the school, and the teacher was waiting outside as the children gathered. “There’s Timothy,” Oliver shouted, spotting his friend. “I’m going over.” Before he could run off, I pulled him back and knelt down, looking him in the eye and fixing his tie. There was something about how small it was that made me feel like welling up again. King noticed my ridiculously emotional expression and took over, bending down to give Oliver a hug. “You be good today, son. Your mum and I will be back later to collect you.” And with that he was gone, running excitedly to his friend, his little blue rucksack on his back. All around me, parents said goodbye to their kids, and there was a lot of crying going on. I saw a girl bawling her eyes out at the prospect of being separated from her mum, and it kind of broke my heart. In a way, I wished

Oliver had been more like her, more upset, because that way I’d feel like less of a wuss. King and I stood side by side, watching Oliver as he got in line with the other kids. “I hope you don’t think me a soppy fool after this, but when we go home, I might get back into bed and be weird for a while. And by that I mean I might get back into bed and have a good cry.” King slid his hand into mine, a quiet show of affection, as he cocked his head to me and smiled. “Don’t you have to be at the office in an hour?” “Stop effing with my plans, Mr King,” I snipped, but there was humour in my voice. “You know, you haven’t referred to me as Mr King since you were my employee,” he teased. “Want to take the morning off? Maybe go home and get into bed for a different reason? Do some role-playing perhaps?” I shoved him in the shoulder and scowled. “Don’t be a cad.” He bent and whispered in my ear, “Aw, but you love it so much.” His voice gave me tingles, and I closed my eyes for a second to push the images of our sex life from my mind. This clearly wasn’t the time. “Nah, maybe we’ll save it for later. I wanted to head into the city anyway, spend a couple of hours practicing.” What he said brought back memories of the other night, and how electric it had felt to see him play for an audience, how he finally seemed to be completely himself. No pain. No loneliness. No addiction. No evil father trying to fuck up his life. No frightened mother, too paranoid to leave the house. He was better, and that’s all I’d ever wanted him to be. Suddenly, I had a moment of clarity, a feeling that all was right with the world. And then I was feeling weepy again, but this time it was for a whole other reason. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and my eyes grew watery as they ran down my cheeks. Of course, they were happy tears, but when King saw that I was crying, he sucked in a breath and pulled me to him. Still holding my hand in one of his, he reached up and wiped the wetness from my cheeks. “Hey, he’s going to be all right, you know. Look at him — he’s so excited and happy. Half the kids here are throwing tantrums.” “It’s not that, it’s just…I love him so much, and I love you so much. It feels too good to be true, to have this much love inside me.” His body was flush with mine as he dropped my hand so that he could cup my face, his thumbs brushing back and forth over the rise of my cheeks. His eyes flickered between mine, so loving, so serious. “Oh, darling, we should get married.” I sniffled and let out an unexpected burst of laughter. He was never going to stop with this, but strangely, there was something different about it this time. He was just as sincere as he always was, but the change was in me, and I felt like my answer might be different now. “Be honest, you only want to marry me for my money. Well, that and my world-

class derriere,” I joked, my voice a shaky tremble. King smiled a glorious smile, his retort provoking memories from words he’d spoken to me years ago. “No, I want to marry you for your witty banter. Well, that and your world-class brain.” His response made me laugh once more as I took a final glance in Oliver’s direction to see the teacher was now leading the kids inside the school. Once he was gone, I turned back to King. “You know what? I’m kind of in the mood to get hitched today. Must be something in the air.” I knew he hadn’t expected my answer when his smile grew even wider on his gorgeously handsome face. He pulled my lips to his and kissed me deeply before pulling back and whispering, “Must be.”

EPILOGUE KING

he walked into the room and I glanced up casually, my attention on my phone S call. I looked away, then looked back. Fucking hell, she had a body on her, and I

noticed something exotic in her dark features. Enjoying a brief yet detailed vision of sinking my fingers around her lush hips, I glanced down at her resume to check her name. Hmmm. You have beautiful eyes, Alexis Clark.

MEMORIES WERE A POWERFUL THING. They could at once set you free or take you prisoner, hold your entire life captive. I think that in the space between birth and death you can have one life, or you can have many. But in order to have many, you also need the strength to end the one that came before. And there lies the tricky part. In the old life you might have been face down in the dirt, but that dirt held a seductive quality that kept you in its grasp. There was once a time when I felt trapped in a dark tunnel, and the only light was a false one found at the end of a bottle. The only peace was the numbness that sang through my veins and blocked out the memories of the life I left behind. Edgar Allen Poe once said that he didn’t indulge in stimulants for the pleasure they brought, but to escape from the memories that plagued him. In that sense, we were kindred. When I was a young man, I was confident, ready to take on any challenge, free of fear. When I was a grown man, I knew the world and I was winning, even though there were worries that tried to drag me down. When I was an older man, I was broken; the things I thought I’d done had ruined the things I’d left behind. Now I was an even older man, and I knew that my memories didn’t have to own me, and nothing was ever lost forever, especially love. It was simply waiting to be reclaimed, and reclaiming required strength. You see, I told you there was a tricky part.

And that part would never be truly surpassed. Much like a virus that can’t be cured but simply maintained, I would always look at the dirt and see something alluring. It was the strength I drew from within that kept me from succumbing to the allure. My strength was in my music. It was in my boy, who grew taller every day. And it was in Alexis, who even when I was nothing had looked at me like I was everything. Thinking of her, I felt a sudden need to see her and rose from my seat, my sister eyeing me suspiciously. “Where do you think you’re going?” Marina asked. “To see Alexis. I’ll only be a minute,” I answered. She tugged on my hand and pulled me back down with a surprising amount of strength for a sixty-year-old woman. “You can’t see her now. It’s bad luck,” she scolded me. Jay, who was sitting on the other side of the room, made a noise like Marina had answered a question wrong on a quiz show. “Nope. Complete load of horse rap,” he said, casually closing his book and leaning forward. “People made that shit up back in the day of arranged marriages. Picture it here: Dude walks in and sees his bride’s a howler, then goes, ‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers, I’m outta here.’ Before you know it, the wedding’s off.” A silence fell, and my sister shot Jay a scowl. “Or you know, vice versa. Lotta butt-ugly dudes out there, too,” he amended. Marina pointed to him. “That’s not why I’m scowling. I’m scowling because you’re trying to bring bad luck to my brother’s marriage by urging him to break an age-old tradition.” Jay threw his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m just laying out the facts. You’ll find that a bunch of those old superstitions arose out of simple practicality. Marriages were little more than business transactions back then.” Marina scowled harder. “When my friend Rose broke a mirror, she was sick with a different ailment at least once a year for seven years. Then on the seventh year, poof, no more ailments. How do you explain that, Mr. Practical?” “I explain it with one word: coincidence,” Jay threw back. I shook my head. Those two were always arguing over stuff like this. In fact, I thought they enjoyed it. Marina touched my hand. “Don’t listen to him. The ceremony is in less than half an hour. You can wait.” Before I could reply, Jay spoke up again. “Oh, and more evidence to prove my point: veils. Why have a veil if not to hide an ugly face? You’re already married by the time the priest tells you to lift it, and then it’s like boom, here’s what you just pledged your entire life to. Good luck with that.” Jack, who had been fixing his tie in the mirror, snickered a laugh. I think this must have been the first time I’d ever seen him in a suit. My best man. My best friend. Marina continued scowling at Jay until he finally got the message to shut up. She’d become something of a substitute mother to the brothers, and though she often complained about it, I knew she loved being needed.

I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

I DIDN’T HEAR her enter the apartment. The music in my fingers was too loud and consuming for me to be aware of another presence. That was the best thing about it. Music could fill your head and allow you to escape the constant worries that consumed you. A buzzing sound went off, and my playing ceased. I turned, saw her outfit, and tried to suppress a smile. “Oh, go on, say it. You know you want to,” she sighed. God, this woman. Even when my deepest fears tried to drag me down, she always found some way to make me feel lighter. I released the smile I’d withheld and replied, “What on earth are you wearing?”

THE TENT WAS FULL. I wasn’t quite sure why, because I’d been nothing but a rude, careless drunk to these people for years, but it appeared the entire circus was there to attend our wedding. Every time they saw me now, they seemed taken aback by how much I’d changed. Christ, every time I saw me now, I was taken aback by how much I’d changed. I wore a fitted tux, designed by Jay’s wife, Matilda. She’d also designed Alexis’ dress, but I wasn’t allowed to see it yet. I believed in my sister’s superstitions about as much as Jay did, but still, I indulged her. Marina had kept me from going over the edge for a really long time. Speaking of my half-sister, she was the one officiating the ceremony, and she wore her ringmaster’s outfit, complete with top hat and tails. Jack stood by my side; I’d always found his presence soothing, even when I was so far gone I’d forget entire weeks. Just like Marina, he’d been a rock to me, and probably the only one brave enough to grip me by the balls (metaphorically speaking) and tell me the truth that the way I was living was going to kill me. Of course, I didn’t listen to him. It was only when Alexis came back into my life that I remembered I wasn’t me. Drinking wasn’t me. And that I was far stronger than I’d given myself credit for. The music began to play, and I turned to see her walking down the aisle. Her dress was beautiful, her face radiant, and when she stopped to stand in front of me, I told her so.

SHE SAT ASTRIDE ME, and I couldn’t hide my arousal. She was well aware of it, too, but her reaction wasn’t what I expected. Something forced my gaze down, away from her pretty lips and beautiful eyes, and I saw her nipples were hard. All in an instant, everything fell into place. She’d been lying; she must have been. And I was pissed.

Pissed and aroused, and yes, smug as fuck. Mere seconds passed, and already I was imagining all the ways I was going to take her. I wanted to grip her thick, dark hair as I plunged myself into her soft, welcoming body. She trembled when I leaned in close enough that our lips almost brushed and whispered, “I fucking knew it.”

OLIVER WAS OUR PAGE BOY. He also sat beside me throughout the reception, and I spent most of my time talking to him rather than mingling with the guests. I’d missed so much, and every moment felt like a new opportunity to reclaim something of those lost years. “I think your wife might like to dance with you now,” Alexis murmured in my ear, the husky quality to her voice sending a thrill down my spine. I’d spent weeks asking her to marry me, and she’d finally said yes. Now here we were, six months later. The circus had returned to London, and we were husband and wife in a wedding that had been nothing short of unique. I took her hand in mine, and Mum came to take my empty seat beside Oliver. She looked happier than I’d seen her since I was a teenager. After all the time I’d spent thinking she was dead, it felt a little bit miraculous to have her before me, alive and so much healthier than she’d ever been. Leading my wife to the dance floor, I slid my arms around her waist, pulled her close to my body, and swayed us both to the rhythm of the music. Her hair smelled of lilacs and her skin of the sun. Her light olive tan looked pretty against the white of her dress, and I fingered the hem at the back, hardly able to wait until tonight when I got her alone. She gave a little shiver and rested her head on my shoulder. All around us, our family and friends enjoyed the party. Marina sat with Alexis’ parents, chatting like they were old friends. Mum had Oliver on her lap now, and I knew that my boy was her world just the same way that he was mine. Alexis’ hand came to my neck, her fingers light and probing on my skin. “I can’t wait for tonight,” she whispered, echoing my own sentiments. “Maybe we could slip away for a little bit.” I groaned low in my throat, feeling her shift her body so that her breasts pushed harder against my chest. “Not yet,” I whispered back. “First, I have something for you.”

HER BODY WAS A DREAM, her stomach soft and rounded, her breasts heavy and full in my hands. As I stared down at her, marvelling at the flare of her hips and her hair spread out like a dark halo around her head, I felt something strange and intangible take hold. My throat was tight, and the taste of her was still in my mouth. I already loved the taste of her. “I think this is your cue to beg, love,” I murmured. She did. Christ, she begged so perfectly.

And when I finally sank myself inside her, the final piece of that strange and intangible thing fell into place. I was surely falling.

I SAT on the stage in the middle of the tent, our wedding guests seated all around. Alexis was only feet away, and the gravity of what I was about to do caused a heaviness to settle in my gut. My hands hadn’t trembled like this since I’d come off alcohol. I rubbed my palms together in an effort to still them. I couldn’t play music if my hands were shaking. The wedding band had taken a break, and I sat by the piano, the weight of two hundred pairs of eyes baring down on me. For months I had only played for strangers; now I was playing for everyone I knew in the world. There was a certain comfort in anonymity, but there was no comfort in putting yourself out there for the people who mattered most. My courage won out, and my hands settled on the keys. My gaze rested on Alexis as I leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “Someone once told me that my music can be a gift I give to other people. So, my darling, here’s my wedding gift to you.” I closed my eyes and played. The music looked like colours behind my eyelids, and I experienced a wonderful moment of synaesthesia. I saw the years flash through my mind, all the pain and loneliness expelled through the tips of my fingers. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Alexis before me, her gaze shiny with unshed tears. Quite like a present waiting under the tree, I knew hers had been opened. She saw me for all I was, and I saw her for all she was. The story in the music of all we’d been through wasn’t pretty, and yet, in that moment I wouldn’t wish to be anyone other than who I was right then. I was glad for my experiences, good and bad. I was glad for what they had made me. And I was glad that I hadn’t had one life, but that I’d had many. She stood before me, a miracle made flesh, and God, so much more beautiful than I even remembered. Living without her for so many years had been like living in a world without the sun. I didn’t feel worthy of touching her, and yet, my hands wandered anyway. They began at her temples before descending. Drinking her in with my eyes, I felt my way down until I reached her throat and a breath escaped her. She was from another life, the one I’d left behind, but having her there, my hands on her skin, made me feel like I was stepping out of this life and into a new one. “Hello,” I said quietly. “Hi,” she answered back. End.

Continue the journey with the next book in the Hearts series Hearts of Blue. She upholds the law. He breaks it. Two blue hearts, both alike in bravery In not-so-fair London, where we lay our scene From gun crime to petty theft Where family is blood and survival makes hands unclean In this place, we find two hearts who should be foes And yet, amidst the turmoil their love still grows Misadventure abounds and the divide will bring them strife But with luck, death doesn’t always mean an end to life

HEARTS OF BLUE

Copyright © 2015 L.H. Cosway All rights reserved. Cover pictures taken from Shutterstock.com. Cover design by RBA Designs. Editing by Indie Author Services. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

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PLAYLIST

Check out the author’s playlist for Hearts of Blue HERE.

“Stealing, of course, is a crime, and a very impolite thing to do. But like most impolite things, it is excusable under certain circumstances. Stealing is not excusable if, for instance, you are in a museum and you decide that a certain painting would look better in your house, and you simply grab the painting and take it there. But if you were very, very hungry, and you had no way of obtaining money, it might be excusable to grab the painting, take it to your house, and eat it.” — LEMONY SNICKET.

PROLOGUE

London, 2000 he room was freezing, so cold you could see your breath mist in front of your T face. There was something about it that made everything feel wet. The electricity had been cut off several weeks ago, and with it the central heating. The old couch in the living room was damp to the touch; so too were all the blankets and pillows in the bedroom Lee shared with his three brothers. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, tried to ignore the discomfort of damp bedding and just go to sleep, but it wouldn’t work. He’d never admit it to any of his friends, but he often cuddled tightly to his older brother, Stu, for warmth. Liam and Trevor shared the bed on the other side of their small room, while their cousin Sophie slept in his mum’s old room. His aunt Jenny had abandoned her there months ago, right after Lee’s mum passed away. She’d then gone on an extended holiday with her boyfriend; “messed up” didn’t even begin to cover it. As far as social services were concerned, Jenny had moved in to take care of her late sister’s children. In reality, she was off sunning herself in Magaluf, boozing it up to her heart’s content and leaving all five kids with an envelope of money to survive on that had long since dried up. There was a man who wore a suit and gold rings who’d started coming around more and more often, offering Lee a way to take care of his family. He’d seen him a few times about the estate. Once he’d been beating a man half to death because he couldn’t pay back the money he owed him, and another time he’d been visiting a woman whose husband died, bringing her a hamper of food to feed her kids. It was difficult to reconcile the violent man with the one who helped the widow. How could someone be both kind and cruel? Still, Lee wanted to trust him. He wanted what the man was offering to be real and not a con, because he saw his expensive suit and stylish car, and deep in his gut he coveted those things for himself. He was tired of suffering, tired of seeing his brothers live a life of poverty. He wanted to make sure his family was never cold or

hungry again, and the man represented an opportunity to do that. Stu coughed and turned on his side, his eyes open, clearly unable to sleep, either. “I hate her,” he said, drawing Lee from his thoughts. “We all hate her,” Lee replied. “What she did was selfish. She deserves to be hated.” “I’m not talking about Aunt Jenny. I’m talking about Mum. She was worse than Jenny. She never loved us. Mums are supposed to love their kids.” “She didn’t even love herself,” said Lee as he thought of her. “Junkies don’t love anything but getting high.” Both his mum and her sister had grown up in a house that was the worst kind of dysfunctional. It was no wonder they turned out how they did. Stu let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ll never do drugs. I’m swearing it now. If I ever try to touch a single pill, I want you to punch me in the face.” Lee chuckled quietly. “No problem, bruv.” “I’m serious,” Stu insisted. “I’ll even let you break my nose if it stops me from being such a stupid fucking fucker.” Stu’s proclamations woke up their younger brothers. Liam, who was just nine and the youngest, whined, “You two are being loud.” “Our bad, little man. Go back to sleep. We’ll be quieter,” said Lee in a hushed voice. “I’m hungry,” said Trevor, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Lee and Stu had been shoplifting food for weeks, but it was only going to be so long before they were caught. They couldn’t keep doing it. They had to find an alternative. Again, the man in the suit invaded his thoughts. “When is Aunt Jenny coming back?” Liam asked, too young to realise she was never coming back, not for them anyway. “She’s not,” Stu gritted out abruptly. He didn’t have Lee’s sensitivity when it came to dealing with the younger boys. Liam’s eyes started to shine right before he burst into tears, and Lee climbed from the bed, going to his side to comfort him. He threw his arm around his little brother’s shoulders and brushed away his tears with his thumb. “It’s going to be all right. We don’t need her,” he promised him. “How can you say that?” Trevor asked bitterly. “We have nothing. We’re just a bunch of kids nobody gives a shit about.” “I give a shit,” Lee threw back. “I give a shit about all of us. And I’m going to figure out a plan.” “A plan?” Liam piped up, sniffling. “Yeah. I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to step over — I’m going to make sure we never want for anything ever again. I’m sick of living like this.” A silence elapsed as he felt all three boys stare at him. He broke the quiet when he asked finally, “Who’s with me?”

Stu immediately reached over and placed his hand on top of Lee’s. “I am.” “Me, too,” said Trevor. “And me,” Liam agreed. Lee made eye contact with each of his brothers, their pact sealed. Tomorrow he’d go see the man in the suit, and, with any luck, their lives would change. He just hoped it would be for the better.

ONE

LONDON, 2010

Karla he first time I met Lee Cross, I was doing something as ordinary as shopping T for groceries. Standing casually outside a betting shop, he’d called on my best friend, Alexis, who he knew because she’d dated his brother. Time seemed to move in slow motion when his eyes landed on me, and I immediately felt flushed. Almost against my own will I found him attractive, from his tousled brown hair to his mischievous blue eyes, to the tattoos that peeked out from the ends of his shirt sleeves. Long story short, he asked me out. I shut him down. He’d tried to lure me into saying yes by whispering in my ear. “If you come, I’ll make you come with my tongue, and I won’t expect anything in return.” Can’t say I wasn’t tempted, but that was probably just my ten-month dry spell steering the wheel. I was a police constable. I took my job seriously. And I only had to take one look at Lee Cross to know that he didn’t live on the same side of the law as I did. Plus, he was too young for me. Sure, it was only three years, but still. The second time I met him, I was providing Alexis with some moral support, because she’d asked Lee a favour and he’d come over to our flat. He’d been cocky, lounging next to me on the couch and flirting. I had to keep reminding myself that he was off limits, especially when he flashed me that confident little grin of his. The one that said, One word, and I’ll fuck all that frustration right out of you, babe. Real annoying, like. I’d never give him that word. I’d never let myself say yes to Lee Cross. And the third time I met him, well, that brings us to the present, as I chased some hoodie down a back alley. Just seconds earlier I’d caught him attempting to rob a car parked outside a newsagents, and the second he saw me he scarpered. I worked out several times a week, but this fucker was too fast for me. Needless to say, I was relieved when I saw that the alley had a dead end. Too bad for him. There was nowhere to go, and my shift partner, Tony, would be rounding the corner any

moment. My relief quickly deflated when the hoodie effortlessly jumped the tenfoot wall like it was nothing. What the hell? Just before he dropped down the other side, he turned and shot me a wink. Cheeky. Little. Bastard. I’d recognise those blue eyes anywhere, because his older brother possessed an identical pair. Trevor was the second-youngest member of the Cross family. He had a number of arrests to his name, all minor stuff, and he hadn’t done any prison time. Yet. I was willing to bet that if he kept going the way he was going, he’d end up behind bars sooner or later. A second went by before Tony came up beside me, hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. “Did he just jump the wall?” “Yep.” “Fucker.” “My sentiments exactly. Come on, I think I know where we can find him.” After my first two encounters with Lee, I’d done my homework. I knew he lived on a council estate in Hackney. I knew that he was twenty-five years old, and owned a garage with questionable operations just a couple minutes away from my nick called Cross Bros. And I knew that, just like his younger brother, Trevor, he hadn’t done any time. But like I said, it was going to happen eventually. Admittedly, I’d gone a little overboard looking into him, and I couldn’t say why I was so interested. I guessed I just wanted to know what I was up against, since every time I ran into him, he seemed determined to win me over. Tony and I returned to the patrol car, and I hopped in the driver’s seat, my destination already in mind. My hands felt prickly and my heart thrummed at the idea of going to Lee’s house on police business, but I’d caught his brother in the middle of committing a criminal act, and no way was I letting him off the hook. “That’s four I’ve counted so far,” said Tony, resuming our often-played game of counting the trainers hanging from power lines. It was a sign to show that drugs were being sold in the area. Sadly, Tony and I always counted more trainers than we had time to deal with. Plus, it wasn’t like we could use a pair of dangling sports shoes as a reason to go searching somebody’s house. That’s why the trainers worked so well. Everybody knew what they meant, when technically they didn’t mean anything. When we reached Lee’s street, which consisted of two long rows of houses, I noticed that some were in okay condition, while others were either boarded up or falling apart. It was the kind of place you didn’t want to get stuck walking through at night, or during the day, for that matter. Lee’s house, number 52, was probably the best kept. It had triple glazing, and parked outside was a souped-up black Ford Focus RS with tinted windows in the back. “How did you know to come here?” Tony asked, derisively eyeing the car in the same way I was. It was just too fucking typical. “I recognised the guy. This is where he lives,” I answered, gripping the steering

wheel as I glanced out. We were exiting the car and making our way to the house when Tony said, “Dealt with him before, did you?” I shrugged right before I lifted the knocker and banged three times on the door. “Something like that.” The curtains twitched on the window of a house two doors down, and I saw a little old lady peek her head out. She seemed to startle when she caught me looking and quickly let the curtain fall back into place. I could hear the TV playing and voices talking inside Lee’s. Then somebody walked down the hallway and opened the door. It was a small woman, probably in her early twenties, with a pixie face and short brown hair. I wondered if she was Lee’s girlfriend. She was chewing gum as she cocked her head and gave me a blank stare. “Yeah?” “Good evening, miss. We’re looking for Trevor Cross, want to ask him a few questions about his whereabouts earlier this evening. Is he in by any chance?” The woman continued giving me her blank stare before rolling her eyes and turning to shout over her shoulder, “Lee! The old bill are at the door asking about Trev.” “I’m cooking dinner. Tell them he’s not in,” Lee called back, and I got a little fizzle in my stomach at the sound of his voice. It had been two, maybe three months since I’d last seen him. Needless to say, I wasn’t too happy about my reaction. I knew he was telling the truth about dinner when a waft of garlic hit my nose. Whatever he was cooking, it smelled delicious. She turned back to me, and I levelled her with a hard expression that made her swallow. “Don’t think they’re gonna leave so easily, cuz.” So she was his cousin? “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute,” Lee snapped. She gave me a pointed look that said, Happy now? before turning and strutting back inside the house. I glanced at Tony. He seemed bored. This sort of thing was business as usual for us; however, the fact that it involved Lee Cross meant I was far from bored. I adjusted my radio and ran my hands over the notebook tucked safely inside my shirt pocket before straightening out my tie. I was fidgeting, my agitation drumming itself up higher the longer Lee left us waiting. I heard some shuffling, and then a little boy of about three or four years of age shyly poked his head around the door. He was adorable, and I was grinning like an idiot before I had the chance to school my expression. “Hey, what’s your name?” I asked, bending down a little to meet his eyes. The second I spoke, he dashed off. Sometimes kids got scared when they saw the uniform. A second later Lee was walking down the hallway toward us, wiping his hands on a dish cloth. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and I allowed myself a brief moment to take in the intricate tattoos that adorned his arms and the way his jeans hugged his trim waist before straightening my posture. Lee’s eyebrows lifted when he saw me standing there. His expression didn’t give much away, and his attention wandered

briefly to Tony before returning to me. He seemed at ease. This was his territory, and I didn’t like it. He had the upper hand, no question. A slow, easy smile spread its way across his mouth as he eyed me. “I knew you’d come a-knocking sooner or later, Snap.” “There was a little boy,” I blurted. No idea why I said it. “That’s Jonathan. He’s my cousin Sophie’s kid. They live here with us.” “Oh,” I said, staring at him dumbly for a second before remembering why I was there. I cleared my throat. “Well, we’re here on official business. I’ve just come from chasing your brother Trevor down an alley after I caught him trying to steal a Honda. If he’s here, I’d like to speak with him.” Lee folded his arms. “Like I said, he’s not in. But how do you know it was Trev? Lots of blokes out there who look like him, good-lookin’ son of a gun that he is. I think you’ve got your wires crossed, babe.” “You’re talking to a police constable, son. Show some respect,” Tony said, bristling at Lee calling me “babe.” Lee looked at Tony, then at me, and smirked as he dipped his head forward and spoke low. “My apologies, Karla.” The way he said my name gave me that fizzy feeling in my stomach again, but I didn’t let it show. Up until now, he’d never called me by my actual name, always by the nickname he’d decided to give me: Snap, or the longer version, Gingersnap. “That’s Constable Sheehan to you,” I said firmly. Some recognition flared in his eyes as he ran a hand over his jaw. “Did you just say Sheehan?” I narrowed my gaze at him. “That’s right.” “Fuck.” “Did I not just tell you to show some respect?” Tony cut in, disgruntled now. Lee didn’t even look at him this time. His attention was all on me. “Any relation to Superintendent Sheehan?” I swallowed, my throat growing dry all of a sudden. He knew my dad. Fantastic. “That’s none of your concern. Now, if you could assist us in locating your brother….” “Oh, Christ, you are, aren’t you? What is he, your uncle? Your old man? Please don’t tell me you’re married to the prick, because that’ll just put me off my dinner.” His statement made me forget myself for just a second as I screwed up my face in disgust. “Eww, no. He’s my father, you….” I caught myself right before I added the word “idiot” onto the end of my sentence. “Shiiiit! Your dad? Bloody hell, Snap, now I just feel sorry for you.” He wasn’t joking, either. There was genuine sympathy in his expression, but I plastered a stoic look on my face. Most everyone who knew my father knew he was a hard-arse, belligerent fucking bully of a man, but he excelled at his job. His personal life, not so much. “I’m not discussing this with you. Call your brother and tell him to get down

here. If he’s innocent like you say he is, then he shouldn’t mind us asking a few questions.” Lee didn’t breathe a word; instead, he stared at me in a way that made my uniform feel too constricting, my stab vest too heavy. Slowly, he reached inside his jeans pocket and pulled out an iPhone. After tapping on the screen a few times, he lifted it to his ear, eyes on me as the call rang out. I was close enough to hear it go to voicemail. “He’s not answering.” “Amazing that,” Tony deadpanned before gesturing to me. “Come on, we’re not going to get anywhere with this one.” “Aw, not staying for dinner?” Lee teased, his mouth shaping back into a grin as he held his hands out. “And I went to all this trouble.” Tony was about to throw some barb back at him when his radio went off with a call from dispatch. He stepped away so he could answer it, thus leaving me alone with Lee, who leaned against the doorjamb and gave me a heated little look. “I have to say, I like you in uniform.” “Oh, shut it.” I rolled my eyes. There was nothing attractive about my uniform. It was basically men’s clothing on a woman. “I’m not lying. How’s about you come up to my room for a bit, and I’ll show you how much I like it?” He paused, eyes flicking to the top of my head as he winked. “You can even leave your hat on.” Completely against my own will, I snickered a laugh, folding my arms across my chest. “No thanks, Tom Jones.” “I think you’ll find it was Randy Newman who penned the tune. Tom Jones did the cover,” Lee quipped. I made a concerted effort to regain my professionalism and throw a bucket of cold water over his flirty banter. “When you see your brother, tell him to get himself down the nick to see me.” “Fucking hell, Snap, you really are Ross Sheehan’s daughter. Growing up must have been shit for you.” The empathy in his voice caught me off guard. I swallowed but didn’t say anything. Our gazes locked and held, something thick and unspoken passing between us. He took a step outside, past the threshold of his doorway and onto the street. I glanced down at the toes of my boots and back up again, a strand of hair falling from behind my ear. Lee’s hand reached out, as though he were about to tuck it back in, but then he froze before he could touch me. Touching a constable could technically be considered assault. And technically, I could arrest him for that. Maybe that’s why he stopped. Or maybe it was something else. His eyes softened when he whispered, “If that cranky string of piss weren’t with you right now, it’d be a whole other ball game.” I looked to Tony, who had just finished with his call. Lee turned and casually went back inside his house, closing the door softly behind him. Giving me a nod, Tony gestured for me to follow him back to the patrol car.

I was about to do just that when the door to the next house burst open and a little girl ran out. She was only about five or six years old, and somebody was shouting loudly at her to get back inside. I stared at her, from her unkempt brown hair to her blue eyes and ratty clothes. Her gaze was wide and full of fear. She returned my stare for just a second before she hurried to Lee’s door and began knocking furiously. The door opened and Lee reappeared, the girl instantly rushing to his side and hugging his leg. He bent down and gently petted her hair. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, and the girl whispered something in his ear. His expression hardened as he nodded and told her to go on inside the house. When his gaze landed on me, it was only for a second. He didn’t say a word, just stood up and closed the door over again. There was something about the scene that caused a deep part of my heart to ache. Uncared-for children were my one true sore spot, and there was a reason for that. Seeing the girl run to Lee like he was her golden saviour made me feel things I wasn’t ready to explore. I heard somebody clomping their way down the stairs of the house the girl had fled right before a skinny woman with greasy hair and bags under eyes came out, yelling after her daughter. “I swear to God, Billie, you better get your arse back in here before I give you something to cry about.” She stopped in her tracks once she saw me, her eyes narrowing in anger. “What the fuck do you want, pig?” “Was that your daughter?” I asked, clenching my fist tight. I already hated her. It wasn’t my job to hate people, but in this particular case I couldn’t seem to help it. She stepped out of her house, like she was actually considering putting it up to me. Why did crackheads always think they could take you? They had one swing in them, tops, before their energy dried up. She was pointing her finger at me now. “That’s the problem with you lot, always sticking your oars in where they’re not wanted.” I heard Tony getting back out of the car and making his way over to us. “There a problem here, miss?” he asked the woman. At the sight of my broad, six-foot-three colleague, the woman’s bravery died a quick death as she shook her head. “Nah, no problem,” she hurried to answer before going back inside her house and slamming the door. Tony patted my shoulder. “Come on.” Once we were back in the car and buckled up, I let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I wish I was a bloke. Nobody’s scared of a five-foot-six woman.” “Hey, I’ve seen you spar. You could take down half the men at the station before they’ve even had a chance to blink. Everybody should be scared of you,” said Tony with a grin. I shot him a small smile. It was true. I practiced eskrima twice a week, which kept me fit and well able to defend myself should the need arise. And in my line of work, the need usually arose. “So, how do you know that one?” Tony went on, looking back at Lee’s house

while I put the car in gear. “My flatmate used to go out with his brother. She learned her lesson.” And he makes me feel things, my conscience added, things I have no business feeling. Tony pursed his lips and looked out the window at the less-than-pleasing scenery. I thought where I lived was rough, but this place was pretty dire. “I imagine she did,” he said. “Families like that, Karla, they have trouble stamped all over them.” I hated that he was right. “Tell me about it,” I sighed, and then we headed out to deal with a traffic accident on the A10. WHEN I FINALLY CLOCKED OUT that night, I had nothing on my mind other than a nice, long soak in the tub and maybe some Chinese takeaway. Unfortunately, my happy thoughts were interrupted by Detective Inspector Katherine Jennings. If a person could be the equivalent of getting shit on by seagulls, then it was DI Jennings. I bumped into her on my way out of the station, and I mean I literally bumped right into her. Damn Lee Cross with his cheeky handsome smiles and probing eyes taking up all my thoughts. “Watch where you’re going, Sheehan, for Christ’s sake,” she snapped. Katherine had it in for me, big time. I knew it had something to do with an old feud between her and my dad. Apparently, he’d called her a no-account, dried-up old cunt during a particularly brutal argument when they’d been working on the same case together years ago, but if you asked me, there was more to it than that. Anyhow, thanks to my dear old dad, she now despised the very ground I walked on, and had done everything in her power to make my job difficult since the moment I started working under her. “Sorry, ma’am, I’ll watch where I’m going next time.” My words were said plainly, with absolutely no sarcasm or sass, but Katherine had a knack for detecting aggression where there was none. “Take that tone with me again, Constable, and I’ll have you transferred to some shithole district in the back arse of nowhere before you even have time to go crying to Daddy.” Not once in my life had I ever gone “crying to Daddy,” but I let her have the final word. It was the only way to keep from incurring more of her wrath. Nodding, I internalised my frustration and quietly turned on my heel, continuing on my way. When I got home, I found Alexis lying face down on the couch while a soap opera played on the TV. I didn’t know whether to laugh or worry. This moping behaviour had been a regular occurrence with her ever since the love of her life had disappeared off the face of the planet. Long story short, she’d had an affair with her boss, and he’d done a runner after beating the living daylights out of his own father, almost killing him. Never let it be said that our lives were uneventful. “Man, the couch must smell really good,” I commented dryly as I came in and

set the bag of Chinese takeout on the coffee table. “Can I get a whiff? I love a good couch-sniffing session.” “I’m not sniffing the couch,” Alexis whined before sitting up and shooting me the stink-eye. “I was trying to convey my complete and utter sense of loneliness and despair. You know, like performance art, but shittier.” I laughed and gave her shoulder a small squeeze. Her heart had been through the ringer the past few months, so I could understand where she was coming from. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling?” “Crap, like usual.” “I’ve always loved you for your honesty, you know that?” I got a hint of a smile out of her as her eyes wandered to the bag. “And I’ve always loved you because you’re the kind of class act who brings food home after a shift. Can I?” “Have at it.” She picked up the bag and brought it over to the kitchen, finding plates and dishing out the chow mein. I kicked off my boots and went into my bedroom to change out of my uniform. When I returned Alexis was back on the couch, digging into her food while a plate had been set out for me. “So, how was work?” she asked between mouthfuls. “It was fine until I bumped into DI Jennings on my way home. I swear, she has this way of draining happiness out of me like nobody else.” I made the decision not to tell Alexis about my run-in with Lee, and I wasn’t quite sure why. She held her fork in mid-air and let out a long sigh. “I’m telling you, Karla, you need to close tabs on this bitch. Otherwise, she’s just going to keep on pushing until you snap, and then she’ll have a real reason to fire you.” I stared at her. “Close tabs?” She stared back at me. “You know, like on the computer.” I failed to suppress a chuckle. “I know what it means, Lexie. I’ve just never heard it used quite in that context before.” “Well, you’ve heard it now. You need to shut her down. You’ve never done anything to warrant her behaviour, and it gets on my tits that you’re just sitting back and taking it. No friend of mine takes shit.” I chuckled some more. She narrowed her gaze. I sighed. “Look, I get where you’re coming from, but I just feel like my dad did something really horrible to her that nobody else knows about. I wouldn’t put it past him. I mean, she’s hardly a ray of sunshine with everyone else, but with me it’s real hatred. You don’t feel that level of vitriol toward someone without good reason.” “You should ask your dad about it. Get it all out in the open.” “Um, have you met my father lately? He’s hardly the sharing kind.” Alexis shot me an understanding frown, and we finished our food in companionable silence. I was still thinking about Dad later on as I ran a bath and climbed in for a long soak. Both my parents were born and raised in North Belfast during the height of the Troubles. Let’s just say, being a Protestant in Northern

Ireland during the 1960s and ’70s did not equal a harmonious existence. My dad worked for the PSNI up until the mid-eighties before being offered a job with the Metropolitan Police here in London. I was born about two years after the move, the only child of a couple where the power mechanics were greatly uneven. My father was six foot four, lean and mean, with brown hair and blue eyes. My mother was five foot nothing, small and timid, with red hair and brown eyes. At five foot six, tough but sensitive, with red hair and blue eyes, I was an even mix of the both of them. My mother was my father’s doormat, and the sad thing was that she seemed quite happy to continue in that way. Never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like her. And never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like my dad. I know, funny that I say it, since I seemingly followed in his footsteps and joined the police. The thing is, I never joined the police to please him. I joined the police because I wanted to help people, but more importantly, I joined to prove him wrong. As a kid I was a tomboy, idolising characters like Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley, yet every day I’d have to sit around and listen to my dad say stuff like, They shouldn’t let women on the force, they’re too weak-willed, and, What’s the point of a female police officer? Strength-wise, she’ll never be able to take down a man. At the same time I had to deal with his constant criticisms of both me and Mum, and somehow that transformed into a deep-seated need to do everything in my power to prove my worth. The only problem with that? Katherine Jennings hated my guts, and as long as she did, I was never going to make sergeant. Seven years on the force and I was still a lowly constable. Needless to say, Dad was over the fucking moon that I’d never managed to rise in rank. It proved him right. Every time I went to dinner at my parents’ house, I had to listen to him go on and on about how I should just quit my job and go do something less hazardous for a woman, like say, become a waitress or a florist. I swear, one of these days I wasn’t going to hold back the tirade of venom that had been piling up inside me for years. One of these days I was going to let him have all of it. Taking a deep breath and sinking into the bubbles, I tried to rid my thoughts of my father and think of something more relaxing. Somehow, Lee’s face flashed in my mind, which got my blood up in a very different way. I couldn’t win. Involuntarily, a tiny laugh escaped me as I thought of what my father would think if I brought Lee home with me for dinner some evening. And you know, it’d almost be worth it just to see the look on his face, to see that vein in his forehead throb, the one that looked like Vesuvius ready to erupt whenever something pissed him off. Closing my eyes, I slid farther into the bath, dunking my head under the water as I remembered the first time I met Lee. “You got a boyfriend?” he asked, hands braced casually on the metal end of my shopping trolley. He had really intense eyes, and the way the muscles in his forearms flexed was a little bit mesmerising. “That’s none of your business,” I replied, trying to focus on the shelved

packages in front of me. “You act like you’ve got a boyfriend, or are all coppers this uptight?” A small laugh escaped me. “Look, you’re barking up the wrong tree and I’ve got groceries to shop for, so could you please leave me to it?” He leaned a fraction closer. “How long have you known Alexis? She never mentioned you while she and Stu were together.” Cocking an eyebrow, I replied, “Hmm, I wonder why that is? People don’t generally mention the fact that they have friends in law enforcement to someone like you.” I instantly regretted how judgmental I sounded, but it was the truth. Lee had “dodgy” stamped all over him, from the tattoos to the wiser-than-he-pretendsto-be gleam in his eye. I’d met blokes like him before, usually while I was working. They’d have your wallet and phone from your pocket before you ever realised you were a few hundred quid lighter. The curve to his lips was at odds with the hardness that suddenly marked his expression. “Someone like me?” “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know you.” “Yeah, you don’t.” “And I don’t want to.” He let go of the trolley and came around to stand before me, whispering, “Now, we both know that’s a lie.” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, sucking in a breath at his proximity. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and I suddenly realised I was enjoying his closeness. Standing back, I shot him a hard stare that told him not to push his luck. He didn’t take the warning, and instead reached out to pull a strand of my hair between his fingers. “I fucking love this hair. You’re gorgeous. Let me take you out.” So, he was one of those men, the kind who had a thing for redheads. Before I had a chance to respond, I was saved by Alexis, who came up behind Lee and slapped him cheekily on the arse. God, I loved her. Sometimes it was great having a friend who knew exactly when you needed saving. I rose out of the water, inhaling a deep breath, and tried to shake my thoughts of Lee. Thinking about a man I could never have was a waste of time. So, doing my best to clear my mind, I endeavoured to enjoy the rest of my bath, minus the inner ramblings.

TWO

“G etting high off his own supply. Bloody typical,” my workmate Steve tutted as

he recounted the story of a dealer he’d busted the day before. I wasn’t too fond of Steve, mainly because he was fond enough of himself for the both of us, and his alpha-male braggadocio tended to rub me up the wrong way. It was a Saturday morning, and I was stationed with him, Tony, and another constable, Keira, outside Emirates Stadium, where a football match was to take place between Arsenal and Spurs. We were mostly there for crowd control, but also because of the old rivalry between the teams that meant there was a small chance of trouble after the game. Football hooliganism was a real pet peeve of mine. These people would fight to the point of seriously injuring one another, all in aid of some perceived feud between sides. It was ridiculous. “It couldn’t have been very hard booking him, then, if he was high,” I said in an effort to take Steve down a peg or two. I got my argumentative side from my dad. It was a flaw, sure, but at least I could own up to it. My workmate eyed me, bristling at my comment. “He was on cocaine, Karla. Have you ever met a cokehead right after he’s snorted a few lines? Fucking mental cases.” “She’s met plenty,” Tony put in calmly, and I could tell he was trying to preemptively defuse any bickering between Steve and me, ever the father of the group. “We all have. Saturday nights on the beat are hardly a cakewalk.” “True that,” said Keira past a yawn. She’d had a late shift last night, and I could tell she was exhausted. I’d wanted to let her take the morning off, but the stadium was at full capacity, so we needed all hands on deck. We were stationed close to the entrance, where the Arsenal fans were queuing up, a sea of red and white jerseys. I was on autopilot, scanning the crowds for any signs of disruption, when I caught sight of a familiar face. It had been over two weeks since I’d paid a visit to his house, and I really shouldn’t have been feeling butterflies right then, but I couldn’t seem to prevent them. Lee Cross and his brother Stu were walking toward the stadium. Both of them were the sort of men who demanded attention, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise

that mine was drawn in their direction. Just behind them were their two other brothers, Liam and Trevor. Liam was the youngest, a baby-faced version of Lee. Trevor was the second youngest, and he was prettier than half the girls I knew. Stu, the one Alexis had dated, was the eldest, and he was handsome in a rough and rugged sort of way. Before I could give it a second thought, my feet were on the move. I managed to bypass Lee and went straight for Trevor. “Excuse me a moment, sir, but can I have a word?” I said, placing a hand out for him to stop. He paused mid-stride and eyed me closely, like he knew my face but couldn’t quite pin down where he’d seen me before. The moment he took in my uniform, though, his gaze widened with recognition. Still, he didn’t get spooked and instead flashed me a smile, standing back as Liam arched a brow at me. “Of course, Constable, what can I do for ya?” said Trevor, his sparkly blue eyes dancing. Was this a game to him? Small hairs suddenly prickled at the back of my neck, like a spooky sixth sense. Glancing quickly behind me, I saw Lee standing mere feet away with Stu. “Problem, Snap?” I swallowed, my eyelids fluttering nervously. What the hell was wrong with me? I never got nervous like this when I was working. It was Lee. He had a weird effect on me. For some reason, I grew flushed at the same time my jaw tightened. His little nickname for me was really starting to get on my nerves. I ignored him and turned back to Trevor. “Two weeks ago, on Friday the twenty-first, between five and five-thirty, can you remember your whereabouts?” He scratched his jaw, like he actually had to think about it. I’d been in touch with the newsagents where the car he’d tried to steal was parked. I requested their surveillance tapes but, and I knew this wasn’t a coincidence, the camera was angled in such a way that it hadn’t caught him. “It’s hard to remember such a specific time, you get me?” said Trevor right before Stu stepped up, a hostile slant to his mouth. “You were with me, bruv, down at the garage, remember?” “Oh, right, yeah. That’s where I was. At the garage.” Trevor nodded. I looked between the two of them, still incredibly aware of Lee at my back. He had this way of making me feel entirely seen, like he sensed just how uncomfortable I was under his watch. The thought made me even more determined not to let his brothers away with their blatant lie. I should have known that one of them would give Trevor an alibi, though. “Is there anyone else who can corroborate this? Any other workers at the garage?” “Of course there are. The place is closed for the weekend, but you be sure to pop over on Monday, and we’ll get you speaking to some of the boys,” said Lee, coming to stand next to me. I sucked in a small breath and tried to remain in control, which was hard to do, considering I was surrounded by Cross brothers amid a crowd of

football supporters. I finally allowed my eyes to meet Lee’s, and the way he was looking at me caused me to swallow thickly. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll do that,” I answered, a little befuddled, before looking back to Trevor and Stu. “You all enjoy the game.” I was stepping away when Stu called after me, “We will, and you tell Lexie I was asking for her.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I gave him a quick nod. Stu was drop-dead gorgeous, but his attempts to win Alexis back were pointless. Her heart belonged to another. Lee’s shoulder brushed mine as he turned to follow his brothers, and I couldn’t for the life of me explain why, but I reached out to grab his wrist. Steve, Tony, and Keira were just yards away, but the area was so crowded that they’d never be able to see I was touching him. He glanced down at my fingers before his eyes rose to my face, and he looked intrigued. “Can I talk to you for a second?” I breathed heavily when his thumb slid slowly along my palm before rubbing tenderly at the inside of my wrist. Withdrawing my hand like I’d just been burned, I saw his lips twitch in amusement. “What is it, Snap?” he whispered. “I, uh, I….” Jesus Christ, was I tongue-tied? “Karla,” said Lee, and he sounded concerned, “are you all right?” I blushed, unable to help it, before summoning my resolve. “Yes, I’m fine. I’d just like to ask if you could quit with the nickname. It suggests a familiarity we don’t have, and it undermines my position as a police constable. I have a feeling that’s why you do it, and to be perfectly honest, it’s patronising.” Sticking my chin out, I looked him dead in the eye, and his expression softened. “If that’s how it comes across, then I’m sorry. But I don’t call you Snap to patronise you — I do it because I like you.” Damn, why did I have to find his honesty so disarming? He looked like he wanted to touch me again, which made me feel the need to move swiftly on. I wasn’t looking directly at him, but somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder, when I continued, “Anyway, the other thing I wanted to talk to you about is Trevor. If he’s lying — and I’m not stupid, Lee, he and Stu are clearly lying — then he could find himself in big trouble down the line. He seems like a good kid, but you need to teach him to be smart. And I’m not saying this to be cruel — it’s just the truth — but a boy who looks like him in prison? That wouldn’t end anywhere good.” I finally managed to meet his eyes, and when I did, I was shocked at what I found. For a second Lee looked guilty, his every feature filled with remorse before it was replaced with something that looked a lot like anger. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his jaw. “Are we done here?” he asked curtly. Soberly, I nodded, and he turned and walked away. It was ridiculous that I felt bad about what I’d said, but it needed to be done. Somebody had to remind Lee of the reality of how his family was living, and exactly where it would lead.

When I went to rejoin the others, I noticed Steve looking in the direction Lee had gone. “Were those the Cross boys you were talking to just now?” he asked curiously. I glanced at him. “Uh-huh.” “What have they been up to this time?” Tony stepped in to answer for me. “Karla and I had a run-in with one of them a couple weeks ago. Found him trying to nick a car. Never caught him, though.” Steve chuckled derisively. “Well, you wouldn’t.” He paused and eyed me. “You see the two younger ones? You’ll never catch either of them. At least, not on foot. They’re into all that free-running business. Little shits will be halfway down the side of a building before you’ve even stopped to catch your breath.” “Seriously?” said Tony. My mind reeled as I remembered Trevor jumping a ten-foot wall like it was nothing. So it was definitely him. Tony and I shared a glance, like we were both thinking the same thing, and my determination returned. Maybe I would pay a visit to Lee’s garage on Monday after all. It couldn’t be that difficult to catch one of his employees out on a lie. Don’t get me wrong — I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to put Trevor in a jail cell. I was doing it because I thought it might be enough of a scare to get him to start abiding by the law. Once the crowds had dispersed and everybody was inside the stadium watching the match, Keira and I went to grab some coffees and sandwiches for an early lunch. After that there were a couple of incidents to handle while the game was on, mostly drunk and disorderly behaviour. Sport plus alcohol generally equalled a bunch of rowdy imbeciles. The game finished 3-1 to Spurs, which meant there was going to be a whole lot of pissed-off Arsenal fans coming our way, including Lee and his brothers. We were controlling the flow in such a way that the fans of opposing teams didn’t mix. Unfortunately, a group of Spurs supporters, not wanting to wait in line, managed to jump one of the barricades. Before we knew it, they’d mixed in with the Arsenal fans. I’d experienced a number of riots in my time, but had never actually witnessed the moment that instigated it all. It was amazing how something so small could lead to such chaos. One guy wearing a Spurs jersey knocked into an Arsenal fan, heated words were exchanged, and before I knew it, punches were being thrown. I looked to my left and right, but Keira and Steve were too far off, and they wouldn’t be able to get past the crowd on time. I’d have to deal with this myself. My hand instinctively went to my baton; I wouldn’t hesitate to use it should things get out of control. It was times like these that I really wished all UK police carried firearms. People generally backed off when you were pointing a gun at them. We had armed units, but the main workforce carried only an extendable baton, CS spray, and a Taser. I tried to use the spray and Taser only when absolutely necessary, and usually the sight of my baton was enough to keep most people in

line. The problem in this particular situation? Alcohol. Both men were angry drunk, the worst kind, so I knew I was going to have a battle on my hands. “Hey! That’s enough, fellas,” I called out as one man threw a left hook at the other guy’s jaw. A crowd was starting to gather, gangs of people egging them on. Out came the baton, and an onlooker to my left blew a low whistle. This was where my martial arts training came in handy, because a baton was about the same length of an eskrima stick. It wasn’t exactly ethical, but to a certain level you could adapt the skills. “Both of you need to back off. This is your last warning,” I shouted with authority. When neither of them heeded my advice, I started to approach. Somebody placed their hand on my shoulder, and I turned swiftly to find Tony standing there. “Let me help,” he said, and I nodded, allowing him to go ahead of me. Grabbing one guy’s arm and twisting it behind his back, Tony managed to subdue him, while I went straight for the other man. Sliding my baton back in its holster, I pulled out my cuffs. “Hands above your head,” I ordered, making the mistake of touching his shoulder. He interpreted it as a sign of aggression, too drunk to realise I was a police officer, and swung around. Luckily, I managed to duck quickly and avoid a blow. Seeing he’d missed his mark, he threw another punch, but I was faster. Sidestepping the hit, I grabbed his other arm and locked it firmly behind his back. “You fucking bitch,” he slurred, struggling in my hold. “Oi,” Tony shouted, seeing him resist me. “Do as the constable tells you.” “Piss off!” the drunk spat as I slapped a pair of cuffs on him. “Stop acting like a twat,” a bystander put in. It didn’t help matters. The drunk man grew incensed and lunged for the bystander. I was momentarily distracted, and he slipped out of my hold. Still cuffed, he dove forward and headbutted the man, who threw his hands out in an effort to defend himself. A couple of people tried to break up the scuffle, but it only resulted in more fighting. Soon I was standing in the middle of a riot, and I couldn’t see Tony anywhere. My heart rate picked up, my palms growing sweaty. How the hell had things escalated this quickly? Bodies seemed to be everywhere, and before I could react, somebody ran right into me. I caught myself before I fell, reached for my baton, and ordered several rioters to cease and desist. The thing was, there was one of me and dozens of them, and they completely ignored my instructions. I approached two men, both in their mid-twenties, my baton out. I shouted a warning, but neither of them listened, so I gave one of them a measured blow to the shin. He immediately turned on me. “Get down on the ground,” I ordered at the same moment he grabbed for my baton. I levelled a kick to his abdomen and he bent over, knees hitting the tarmac. Just as I about to pull out my second pair of cuffs and arrest him, a glass bottle

somebody had thrown came sailing through the air, hitting me right on the forehead. “Shit,” I swore, growing dizzy, and saw the man crawl forward to steal my baton once more. Before he could get away, somebody slammed their foot down on his wrist and I heard a voice threaten, “Drop the stick and fuck off.” Looking up, I saw Lee, but I was too busy trying to regain my composure to pay him much attention. A second later he was in front of me, his hands on my face. “Karla, are you okay?” “I’m…I’m fine,” I said as he settled an arm around my waist and pulled me forward. “No, you’re not. Come on, let me get you out of here. It’s not safe.” The urge to protest almost bubbled out, but my head hurt too much to speak. Lee’s body heat sank into me, warming my bones. He kept glancing at me in concern as he led me away from the rioting. Seconds later I was standing in a narrow doorway as he crowded me in. I allowed my weight to rest against the wall while he pulled a napkin from his pocket and began dabbing at the cut on my forehead. He muttered angrily to himself, but I was too out of it to properly listen to what he was saying. “Where’s Tony?” I finally managed to ask in an unsteady voice. Lee’s hand paused. “Lanky bastard? Didn’t see him.” I tried to push him out of the way. “I need to go back and help.” He stood firm, his hands bracing my shoulders. “You’re hurt. You won’t be any use. Now hold still and let me clean you up.” I took a deep breath and went quiet. This was probably the closest we’d ever been, and I found myself studying his face. He was concentrating on dabbing the blood from my forehead, so I had a chance to properly take him in. God, he was handsome. There was a hardness to his features, and I felt a strange need to smooth my fingers over the crease between his eyebrows. It seemed like he worried for me, which made those butterflies begin to flutter once again. My eyes traced the lines of his strong jaw, angled cheekbones, and masculine lips. Then I looked up and found him watching me study him. Those lips I’d just been staring at now curved into a smile. His body moved forward, his heat surrounding me, and against my own will I trembled. “Oh, Snap, what are we gonna do?” he whispered right into my ear, and I flushed the second his breath hit my skin. The way his weight pressed on me wasn’t unpleasant. The noise of people shouting and glass shattering rang out, but somehow Lee’s presence seemed to mute everything. All I could hear were his breaths and mine. All I could smell was his soap and cologne. His fingers came to my neck, but my collar was too high for him to be able to access much skin. Still, the parts of me that he was touching were on fire. “Do you feel dizzy or sick?” he asked, and I shook my head. I’d had a concussion

enough times in the past to know I didn’t have one then. Our gazes locked, and I wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he asked another question. “How did you know where I lived?” “What?” “The other week you came by my house. How did you know where I lived?” I tried to think of the least embarrassing answer, because the truth was that I’d gone snooping. “All of your brothers have a record, Lee. Not to mention Stu served six months in Feltham as a young offender. Your address is in the system.” “Yeah, but you went looking, didn’t you?” His smile returned. “That’s correct. I went looking right after I caught your brother trying to steal someone’s car,” I told him pointedly. He quirked an eyebrow like he didn’t believe me. “You’re that quick, huh?” My throat grew dry. “All it takes is a call to dispatch.” His chest rubbed off mine, and even through my stab vest I could feel it. “And how did you recognise Trevor? You’d never met him before.” Christ, was this an interrogation? “He has your eyes,” I blurted without thinking. This gave Lee pause, and a long silence fell between us, his gaze searching mine. “That’s a whole lot of attention to pay to someone you don’t want to know,” he said finally, throwing my own words back at me, the ones I’d spoken the first time we met. “Lee,” I pleaded, desperately needing him to back off. “You’re too young for me.” “Karla, I’m perfect for you,” he countered, right before his mouth dipped in and his lips brushed lightly across mine. It was hardly anything, and yet, every nerve ending in my body came alive. Just as his mouth was about to descend on mine again, I dug my heel into his ankle. He grunted and reared away, leaving me enough space to get by him. Unfortunately, I didn’t get very far. I’d barely taken three steps when Lee caught hold of my arm and pulled me to him, my back to his front. “What you just did, not advisable,” he breathed harshly. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice, and a shiver ran through me. Gone was the playful flirtation, and I was reminded once more that this man was bad news. “Take your hands off me right now or I’ll arrest you,” I ordered, my tone harsh. Seconds passed, like he was deliberating over what to do. Then he released me, but not before delivering a final statement. “One day, Karla, you’ll understand that me having my hands on you is never a bad thing.” My skin prickled. It took me a moment to absorb his words, but by the time I turned around, he was already gone. ONCE I’D MANAGED to regain my sanity after my encounter with Lee, I called in the troops. An hour later we had the rioting under control, a number of people were

arrested, and the remainder were emptied from the stadium. The wound to my forehead was superficial, so, thanks to Lee’s clean-up job, I was still able to finish my shift. It was difficult to comprehend the fact that he’d helped me, but I reminded myself it was all an act. He only wanted to bang a police woman so that he could brag about it to his mates afterward. I was just leaving the locker room that evening when I heard somebody ask, “Shit, what happened to you?” I winced slightly at the sound of my ex, Gavin’s, voice. Usually, I went out of my way to avoid him, and in the ten months since we’d broken up, I’d managed to reduce the number of times we ran into one another to the barest minimum. Gavin worked for the armed unit, and his job tended to veer toward the more dangerous end of the spectrum, while my daily shifts were usually less hazardous. Today was not the usual. “I was stationed at Emirates Stadium. I presume you heard about the rioting,” I said, stepping past him and hoping he wouldn’t try to prolong the conversation. In my mind, there were two categories of men who signed up for the police. You had the well-meaning, family kind, like Tony, who just wanted to make the streets a safer place for his daughters to grow up. Then you had the borderline sociopathic kind, like Steve, and, let’s face it, my dad, who joined the force because it meant they got to wield power over people. Gavin fell into the latter category. I’d broken up with him for two reasons. One, he’d been a controlling fuckwad, and two, I’d caught him shagging another woman – on my birthday, in the ladies’ bathroom of the club where my party was being held. Nothing like a bit of adultery on your birthday to make you feel like truly celebrating – that was sarcasm, by the way. In conclusion, Gavin was a dickhead, and I was better off without him. “I did hear, but I didn’t know you were there. Shit, that cut looks bad, Karla. Have you had it checked out?” “It’s fine. Now if you don’t mind….” I lifted a brow and gestured for him to get out of the way, but he didn’t move. “Ah, come on, don’t be like that,” he said. I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and walked around him. He wasn’t even worth the effort of a hostile conversation. He called after me, so I threw my hand in the air and gave him the finger. His growl of irritation was infinitely satisfying. I’d just climbed into my car when my phone went off with a call from Alexis. I put it on speaker. “Hey.” “Karla! I just saw the riot on the news. Are you all right?” “I’m fine, nothing a glass of wine and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. I’m on my way home. Do you need anything?” A pause. “Well, now that you mention it, you wouldn’t mind popping by the McDonalds drive-through, would you? I have a hankering for chicken nuggets and a chocolate fudge sundae for dipping.”

I resisted the urge to gag. “Bloody hell, that sounds disgusting. Are you pregnant?” She snorted down the line. “Piss off. I’m not pregnant. I’m depressed. There’s a difference.” “Fine. I’ll get you McDonalds. Be home in twenty.” “Aww, you really love me, don’t you?” she crooned. I laughed. “Yeah, to my detriment sometimes.”

THREE

he next day at work, Tony pulled me into one of the briefing rooms, opened T up a laptop, and hit “play” on a video. It was surveillance footage from an

apartment building, showing the outside grounds. Nothing happened for a second, and then off to the left a man approached. He wore a dark hoodie and jeans, his face shielded by a black balaclava as he reached up and grabbed hold of a window ledge on the bottom floor. Swinging himself up, he balanced himself perfectly on the narrow space, his movements swift and graceful like a stuntman or an acrobat. “What is this?” I asked, glancing at Tony. “Just keep watching,” he urged me, his lips curving into a smile. My eyes returned to the video, where the masked man grabbed onto the next ledge and swung his body up the same as before. The footage cut to a camera higher up, showing he’d climbed something like ten floors, only to land on a thin brick outcropping that ran around the middle of the building. “Somebody watched too much Spiderman as a kid,” I said cynically, though really, I was impressed, very impressed. No average person could pull off something like this without some extreme amount of skill. The pit of my stomach began to tingle with a little rush of excitement to see what would happen next. The footage cut again to another camera, showing the man stop at a window and push it open with ease before slipping inside the building. Tony fast-forwarded a couple minutes and the man was back, emerging through the same window. However, this time the rucksack he wore appeared distinctly fuller than it had previously. He began moving along the ledge the same as before, only now he didn’t climb between the windows. For some reason, my eyes fixed on the line of his shoulders, the way he moved his body, and some strange sense of familiarity hit me. I couldn’t quite pin down what it was, so I concentrated back on what was happening. The video cut to yet another camera, where a scaffold was set up on one side of the old building. The man began swinging from bar to bar, his movements more panther than monkey. When he got as low as the top of a nearby street lamp, he leapt through the air, caught onto the lamp, and swung deftly to the ground, like a fireman going down a pole. The camera was angled just right to catch him running

off into the night, and then he was gone. “The boys down in evidence had this footage put together after somebody dropped off a rucksack full of jewellery and a note tipping us off about one of the units in that building,” said Tony. “We paid a visit, and it turns out there was a cash-for-gold scam being run out of the same flat our guy broke into. They target older people, usually those who live alone and don’t have anyone to tell them it’s a scam. They put leaflets through their letterboxes saying if they send their old gold to a P.O. box in the city, it’ll be valued, and a cheque for the same amount will be sent back to them.” I nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that one.” Tony sighed. “Obviously, weeks go by, and the cheque never comes. Bunch of scumbags, taking advantage of the elderly like that.” “So this bloke stole the jewellery back?” “That’s about the size of it.” I had to admit, I was sort of fascinated. “Forget Spiderman, maybe he thinks he’s Robin Hood. Perhaps his granny got scammed, and he was pissed and decided to dole out some vigilante justice,” I joked. “Whatever way you want to spin it, you’ve got admire his gumption. Though I don’t condone the method, at least there’s a few less people out there being taken for mugs.” “Yeah,” I said, staring at the frozen screen of the laptop and again trying to shake off that odd sense of familiarity. “At least there’s that.” CONFESSION TIME: I had a crush on my eskrima instructor. His name was Felix, and he came from the Philippines. He was also in his forties and married with three kids, but hey, it wasn’t like I ever planned on doing anything about it. I was simply happy to admire him from afar. He was short, but he had a perfect body, muscles draped in smooth tanned skin. The truth was, I had a thing for small, handsome men. Give me James McEvoy, Elijah Wood, Daniel Radcliffe, hell, even the guy who played E from Entourage, and I was giggling like a schoolgirl. I think this derived from my deep-seated resentment of my father, who was the opposite of a small, handsome man. Therefore, they represented a comfortable ideal, something non-threatening and safe. Lee Cross was neither small nor extremely tall, but somewhere in the middle. He was unclassifiable. Huh. I sat on the mat beside my good friend Reya, stretching and staring at Felix as he stood by the doorway, chatting with a guy who was interested in joining the class. For some reason, there was an abundance of new members today. We practiced twice weekly at my gym, which was handy because it meant I could go for a swim afterward to cool down, or spend some time in the sauna. “You’re staring again,” said Reya, nudging me with her shoulder.

I chuckled sheepishly and pulled myself out of my Felix-induced trance. “Sorry. But look at the man. He’s perfect.” She laughed. “You’re such a weirdo sometimes.” Reya and I had met under somewhat unusual circumstances. I’d been out one night at a jazz bar with Alexis, and Reya had been on stage, singing and playing piano. She performed under the stage name Queenie, and was perhaps the shyest singer-songwriter I’d ever come across. All through her act she never once opened her eyes, but her lyrics had hit me square in the gut. They were just so brutally honest, full of pain and heartache, and I couldn’t understand how a girl so young could have experienced that amount of hurt. It was clear that she’d been a victim of some kind, so I’d determined to approach her after the show. When I did, I told her how much her music had affected me, invited her for drinks with me and Alexis, and the rest is history. Somewhere along the way, I suggested that she learn how to defend herself, and now she was a full-fledged member of the class. I went to see her play gigs whenever I got the chance, but she still never opened her eyes. I guess you could call it a work in progress. After a few minutes, Felix came and gave a little talk to all the new members, and we finally got started. When we were done I was a hot, sweaty mess. Apparently, another gym nearby had gone into receivership, which accounted for all the new members. Reya and I were making our way toward the showers when I heard a familiar voice shout, “Come on, Smithy, you’ve got more in you than that!” Glancing to my right, I got a shock to see Lee Cross and a couple of other guys sparring in the boxing ring. Fuck my life. I couldn’t seem to get away from him. Only yesterday I’d seen him at the football match, and now he was attending my gym. Some higher being was seriously trying to test my willpower. It was too ridiculous for words. So ridiculous that my feet were suddenly glued to the spot as I watched him throw a punch. He wore protective gear, of course, but he had no top on. I repeat: Lee Cross was just yards away from me, wearing no top. My skin prickled with awareness as I watched the way he moved. Right off the bat I could tell he was no amateur, from the way he threw his punches to the way he angled his body. His skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, making the movement of his muscles so much more captivating. His dark eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated, and when he finally took the other guy down, I felt a quiver between my thighs. God, I was so embarrassed by myself sometimes it wasn’t funny. My female hormones had me acting like a complete stereotype, and I hated how just the sight of Lee exerting his dominance over another man could reduce me to a tingling mess. “Karla, are you coming or what?” Reya called impatiently. As soon as he heard my name, Lee’s head turned, and I found myself caught in his stare. He lifted a bottle of water to his mouth and took a long gulp. All the while his eyes never left mine. At once my skin felt too hot and too cold. He lowered the

bottle and wiped his mouth, and the spot between my legs continued to ache with a need I refused to acknowledge. Turning sharply, I went and followed Reya to the ladies changing rooms, stripped off, and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. The way Lee had looked at me, like he already knew me intimately, was stuck in my head, replaying in a loop. It mixed with my memories of the day before, when his lips had brushed over mine and my frustration reached uncontrollable levels. I really wanted to do something about my arousal, but I didn’t. I wasn’t going to let my attraction to Lee make me act out of character, because I certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who got herself off in a communal shower room at the gym. That was just yuck. Taking a second to gather my nerve, I got out, dried off, and turned to find Reya studying me curiously. “So, who was the guy in the boxing ring?” I frowned at her. “Who?” “Um, the guy whose body you couldn’t take your eyes off. You were looking at him the same way you look at Felix, but with more hunger.” Reya was real big on the hand gestures and dramatics, ever the artiste. So yeah, she was shy until she got to know you, and then she never shut up talking. She was also highly perceptive. It was kind of annoying sometimes. “Oh, fuck off.” She laughed. “I’m being serious. I don’t know what the story is between you and this bloke, but even I could sense the chemistry. It was so delicious I could almost mould it with my hands,” she enthused, continuing with the gestures. “Go write a song about it, then,” I deadpanned, and she scowled at me. “Don’t start putting up the aggressive front. You’re not in cop mode now, and I’m not a perp. I’m your friend. You can talk to me.” Her expression showed she was a tiny bit hurt that I wasn’t opening up to her, especially since she’d opened up to me about her past. It made me want to give her something, so I said in a low voice, “Look, this is all I’m telling you. He’s got a record. He’s seemingly into me. And I’m not touching that shit with a ten-foot bargepole.” “Why do people always say that?” Reya asked irritably. “Do you normally go around touching things with bargepoles? It makes no sense.” “Yes, it does. Bargepoles are notorious long.” “Well, anyway, I think it’s stupid. Besides, do we even use bargepoles anymore? I don’t think so, not since like, the Middle Ages when armies wanted to storm a castle or something.” I laughed loudly, because seriously, she cracked me up. “That’s not a bargepole, you numpty, that’s a battering ram. A bargepole is quite literally a pole used to propel a barge. It’s all in the name.” She narrowed her gaze at me. “Oh, my God, I just enabled you in changing the subject, didn’t I? You’re a sneaky little bitch.”

I grinned. We were rounding the reception area and making our way toward the exit when I caught sight of Lee again and my grin faltered. There was no avoiding him, because he was standing right by the door with a couple of the guys he’d been training with. I glanced at him quickly, relieved to find he hadn’t seen me yet. Then, just as Reya and I were about to leave, he stepped forward and opened the door for us. “Ladies,” he said, and smiled. Reya gave him a shy little nod of acknowledgement and stepped past. “Constable, how’s the head?” asked Lee, eyes flicking briefly to the small bandage covering my wound. “It’s healing,” I answered, and frowned. It had been irritating me that I’d never gotten the chance to thank him, even if his help had all been an act. “Thanks, by the way. For yesterday.” His expression softened. “No thanks needed.” I glanced around. “I’ve never seen you here before.” Lee nodded. “Murphy’s closed down, so we all had to find a new place to train.” “Hmmm.” “Hmmm,” he mimicked, a grin shaping his lips as he leaned down, his hand braced against the door above my head. “Miss Sheehan, do you think I’m stalking you?” Involuntarily, I snorted, and subsequently flushed with embarrassment. Staring at the floor, I muttered, “My ego’s not that big.” I felt his breath whisper across my skin when he replied, “It’s a good thing mine is.” His wink told me he wasn’t talking about his ego. Feeling the need to flee, I quickly stepped by him and outside to join Reya. All the while, I got the sense he was watching me leave. I gave her a lift to the tube station and then set off for my parents’ house. Yeah, I still visited, but it was mostly out of duty to my mum. I was patiently waiting for the day when she stood up to my dad and finally left his sorry arse for good. That would be the same day that elephants sprouted purple wings and scientists declared the world wasn’t round but flat. So, never. Pulling up outside their house, I grimaced at the sight of the small front garden with its pristinely trimmed rosebushes and perfect little patch of grass. It was contrived, just like everything else about my family. Perfect on the surface, broken beneath. Using my key to go in the front door, I could hear my dad talking loudly. The Northern Irish accent was a distinctive one, and it had this way of always sounding threatening, even when the speaker was merely commenting on the weather. He was on the phone, and from the gist I got of the conversation, it was a work call. “We need to pin down McGregor sooner rather than later. He’s a snake — always when we think we have him, he manages to dodge the final bullet.” Shop talk on a Sunday afternoon. Lovely. I bypassed the lounge, where my dad was having his phone call, and headed

straight for the kitchen. Mum was standing by the cooker when I came in, pulling her roast out of the oven. “He’s not in the best mood today, love,” she whispered quietly, not even bothering to greet me. “It’s probably advisable not to try and rile him.” “It’s nice to see you too, Mum,” I said, annoyed, and went to pour myself a glass of water. “And I never try to rile him. He riles himself. By the way, why the hell are we whispering?” “Because I told you, your father’s in a terrible mood. The case he spent the last few months working on has fallen flat.” She paused, eyes moving to my bandage as she reached up to touch my forehead. “What happened here?” “Hazard of the job,” I answered flippantly, and refocused on what she’d said about Dad. “What case was he working on?” Dad sometimes liked to decompress by telling Mum about his work. He thought it was safe, because even if she wanted to tell someone, she didn’t really have anyone to tell. He’d seen to it a long time ago that she didn’t have any friends. Sometimes, though, if she was stressed, I could trick her into talking. “Some bigwig called McGregor. Your father’s been trying to get him for years,” said Mum, waving away my questions. “Will you go and set the table, please?” I wanted to ask more, but I knew she’d clam up if I did. So I went and set the table just like she’d asked, and a couple of minutes later we were sitting down to eat. Dad came in, shoving his phone in his pocket, and shot me a frown. That was about as much of a greeting as I ever got from him. We ate for several minutes without conversation, and, in spite of Mum’s warning not to rile him, I couldn’t seem to help it. “Hey, do you know I was at Emirates Stadium yesterday?” I said, eyeing Dad and pointing to my forehead. “Not that I expect you to express concern over the fact I’m sporting a bandage or anything.” Letting his knife and fork clatter onto his plate, he grunted, “I’m sure you’ll survive.” “Yeah, I’m sure I will,” I answered. It wasn’t so much what I said but the way I said it that caused his brow to furrow. “Something like that would never have happened if you were working in an appropriate field.” “An appropriate field like what? Becoming a housewife?” I replied derisively. “Not going to happen.” “Yes, well, maybe that’s for the better,” said Dad cuttingly as he casually tucked back into his food. “I’d pity the man who took you for a wife.” “Not all men are like you. Some want a woman who can think for herself,” I threw back. Dad let out a dark chuckle, going directly for the lowest of blows. “Is that why you’re still single?” What he said didn’t hurt my feelings. My feelings were battle hardened, and we’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “He’s right, Karla. You really should think about settling down,” Mum put in,

oblivious as always. “You’re twenty-eight now. It’s a pity you’re not putting your looks to good use.” Was she serious? I swear, sometimes I thought she might be worse than Dad. The way they both spoke was practically medieval. I sat back and let out a long sigh, while a mischievous idea entered my mind. “Now that you mention it, I am seeing someone, actually,” I lied. “Oh.” Mum perked up. “How long has this been going on?” “It’s fairly recent.” “Well, both your father and I would love to meet him.” “Maybe I’ll bring him home sometime.” “That would be lovely. I could make my special recipe cottage pie.” I resisted the urge to snicker a laugh. I was never going to do it, but it still pleased me no end to imagine bringing Lee Cross home to meet my parents. Dad narrowed his gaze at me suspiciously, like he knew I was up to something, and it satisfied me to know I’d ruffled his feathers. THE NEXT DAY I was on shift with Steve, which meant I had to drown out most of the conversation to keep from shooting myself in the face. I mean, I really didn’t want to hear about the birds he shagged over the weekend, or how he beat his previous lifting record at the gym. I only started listening again when I heard the name “Cross” come out of his mouth. “What was that?” I asked, pretending like I’d been concentrating on driving. “We need to go visit the Cross brothers’ garage. Tony mentioned something about interviewing some of the employees.” “Yeah, I was, uh, going to go after lunch.” “Well, let’s get it out of the way now while things are quiet.” My pulse thrummed at the prospect of seeing Lee yet again. After not running into him for months, his presence in my life was starting to become a daily occurrence. A couple of minutes later we pulled up outside the garage; it had a blue and white sign over the entrance that read “Cross Bros.” I found it curious that it wasn’t “Cross & Sons,” because these sorts of businesses were usually handed down from parents. Given that Lee was only twenty-five, he was quite young to own his own business. Then again, if my suspicions were correct, the place wasn’t all that it seemed. A youngish guy wearing coveralls was standing outside, having a smoke. The second he saw the patrol car, he stubbed out the butt and hurried inside. We were just approaching the entrance when Stu stepped out, his T-shirt stained with motor oil. “All right, Karla?” he said, eyeing Steve as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “We’re here to interview your employees about Trevor,” I said, and Stu gestured for us to head inside. “Yeah, I remember. Lee’s in the office. He said you can use the room for your interviews.”

“You go on ahead,” Steve told me, a sudden look of interest on his face. “I’m just going to take a look around.” I glanced at him, unsure what he was playing at, but made my way to the office nonetheless. Knocking on the door first, I heard Lee call for me to enter. When I did, I found the room to be small, with a tidy row of filing cabinets along one wall and a desk pushed up against the window. He was on the phone, the short sleeves of his T-shirt rolled up to reveal the full length of his arms. His hair was ruffled and looked like he’d just stepped out of bed, but maybe that was intentional. I cleared my throat and he glanced up, looking like he’d expected me. Had that guy run in to warn everyone that the police were outside? Lee quickly ended his phone call and stood. “Um, Stu mentioned you said we could use your office?” I began, uncertain. “Of course, come on in and take a seat,” he said, shooting me a warm expression. Why did he always have to be so…welcoming? It made it difficult to be cool with him when he acted like that. “This shouldn’t take long. Standing is fine.” Lee stared at me a moment, still smiling, then ran a hand over his jaw. “Fine, we’ll play it your way. I’ll send the boys in to speak with you one by one.” “Thank you.” He left, and I took a moment to scan the room. Nothing immediately jumped out to me that screamed illegal, but then again, it wouldn’t. Criminals didn’t generally run around advertising what they were. At least, the clever ones didn’t. A minute or two later the first guy came in, and I quickly asked a couple of questions. There was still no sign of Steve, and I had to wonder what he was up to. Unfortunately, when I’d finished speaking with everyone, all of their stories checked out. Steve still hadn’t shown, so I left the office to go find him. When I stepped into the main area of the garage, things looked the same as before, just a bunch of young men working on cars. But then I saw Lee, Stu, and Steve having what looked like a heated argument close to the entrance. “Get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret,” I heard Lee threaten as I approached. He looked seriously pissed off, as did Stu. “Hey, what’s going on?” I asked with concern, and all three men turned to face me. “We’re leaving,” said Steve, before turning and stalking out the door. Lee eyed me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I nodded and followed him back into his office. His posture was tense, and when I shut the door behind me, he looked ready to break something. “Lee?” I said in a quiet voice, sensing that anything louder might set him off. He turned, and his expression was furious as he pointed to the door. “You see your partner out there? He’s bent as fuck.” “Excuse me?” I replied in surprise. “Something wrong with your hearing, Snap? I said your little buddy is a dirty fucking copper, and I swear to God, if he ever shows his face around here again, I’ll

break it for him.” Tentatively, I took a step forward. “Calm down for just a second and tell me what happened.” Lee took a few deep breaths before steadily settling his gaze on me. “The prick came in, started looking around, then went up to Stu and tried shaking him down. He said that if we set him up with two grand every month, he wouldn’t report what he found on our premises.” “What did he find?” I asked, my tone serious. The news that Steve was dirty didn’t exactly surprise me. I’d always known there was something off about him. However, the fact that he might have found evidence of illegal activity inside the garage put me on alert. “He didn’t find anything. Nothing that belonged to us, anyway. He claimed there was a bag of coke hidden under some tiles in the bathroom, but it’s bullshit. None of the boys do drugs, and if they did, I wouldn’t allow them on the premises.” What he said sparked a memory of Steve bragging to me, Tony, and Keira about a coke dealer he’d busted last week. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep some of the drugs he seized to use in a situation just like this. “He planted it,” I said as it all fell into place. A look of surprise crossed Lee’s features. “You believe me?” I glanced up at him. “Yes, actually, funnily enough, I do.” “Well,” he said, looking at me differently now. “I’m not giving that fucker two grand. He can go and swing for it.” “You don’t have to give him anything. I’ll deal with him.” His expression grew serious. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this. More than likely, the bloke has a whole network of scams going on. The way he spoke, he didn’t strike me as a first-timer.” I took a moment to absorb that, trying to come up with a plan on how to deal with him. It went without saying that there was no love lost between me and Steve, and if I tried to get in the way of whatever little corrupt network he had running, he wouldn’t hesitate to mess with me and my career. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to blackmail me in exactly the same way he’d tried to blackmail Lee. I flicked my eyes up to meet his, firming my lips. “Leave it to me. I’ll think of something.” “Karla,” Lee murmured tenderly as he came to stand directly in front of me. “Don’t get involved. I don’t need your good deeds. And anyway, your boy doesn’t realise who he’s fucking with. The next time he shows his face, I’ll make sure he gets the message.” It took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying, mainly because of the way he called me by my name, but also because of how his smell was infiltrating my senses this close. Finally, his meaning sank in, and I frowned. “Who is he fucking with?” Lee didn’t answer, and instead he took a step forward, forcing me to back up if I didn’t want us to collide. The problem with this meant my back hit the wall a

moment later. “You’re so pretty, Snap,” he said, voice low, as he dropped his face to my hair and breathed in. I wasn’t wearing a hat, and my hair was tied up in a bun. My entire body trembled when he wrapped his arms around my waist, inhaled deeply, and pulled me into a hug. This was a distraction, I knew it, and yet, I let him distract me. I wanted to be distracted, and I was just glad that the blinds in his office had been pulled. Standing in his embrace for at least a minute with silence all around us, I was unable to move. I liked having Lee close, loved the warmth of him and how he could make feel so…surrounded. Despite all the warning signs, my attraction only grew stronger. There was just something about him that called to me. “Lee.” His mouth moved against my hair. “What is it, Karla?” “Why are you hugging me?” “You looked like you needed to be held.” His response was low, and the affectionate undertone had me swallowing deeply. At long last I summoned the willpower to break the hug. His arms fell away from me easily, my stomach churning with confusion. What the hell was I doing? I stared at the floor when I spoke. “I have to go.” Heading for the door, I paused when he said gently, “Hey, I needed it, too.” I didn’t turn around, but instead practically ran from the office. Moments later I was strapping myself into the patrol car where Steve had been waiting. My heart hammered at Lee’s words, feelings beginning to stew deep in my belly. He was playing me, he had to be. Blokes like him weren’t romantic. They fucked you and then they left you. “What took you so long?” Steve asked, eyes narrowed on me with suspicion. Remembering Lee’s warning for me not to get involved, I lied, “I just had a few more questions I needed to ask.” A silence elapsed. “And?” Steve prompted. “And, uh, all of their stories checked out. Sorry.” “Huh. They must have been ready for us, then.” “Yeah,” I said. “Must have been.”

FOUR

bout a week passed, and I didn’t see Lee at all. For a while it felt like he was A everywhere, and then he was nowhere. And I’ll admit that every time I went to the

gym, I kept my eyes peeled, eager for a glimpse of him. Yeah, it was just as pathetic as it sounded. I was driving home late one evening when I passed by a newly constructed office building. It was built in such a way that there were lots of steep stairways and crisscrossed walls surrounding it. The building, however, wasn’t what caught my interest, as I pulled to the side of the road and peeked out the window. There was a group of young men there; all of them looked to be in their late teens or early twenties, and all of them were pulling off some pretty impressive stunts. It was only when I took a closer look that I recognised Trevor Cross. He was a little bit mesmerising. It was sort of like watching somebody play a video game, where the avatar could effortlessly jump and leap from building to building without injuring themselves. Trevor ran along the edge of a high wall, then leapt several feet through the air to land on the next one. My eyes caught on another figure, and my breath hitched involuntarily when I saw it was Lee. He wore jeans, a long sleeved T-shirt, and a peaked cap that shielded most of his face. My heart pounded at the sight of him, and my pores began tingling as something electric pulsed inside me. I could watch him from the comfort of my car without him ever knowing I was there. His shirt fell forward, revealing his stomach, as he balanced his entire body on his hands. He was on the edge of one of the high-up walkways. I saw several of the guys cheer when he dropped one arm, letting it hover in the air as he held his entire weight on one hand. He maintained the hold for several seconds before lowering his hand back down, bracing himself, and then launching into a backflip before making a perfect landing on the ground. Whoa. The way he moved was skilful, and I remembered Steve talking about how the brothers were into free running. But he only mentioned the younger ones. Perhaps Lee was more discreet about the things he could do, like Willy Wonka pretending he needed a stick to help him walk.

The official name for the sport was parkour, and it killed me to see how talented he was, while at the same time knowing he was using that talent to lie and steal. It was with a hopeless sigh that I restarted the engine and pulled away. Tired after my shift, I went home and fell asleep almost instantly. I had two days off, and I planned on making the most of them. I knew I’d overslept when I woke to daylight streaming through my window and scrambled for my phone to check the time. Ten-thirty. I only became aware that somebody was sitting at the end of my bed when I sat up and saw Alexis slumped over, staring at something she was holding in her hands. “Lexie, what’s wrong?” I asked in a scratchy voice. She didn’t answer, and all I heard was a sniffle. She’d been crying a lot since King disappeared, so this wasn’t anything too unusual. Sometimes she liked to hide her pain behind humour and sarcasm, but I knew she was hurting badly on the inside. I got up and went to her, sitting down and throwing my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me, taking the comfort I offered without a word. It was only when I looked down to see the pregnancy test she was holding that I gasped. The little window showed two red lines, and I didn’t need to be a genius to know what they meant. “You’re pregnant?” I said, my voice airy with disbelief. Just the other week I’d joked about it, but that’s all it had been, a joke. I never actually thought it was true. And, by the looks of it, neither had Alexis. This was a massive shock for her. King had been missing for a while, which meant she had to be at least three or four months gone, and I knew she hadn’t been with anyone else since him. Her smile was sad. “There was me thinking it was a cake shelf I was sporting,” she said, hand going to her belly, hiding her feelings with humour like always. I swallowed, trying not to let my own personal feelings affect me right then. When I was a teenager, I’d been in a very bad car accident. My dad had been behind the wheel, my mum in the passenger seat, and I was in the back. Long story short, I’d been injured far worse than my parents, and the damage meant I’d never be able to have kids. It was why I got so angry when I saw people neglecting their own children, but I’d come to terms with the fact a long time ago. Still, a strange, phantom-like pain always passed through me whenever I was reminded of it. Alexis knew all about my accident, but I didn’t think she knew quite how much it hurt me, knowing I’d never have a child of my own. “It’s King’s, isn’t it?” I finally asked, pushing my own feelings aside. She nodded and stared at her feet. “Have you had any luck finding him? Any clues as to where he might be?” “Nothing,” she croaked. “It’s like he never even existed.” And then the tears began to flow. I sat with her for a long while, just hugging her and letting her cry. Finally I managed to get her to her own room, where she climbed into bed and went to sleep. She’d been up all night, wracked with worry. I spent the day tidying the flat and hanging out. I even baked a batch of

brownies, thinking they might cheer Alexis up. Unfortunately, she was acting completely out of character when she woke and barely even gave the brownies a second glance. Normally, she was the sort of girl to take life’s challenges in stride, so it was disconcerting to see her like this. I was watching television that evening when she suddenly sat down beside me and asked, “Can we go out tonight?” “Out where?” “Anywhere. I need to get away from these four walls before I go insane. We could go to a bar and I could watch you drink. It’ll be fun.” The look on her face told me she was desperately trying to convince herself of that. I didn’t want to upset her, though, so I nodded. “Sure, just let me grab a quick shower and we’ll head out.” An hour later we were in a cab, headed for the bar where Alexis used to work before she changed career paths. At the moment she was in between jobs, but she did some modelling every once in a while to pay the bills. I was guessing she might have to take a break from that once she started to show. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to go visit her old workplace. Well, I wasn’t until we walked inside and I saw Stu standing by the pool table. How had I not predicted this? I could only see the back of the person he was playing with, but I knew instantly that it was Lee. He wore jeans and a Fred Perry T-shirt with the collar turned up, the uniform of cocky little fuckers everywhere. “What are you up to?” I asked, narrowing my gaze at my friend. She just shook her head and walked over to the bar, ordering a glass of wine and a Coke. I was guessing the wine was for me. I hadn’t really dressed up, but I suddenly became more aware of my appearance. I’d left my hair down, and was wearing a pair of khaki green trousers with a tight black wrap top and boots. Even when Alexis had worked here, I’d never really visited. Truth be told, it was a bit of a dive. It was Stu’s local, though, so it had to be Lee’s, too. It was also where Alexis and Stu had originally met. “I hope this isn’t what I think it is,” I said as she slid the glass of wine my way and led me over to sit at a booth. The look she gave me was miserable, and she ran her hands through her hair before replying, “I’m lonely, Karla. And yes, I know I’m probably going to regret this in the morning, but just let me regret it, okay? Tonight of all nights I just need somebody to make me feel good.” Her answer shut me right up, and a pang of sympathy hit me square in the gut. I’d never lost someone I loved like Alexis had lost King, so I had no business judging her. Instead, I sat quietly and drank my wine. A couple of minutes later, Stu spotted Alexis and sidled up to our booth. “Lex, what brings you around these parts?” he asked, eyes dark with interest as he slid in next to her. I thought I heard her mutter “desperation” under her breath before she looked up and mustered a smile for him. “Just having a quiet drink.”

“Mind if I join you?” he practically purred. “Uh, you already have,” I commented dryly. Stu shot me a wide grin, unfazed by my comment as he gave me his full attention. “This is a dangerous place for the likes of you, Karla. Taking a walk on the wild side, are we?” “What, are cops not allowed into dive bars now?” I asked smartly. Stu shook his head and answered, “That’s not what I’m talking about,” just as I felt a warm body take the empty spot beside me in the booth. My every muscle grew tense. “Clarky,” said Lee, nodding to Alexis. She gave him a similar head nod in return. “Snap,” he went on, his mouth a lot closer to my ear than it needed to be. “Lee,” I said, shifting away and meeting his eyes. There was a moment of silence, the two brothers grinning, while Alexis and I frowned. I thought that maybe we both felt the same way right then. On one level we wanted to be there, and on another we really didn’t. “So, what’s everybody drinking?” Lee asked. “Coke,” said Alexis, lifting her empty glass. “I’ll have another beer,” Stu put in. I stayed quiet. No way was I letting him buy me a drink. No effing way. “Snap?” “I’m good.” “Babe.” My brow furrowed, and I simply shook my head at him to let him know that the whole “babe” thing wasn’t happening. His grin widened, like he enjoyed the challenge. Instead of asking me again, he simply leaned in, picked up my glass, and took a sip. He winced when he tasted it. “One glass of vinegar coming right up.” “Hey, it’s not her fault this bar serves shit wine. Go have a word with Keith and tell him to get some better stuff in,” Alexis complained. I was guessing Keith was the landlord. “I’ll get right on that,” Lee replied sarcastically before heading over to the bar. I rubbed at my eyelids, frustrated. This certainly wasn’t how I planned on spending my night off, but I couldn’t abandon Alexis in her time of need. Looking across the table, I saw that Stu was already moving in on her, his arm resting casually along the top of the booth. He bent down and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and said something in reply, but I couldn’t hear over the bar music. It didn’t take long for her to warm up to him, and then they were full-on flirting with one another. I couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if I’d tried. Oh, no, wait. I spoke too soon. Lee returned with the drinks, placing a fresh glass in front of me. I glanced at it, no intention of drinking any. Alexis and Stu were deep in conversation, so I might as well have been sitting alone with Lee. It was too awkward for words. Well, it was

on my end. Lee didn’t look like he had an awkward bone in his body. “Relax,” he murmured. “You look like you’re afraid I might jump you or something.” “I’m not afraid of you,” I said defensively. “Would you like to tell that to your clenched fist?” I glanced down, and, sure enough, my hand was tightly clenched into a fist. I was all kinds of worked up. Loosening my fingers, I looked back at him and said curtly, “I’m here for Alexis, that’s all.” “And there I thought you were after the pleasure of my company,” he deadpanned before lifting his pint. “Look, I get it. I’m a scumbag, not fit to lick your boots, etcetera, etcetera.” Something about the way he spoke made me feel bad. My expression softened when I replied, “That’s not what…look, I’m sorry, can we start over?” Lee nodded. “Already forgotten. So, what’s up with Clarky? The last time I checked, she was shacked up with that fancy-pants rich bloke.” “She was. He’s gone. She’s been trying to find him for months but hasn’t had any luck. Today has kind of been a rough day for her.” Understanding showed in Lee’s expression. “So, what you’re saying is, she’s here to use my brother for sex?” I grimaced. “It sounds horrible when you put it like that.” Lee chuckled. “Stu will have her any way he can get her. Don’t worry about it. He has a talent for keeping his emotions out of his sex life.” “Oh?” I said, curious. Lee looked away and drank some more of his beer. “Yeah, some of us don’t have that skill.” When his eyes returned to mine they were fierce, and it took a conscious effort for me to breathe normally. I really wished I wasn’t so attracted to him. That way I wouldn’t feel so weak right then. Involuntarily, I crossed one leg over the other, which caused Lee’s attention to wander to my thighs. He stared for a good ten seconds, taking his time. “How often do you work out?” he asked almost absently. “A couple times a week. Why?” He lifted his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got a killer fucking body, and I’m saying that from a purely athletic standpoint. I admire your dedication.” “Um, thanks,” I said, swallowing awkwardly. “We should train together sometime.” “I don’t box.” Nor was I particularly interested in jumping off buildings for fun, but I didn’t say that, because then I’d have to fess up about spying on him. “But you fight. I can tell by the way you carry yourself.” I grew self-conscious again, feeling shy and wondering how he could tell that. “I practice eskrima, but no, I don’t think us training together would be a good idea.” “Yeah, you’re right. All those hormones and sweat flying around, who knows

what might happen.” He looked away, smiling into his pint glass. “You just can’t help being a tease, can you?” He turned back to me and shook his head. “Not with you, babe.” “Oh, my God, okay. We need to get this straight, no more babes, no more Snaps. My name is Karla. Be a normal human being and use it.” He opened his mouth, ready to reply, when Stu cut in. “Bruv, I’m taking Lexie back to ours. You coming or staying put?” “He’s coming,” said Alexis. “He needs to keep Karla company while you…keep me company.” She burst out laughing, and it was the first time I’d seen her properly laugh in a while, even if it was at the ridiculousness of the situation. Stu gave her a sexy smile, and I was just relieved that her mind was off her problems for a change. “Sure, we’ll come,” said Lee, standing while Stu ushered Alexis out of the booth. I remained in place, unsure what do to. I didn’t want to go to their house, but I didn’t want to abandon my friend, either. Though technically, she was the one abandoning me. When I looked up, Lee was standing there, his hand outstretched. There was something about his eyes right then that made me reach out instinctively and take it. As soon as my palm slipped into his, I felt electricity shoot through me. It was strangely exhilarating to do something as ordinary as hold his hand. He pulled me up and I let go, blushing furiously. Taking his hand had been all instinct. My brain hadn’t even had a say in the matter. By the time we got outside, Stu and Alexis had already flagged down a cab. They both climbed in the back, and Stu pulled her onto his lap, not wasting any time as he kissed her hard right on the mouth. She didn’t stop him. Lee held the door open for me to slide in next, and he hopped in last. He told the driver his address, and then we were off. Needless to say, it was possibly the most uncomfortable cab ride of my life. Lee and I sat across from Stu and Alexis, who had progressed to full-on snogging. The radio hadn’t been turned on, and the driver wasn’t feeling chatty. The only sounds were kissing sounds. Well, that and heavy breathing. I stared at my lap, sensing Lee’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at him. It would only make things worse. But damn, his stare must have had magnetic qualities, because eventually I couldn’t help lifting my gaze. His eyes had settled on my lips, and whatever dirty thoughts he was having were written all over his face. I sucked in a deep breath and wished my heart wasn’t beating so erratically. I swore he could see my pulse hammering in my neck. His attention flickered between my eyes and my lips when he spoke. “Hungry?” I blinked, afraid for a second that he might have read my thoughts. “What?” His lips curved as he repeated his question. “Are you hungry? I could cook for you when we get to our place. I give good food.” “Is that supposed to be a euphemism?” He shook his head, laughed, and answered simply, “Nah.”

I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat. “Well, what do you make?” “Anything. What’s your craving?” I turned and stared out the window, because all this talk of food was strangely sexy. “I have no idea.” Lee leaned over to nudge me with his shoulder. “Guess I’ll just have to surprise you, then.” Thankfully, it wasn’t long before we reached the house, and we all got out while Lee paid the driver. Alexis and Stu were already inside and climbing the stairs by the time I hesitantly stepped in the front door. Lee came in behind me, bumping me with his chest and forcing me to move farther down the hallway. Stepping back, I waited for him to lead the way into the kitchen. The place was clean and tidy, which was the last thing I expected, given that four brothers lived there. Then I remembered their cousin, Sophie, and her little boy. Perhaps she did the cleaning. Passing by the living room, I saw a gigantic flat-screen TV on the wall and a designer leather couch. The kitchen was sleek and new, at odds with the age of the house. I guessed the place was built around the ’50s or ’60s, one of those old red brick council jobs. Usually, these builds were a two up, two down affair, but I knew there had to be more rooms, given that six people lived there. Sure enough, a hallway led off from the kitchen to an extension out the back. I was willing to bet the loft had been converted, too. All in all, it was fairly obvious that the brothers had a decent amount of money coming in, though you’d never think it from the outside. Lee eyeballed me for a second, shrewd as a fox, and I knew he could tell I was taking everything in and coming to one conclusion. Unless his garage was doing a booming business, his money had to have come from elsewhere. This was why I couldn’t understand him inviting me over. Either he was allowing his attraction to cloud his judgement, or he was up to something. I sat down on a stool and he turned away, opening the fridge to check what food he had in. “It must get hectic, living with so many people under one roof,” I said, attempting to make polite conversation. After all, I wasn’t going to be a bitch to the man in his own home. “I’m used to hectic, Sn…I mean, Karla,” said Lee, pulling ingredients from the fridge. “Me and my brothers have been living here since we were kids. Back then there were four of us in one room, though we’ve had the place updated a little since.” He paused and pointed to the extension. “Sophie and Jonathan share the downstairs bedroom. Stu has his own room upstairs, Trevor and Liam share, and I’m in the attic.” “So your parents don’t live here?” “You like spaghetti?” he asked, perhaps to change the subject. “I make my own sauce from scratch.” I nodded. “Sounds good.” A moment of silence elapsed, and I wasn’t expecting him to answer my question

about his parents, so I got a surprise when he did. “Mum died when I was fourteen. Overdose. Dad left when we were little, but he still comes around every so often. Waste of fucking space.” I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who took care of all of you after your mother passed?” Lee cocked an eyebrow like I was being nosy, which I was. “Took care of ourselves. My aunt, Sophie’s mum, fooled social services into believing she was moving in to care for us. What she really did was dump Soph here, then fucked off to live with her junkie boyfriend while getting a nice little government payment every month.” He was chopping tomatoes, onions, and garlic as he spoke, throwing them all into a blender. “But if she took the money, how did you survive?” He paused, looked me dead in the eye, and asked low, “How do you think we survived?” I stared back at him, and in spite of what he was inferring, sympathy churned in my gut. I didn’t know how to respond. He pointed his knife at me for a second, which was a little jarring. “Everybody’s always so quick to judge, but we’re all born into our own patch. Some patches are worse than others, and yeah, most of the time you get a choice on what way to live. Trouble is, sometimes the choice is between bad and worse. I had two choices, and if I had picked the one I didn’t, my brothers would’ve been split up and shipped off to a bunch of shitty care homes, where they’d-a been turned into victims. Instead, I chose the other option and turned them into survivors.” I stared at Lee, but he didn’t meet my gaze, concentrating on the food instead. It made me uncomfortable to see things from his perspective. I’d always looked on the world from the viewpoint of a cop. Somebody who stopped people from taking what didn’t belong to them. The problem was, some people had nothing, and their only option was to take. There were so many things I wanted to say. Like, why didn’t Stu get a job to support them? He must have been at least sixteen at the time. Yeah, the best he could’ve done was minimum wage, but at least it was honest. Then again, I doubt that kind of money would support a house of five growing kids. Plus, Stu wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I could imagine him looking to Lee, who seemed a lot savvier, for guidance, and who obviously saw a more lucrative path. “What I’m saying,” Lee went on, “is that we all have our reasons.” A loaded silence fell, and I grew self-conscious as he studied me. “So, what’s yours?” My brow furrowed. “I don’t get you.” “Somewhere along the way you decided to become a copper. What was your reason?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested. I rubbed my palms on my thighs. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” “Your old man?” “What about him?”

“Did he push you?” I laughed, resting my elbows on the counter, surprisingly engrossed by watching Lee cut vegetables. He had those fancy knife skills, like the chefs on TV. “No, actually. The exact opposite. He doesn’t think women are fit to be police.” Understanding lit up his eyes as he grinned. “Ah, so you did it to piss him off. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” My smile began to fade. “That’s only a part of it. I want to help people, too. A lot more than I want to stick it to my father.” Lee’s eyes flickered between mine, his expression contemplative. “Yeah, I can see that.” A silence fell between us, and for the tiniest second I felt like we truly saw one another. All the flaws and all the good bits. The moment was broken when he continued, “Anyway, look, I’m not judging you for the thing with your old man. In fact, this means we have something in common. My dad’s a prick, too.” “How do you know him?” I asked before clarifying. “My dad, I mean.” “Now, there’s a story. Just let me get the spaghetti boiling first.” His reply intrigued me, and I waited as he put some dried spaghetti in a pot. Once he was done, he went back to the fridge, pulling out a can of beer and a bottle of white wine. He held it up to me. “This is Sophie’s. It’s got to be better than the shit you were drinking at the bar.” I shrugged and he poured me a glass before popping the seal on his can. Taking a stool and resting his elbows on the counter, his posture almost matching mine, he recounted his story. “So, I’d just turned eighteen and I was at my mate’s house party. Some weed was being passed around, the usual. All of a sudden, the lights went out and somebody starting banging down the door. A neighbour must have called the police to come and break things up, and your dad was heading the team. Turns out the dealer at the party had been on their radar for a while, and your old man was dead set on booking him. Usually, I’d have been out the back window before you can say zip-adee-fuckin-doo-da, but I was shitfaced drunk. Before I knew it, your dad was slapping a pair of cuffs on me and hauling me off for a night in a jail cell. “‘Is that a truncheon in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’” I’d joked. Your old man didn’t take too kindly to that. Bastard twisted my wrist, nearly fucking broke it, and gave me a warning. “‘One more word out of you and I’ll have you up for drugs charges.’” “‘Fuck you, I don’t have anything on me.’” “‘You have whatever I say you have.’” “Even though I was drunk, I knew to shut my mouth after that. Liam and Trev were still only young at the time, and I couldn’t afford to get sent away, even for a couple of months. I’ve had a few other run-ins with him over the years, and he’s a mean motherfucker. So yeah, my condolences and all that.” I narrowed my gaze at him and shook my head. I didn’t doubt that my dad had said those things, but I was uncomfortable having Lee know what he was like, because that meant he also knew that my childhood wasn’t a walk in the park.

“I…I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry he did that,” I replied at length. Lee levelled me with his eyes. “Yeah, well, I think the fact that you’re sticking it to him is the fucking business, Snap.” He was back to calling me Snap again, but I just shook my head. It was a losing battle trying to get him to stop. Returning to the cooker, he poured his sauce into a pan, stirring it every so often. He made quick work of draining the spaghetti, and before I knew it, there was a plate in front on me. It smelled absolutely mouthwatering, so I could only imagine how it was going to taste. “Um, thanks,” I said, glancing at him as I lifted the fork. I wanted to mouth a silent “wow” to myself when I finally tasted it. It was by far the best thing I’d eaten in a long time, and it was only spaghetti. I could just imagine what he might do with a more adventurous recipe. “Well,” said Lee, “what’s the verdict?” “Amazing,” I blurted before I could censor myself, and he grinned wide. “I mean, not that I’m the best judge. My work doesn’t leave a lot of room for fancy cooking. More often than not, I just end up grabbing something from the local takeaway on my way home.” Lee’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes did flick to the ceiling for a second. For the past couple of minutes, I’d been trying to ignore the subtle banging coming from upstairs, but it was gradually getting louder. I glanced at Lee and he smirked, and then I laughed and he laughed, too. We shared a moment of eye contact before I shook my head. “So, your brother is, uh, kind of vigorous.” I frowned at myself. Why the hell hadn’t I brought up a different topic? Like, say, one that didn’t involve discussing the fact that his brother and my best friend were having a roaring good time right above our heads. “Vigour runs in the family,” said Lee. I sputtered a laugh. “That was smooth.” He flashed his teeth at me when he smiled. “You know it.” The banging from upstairs petered out, and my heart gave a thud of relief. I continued eating my food, because honestly, it was too good to ignore. I was also downing the wine like nobody’s business, and when my glass was empty, Lee refilled it. I wasn’t a big drinker, so, needless to say, the three glasses I’d had were hitting me hard. I was tipsy, and being tipsy in the presence of Lee Cross was dangerous territory. “So, you like to cook?” I said to break up the silence. “Yup.” “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s kind of a strange thing for a twentyfive-year-old guy to enjoy.” Lee let out a breath. “Yeah, well, when you can remember a time when you couldn’t afford food, you tend to make the most of it when you can.” His answer took me off guard. Damn, coming to his house had been a really bad idea. More and more I was empathising with him, and I didn’t like it. I mean,

nobody likes being forced to admit they might have been a tiny bit wrong in their first impressions. I finished eating my spaghetti, hoping it might soak up some of the alcohol. I knew Lee was watching me the entire time, but I refused to acknowledge his attention. Instead, I kept my eyes levelled in the vicinity of his right ear and told him about some innocuous story I’d seen on the news earlier that day. Lee seemed amused as ever, and if I was looking at his face, I was sure I’d encounter a knowing smile. Taking our empty plates, he carried them over to the sink, then turned back to me. “You want to go sit in the living room for a while? I’m sure Alexis will be down soon.” “Okay,” I replied, and followed him to the next room. Beside the TV was an iPod dock. Lee switched it on and scrolled through his playlists while I took a seat on the couch. If there was one thing men did better than women, it was pick out sofas. They went for the most comfortable option, while women generally went for what looked good. Not unexpectedly, I sank into the plush leather with relish. A moment later Lee approached, and even though there was lots of space, he decided to sit right next to me. My gaze wandered to his arm, which rested along the back of the couch, and I swallowed, my body tensing. “So, how long have you lived with Alexis?” Lee asked, his attention focused on me, and my skin prickled with awareness. He was way too close for comfort, and I could tell he was the kind of bloke who looked at a person and saw everything. “A couple of years, but we’ve known each other since we were kids,” I answered. “We grew up on the same street.” Lee’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Do your folks still live there?” I narrowed my gaze, wondering why he cared where my parents lived. Was he cosying up to me to get information about my dad? “No. They moved to a nicer area a few years ago after Dad was promoted,” I answered, intentionally leaving out where exactly they’d moved to. If Lee noticed this, he didn’t comment on it. “And did you start cop training right after you finished school?” “Uh-huh. Why all the questions?” He gave me a small smile. “I’m just trying to get to know you, no ulterior motives, I promise. If you don’t want to talk about you, we can talk about me. Or we could just sit in silence.” God, he was such a smart-arse. I shook my head. “Let’s talk about you. When did you leave school?” “Around the same time Mum passed. Didn’t have time for schooling after that. Stu stopped going around that time, too. I kept Liam and Trev in until they turned eighteen, though.” I had to admit, I was surprised by that, and it obviously showed on my face, because Lee went on, “I live for my family, Snap. I’d do anything for them.” “So much so that you had them join the family business instead of sending them

to Uni?” Now he frowned. “I gave them a choice. Working at the garage was the one they picked.” “You know, I saw Trevor free-running the other day. He’s really talented.” I left out the part that I’d seen him, too, because I knew it’d please him to discover I’d been spying. “I know what he’s capable of. Your point?” “He could be doing other things.” “Fixing cars is hardly gutter work,” said Lee, and strangely, the more hostile he grew, the closer he got to me. I was growing incensed, too, as I dug my fingers into my palms. We were talking about Trevor, but maybe deep down I was really talking about him. Because he was just as talented, channelling all his energy in the wrong direction. “I think we both know that fixing cars isn’t all you and your brothers do.” Lee eyes turned fierce, and I got a fright at the intensity in them. “Nah, we don’t know that. In fact, you don’t know anything.” “I know enough.” Lee dragged his hand through his hair and surprised me when he rose swiftly from the couch, pacing back and forth. “Don’t come into my fucking house and judge me.” I shot him a look like he was on crazy pills. “Um, if you recall, I never asked to come here. You invited me.” “And you could give me a little respect by leaving your cop hat at the door.” “I’m not wearing my cop hat. I’m just being myself,” I retorted, standing to face him. “You see, you think you like me, but you don’t. Not really. This is me, and look at you — you hate it.” I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His chest was rising and falling with his temper, and all of a sudden my skin felt too tight. Electricity pulsed between us like a living, breathing thing. Tingles radiated down my spine, his laboured breaths somehow reminding me of sex. I found myself staring at his lips, and he caught me looking. The tension between us grew thicker. He circled me like I was prey, and when he spoke, he was practically growling. I felt it right in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t hate anything about you, Karla.” The words had barely left his mouth when he reached out and grabbed me by the neck to pull me forward. He bent down and rested his forehead on mine, our breaths mingling. Only a second passed before his lips sought my lips, gently at first, a light nip of exploration. I whimpered, and the sound did something to him, because a second later he crushed his mouth to mine and I trembled under his assault. A pleasured noise rose from my throat. I felt crazed. My hands gripped his neck, feeling the corded muscles and warm skin. His tongue dipped inside, slick and wet. A second later he lifted me up, fitting my thighs around his waist and carrying me to the couch. He sat with me astride him, his hands wandering from my neck, down

my shoulders and hips until he reached my thighs. I felt so fevered right then that I barely had time to think, to step outside the moment and see the gigantic mistake I was making. As soon as Lee’s hands wandered around to palm my arse, I was gone, lost to sensation. I felt owned, claimed by his hands and mouth. He pulled back slightly, drawing my lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard. I fisted his T-shirt, muttering a feverish “please” into his mouth before we were kissing again. He broke away just long enough to whisper back, “Tell me what you need, baby.” He squeezed my arse, and I jumped in fright when one finger slid between my cheeks, teasing me over the fabric of my pants. It felt shockingly good, forbidden, which was enough to jolt me out of my moment of weakness. I swore and climbed off him, then strode to the other side of the room. I was panting, and I knew my face must have been as red as a stop sign. Lifting a finger, I pointed between him, me, and the couch. “This never happened.” Lee smirked, his lips slightly redder than before. I felt a deep sense of embarrassment at how hungrily I’d attacked his mouth. I knew he’d been the one to initiate things, but I’d been a more than willing participant. “Which part, babe?” “Every part. And stop ‘babe-ing’ me. I’m not your babe.” “A second ago you felt like you were,” Lee murmured darkly before moving across the room. My back hit the wall when his chest met my chest. Then his mouth was at my ear. “You wanted it,” he whispered. I was staring at the hardwood floor, my fluster getting the better of me when I replied shyly, “I just don’t get how that’s your first port of call.” His eyes searched mine for a second, his brows furrowing, and then he burst out laughing. His hands cupped my cheeks before he pulled me into a hug. “God, you’re cute.” In spite of myself, I sank into his hold. He took a deep breath, like he was smelling me, and there was something about it that made my stomach do a flipflop. The whole situation was just ridiculous. And I was drunk. Yes, that’s why I was bringing up anal play like a flippin’ weirdo. Levelling my hands on his chest, I pushed him back and stepped away to put some distance between us. “Look, you can quit the nice-guy act. It’s fooling no one.” He regarded me tenderly. The affection in his voice was making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. “There’s no act.” “You, me…us, it would never work, you know that, right?” “Not sure I agree.” “Yeah, well, you’re not the one with a reputation to uphold.” “Oh, really? What do you think my boys would say if they knew I was sleeping with a cop?” I cocked my head and put a hand on my hip. “I don’t know, Lee. According to you, they wouldn’t have a reason to say anything.”

He stared at me for a long hard moment, not speaking, the stoniness in his eyes giving me chills. I felt like our conversation had come full circle, rounding back to the argument we’d been having before he kissed me. Thankfully, the tension was broken when the door opened and Alexis stepped inside. Her hair was wild and her makeup smudged. In fact, she was still putting her clothes back to rights and looked like she was fleeing the scene of a crime. “Lee, can you give us a lift home?” she asked in a rush. He shot her a perplexed expression. “Sure.” I frowned and shook my head at him. “Don’t put yourself out. We’ll get a cab.” “We don’t have time to call for a cab. We need to leave now,” Alexis insisted. “Why?” I didn’t have to wait for an answer, because Stu stormed into the room. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded. He wasn’t wearing a top, and the fly of his jeans was still open, which meant I was copping quite the eyeful. Stu was ripped, and honestly, I totally got why Alexis sought him out for company. I mean, if you were going to have meaningless sex, you might as well do it right. I tried to keep my eyes fixed at twelve o’clock, rather than veering toward six. Okay, so maybe I took a quick peek at five. Oh, who was I kidding? My gaze was headed straight for six, and I didn’t even feel guilty about it. Hello. Aaand, back to the matter at hand. Judging from the angry look on Stu’s face, I thought that maybe he wasn’t as great at keeping his emotions out of his sex life as Lee said he was. “I told you this was just sex,” Alexis muttered, her slumped posture showing me she was disappointed in herself. “But why? That prick left you, Lex. I’m here. I want you. Give us another chance.” Oh, wow. I never thought I’d see the day that Stu Cross showed his emotional side. “You don’t get it,” she replied, turning away. Stu reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “What don’t I get?” “Hey, don’t be rough with her like that, she’s….” I stopped myself right before I finished the sentence. It didn’t matter anyway, because a second later Alexis let the cat out of the bag. “I’m knocked up, okay? And before you ask, no, the baby isn’t yours. Now will you just let me leave?” Stu stared at her, frozen in place. Alexis turned and walked out the door. Lee shot his brother a stern look that told him not to follow her. Then he touched his hand softly to my lower back and led me out of the house. A minute later, both Alexis and I were in the back seat of his car as he drove us home. It was quiet until Lee announced sarcastically. “Well, Clarky, that’s some stunt you just pulled. You should be real proud of

yourself.” “Don’t talk to her like that,” I warned him. His eyes caught mine in the overhead mirror, and I was the first to turn away. I couldn’t look at him right then, not when I could still taste him in my mouth, still feel his hands on my body. What had happened lingered between us, heavy and unspoken. “No, Karla. He’s right. What I just did to Stu was shitty. And I’m not proud of myself, not at all.” “I’ll tell him you said that,” Lee responded, looking slightly appeased. “I thought you said that Stu was emotionally uninvolved when it comes to women,” I said. “He didn’t seem that way tonight.” Alexis pulled a face. “Oh, my God, Lee, you corny bastard. I didn’t know you were dealing in clichés now.” He suppressed a smirk. “What? It’s the truth, though he’s always had a soft spot for you. Maybe you’ll be the one he finally decides to turn over a new leaf for.” “Yeah, because I’m such a special snowflake. That shit only happens in romcoms, and my shit stinks the same as everybody else’s.” “Ugh, you had to go and make it gross,” I complained. “Hey, you’d better get used to it. I’m going to be a single mother, and I’ve decided you’ll be godmother. That means lots and lots of nappy changes.” Even though we were joking around, what she said made me emotional, and my voice got a little scratchy. “You want me to be godmother, seriously?” “Who the hell else would I ask?! Of course I do.” I reached over and grabbed her hand, forgetting for a second that Lee was in the car with us. “You know that means a lot to me, right? I’ll never take it for granted.” We shared a meaningful look, and I squeezed her hand before letting go. The car fell silent, and when I looked up, I found Lee watching me again. I swallowed and glanced away, staring intently out the window. A few minutes later, we’d reached my and Lexie’s building. She got out first and hurried toward the door entry system. I hovered, looking back to Lee. There was something about his expression that made me think he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he shot me a sober nod and restarted the engine. “See you around, Snap,” he said right before he pulled away from the kerb. I stood on the path, watching his black car disappear into the black night and worrying about how my life was changing, all because he was in it.

FIVE

“O

i, Burrows, where’d ya get the shiner?” Tony called after Steve, who’d just stepped inside the break room. Steve flicked his attention to Tony, a face like thunder and a black eye to boot. “Your missus wanted to try something a little different in the sack,” he sneered, and Tony bristled. My workmate wasn’t an easy man to rile, but what Steve had said got his back up. He went silent, and believe me, since he was normally a happy, chatty sort of bloke, Tony was at his scariest when he was quiet. Steve gave him a snide look before going to sit on the other side of the room from us. “Don’t listen to her — she’s just crabby because she got into another catfight. Handbags at dawn, it was,” I said, grinning at my friend. “She needs to learn how to act like a lady.” Tony let out a loud laugh, and Steve scowled. He kept quiet, though, which was out of character. Normally, the man had a mouth on him that Niagara Falls couldn’t shut up. This niggled at me, because if Steve had gotten into a fight on the job, he’d be bragging about it with endless talk of “you should see the other guy.” The fact he was keeping schtum was worrying, and it reminded me of Lee’s threats when we’d visited the garage. Maybe Steve tried to pay another visit, and Lee had made good on his promise. Hmmm. Tony and I had just finished eating, so we packed up our stuff and left Steve to sit out the rest of his break alone. “Have you ever suspected he might be up to something dodgy?” I asked my friend once we were out of earshot. Tony shot me a cynical look. “Is the sky blue?” I sighed. “He needs to be dealt with.” “You’re telling me. As soon I have even the slightest bit of evidence, I’m turning him in.” I nodded, wondering how long it’d take Steve to slip up. A little while later, we were on the beat, walking down the high street, when I caught sight of a disturbance outside a greasy spoon. “I’m not letting you spend time with Jonathan until you clean up your act!” a

woman yelled, levelling her hands on some tall guy’s chest and pushing him away from her. A kid stood in the doorway to the café, his thumb in his mouth and tears running down his face. I’d only seen her once before, so it took me a second to recognise Lee’s cousin, Sophie. The guy she was arguing with was about her age. He was tall and thin, and, if I was being honest, sort of slimy-looking. I was guessing from the nature of the argument that he was her son’s father. “Is everything all right here?” I asked, stepping up to them as Tony went and bent down in front of the boy. He spoke to him quietly, asking if he’d been hurt. Sophie turned to see who was interrupting and frowned when she saw me. “You again.” I nodded. “Is this man bothering you?” It took her a second to answer, as she glanced between me and the man. “Yes, he is bothering me. I want him to go.” As soon as the words left her mouth, I turned to the guy and gestured down the street. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave now. You’re upsetting this young woman.” “That’s only because she’s trying to keep my kid from me,” he spat. “Yeah, and can you blame me when this is the kind of attitude I have to deal with?” “Maybe if you’d quit being such a fucking bitch, I wouldn’t have an attitude.” Tony stood and shot the man a hostile look. He bristled, his posture stiffening, before he backed away a few steps. “This is bullshit. I’m outta here,” he said, and skulked off. A moment passed before Sophie glanced up at me, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “Thanks for that. I promise I don’t normally go around having domestics out on the street, but David showed up unannounced and tried to take Jonathan.” She turned back to her son, who hurried to her side and buried his face behind her leg. For some reason, my eyes went to her left wrist, where she was tugging her sleeve down as far as it would go. A small bruise peeked out, and I knew she was trying to hide it. I stepped closer and lowered my voice, speaking softly as I asked, “Has he ever tried to hurt you?” She stared at me, unshed tears shining in her eyes, and I knew the answer was yes. She didn’t say anything, and a moment later she sucked in a deep breath. “We should get going.” I stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. “I can help you, you know. All you have to do is file a report. We can have a barring order put in place so that he can’t approach you or your son.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to do that. Come on, honey, let’s go.” She took hold of Jonathan’s hand and walked away. I let out a breath, my eyes meeting Tony’s. We both knew there wasn’t much we could do if she wasn’t willing to cooperate. For the rest of the day, my encounter with Sophie was stuck in my head. I wondered if Lee had any idea what was going on between her and this David

character. I couldn’t imagine he did, judging by how fiercely he told me he’d do anything for his family. I doubted David would’ve gotten within ten feet of Sophie if Lee had known. I was so preoccupied by these thoughts that I almost forgot I’d organised a girls night for Alexis. I’d invited Reya over, and Alexis’ friend, Bradley, who was an honorary girl. We were going to watch chick flicks, order pizza, and, well, try to make her feel better about being pregnant. She thought she was alone, but she really wasn’t. I planned to be by her side through all of it, but I was worried about her falling deeper into depression. It wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. Everyone was already at the flat when I arrived, so I said some quick hellos and went to take a shower. I always liked to wash after a shift; it was almost a compulsion. Somehow the water felt like it cleaned away all the crap I’d seen that day, leaving me fresh and new. Alexis was scribbling down a list of everyone’s pizza orders when I came out, my hair in a towel and wearing a pair of clean pyjamas. “Can I have a meat-lover’s pizza, chicken tenders, potato wedges, and some coleslaw?” said Reya. “Oh, and a diet Coke.” I couldn’t help teasing her. “Yeah, because that’ll undo all the damage.” “Hey! I actually prefer diet,” she argued, and Bradley chuckled. “Can’t get enough of that sexy chemical taste, huh?” I laughed and leaned forward to give him a high-five. “You two, stop ganging up on little Reya,” Alexis butted in, throwing her a sympathetic look. “Don’t mind them. They’re a pair of bullies.” I found it funny how Alexis called Reya little, since she was more woman than us two put together. I guessed we considered her little because she was six or seven years younger than all of us. I didn’t know her exact heritage, but I thought I remembered her telling me once that her parents were Spanish, which was where she must’ve gotten her dark looks from. She was actually quite statuesque, with skin the colour of honey and curves that went on forever. I mean, Alexis did plussize modelling, but she had nothing on Reya. Once the food was ordered, Bradley hit play on the DVD. We were watching a movie called He’s Just Not That Into You. Needless to say, I hadn’t been a part of the selection process. The title was so fucking condescending it kind of made me want to hurt someone. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for our food to arrive, distracting me from my daydreams of grievous bodily harm. It was later on, while Bradley and Reya were chatting in the living room, that I managed to corner Alexis in the kitchen. I knew she was going to give me endless amount of stick for this, but I had to put my pride aside for a minute. I just didn’t have it in me to ignore the fact that Lee’s cousin was being hounded by her ex. If he’d been violent with her in the past, then I had to do something to prevent it from happening again. “Do you have Lee’s number?” I asked quietly as I washed dishes and she dried. She gave me a shrewd look. “Maybe I do. And why, pray tell, are you looking for

it?” “It’s complicated. But I assure you, I have no romantic designs on him whatsoever, if that’s what you’re thinking.” “I dunno, you’d make a good cougar.” She smirked. “They’d call you ‘racy red’.” “Shut your face,” I whisper-hissed, trying not to laugh. “I’m way too young to be a cougar. And he’s way too old to be my boy toy. If I was going to go down that route, the guy would have to be in his, like, late teens or something.” Good grief, I was rambling. Alexis full-on chuckled. “Ooooh, I didn’t know you were into the barely legal scene, Constable.” I grew impatient. “Do you have his number or not?” She sighed. “Yes, I have it. And just so you know, if you were thinking of hitting that, I’d be in no position to judge, especially after the shit I pulled with Stu the other night. However, being in your line of work, it’s probably not the best idea.” Her brows rose meaningfully on the none-too-subtle hint. “It’s a good thing I have no intentions of hitting anything,” I said, drying my hands and returning to the living area. “Well, you’ve got to hit something every once in a while,” she called after me. I turned back around long enough to give her an Italian chin flick that said something along the lines of, “piss off.” FOR THE NEXT couple of days, Lee’s number burned a hole in my pocket. Alexis had given it to me and I’d programmed it into my phone, but I was hesitant to call him. Depending on the person you were talking to, a phone call could be kind of intimate, and I knew for a fact it’d be that way with Lee. He had this way of making me feel strange and tingly, and I couldn’t deny he had a sexy voice. It was all deep and rough around the edges. Anyhow, I was working the late shift, or the early morning one, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Keira and I were driving through town, keeping an eye on things. Sometimes it felt like I could wax lyrical about Camden at 2 a.m. on a Saturday. Litter covered the streets, blowing back and forth like waves in the ocean. People fell over drunk, scrambling for a connection they weren’t brave enough to seek sober. Okay, so maybe not so lyrical. The radio went off with a request from dispatch for us to go check out a violent disturbance outside a nightclub just a few minutes away. Keira hit the sirens, and within seconds we were on our way. When we got there, we found three men involved in a scuffle, two of whom were beating the crap out of the third. He lay on the ground, crouched in the foetal position as the other two laid into him. I didn’t hesitate to pull out my Taser, and the threat of incapacitation was enough to get them to back off. Before long, we had the attackers cuffed and sitting in the back seat of the patrol car, ready to take down to the station, while the bloke they’d

beaten was being carted off in an ambulance. I was exhausted beyond belief by the time I got home, dropping my keys on the coffee table and flopping down onto the couch. I could hear Alexis snoring lightly in her room as I closed my eyes and let out a weary sigh. I wanted to go to bed, but Lee’s number was still calling to me. I couldn’t sleep soundly until I’d let him know that his cousin might be in trouble. Dialling his number, I waited tensely for him to pick up. It rang for so long that I began to wonder if he was going to answer. Then, just as I was about to hit “end,” his voice filled my ear, tired and sexy. “Whoever this is, it better be important that you’re calling me at….” He paused, and I thought he must have been checking the time. “Five-ten on a Saturday morning.” I cleared my throat. “Hi, uh, this is Karla. Alexis gave me your number.” “Snap?” Lee asked, sounding surprised. “Yes, I’m, eh, sorry for calling you so early. I wasn’t thinking. The late shift does weird things to my brain.” There was a smile in his voice when he responded low, “You can call me whenever. Excuse the tone, thought you were Liam or Trevor looking for a lift home or something.” “A lift home at five in the morning?” “The young’uns like to party hard.” I laughed involuntarily. “Oh, and what are you now, an old dog?” “I’ve definitely got some city miles going on.” I laughed, again. Man, he was charming even when he’d been woken up at an ungodly hour. “Pfft, you have zero city miles, and we both know it,” I blurted before I had a chance to think it through. “Oh, yeah? You been checking out my miles?” he asked flirtatiously, and I heard the sound of sheets rustling. That reminded me he was more than likely in bed. I did not need to be visualising that. I bet he sleeps naked, the dirty side of my mind mused, causing a tiny shiver to trickle down my spine. “Anyway, I called you for a reason.” He sounded amused. “My apologies. Go ahead.” More rustling of sheets. God grief, what was he doing over there? “Could you stop moving around for a second? The noise is distracting me.” Lee let out a deep, raspy chuckle, and I swear it did me in. I found myself reaching for my shirt collar and undoing several buttons, feeling hotter by the second. “Mm-hmm, easily distracted, are we?” His voice was pure sex, and I just knew that he was bare-arse nekkid. Nobody spoke like that when they were clothed. I swallowed and tried to summon a steady tone. “Quit it with that voice.” “What voice?” “The distracting one,” I practically shouted and heard a gap in Alexis’ snore. It

started up again a second later, and I exhaled heavily. For a second there, I thought I’d woken her up. Lee chuckled down the line, and the sound of it was so delicious that I felt it in my long-neglected lady parts. “Again, I apologise. Now go on — tell me what’s on your mind, baby.” I let the “baby” slide, because honestly, we’d be on the phone all night (or morning) if I didn’t get on with it. “Okay, so, the other day while I was working, I bumped into your cousin, Sophie. She had her little boy with her and his dad was there. They were arguing. I wouldn’t normally stick my nose in like this, but I think he’s been hitting her. When I asked if she wanted to report it, she brushed me off. I just thought you should know.” Lee went deathly quiet on the other end of the line, and I could almost sense the anger radiating off him. A long moment passed before he spoke. “This was David, yeah? Tall skinny prick, hair like he dipped it in a deep fat fryer?” “That’s the one.” “They split up months ago. Sophie never mentioned he was back on the scene.” “Well, from what I saw, he is.” Lee let out a slow breath. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure he stays away from her.” “Good,” I said, and a silence fell. I should have hung up then, but something prevented me. I didn’t want to end the call, because as much as I hated to admit it, I was a tiny bit addicted to interacting with him. “Is that all you wanted to say?” Lee asked, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. I could imagine him inside me, talking to me like that, like I was the centre of his world. “Um, yes. I mean, no.” I paused for a second before continuing, “Do you remember Steve? The guy who came with me to your garage the other week?” “Hard to forget a prick like that.” “Mm-hmm, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the black eye he’s been sporting?” “Nope.” “Oh, well, I just thought I’d ask.” Lee moved again, like he was trying to get into a comfortable position. “You sound tired,” he commented. “I am. I told you I was working tonight. Well, last night and this morning.” “So what’ll you do today, just sleep and hang out?” “Pretty much. Maybe head to the gym later.” “I could come over and cook for you. A working woman should have a man to take care of her needs.” I could just imagine his cheeky grin. And honestly, that sounded good, too good. I had to laugh at his brazenness. “Never took you for a feminist.” “Oh, but I am. In fact, I think they should bring in a new law that says all women should receive several orgasms a week. I’d be more than happy to support that,” he said, and against my own will, I chuckled.

“I’m sure you would be.” “Yep. Hey, did you know they had these doctors back in the day who women visited to be treated for hysteria? The doctor literally jilled them off to relieve the tension, then sent them home happy as clams. Excuse the pun. Saw that shit on a documentary.” I laughed loudly, unable to help it. “You’re crazy.” “God’s honest truth. Google it if you don’t believe me. So, you gonna let me come over?” Lee purred. “I don’t think so.” “Aw, but I was going to bring my baked cheesecake. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my baked cheesecake.” I had to admit, I found it hilarious to imagine Lee baking, tattooed ne’er-do-well that he was. I shouldn’t have indulged him, but I couldn’t seem to help it. “What flavour cheesecake?” His voice dipped low. “Whatever flavour gets you to say yes.” “You’re such a flirt.” He chuckled, and I got up from the couch, heading for my bedroom. “I’d better go. It’s been a long night.” “Don’t go yet.” I was yawning as I replied, “I have to. Otherwise, I’ll fall asleep while we’re talking.” “I don’t mind. Stay on the line.” I closed the door to my room. “Okay, well, I’m going to put you on speaker for a minute because I have to change out of my uniform.” I heard him groan just as I hit “speaker” and placed the phone on my bedside dresser. “Forget talking on the phone. I should come over.” I laughed. “Nice try.” “No joke. I can be there in fifteen minutes, maybe less.” “You’re incorrigible.” “Oh, that’s fightin’ talk. Where’d you learn those fancy words, Constable?” “Lee, you’re flirting again. Quit it or I’ll hang up.” “Okay, no need for drastic measures. I’ll behave.” A quiet fell as I pulled off my shirt and tie, then unbuckled my belt. “So, are you naked yet?” I huffed a breath. “I thought you just said you were going to behave.” “I will, but at least give me something. I’m trying to visualise here.” A second later my trousers were off, and I threw all my clothes in the laundry basket. I was too tired for my usual shower, so I just put on an old T-shirt and climbed into bed. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but nothing even remotely sexy is happening over here. I’ve been working for the past ten hours, and I stink. Go put that in your spank bank.” Lee groaned again. “You can’t say ‘spank bank,’ Snap. It’ll give me ideas.” “Don’t you dare,” I warned him.

His laugh was devilish. “For all you know, I could’ve been rubbing one out this whole time.” “For all you know, so could I,” I countered. “Fucking hell. Okay, you win that round.” He swore and moved away from the phone for a second. I thought I heard him scratching his stubble while muttering “Jesus Christ” under his breath. I tried my best to change the subject. “So, have you got any plans for the day?” “Other than coming over to yours?” he asked confidently. When I left him in stony silence, he added, “Kidding, kidding. No big plans. It’s a friend of mine’s birthday tonight, so I’ll have to show my face.” “Oh, well, I hope you have a good time,” I said sleepily as I snuggled into my pillow and we were both quiet for a minute. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line, so I knew he was still there. “You nearly gone?” Lee asked softly. For a moment it felt like he was there beside me, whispering in my ear. “Almost,” I answered past another yawn. “Bet you look a picture right now,” he murmured. “Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “Go to sleep, beautiful,” he said, his voice a caress. Seconds later, I was dead to the world.

SIX

“G uess how many bras I’m wearing?” Reya asked as she jogged alongside me on

the treadmill. I sputtered a laugh. “Um, I’m hoping the answer to that is one.” She shook her head. “Nope, I’ve got three of these bad boys on right now. Otherwise, the girls’d be flopping around like an elephant on a trampoline.” I laughed harder, feeling breathless. “Oh, my God, stop! You’re putting me off my stride.” “I’m being serious. I bet you’ve never even had to double up, whereas I’m here tripled up and could probably do with a fourth. I curse you, Karla Sheehan, you and your perfectly manageable boobs.” The guy on the treadmill next to Reya’s cocked his head, clearly listening in to our conversation. I couldn’t blame him. “You know what?” she went on. “I’m thinking of getting a reduction. I want a pair of Claire Danes–style bee stings. She can probably go around free as a bird day in and day out without so much as a back twinge.” The guy listening almost tripped over his own feet, and I sort of felt bad for him. Reya was always very chatty when she was around me because I made her feel comfortable. The problem with that was that it often meant she didn’t think to censor herself. “Why don’t you just get a sports bra, you big freak?” I asked when I finally managed to stop laughing. “Because I’m broke, but also because sports bras are bullshit. They might give you support, but they barely cover the nips. I don’t want to be going around flashing my headlights at everyone.” “You have to shut up. Seriously, you’re giving me a stitch,” I complained, laughing so hard I had to reach for the buttons to slow down my machine. I’d slept until midday and then Reya had called, asking if I wanted to go to the gym for a workout. Since I felt unusually refreshed after being lulled to sleep by Lee, I agreed. Now, here we were. And yeah, I was refusing to think about the fact that Lee Cross’s voice had sent me into the best night’s sleep I’d had in forever. “I’m going over to the rowing machine. Come find me when you’re done,” I

said, stepping off the treadmill and heading to the other side of the gym. I’d been rowing for a couple of minutes when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone take the machine next to mine. I didn’t pay them too much attention, and focused on the music streaming from my MP3. For some reason, I preferred listening to metal when I was working out, and James Hetfield was currently growling in my ears. It was only when I started to slow down that I sensed a familiar presence, intense and all-consuming. I slowed to a stop, pulling out my earbuds. A second later I turned to see who had my instincts on alert, and there he was. Lee glanced over at me, wearing workout clothes and a towel draped around his shoulders. I wiped the sweat from my brow and narrowed my gaze at him. After a millisecond of eye contact, I stood, making my way to the water fountain. I knew for a fact that this wasn’t a coincidence. Last night on the phone I distinctly remembered telling him I might go to the gym today. He followed heavy on my heels, dipping his head and asking, “Sleep well last night, Constable?” I bent over the fountain, took a drink, then straightened. “Well enough.” The T-shirt he wore wasn’t exactly tight, but his perspiration had caused parts of it to stick to his chest. I tried not to look and failed. Lee took the opportunity to stretch his arms up over his head, causing his T-shirt to rise and reveal several inches of toned stomach. I knew he’d done it on purpose, but still, I couldn’t stop staring. That was when my gaze wandered to his right hand, where the knuckles had been bandaged. “What happened there?” Lee glanced down, then back up to me. “David happened,” he answered casually. “Let’s just say, he won’t be bothering Sophie anymore.” “You fought him?” “Had to. No other way of getting through to blokes like him. Words don’t work, but fists sure do.” I didn’t know how to feel about that, because if David had really been violent with Sophie, a tiny little pixie of a woman, then he deserved some sort of punishment. I just wasn’t sure that punishment was a beating. “You should have reported him.” “So your lot could give him a slap on the wrist and then he’d be back hassling Sophie within the month. No, thanks. I told you I’d do anything for my family. Sometimes that means doing things that fall into a…grey category.” I eyed him closely, a frown shaping my lips. The thing about Lee was that I never quite knew whether or not I agreed with him, and it was disconcerting. I didn’t get too much time to contemplate this further, as he distracted me by nodding over to the boxing ring. “Fancy sparring with me?” I shook my head and tried to keep a neutral expression. “No, thanks.” “Worried I’ll show you up?” he asked, a challenge gleaming in his eyes as they wandered over me intently. I felt like he was chronicling every tiny detail, from the

way my workout pants clung to my thighs to the sheen of sweat glistening on my neck. I laughed, trying not to let his attention affect me. “No, actually, the opposite. I wouldn’t want the whole gym seeing you get taken down by a girl.” Lee stepped closer, so close I could smell him, soap and sweat and man. He bent his head to reply, “Hmm, I sense a wager coming on.” Our gazes locked, and it was the first time that I noticed we had almost the exact same eye colour, except his were the tiniest shade lighter. A moment of insanity must have struck me, because there was something about his challenge that I couldn’t back away from. I was riled, and I wanted to show Lee Cross that boxing was bollocks when put up against a real martial art. “What do I get if I win?” I asked, levelling him with a hard stare. His smile was slow and sexy. “What do you want?” “Hmm, let me think. How about for you to steer clear of this gym when I’m around.” His mouth was inches from mine as he replied, “But there’s no fun in staying away.” “Sometimes fun isn’t worth it.” “Sometimes it is.” I groaned. He really wasn’t going to let up. “We’re done here.” He grabbed my arm as I turned to walk away. “Okay, fine. If you win, I’ll keep my distance, but if I win, you’ve got to let me come around to yours tomorrow and cook you dinner.” I stared at him, incredulous. “You want to cook me dinner?” Lee nodded firmly and held his hand out to me. I grew flustered. Why did his end of the deal have to sound so…so romantic? A small part of me kind of wanted to lose, and that part began with a “V.” After a moment of indecision, I finally shook with him. A couple of minutes later, we were both in the ring. I couldn’t use my eskrima sticks, because then it wouldn’t be a fair fight. It didn’t matter, though; I had a number of empty-hand techniques I could use on him. I got in position, and Lee stood less than two feet away, knees bent slightly, fists up. “Just so you know, I’m not gonna actually hit you. This isn’t about hurting one another, it’s about submission. First person to achieve a takedown wins,” he said. I sputtered a laugh, circling him. “It’s not a real fight unless you hit me.” “Yeah, well, I don’t want a real fight with you. Play fighting is sexier,” he said, flashing his teeth and swinging. I moved quickly, dodging the would-be strike. He swung again, and I coiled my hand around his arm, pushed his other hand out of the way, and locked his arm behind his back. He dropped his body and pressed his foot down on my ankle. I released him. He backed away a few feet. “That was slick.” I just smirked in response before asking, “So, we never really set the rules. Is kicking allowed?”

“Sure,” said Lee, and before I could react his leg shot out, making light contact with my upper thigh. I shook my head at him. “Dirty move.” “Hey, we just agreed to kicking.” “Yeah,” I grinned. “We did.” Making sure I had enough space, I launched into a wheel kick. My foot got him right in the lower abdomen, and he drew back, winded. “Hey, ease up, Mr Miyagi.” “Mr Miyagi does karate.” I feigned offence. “Don’t insult me.” Lee chuckled at my response and I went for him again, but this time he was quicker, and he caught my foot before it could descend. I lost my balance and fell to the floor, hard. “Ah, would you look at that. Miyagi got taken down,” Lee teased, and I scowled at him, reaching around to rub the base of my spine. “Thought you said you weren’t going to hit me.” I winced, pretending I was in real pain. Lee’s smile fell and he hurried forward, holding out his hand to help me up. “Shit, did I hurt you?” “I’ll survive,” I said, placing my fingers in his, but instead of letting him pull me up, I dragged him down, making short work of wrapping my legs around his shoulders and capturing his head in a lock. Grappling was kind of my forte, and I actually had a little experience with ground fighting. I squeezed my thigh muscles around his neck, and even though I knew he had to be hurting right then, he laughed. “Is this what heaven feels like?” His chest rose and fell as he fought for breath. I smiled wide, a little breathless myself from the effort it took to keep him down. “Pretty much.” He struggled, moving his body and testing me, trying to find a way out of the lock. “This is a good look for you, Snap.” “I agree. I also think I just won.” “Not yet.” “Aw, that’s cute. You actually think you’re getting out of this, don’t you?” In a shameless move, he turned his head to the side by the tiniest fraction and nuzzled his nose into my inner thigh. Electricity shot right between my legs, the shock enough to make me loosen my hold for a millisecond as he grabbed me and flipped me on my back. Before I knew it, he had my wrists captured in his hands as he straddled my waist. “Well, what do you know,” he purred. “I managed to get out of it after all.” I tried to kick my legs, but his body was pure muscle, and with the way he was holding me, I might as well have been weighed down by steel. “That was another dirty move,” I complained, breathing heavily. “Sorry, but you can’t complain about dirty moves when you use them yourself. I tried giving you a helping hand and you exploited my kindness.” He tutted, shaking

his head at me smugly. I had no intention of giving in. “You do realise there are a number of much more efficient ways you could be restraining me right now, yet you pick the sexiest option.” “Yep, I’m well aware of that.” I grunted irritably, uncomfortably aware of the strength of his thighs locked around mine and the way our bodies were so conveniently aligned. Flicking my eyes up to his, I was sure he saw my frustration. There was a softness in his gaze, and I exhaled a breath when he loosened his grip and lowered his body so his entire weight rested on top of me. His pecs were hard planes, his abdomen a firm press against my stomach. “What are you doing?” I whispered, conscious of every breath he took. The noise of other gym users and trashy workout music streaming from the overhead monitors was a distant reality. There were any number of ways that I could have gained the upper hand right then, but it didn’t feel like we were sparring anymore, and I couldn’t have moved a muscle even if I tried. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Lee whispered back, his nose dipping to the spot below my ear. “You need to get off me. Somebody might see,” I said, desperate. “I love that about you,” Lee continued to whisper, still nuzzling me. “What?” “How you act all tough, but as soon as I touch you, you melt and go all shy. It’s gorgeous.” I was momentarily glad that this wasn’t a cop gym, and that none of my coworkers had a membership here. I could just imagine the crap I’d have to deal with if anyone I knew saw me in my current clinch. “You need to get off me now.” I repeated my plea, trying to make my voice hard and failing. There was way too much air in it. “If you want me to get off you, I will,” said Lee, moving his hips slightly. I felt something firm press into me and knew he was hard. This was so many levels of wrong, I didn’t even know where to begin. “Do you want me to?” I closed my eyes for a second and tried to breathe. I’d never felt so weak, and we both knew I didn’t want him off me, not even a tiny bit. What I wanted was for us to be magically transported somewhere private where he could show me exactly what he planned on doing with the stiff length in his pants. When I didn’t reply, Lee continued talking. “I can’t get your taste out of my mouth.” The smallest whimper escaped me, and I felt myself grow wet at his words. I wanted so many things right then. In the end I opened my eyes, and I was sure he recognised the defeat in my expression. “You win.” I hated to admit it, but the way he smiled in response was beautiful. “Does this mean I get to come over tomorrow?”

All I could do was nod reluctantly. Maybe Alexis would feel like doing me a favour and sticking around the flat while Lee was there, like a buffer. She’d hate it, but hey, it wasn’t like I hadn’t done favours for her in the past. “Okay, so….” Lee’s voice dipped as his eyes travelled over my heaving chest. “I guess the only thing left for you to do is kiss the victor.” That did it. I couldn’t take any more as I twisted my wrists out of his hold and used my hip bone to break the tenseness in his thighs. Within seconds I was out from under him, walking to the other side of the ring and searching for my towel. Once I found it, I dabbed my brow and slipped out between the ropes. “Hey, Karla,” Lee called after me. I turned and waited for him to say something. “I know you could have done that any time.” He stopped, not saying any more because he didn’t have to. We both knew what he was inferring. I could have gotten out from under him, but I didn’t because I liked having him on me, and that was the scariest part of all. CHICKEN NOODLES WERE MY DREAMBOAT. I tended to get crazy hungry when I was on a shift, so the sight of Tony walking into the station with a bag of Chinese takeaway was like music to my ears, or, I dunno, a beautiful artwork to my eyes. I was manning the front desk and decided to eat while I worked because the station was a madhouse. Halfway through my dinner, and having dealt with a number of drunks, one prostitute, and a woman who’d had her handbag stolen on the tube, I had a call come in about an illegal rave going on in a warehouse down in Brixton. They needed extra backup because there were hundreds of people there, a lot thought to be underage, and apparently some dodgy drugs were being passed around. It was with a forlorn sigh that I said goodbye to my noodles and hopped in the patrol car with Tony. “Okay, here’s one for ya,” he began, and I knew I was going to be hit with a brain teaser. Tony and I had a thing for trying to figure them out together. When you worked with someone day in and day out, you came up with ways to pass the time. “If it were two hours long, it’d be half as long until midnight as it would be if it were an hour later. What time is it now?” I glanced at him, screwing my mouth up in concentration as I repeated the question to myself over and over. The problem was, the more I repeated it, the less sense it made. In the end I just gave up. “Ugh, I’ve got nothing. I’ll have to think about it some other time. Hey, so what’s the deal with these drugs at the warehouse?” “Little white pills,” said Tony. “Been going around for the last few months and a couple of kids have OD’d. They’re saying it’s E, but it’s not normal E. Tests done in the lab say there’s all sorts in there.” I shook my head and looked out the window, my gut churning with anger and worry. Teenagers seemed to be willing to put anything into their bodies without a care to the fact that it could kill them. I noticed lights flashing behind us and

turned to see an ARV following. My ex, Gavin, was more than likely inside. Fantastic. “Is that really necessary?” I asked, flicking my eyes to Tony and then back to the van behind us. “Our informant says the rave is being organised by Tommy McGregor. He’s serious business and his people will likely be tooled up.” “Oh, yay. So they’re sending us in to get shot at?” “You’re in a delightful mood today. And no, the armed unit will go in first. We’ll be outside to clean up after.” As though reiterating his words, the van overtook us. The name of the gangster running the rave kept ringing in my head until I remembered where I’d heard of him before. This was the same guy my dad had been trying to put away, the one he hadn’t been able to pin down. Since Dad tended to work on the more hard-core cases, I was guessing this bloke really was serious business, like Tony said. Rolling down my window and letting the cold night air waft into the car, I heard thumping music echoing in the distance. We were close. Tony followed the van and turned into a fairly dilapidated area. Lights flashed glaringly from the windows of the warehouse, and I recognised Swedish House Mafia blaring from the building so loudly it was almost deafening. “Never mind the drugs and the underage drinking — this place looks like it’s ready to collapse,” I said. “Bloody disaster waiting to happen,” Tony agreed unhappily. He had two teenage daughters, and these were the sorts of places he tried his best to keep them away from. A number of other police vehicles had already arrived, and I noticed a stream of people, all dressed in club clothes, running out a back exit of the building. The girls wore tiny dresses and skirts that barely covered their backsides, while the guys were decked out in jeans and muscle Ts. Some of them were even going topless, with luminous bands around their arms and necks. “Hey, turn here and see if we can catch a few of them on their way out,” I said, and Tony swung the car around sharply. They were like ants scattering in all directions. Catching sight of two girls, I noticed they were pulling along a third and seemed to be crying out for help. The girl they were helping looked completely out of it, her head lolling to one side and her hair hanging across her face. I hopped out before telling Tony to go park and that I’d catch up to him. “What’s wrong with your friend?” I asked in an authoritative voice as I ran up to the girls and shone a flashlight on them. “She…she took something. I don’t know what, but she passed out a few minutes ago,” one of them answered, on the verge of tears. I felt a maternal sort of worry for them, because they couldn’t have been any older than sixteen or seventeen. “Both of you go stand over by the wall while I check her out,” I ordered them. “You’re not going to call our parents, are you?” “Your friend might need to be hospitalised, and you’re worried about your parents finding out? You should be glad you’re not in her boat.”

They looked guilty and upset, but they did as I said. I knew they weren’t a bad sort, just misguided. A lot of girls would have abandoned their friend and run for the hills. I took hold of her and checked her vital signs. She was in a bad way. Settling her against my hip, I then led the girls to the front of the building, where a bunch of people had been rounded up. The paramedics were already on the scene, and I handed the girl off to them. “Her friends said she took something. More than likely it’s those new pills that are going around,” I told the medic before I was called away. “Sheehan, see if you can get that music turned off. It’s giving me a migraine,” a sergeant ordered me, and I hurried inside the building to see if I could cut the electrics somehow. It was dark inside, and there were still a number of members of the armed unit running around. I hadn’t heard any gunfire, which was a good sign. Maybe this would all be taken care of peacefully. I could understand the sergeant’s annoyance with the music, because it was even worse inside, and combined with the dim lighting, was a little disorienting. I saw some wiring running along the skirting boards and followed it up two floors, hoping it’d lead me to a power source. I was on the third floor when I sensed movement to my right. Turning, I saw three blokes, one of them heavyset, running down the stairs. They must have been on the top floor and were trying to get outside without bumping into any police. “Stop right there,” I shouted, but it was likely they couldn’t hear me over the music. And even if they could hear me, I doubt they’d have stopped. I chased after them, my booted feet pounding down the stairs. The two slim guys were fast, but I managed to catch up with the bigger one. We collided, and in his struggle to get away, I had to pin him to the ground, making quick work of cuffing him as I recited his rights. He swore loudly, and one of the guys he’d been with stopped running and turned around. Time moved in slow motion when I looked up and saw Lee Cross’s blue eyes staring back at me.

SEVEN

number of emotions hit me all at once, first shock, then disappointment, A followed by the third, anger. I was pissed that he was there, because somewhere in

the back of my mind I’d been holding out hope that maybe he wasn’t a bad guy, that maybe he didn’t consort with criminals. But hope was often futile, and mine certainly was. This was a place for underage kids looking to party and criminals looking for a place to do business. Since Lee wasn’t an underage kid, I had to assume he was the latter. My anger rapidly transformed into determination as I stood and walked toward him, leaving the big guy cuffed on the ground. I half expected Lee to turn and run, but he didn’t. He stood in place. Perhaps he was just as shocked to see me there as I was to see him, or maybe he didn’t think I’d actually arrest him. Well, he was dead wrong on that account. Somebody must have found out how to cut the music, because it went off suddenly and a stark quiet fell. “Turn around,” I barked. “Karla,” Lee began, but I cut him off. “I said, turn around.” He must have seen something in my eyes that told him I wasn’t playing games, because his jaw firmed and he turned. I began searching him, my hands moving carefully down his body to check for drugs or weapons. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used….” “Snap, wait, will you listen to me for a second?” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shook my head. “Stay quiet,” I clipped out, and continued telling him his rights. He didn’t have anything on him other than a wallet, a set of car keys, a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. I pulled out my second pair of cuffs. When I looked down, I found that my hands were shaking, and I knew Lee must have felt it, too. A moment elapsed as I tried to gather some calm. My head was swimming, and the noodles I’d eaten earlier were gurgling around in my stomach, waiting for a chance to resurface. Why did it have to be him? I could’ve handled arresting Lucifer himself, but not

Lee. For the second time in a matter of minutes, time stood still. I stared at his broad, muscular back and quietly gasped when he captured my shaking fingers in his. Everything slowed down, the air around me growing electric and tense. Lee’s thumb slid soothingly down the centre of my palm, and I shivered. “Relax,” he whispered, and a string deep in my heart pulled tight. I swallowed, tried to steady my breathing, and abruptly shoved his fingers off mine. He made me feel so much, too much, and it was an intimidating task to assert my dominance over a man I desired. A man who was strong and virile, ever the alpha in any environment. Finally, I snapped the cuffs closed and stepped away, my pulse pounding in my ears. Lee stood in place as I went and helped the other guy to stand, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. His friend must have been about two hundred and fifty pounds, so I was surprised he’d managed to run as fast as he did before I caught him. As I led the two of them out of the building and lined them up next to the others who’d been arrested, I felt my throat grow dry with nerves. DI Jennings was there, barking orders at people, and for a second I had a nightmarish vision of Lee telling her he knew me, that I’d been to his house and that we’d kissed. None of these things were crimes, of course, but, knowing Jennings, she’d find some way to use it against me. Nerves coiled tight in my belly. Lee didn’t breathe a word, though. No, he wore a blank expression, hands behind his back, a stoic figure as he stood at the end of the line. I was just about to go and find Tony when Jennings spotted me, lips pinching tightly in my presence. “Don’t move a muscle, Sheehan. I want you to help keep an eye on this group. Make sure none of them think to do a runner.” “They don’t strike me as the type to sacrifice a thumb to get the cuffs off, Inspector,” a familiar voice butted in. It was Gavin. This night just kept getting better and better. He held his gun at chest level, his dark hair cropped short to his skull. “I just gave the constable an order, Matthews, so shut that hole you call a trap and do something productive,” Jennings snapped at him, and I sort of wished we were friends for a second so I could high-five her. Unfortunately, we weren’t, and a second later she was gone, off shouting orders to somebody else like the little Hitler that she was. “Karla,” said Gavin, giving me a quick sweep up and down. “How’ve you been?” I was overwhelmingly aware of Lee standing mere feet away, closely watching the exchange. “I was great until I clapped eyes on you,” I replied grumpily, and thought I saw the edges of Lee’s lips curve in smirk. “Bloody hell, you on the rag or something?” said Gavin, annoyed. I narrowed my eyes to slits and shook my head. “Just piss off, yeah?” A couple members of his unit showed up then, alongside a few constables,

including Steve. Christ, what was this, the flipping wankers’ convention or something? A woman who’d been arrested and who was wearing an indecently short sequined dress shivered, holding her arms around herself. “Would you look at this,” one of the armed police said, eyeing the woman lasciviously. “Didn’t think to bring a coat, did ya, darlin’?” She scowled at him and he laughed, as did the others. I made eye contact with Lee for a second, and yeah, he was still watching me. His stare was intense. I would have killed to know what he was thinking. His attention flicked to the men, and there was such loathing in his expression that it caught me off guard. He really didn’t like them, not at all. I guess it surprised me because they were cops, but so was I, yet he’d never acted like he hated me. Not once. “If she brought a coat, she wouldn’t be able to show off those legs, now, would she?” somebody else butted in. Surprise, surprise, it was Steve. “Or those tits. What are you, love, a D-cup?” said another. The woman looked like she was mentally decapitating each and every one of them, and I couldn’t blame her. “Oi, you lot,” I called out. “Put your dicks away and go do your jobs.” “Aw, don’t be jealous, Karla,” said Gavin. “You know I’ll give you a good seeingto if you ask nicely.” The men laughed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Lee bristle, his shoulders tensing and his mouth drawing into a tight line. “Pity I never had a taste for cocktail sausages,” I threw back, and Gavin’s smile fell instantly, while his buddies let out “ooohs” of amusement. If I wasn’t mistaken, Lee’s chest shook with restrained laughter, and it felt good to get one over on my ex. Noticing the woman shiver once more, I turned and went over to the ambulance, nabbing a spare blanket for her. When I returned, I draped it around her shoulders, and she shot me a look of thanks. “If they start in on you again, you let me know, okay?” I said, eyeing her meaningfully. Just because she was at this party didn’t mean she deserved to be berated like that. I sensed Lee watching the exchange, and glanced at him just in time to see Steve recognise who he was. An evil grin graced my coworker’s mouth as he nudged the guy beside him before slinking to the end of the line. I was too far away to hear what they said to him, but Lee looked about ready to blow a gasket. A moment later DI Jennings was back, instructing us to lead those under arrest to police vehicles, where they were to be transported to back to the station. More than likely, most of them had a night in the cells to look forward to. They’d all been searched, so it was just a matter of paperwork now. I found myself at the end of the line, right behind Lee. Steve and his friend had cleared off, but for some reason my protective instincts were kicking in. I wanted to stick by Lee to make sure Steve couldn’t get another ego trip out of him. When we cleared the side of the building, I was vaguely aware of a small gap

between two outer walls. Everything happened in rapid succession after that. One minute Lee was walking along in front of me, hands cuffed behind his back, and the next he was turning, using his broad shoulder to back me in between the walls. Since we were at the end of the line, nobody else was there to see what he’d done. I struggled to get by him, but he leaned his entire weight on me, pinning me to the bricks. His scent invaded my senses and my whole body trembled. “You have two seconds to let me go or I’m going to start screaming,” I threatened him, my heart rate picking up. “Don’t shout. Just listen to me. You have to uncuff me, Karla,” Lee said, his voice soft and pleading. There was a desperation in his eyes. “Why the hell would I do that? Do you know how much trouble I could find myself in?” Lee’s breath hit my cheeks as he looked at the ground, his posture slumping. “I know. And I’m sorry for asking, but I can’t spend a night in the bin. Believe me.” His blue eyes flickered between mine, pleading with me to do it. I stared back at him, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yes, he’d been at the rave. Yes, he was likely involved in some shady dealings. But he hadn’t had anything on him. Letting him go wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? Swallowing, I asked, “What were you doing here tonight? Because seriously, Lee, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look good.” He nodded, some relief shaping his features. “Yes, I know. It looks shitty, and it is shitty. I know this place has no licence, and I know alcohol and drugs were being sold to underage kids, but I was here for my friend. You remember when we spoke on the phone? I told you I was going to my mate’s birthday party. That’s why I was here. His party was inside.” “In that case, you might want to be a bit pickier when choosing your friends in future. But why is it so important that I let you go? This is hardly a first for you.” Lee swore under his breath and levelled me with a serious look. “The black eye your boy Steve had? I lied. It was me who gave it to him. I don’t have time to explain right now, but the fucker had it coming. And believe me, if you don’t let me go, sometime tonight that prick is going to round up his buddies and come find me. Let’s just say, I’ll be lucky if I’m not in a hospital bed come the morning.” As I listened to him speak, it all sank into place. Since Steve was dirty, I well believed he’d put a beating on Lee once he had him locked up. It was difficult to think straight, but in that moment, I knew what I had to do. I had to let Lee go. “Okay,” I said breathlessly. “Okay, turn around.” “Thank you,” Lee whispered gratefully, letting his mouth drop to my forehead as he placed a soft kiss on my temple. The contact made me shiver. Unfortunately, just as I was about to pull out the keys to his cuffs, I heard Jennings’ voice shouting loudly, “Where’s Constable Sheehan? She was here only a moment ago.” “Shit,” I cursed, and swiftly twirled Lee back around, grabbing his arm and pushing him forward. Jennings was just rounding the corner when we stepped out.

“Sorry, ma’am, this one almost got away from me,” I said breathlessly, while internally I was freaking out. How on earth was I going to get Lee out of spending the night at the station now? “See that it doesn’t happen again,” she snapped before walking with us back to the patrol cars. Lee was silent as I opened the door, placed my hand on top of his head and gently guided him inside. Tony, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, studied Lee through his overhead mirror, his brow furrowing. I walked around and got in the passenger seat, and then we were off. “Isn’t that the bloke whose house we visited a few weeks back?” he asked me curiously. “Yep,” I replied, a brick sinking in my gut. “Huh.” “You know, I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m in another room,” Lee put in, the comment reflective of his usual cheeky personality. It was the tightness around his eyes that told me he wasn’t as relaxed as he was letting on. “Shut it,” said Tony, eyeing Lee again with a stern expression. Lee slumped back in his seat, and silence filled the car. All the way back to the station, I was tense and frazzled, especially since Lee wouldn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. They asked a question: Are you going to help me out of this? The problem was, now that Tony had recognised him, there was no letting him go. If Lee just so happened to disappear, Tony would come looking in my direction for answers. Since I was on shift for the rest of the night, I determined to keep an eye on Lee and make sure Steve didn’t get him alone. A couple of minutes later we reached the station, but it was almost three hours before we’d finishing booking everyone. Lee was taken to the cells with a number of other young men, and just as he was being escorted off, I shot him a look of apology. There was really nothing I could do for him, not here at the station where there so many watchful eyes. I was back on the front desk again when I saw a call come in about a home invasion, so I asked Steve to go check it out. He didn’t look too happy to be sent away, but he didn’t seem suspicious, either. He had no idea that I knew Lee in any capacity other than an official one. Once he was gone, I felt like I could relax, and lost myself in paperwork. By the time my shift came to an end, I was ready to spend the day in bed. However, as I was making my way outside, rummaging in my bag for my car keys, I spotted Lee and Stu leaving through the opposite door. Stu must have come to collect him, and other than appearing a little tired, Lee didn’t seem any different than usual. Steve hadn’t gotten to him, thank God. “Hey,” I said, a small bit awkward. “Everything okay?” Stu wore a hostile expression while Lee glanced at me and replied shortly, “Fine and dandy.” It was only when he spoke that I heard the strain in his voice, which alerted me

to the fact he was walking more stiffly than usual. He stood up straight but held his hand to his stomach as though he was in pain. They were both walking away when I hurried to catch up with them. “Lee, hold on. Are you sure you’re all right?” He turned slowly and stared me down, a moment passing between us as my gaze flickered over his face. There were no visible signs that he’d been hurt, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. “We need to get going, bruv,” said Stu, hands braced on the roof of his car. “Are you driving home?” Lee asked, and I nodded. “Follow us, then, and I’ll buy you breakfast.” With that he turned and carefully lowered his body into the car. I stood there for a second while Stu’s car hovered just outside the station, as though waiting for me to get a move on. Sucking down a deep breath, I hurried to follow them, and a couple of minutes later we were parking along the street outside a small, rundown café. Stu went in ahead of Lee, who waited for me to catch up. Despite the fact that he was clearly in pain, he held the door open for me. I stepped by him, murmuring, “You don’t need to do that.” He only stared at me, and we walked to where a waitress was seating Stu at a table by the window. I was momentarily grateful for the fact that I’d changed out of my uniform and into civilian clothes before leaving the station, because if anyone here knew the Cross brothers, I was sure they’d find it odd to see them eating breakfast with a cop. The brothers chatted while I sat next to Lee, quiet. I didn’t know how to bring up the questions I wanted to ask him, mainly because of how guilty I felt. Not only had I arrested him, but because of that he’d taken a beating. Unease twisted in my stomach. The waitress returned and took our orders. I asked for coffee and a croissant, while Lee and Stu ordered two full English breakfasts. Silence fell over the table as the brothers eyed me and I grew uncomfortable. Unable to think of anything to say, I suddenly remembered Tony’s brain teaser from the night before. “Hey, are either of you good with puzzles? There’s this one I’ve been trying to figure out. It goes like this: If it were two hours long, it’d be half as long until midnight as it would be if it were an hour later. What time is it now?” I thought I saw Lee’s lips form something close to a smile at my rambling. Then, without missing a beat, Stu answered, “Nine p.m.” I frowned and looked at him. “Oh, have you heard that one before?” He shook his head. “Nope.” “Then how did you come up with your answer?” “Sixty minutes in an hour. X = 60. Midnight minus 180 minutes = 9 p.m.” I stared at him wide-eyed, trying to figure out his equation and coming up empty. When I glanced at Lee, he was grinning. Stu got up from the table. “I’m going to take a slash.” I sat back, folding my arms. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Stu’s got dyslexia, but numbers are his thing. I have him do all the accounts at the garage.” “Seriously? Imagine what he could do if he hadn’t left school so early.” “Yup.” I was still contemplating Stu’s unforeseen show of intelligence when Lee began coughing fitfully. He winced as he held onto his stomach. “Tell me what happened,” I said quietly, moving closer and touching him softly on the arm. “Prick got to me around four this morning and brought two of his pals. Did a number on my ribs.” I gasped and found myself scrambling for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and finding two large, dark bruises along one side of his ribcage. “Lee! You need to go to the hospital.” I was touching him then, frantically running my fingers along his injuries. He let out a gruff breath as he closed his eyes. “Not that I don’t enjoy you fussing over me, but I’ve had broken ribs before, and these aren’t broken. It looks worse than it feels.” “It doesn’t look like it feels very good.” “I’ll heal.” I couldn’t have been frowning any harder if I tried. “He can’t get away with this. As soon as I clock in for work tomorrow, I’m going to my sergeant and filing a report.” Lee turned his body, and my hands fell from his bruised ribs. “Karla,” he murmured. “No.” There was a finality to the word that brooked no argument. I argued anyway. “I’m doing this, Lee. Steve Burrows is a disgrace to the uniform he wears, and he won’t be wearing it much longer if I have my way.” Christ, I might even go to my dad about it. “It was payback,” said Lee. “And, like the saying goes, she’s a bitch. I’ve had far worse beatings in my time. I’m not having you involved in this. Burrows will get his, never doubt that.” His hand slid along my shoulder before grasping my neck. I closed my eyes for a second, savouring his touch before I shifted away. “So, why did you give him the black eye?” “Huh?” “Last night you told me you lied, that it was you who hit him but you had a reason. What was the reason?” Lee huffed out a breath. “He came around again looking for money. I sent him on his way, just like I said I would.” I didn’t like that, didn’t like how seemingly easily violence came to him. “You hit David, too, to warn him away from Sophie. How long do you think using your fists as a solution is going to last, Lee?” “If someone hurts my family, I hurt them back. If somebody threatens me with blackmail, I hurt them, too.” Lee shrugged. “I’m not saying I like it, but if you live

in a war zone, you don’t survive with peace and love.” “And what about when you get hurt? You’re hurt now, and you don’t seem to care.” “Every method has its flaws.” I stared at him sadly, thinking of the life he’d lived and how it had hardened him. Stu returned to the table then, and a second later the waitress was there with our food. I took my time stirring sugar into my coffee while the brothers dug into their breakfasts. “These eggs are bullshit,” said Lee. “Have they ever heard of seasoning?” I couldn’t help but smile, for a moment forgetting my worries. It was sort of cute how much of a foodie he was. “It’s a greasy spoon,” said Stu, mouth full of bacon. “What do you want?” It sounded more like “whaddayawant.” “Some cracked black pepper wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe a pinch of sea salt,” Lee replied, goading his brother on. Stu shook his head and continued shovelling down bacon as he flipped Lee off. I wasn’t too sure if Stu liked me much, but in a strange way I enjoyed watching the two of them interact as siblings. Feeling my phone buzz in my pocket, I pulled it out and found a text message from Tony, informing me that the girl I’d handed off to the paramedics last night had to have her stomach pumped, but she was doing well now. Her parents had been called to the hospital. I shot off a quick message thanking him for letting me know and glanced up to find Lee watching me. He raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?” “Yeah,” I answered, brow furrowing. “Uh, do you mind if I ask a question you might not like to answer?” “Hit me.” I cleared my throat. “Well, there’s this new ecstasy drug all the kids are taking. I helped a girl last night who’d been in a really bad way. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s distributing it, would you?” Stu whistled low, shaking his head. “You have some balls asking that, Karla.” Lee shot him a silencing look and turned back to me. “Sorry, but I can’t help you there.” I knew instantly that he was lying. “So what you really mean is, you know but you’re not going to tell me.” “I’m not your PI, and I’ll never be a snitch. So, like I said, I can’t help you.” I narrowed my gaze at him. “Are you involved?” Stu slammed down his coffee cup. “Fuck me, Constable. You need to stop asking questions.” Lee seemed offended. “I told you how Mum died. She was a heroin junkie nearly all her life. Liam was born addicted, and it’s a miracle he survived.” He paused to look me dead in the eye. “I’ll never be involved in the drugs trade. Never. There’s your answer.”

I went quiet then, feeling guilty for assuming things about him. Unfortunately, being suspicious and asking lots of questions was second nature to me in my line of work. I finished the rest of my croissant in silence. At some point Stu’s phone rang, and he went outside to take the call. “So,” said Lee once we were alone. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions. What’s the story between you and the mouthy fuck with the gun?” He was asking about Gavin. I should have expected it. “Not much of a story. We used to go out. He cheated on me, so I dumped him. End of.” “Has he been trying to get back with you?” I laughed. “No, and even if he was, it’d be a wasted effort. People get one chance with me.” Lee smiled. “Bit of an ice queen, are we?” “Not really. I just know that past behaviour is typically an indicator of future behaviour. Dr Phil taught me that.” “You and Phil are tight, huh?” Lee joked. “I knew you were a cool broad.” I narrowed my gaze at him, making an effort not to smile and failing. “Make a note — women don’t generally like being referred to as ‘broads,’ cool or otherwise.” He shifted his body closer, and I noticed his slight wince, reminding me he was still in pain. “Oh, they don’t?” His face was only inches away from mine, and I couldn’t help staring at his mouth. He had really nice lips; they weren’t too full, but they had a good masculine shape. He also had a strong jaw, and his skin was flawless even though he clearly hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. I let out a small yawn, and somehow Lee managed to move even closer. “Tired?” I nodded. “You must be, too.” “I’m exhausted. You should come back to mine and sleep with me.” Inhaling sharply at his words and what they inferred, I shot him a wry expression. “Nice try.” “I’m being serious, and I do mean sleep.” I just laughed. He was such a chancer. “Come on, Snap, don’t leave me sitting here feeling all rejected.” Shaking my head, I asked quietly, “Lee, why do you like me?” The question had seriously been niggling at me ever since last night. There was clearly no love lost between Lee and law enforcement. In fact, judging by the deathly stares he’d been giving Steve and company, I’d even go so far as to say he hated cops. Therefore, I was genuinely puzzled as to why he was so keen on me. He reached forward and took a strand of my hair between his fingers. His eyes stayed fixed on it as he answered, “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that one out.” What he said intrigued me. “What do you mean?” He let out a breath and continued to toy with my hair. “When we first met, Alexis told me you were old bill, and, like a greedy little fuck, I wanted what I couldn’t have. Now, Jesus, Karla, I don’t even know. I just…I see you do things, and

it kind of obsesses me. Like how you stuck up for that woman last night, or how you want to help me with Steve even though I can take care of myself. I understand it, and at the same time I don’t. Because I help people like you help people, but only if they’re family, only if they mean something. I don’t know why you’d do it for a stranger, someone who’d never do the same for you. When I stand up for my brothers, it’s to protect them and me, but when you stand up for any random person on the street, you’re putting yourself at risk with no payback. So I guess when I look at you, I see a little piece of myself, but braver. That’s why I like you.” His answer surprised me the hell out of me, and I felt the need to help him understand my motivations. “It’s not so hard to comprehend when you think about it. Have you ever read the newspaper and seen some horrible story about a kid who’s been hurt or killed? Or about innocent people being victimised, and just feel so angry you could burst?” Lee studied me. “Yeah, once or twice.” “Well, that’s how I feel all the time. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but ever since I was a kid, I always worried about people being hurt in the world. It was probably because of my dad’s job and being aware of all the awful things that happen. So I don’t really see it like I’m putting myself out there and getting nothing in return. I see it like I’m fighting against all the bad people, all the killers and rapists and paedophiles. They’re just one big giant wall of badness that I want to disassemble piece by piece. Knowing I do that every day lets me sleep soundly at night.” Our gazes locked, the both of us silent as we shared a bizarre moment of understanding in a rundown East End café. After what I’d said, he was looking at me like I was the sexiest woman alive, and I wasn’t sure I understood his reaction. Maybe my hero complex was a turn-on. “You’re kind of incredible,” Lee whispered, his breath on my ear as he bent his head to speak. “You should come back to mine. We’ll go to bed. I’ll even let you keep your clothes on. I’ll hold you tight, and we’ll fall asleep.” He stopped a moment to see if he was convincing me, before continuing in a lower voice. It hit me right in the pit of my stomach. “Then we’ll wake up a little while later. You’ll be wet, I’ll be hard. I’ll peel off your clothes and slip into you so easily, like I was always supposed to be there. Afterward I’ll cook, and we’ll eat dinner in bed. By the time you’re full, you’ll want me in you again.” I was barely breathing once he finished talking, and my thighs were clenched so tight I was in danger of pulling a muscle. I wanted what he had described so badly it was almost a physical pain to say no. “I can’t go back with you, Lee,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” He frowned at my reply, and I realised his hand had moved as he spoke and was now gripping my upper thigh. I shifted away from his touch just as Stu returned from his phone call, glancing between the two of us. “All done?” “Yeah,” said Lee, wiping his hands on a napkin. “We’re done. You can go wait in

the car.” Stu nodded and went back out the door. Lee nudged me with his hip, needing me to stand so he could get out. I rose and so did he, brushing past me as he walked up to the counter, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. When he was done paying, I moved to his side, catching him by the elbow and looking up at him. “If I wasn’t me and you weren’t you, I’d go home with you in heartbeat. You know that, right?” I told him quietly. For a second he glanced away, then bent his head to reply, his voice husky, “It’s because you’re you and I’m me that we want each other, Karla. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Before I could stop him his mouth dipped to mine, and he laid a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. His tongue slipped inside for just a moment, like a promise. Without another word he turned to walk away, and I stood there, my heart trying to beat its way right out of my chest. “Thanks for breakfast,” I whispered, but he was already gone.

EIGHT

wo days passed. Forty-eight hours, and about ninety percent of those I spent T with Lee on my mind. I was worried about him, especially after seeing the state Steve had left him in. I wanted to know how he was doing, but I was wary of texting, afraid it might give him the wrong impression…or the right one. Anyhow, I was single-mindedly determined to deny myself what I wanted. I was a grown woman, and I could resist my desire to sleep with someone I knew was no good for me. Right? It was six o’clock, and I’d just gotten home from a shift when my resistance gave way. My need to touch base with him was almost physical in its urgency, so, pulling my phone from my pocket, I tapped out a quick message. Karla: How are you feeling? I’d popped a ready meal in the oven for dinner when my phone pinged with a response. Lee: Like crap…you should come over and kiss me all better ;-) I scoffed at his reply. Karla: You never stop. Lee: Not with you. Barely a second went by before he sent another message, and laughter bubbled out of me. In truth, I nearly snorted. Lee: I want your big hard truncheon, Constable, all sleek and girthy. Karla: We don’t carry truncheons any more. They’re called batons. Lee: You’re so good at sexting. I think I just came. I really did snort then. He could be such a sarcastic little shit at times. Karla: Can you be serious for a second? I want to know if you’re okay. Did you go see a doctor? Lee: No doctor. Liam fixed me up. Kid’s got some mad skills with a medi-kit. Karla: So you’re feeling better, then? Lee: If I say yes, does that mean you’re not coming over? Karla: I was never coming over. Lee: Remember our bet? I still owe you dinner. Karla: As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think it’s wise.

Lee: How you wound me. And that was how things progressed between us for the next two weeks. No phone calls, no in person meet-ups, just text messages at random, any time of the day or night. It felt safe, comfortable. If I couldn’t have him in real life, then at least I could have his texts. Lee: What you up to, Snap? Karla: Just getting ready for work. I’m on nights again. FML. You? Lee: Watching Anthony Worrall-Thompson bake lemon cakes and trying to figure out the recipe. Karla: I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was texting my grandmother. Lee: Hahaha! We both know you want my lemon cakes. Karla: Is that your trick? You lure women into bed with baked goods? Lee: Pretty much. My milkshakes bring all the girls to the yard, too. Karla: I’m just glad you didn’t say boys. Lee: Hey, if I wanted the boys I could get the boys. I laughed. Karla: Shut up. Lee: Don’t be jealous. If you wanted the girls, I bet you could get the girls. Karla: I don’t want the girls. Lee: Too bad. There’s got to be some serious amount of licence lickers in your line of work. Karla: That’s a stereotype. Lee: What about the sour-faced old bird who was at the warehouse the other week? Now there’s a high wall built to hold back water if I ever saw one. Oh, my God, was he talking about DI Jennings? It took me a second to get what he was saying and then I burst out laughing, both at his wording and how he described her. She was sour-faced, always looking like she’d just tasted something rotten. Karla: She’s my superior, and I have no clue about her sexual orientation. I’ve got to go to work now. Talk later. Lee: Later, Snap. The next day I got a message with a picture attached. It showed Lee making a kissy duck face into the camera, the gym in the background. I chuckled when I saw it before reading the text below. Lee: Workin on my selfie skills. What ya think? Karla: I think it’s disturbing. Lee: Whaaa? Where am I going wrong? Karla: Try to look less like an aquatic bird. Lee: Okay, how’s this? He’d attached another picture, this time with him grin/smirking, his T-shirt plastered to him with sweat. God, he looked good, and had obviously been working out. Without thinking, I saved the picture to my phone, trying not to delve too deeply into why.

Karla: Better. Lee: Your turn :-D Karla: Fat chance. Lee: Oh, go on. I miss your face. I paused, my finger on the screen as his words sunk in. My tummy fizzled with a bubbly sensation. In a way, I’d have liked to send him a picture in return, but it was dodgy territory. Texting him at all was dodgy territory, but I needed it. It was the least form of communication we could have, and I wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Unable to deal with his sweet statement, I tried to change the subject. Karla: Why are you texting me at the gym? Get back to working out, lazy bones. Lee: Just finished sparring with a few of the boys. Not the same as doing it with you, of course ;-) I ignored the innuendo, even though it made me flush slightly. Karla: You know, I never asked. Do you box professionally? Lee: Nah, just to keep fit. I’m a lover not a fighter. Karla: Haha. Do you do any other sports? I asked because I wanted him to tell me about the parkour. Having seen him in action, I could tell he’d clearly spent a lot of time honing his technique, but he never mentioned it in conversation. It was almost like he didn’t want people to know how good he was. Lee: This and that. Gotta go shower now. Talk later. Huh. I couldn’t tell if he was being evasive or if he really just had to shower. Either way, I obviously wasn’t going to get what I wanted. Karla: Okay. Talk later. “ME, Ingrid, and Gina are going out tonight,” said Reya as we left the gym on a Saturday afternoon. “You should come. Let your hair down.” Ingrid and Gina were her friends from the Royal Academy of Music, where Reya was doing her degree. I mostly tended to spend time with her away from her usual social circle, because they were all a little too young for me. Reya was different. We connected on a level that transcended age, but her friends? They spent a lot of time talking about celebrities or the latest Facebook scandal, and I didn’t have the patience for that shite. “I don’t know. I was planning on a marathon of Heroes with Alexis.” “You can do that anytime! And Alexis should come, too. It’ll be fun.” I knew for a fact that my best friend wouldn’t want to go out. One, because she was still mourning after King, and two, because she was pregnant and couldn’t drink. Every time I tried to have a glass of wine around her, she’d put on this sad puppy face, making me feel guilty that she couldn’t enjoy one, too. “Okay, let me think about it,” I said, and Reya threw her arm around my shoulders, smiling widely. She knew she’d won. Later that evening, I changed into a black bodycon dress and heels. I left my hair

down with a slight curl, and I’d gone a little heavier on the makeup than usual. If I knew Reya and her friends, I was betting I’d get dragged to either a hipster music bar or a rock club, and I wanted to look the part. We were having some crazy weather of late, heavy rain and random thunderstorms, which meant the electricity kept cutting out. I’d been halfway through styling my hair when the flat went dark and I heard Alexis swear loudly from her bedroom. “Bloody hell! Now I’m going to miss the end of Coronation Street,” she moaned, and I tried not to laugh. “You can catch the repeat when they show the Omnibus,” I called to her. “This was the Omnibus!” she shouted back. “Now I’ll never know what happens.” A second later, the lights came back on and Alexis let out a hoot of triumph. I shook my head and finished doing my hair. Once I was ready, I called a cab so I could go meet Reya & Co. I was sitting in the back seat when my phone lit up with a message. Lee: Could you see the lightning at your place? Karla: No, I missed it :-( Lee: It was HUGE. I chuckled. Karla: Oh, really? Tell me more. Lee: Dirty girl. Karla: Can’t talk now. I’m on my way out. Lee: Anywhere fancy? Karla: Just meeting a friend at a club called The Evil Beetle. Don’t ask. Lee: I know the place. Didn’t take you for a Goth. Karla: It wasn’t my choice. My friend’s a music student. Pretentious muso clubs come with the territory. Lee: Ah, got ya. Have a fun night. Xxx. Karla: You too :-) I stared at his last message, frowning. After two weeks of correspondence, this was the first time he’d sent me kisses. They made my throat feel weird and scratchy, and the fact of the matter was, I missed him. I wanted to see him in person, because although I enjoyed talking to him through texts, it was no substitute for how he made me feel in person. How his eyes followed my every movement and how his closeness gave me tingles. Thankfully, I didn’t have too much time to ponder this further, as the taxi stopped outside the club. I paid the driver, got out, and walked down the line, searching for Reya. I found her about midway down, wearing a purple hippy dress under a long navy coat. Her friend Ingrid was blonde and wore a lot of eye-liner, while her other friend, Gina, had a pixie haircut and wore a number of studded belts around the waist of her skinny jeans. I felt slightly overdressed, but I wasn’t too bothered about it.

The four of us made small talk until we reached the door and were immediately let through by the bouncer. Heavy rock music blared as a DJ with blue dreads spun the decks. I went straight to the bar, ordering in a round of drinks for everyone. I wasn’t exactly flash with the cash, but since I was with three starving students, I decided to be generous. Not surprisingly, Gina and Ingrid nodded eagerly when I asked them if they wanted a drink. We found a table in a dark corner where it was just about impossible to carry out a conversation, but we gave it a go anyway. At this rate, I was going to have tinnitus by morning. An hour or so went by, during which I’d had three more drinks. We were currently on the dance floor, dancing to Guns n Roses’ “Night Train.” Reya grabbed my hands and swayed with me to the music, while her friends screamed the lyrics, knowing every word. It was as my eyes travelled over the sea of heads surrounding me that I thought I recognised a familiar one. The guy disappeared, and I shook it off. Lee wouldn’t come here, would he? There was a brief second of quiet between one song and the next when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Lee: You’re a good dancer. I gasped as I read it, swiftly typing a response. Karla: Where are you? My heart pounded, and my skin grew clammy with nerves as I contemplated the idea that he was here. There was something about the fact that we’d been communicating but hadn’t actually seen each other for weeks that heightened my anticipation. I felt surrounded, too hot, and my fingers shook as I waited for him to reply. The screen of my phone remained dark, and I felt Reya nudge me. Glancing up, I saw her frowning as she sent me a look that asked, What’s wrong? Shaking my head to let her know I was fine, I slid my phone back in my pocket and tried to focus on dancing again. It was no use, though, and I found myself frantically scanning the club. After a minute I spotted him over by the bar. He was with some other guy, knocking back shots. The guy turned, and I recognised Trevor, the second-youngest Cross brother. His pretty blue eyes flashed in the darkness as he smiled at something Lee said, showing off a pair of handsome dimples. I guessed Trevor to be about two years younger than Lee, which put him at around twenty-three. He had a very laid-back, sort of skater-boy style, and every girl who passed him by gave him a second glance. Lee had the same good looks, but despite the grin that was perennially plastered across his face, there was something harder about him, something a little bit more intimidating and unapproachable. Almost as though he sensed me watching him, his eyes flashed to mine and held me captive. I shot him a look of irritation and pulled out my phone. Karla: I hope you didn’t come here for me. From across the club, I saw him looking down at his screen, reading my text before his fingers began tapping. A second later he glanced in my direction and

grinned. My phone lit up in my hand. Lee: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Ugh, he was such a smart-arse. My attention was drawn away from my phone when Reya nudged me again. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted in my ear, “I just saw the guy from our gym. Did you invite him here?” I shook my head in response. “Who’s that with him?” “His brother,” I answered, adopting her hands-around-the-mouth approach. I wasn’t sure why people did that when trying to be heard over music, because it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. We continued dancing, but now I was noticing Reya’s eyes return to Trevor, clearly checking him out. I wasn’t surprised. He was too pretty not to look at. Lee’s back was turned from the bar, his elbows resting along the counter as he drank a bottle of beer. My hips swayed to the music and he took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The music changed from rock to a more techno song. There was something about the rhythmic beat, combined with Lee’s attention, that got my blood pumping. Crazy lust built within me, and I had to turn away before I did something stupid. My pores tingled with barely restrained energy, and I was suddenly aware of how tight my dress was, how it moulded itself to my form. Losing myself in the music, I danced. Strobe lights flashed, stark white, red, and blue, causing my vision to blur and the movement of the people around me to seem choppy and staccato. Reya and the girls had caught the attention of a group of guys, but I stayed just outside their circle, trying my hardest to forget Lee’s presence. He shouldn’t have been there. This was going to end in disaster. We lived in two different worlds. And yet.... No. This couldn’t happen. We weren’t supposed to see each other. It was supposed to be only texts, nothing as close as this. The fact that I wasn’t in uniform added an extra tension. I was well aware that I wore my profession like a shield with him, something to keep his advances at bay. But the fact of the matter was, it scared me how much I wanted him, how needy he made me feel. With just one touch, he could lure me into jeopardising years of hard work and dedication. I heard a shout above the music right before it cut off and the club went dark. My heart pounded. The weather must have been picking up again, resulting in another power outage. I wondered if there was a generator and how long it’d take to kick in. Now that I was unable to see a thing, the voices that surrounded me were almost louder than the music had been. People were either complaining about the blackout or yelling like maniacs, excited by the fact that we’d been plunged into darkness. Within seconds everybody had their phones out, using the dim light from the screens to find their way. I looked around for Reya, but it was still too dark to see. All of a sudden my skin prickled with awareness, like my body sensed him. Strong

arms slid around my middle and pulled me into an even stronger body. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know it was him, because I’d memorised his touch, his smell. His mouth went to my exposed neck, licking just below my earlobe. “Snap,” Lee whispered. I shivered at the sound of his voice. There was something about the darkness, about the fact that no one could see us that made me feel reckless. I turned in his hold, threw my arms around his neck, and rose up on my toes. Tentatively, I drew his lower lip into my mouth and he pulled me close, capturing my lips with his fiercely. His hands travelled from my waist, all the way up my spine, before sinking into my hair. When his tongue dipped inside and fluttered along mine, I moaned, the sound of it reverberating up my throat. Lee pulled my body so tightly to his that I could feel the sharp outline of his erection in his jeans. It nudged into my stomach, filling me with a deep, allconsuming lust. Right in that moment, I wanted him, and I didn’t want to think about the repercussions. There, in the dark of the blacked-out nightclub, we waged a war with our tongues and lips. It was almost like I was fighting him with how hard I kissed him. He drew away, breathless, and pressed his mouth to my forehead as he laced his fingers with mine. “Come with me,” he purred, tugging on my hand. Helpless to do anything else, I followed. I wasn’t sure where Lee was taking me, but before long we’d left the main area of the club and entered someplace quieter. Lee had his phone out, holding it up with the screen illuminated to try to light the way. I had a vague idea of being in a hallway before Lee pulled a door open, swiftly dragging me inside. The door closed with a quiet snick, and then he was on me, backing me into a wall as his hands sank into my hair again, his crotch pushing against me with need. “I want you.” My breath caught at the roughness in his voice. His fingers trailed down my body and found the hem of my dress, frantically pushing it up so he could gain more access. Effortlessly, he lifted and held me, my legs wrapping around his waist. His mouth was everywhere, tasting every inch of me, from my chin to my jawline to my neck. “You smell amazing,” he growled as his hands gripped my thigh muscles. “And fuck, you’re fit.” “Touch me,” I begged him, my underwear exposed now that my dress had been pulled up around my hips. All that separated us was two layers of fabric, his hard cock in his jeans creating a delicious source of friction. I fumbled for his belt as he held me, attacking my lips with the most mind-melting kiss I’d ever experienced. “What do you want, beautiful?” Lee asked in a husky whisper as I pulled his belt buckle free, unsnapped his jeans, and slid my hand inside. His entire body shuddered when my palm met his cock, and I savoured the hot, silky feel of it against my skin. I moved slowly up and down, pleasantly surprised by his size.

“I want this,” I said, nipping at his lips with my teeth and squeezing him in my palm. “You’re killing me,” he growled into my mouth, turning us and carrying me across the space. A second later my bottom hit a hard surface, and Lee’s hand slipped beneath my underwear. He hissed out a breath when his fingers found me wet and I trembled against him. No one had ever touched me like Lee touched me, like he wanted to consume me. The combination of skill, passion, and need drove me crazy, and when he plunged two fingers inside, I almost lost my mind. My mouth fell to his shoulder, biting down hard to keep from making too much noise. This was a packed-out nightclub, and though I had no clue what room we were in, I knew somebody could come in at any moment. “That’s it, baby, hurt me if you need to,” Lee breathed, his voice gruff, moving his fingers in and out as I grasped his cock. His tongue plunged inside my mouth, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It could have been a minute. It could have been an hour. All I knew was that I didn’t want this to end, didn’t want him to ever stop kissing me. Finding my clit with his thumb, he began rubbing slow circles, and I felt my abdomen draw tight. The need to come made my vision blur with lights and stars that weren’t there. “God, I missed you,” Lee whispered. “I missed your voice.” There was something about how he said it, like he truly meant it, that made my heart clench. I couldn’t deny it any longer — I had feelings for him, and those feelings both terrified and excited me. “Please,” I begged, my voice a breathy whisper. I needed him right then, needed him to fill every inch of me and own me like his eyes always promised he would. Lee swore profusely as his fingers left me to pull my underwear off. He bent down to run his mouth along my inner thigh, the bit of scruff on his jaw creating a pleasurable scrape. Rising, he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a condom as I shoved down his jeans, unable to wait any longer. His tongue slid along the shell of my ear when he leaned in close, his voice low and gravelly. “Do you want it hard, Constable? Or slow?” His emphasis on the words made me melt, my entire my body trembling at his question. For a second, I was too embarrassed to answer. “Please,” I moaned again, my hands slipping under his shirt to feel his hard abs beneath. They trailed down his stomach, and I savoured the way his muscles jumped at my touch. “Tell me,” he insisted, teeth nipping at my earlobe. Tingles skittered from the skin below my ear and all down my spine. I looked at him then, blue eyes meeting blue eyes in the dark, and an understanding passed between us. Lee let out a low, pleased growl as his mouth found my lips again. “Okay, Snap. I’ll give it to you hard.” As he tore open the condom packet, the sounds of our laboured breathing filled the small room. A second later, he positioned his cock against me, his hips rocking

gently back and forth. I felt like I’d die if he didn’t slip inside me soon. As I let out a frustrated moan, Lee leaned close so his mouth was on my ear again. “You belong to me,” he growled, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “Say it.” “Just shut up and fuck me,” I begged him. He groaned when he shoved into me in one swift, hard motion, but withdrew quickly and ordered again. “Say it.” “I can’t,” I whimpered. “You can,” he insisted, plunging into me once more but pulling out again too soon. Unable to stand the torture any longer, I surrendered softly. “I belong to you.” His eyes gleamed with victory, like he’d just won something. And then he fucked me so hard I forgot my own name. His hips jutted back and forth with exquisite precision, and I let my face fall to his neck. I loved the sounds he made, how he grunted as he pounded me. My fingers dug into his shoulder muscles so harshly I was going to end up leaving marks. He felt amazing, so good I could feel myself clenching around him, like I might come from the inside. “Fuck,” Lee swore, feeling it, too. “You really like me, don’t you?” he said, his voice laced with arousal. I refused to look at him, burying my face deeper into his neck as he buried himself deeper inside me. His fingers pulled at my chin, bringing my face up so that I’d look at him. It was right then that the lights flickered back on, and I saw his face clearly, saw the possession and need in his eyes. Our gazes locked, and I couldn’t look away. I was mesmerised by him. The way his eyes captured mine made me feel like I was his entire world. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, and I felt my muscles clench again, an orgasm building until I came on his dick. “Jesus,” Lee groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he savoured it. It wasn’t long before he came, too, and I watched, fascinated by the how he looked, so overtaken by pleasure. His body dropped onto mine and his arms wrapped around me, pulling my torso tight to his. I felt his mouth at my neck, planting kisses all the way down to my collarbone. Finally taking a second to look around, I found we were in a small, unused office. There was an old filing cabinet by the door, and I was sitting on what used to be somebody’s desk. I’d never had sex in a public place before, and the unsettling fact that I’d just broken the law sank in. The scariest part was that I didn’t even feel bad. I couldn’t, not with Lee’s smell surrounding me and his mouth worshipping my skin with tender kisses. His hand reached for my chest, briefly cupping my breast before slipping inside and palming it fully. His thumb flicked over the tight nipple. “God, your tits are perfect, and I haven’t even had a chance to taste them yet.” He groaned as though in pain, his mouth dipping lower to suck on my cleavage. “We can’t stay here,” I protested. “The fuck we can’t.”

Closing my eyes, I moaned when he pushed the cup of my bra down and closed his mouth around my nipple. I looked down and he stared up at me, the heat in his gaze telling me he wasn’t done by a long shot. Unfortunately, the rest of the world had other ideas, and my phone began buzzing loudly in my bag where I’d dropped it over by the door. Lee’s teeth pressed down around my nipple, the pain agonisingly sweet. “Ignore it,” he ordered. “I can’t. My friend Reya will be wondering where I am.” “Karla,” said Lee, his mouth leaving my breast as he rose to look me dead in the eye. “I’ve wanted you for months, haven’t been with a single person since the day I met you. No way are we done here.” Startled by his admission, I drew back, my hands braced on his chest. “You… what?” “You fucking heard me. Now, come here,” he murmured in a sexy voice, but I was already getting up from the table, putting my dress back to rights and trying to find my underwear. I looked around the room before turning back to Lee. His mouth formed a smirk when my eyes trailed to his pocket, where he’d stuffed my black lacy thong. I held my hand out. “Give me that.” He shot me a challenging stare. “Come and get it.” I pouted in frustration. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me not to freak out.” He stepped forward, and I stepped back. “Stuff like what?” “That you haven’t been with anyone since you met me. What does that even mean?” He ducked his head, levelling his eyes on me as he answered simply, “It means you left an impression.” “That’s…that’s ridiculous.” “Is it? Have you been with anyone?” I folded my arms over my chest, causing Lee’s attention to wander to my cleavage. “That’s different. I haven’t been in a relationship, and I don’t do onenight stands.” “Well, that’s good to hear, because I plan on making this” — he paused and motioned between the two of us — “a regular thing.” I gaped at him. “That’s not going to happen, not unless you also plan on changing your entire way of life, because I won’t conduct a relationship with a criminal.” I was well aware of what a hypocrite I was being, but I couldn’t seem to help it. The wiring in my brain just fizzled out whenever I was around him, causing me to do things I never would normally. “Ouch, hit me where it hurts, why don’t ya?” Lee chuckled, and my temper rose. “This is all just a big joke to you, isn’t it? Just a bloody game to occupy your time.”

“No one’s playing games. I like you a whole hell of a lot, Karla. I’ve told you that already, so stop trying to convince yourself otherwise.” All the air left me when he moved forward, backing me into the door and cupping my face in his hands, his gaze reverent. “Give me a chance, and I’ll prove to you that everything you think you see is blurred by perception.” His lips met mine, soft and tender, and after a moment of resistance, I kissed him back. My hands fisted in his black T-shirt. The sweet way his mouth worshipped mine hit me even harder than having him inside me. With a sharp breath he broke away and drew me into a hug. We stood there, holding one another but not saying a word. When my phone started buzzing again, I knew I had to go find Reya. Lee bent down to place one last kiss on my lips before pulling my thong from his pocket and bending to help me back into it. He smoothed down my dress, then ran his hands through my hair. Lastly, he swiped a thumb under both my eyes to fix my makeup. “All better,” he whispered, and my heart thrummed. I knew we’d just had sex in a musty old office, but that was probably the sweetest thing a man had ever done for me. Unable to form words, I nodded, and Lee laced his fingers through mine, opening the door and leading me outside. He stayed with me as we searched the club for Reya, finally finding her outside in the smoking area. Ingrid and Gina were nowhere to be seen, and I got a surprise to see her sitting with Trevor, deep in conversation. “Reya,” I called out to grab her attention. She turned to me, and I was uncomfortably aware of how her gaze lowered to my hand, which Lee was still holding. She cocked an eyebrow, and I dropped his hand instantly. I didn’t turn to see his face, but I knew how quickly I’d let go must have bothered him. “Uh, hey,” I said, stepping over and casting a hesitant glance in Trevor’s direction. “Where were you?” Reya asked, the knowing slant to her mouth telling me she already had her suspicions. “Have Ingrid and Gina gone home?” I asked, ignoring her question because I didn’t know how to answer it. Lee was unnervingly quiet beside me, and I could feel his eyes practically scorching a hole in my head. “They went back to a party with those guys from earlier. I stayed to wait for you, and that’s how I bumped into Trevor here.” My brow furrowed. “Oh, do you two know each other?” Sitting there, they seemed way too comfortable for two people who’d just met. “Nah, never laid on eyes on her before,” Trevor cut in with a charming smile before glancing back to Reya. “Which, quite frankly, is a travesty.” She narrowed her gaze at him, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of restraining her smile. Trevor grinned wider, like he knew he had her in the palm of

his hand, despite her acting unimpressed. “Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “we should get going. Do you want to share a cab?” At this I felt Lee’s hand press into my lower back. “I’ll drive you.” I glanced at him. “I don’t think so. You’ve been drinking.” “I had one shot and half a beer. I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “He’s not lying. I’ve seen him drink a whole bottle of tequila and still score a perfect bullseye on the dart board,” said Trevor. Lee patted his chest. “Strong constitution.” “Let him drive us,” said Reya shyly. “I don’t want to pay for a taxi.” I thought it was more that she didn’t want to say goodbye to Trevor yet, but I didn’t call her out on it. Giving in, I sighed and said, “Fine.” A moment later, Lee was wrapping his arm around my middle and leading me from the club, while Reya and Trevor followed behind. I bristled at his show of possession, my body growing rigid. “Ashamed of me, Snap?” Lee whispered in my ear, and I looked up. The way his eyebrows dipped down made me feel terribly guilty for my behaviour. “I’m not ashamed. It’s just complicated. You know that. If anyone I work with saw me here with you, it’d create a whole host of problems.” There was understanding in his eyes before he bent to whisper in my ear, “Let me drop your friend home and then take you back to mine. I need to be inside you again.” I shivered at his words, but I knew I couldn’t say yes. Having sex with him had been even more intense than I’d imagined. Going home with him was too close, and I knew that if I spent the night in his bed, I’d end up falling for him. “I can’t,” I said, my throat constricting. His thumb rubbed back and forth over my hip. “Don’t make me beg.” “I have a, uh, a thing early tomorrow morning,” I said, my brain scrambling for an excuse but coming up empty. There were too few plausible commitments that took place early on a Sunday morning. Lee didn’t say anything as we walked around the corner to where he’d left his car. I spotted it right away, but frowned when his arm around my waist tightened. That was when I noticed the guy standing there. He was all alone, wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans. A peaked cap shielded his face from view, but somehow I felt his eyes fall on me with interest. “You all right there, mate?” Lee called, his voice hard. Everything in him was coiled tight as he scanned the figure standing on the footpath. “Just passing through,” the man answered, twisting his head to take a leisurely look at Lee’s car before he turned and walked away. Lee was frowning, and Trevor seemed just as tightly wound. They shared a moment of silent communication. “Who was that?” I asked, a feeling of unease coming over me, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Lee wore a faraway expression as he answered, “Someone trying to send a

message.” “What does that mean?” Shaking himself out of it, he blinked before replying, “Nothing, Karla. Come on, let’s get you home.” I knew instinctively that there was something he wasn’t telling me, but I allowed him to lead me into the car anyway.

NINE

L

ee spent several minutes checking out his car before finally starting the engine. He seemed distant, his mind elsewhere as his fists white-knuckled the steering wheel and he drove in the direction of Reya’s house. She lived with a couple of other students and was always complaining about how messy and rude they were. I didn’t envy her. Glancing through the overhead mirror, I saw Trevor with his arm resting along the back of the car seat while he asked Reya questions and she gave him tentative answers, trying not to blush at his attention. I was jolted out of watching them when I felt a warm hand grasp my knee, and looked to the side to see Lee’s eyes flickering from the road to the hem of my dress. His thumb grazed the inside of my thigh, and I was suddenly remembering our time in the office room, how good it felt to have him inside me, invading every one of my senses. God, I wanted to go back to his place so badly. Being with him tonight hadn’t quelled my hunger at all. On the contrary, it only grew stronger. A few minutes later, we were stopping outside Reya’s. Trevor got out and walked her to her door. When he returned, he let his head fall back, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Okay, this is probably verging on TMI, but that is the finest rack I’ve ever seen.” Lee chuckled at his brother, and I twisted around in my seat to eye him. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and she’s more than just a pair of tits, so show some respect.” “Oh, calm your knickers. My intentions are pure – purely sexual.” I narrowed my gaze at him as Lee warned, “That’s enough, Trev.” The younger brother flopped back in his seat, muttering, “Your girlfriend needs to chill out.” “I’m not his girlfriend,” I protested at the same time Trevor’s gaze wandered to Lee’s hand firmly grasping my thigh. He shot me a cynical look that said it all. Sure you’re not. A second later, his phone beeped and he pulled it out to read the message. I turned back around in my seat.

“Hey, where are we, bruv?” Trevor asked. “Just coming up to Bethnal Green.” “Pull up here and let me out. Got a few things to take care of.” Lee stared at Trevor through the mirror, and they shared a moment of that weird silent communication again. Without questioning him, Lee stopped the car and his brother hopped out. When we were back on the road, I shot him a curious look. “Where’s he off to?” “Fuck if I know.” “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.” “And Trevor’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Now that we were alone in the car, Lee’s hand moved farther up my thigh. My skin prickled with goose bumps and I closed my eyes for a second, trying to summon the ability to think straight. When I opened them again, the engine was off, and I looked up to see we were parked outside my building. “Come here,” Lee said, his voice a low command. “I’d better get inside.” “Not yet,” he argued, and grabbed my hand. He lifted my body deftly until I was sitting astride him in the driver’s seat, his fingers trailing up and down the outside of my thighs. I heaved a shuddering a breath. He stared up at me with his mouth hanging slightly open. Looking like that, he was more or less impossible to resist. The adoration in his eyes made my chest feel too tight, and when he began to harden against me, I was done for. It was late, and there was nobody around. Still, I shouldn’t have been considering having sex with Lee Cross in the front seat of his car where anyone could see. “I can’t do this,” I said, shaking my head. Reaching forward, Lee gripped the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his for a quick, hard kiss. “Break the rules, Karla. Just this once,” he said breathlessly as his hands trailed down my body to palm my arse. I whimpered when he squeezed, pulling me tight to his erection. Before I could protest further, he slid my underwear to the side and plunged two fingers inside me. “Wet,” he hissed, and I melted against him, my face falling to the crook of his neck. “Look at me. I need your eyes,” Lee said, and I pulled back, watching while he coaxed me to orgasm. He continued fingering me, and when his thumb moved over my clit, I moaned. “That’s it — give me those eyes. You’re so beautiful.” His chest rose and fell as he watched me, his gaze glittering in the dark. The intensity in his expression made me flush, my breaths and sighs filling the small confines of the car. I bent down and kissed him. When I slid my tongue inside his mouth, I was rewarded with a deep, masculine groan, and the next time he circled my clit, I came with an unexpected ferocity right on his hand. It took me a long time to recover, but Lee just held me, one hand running

soothingly up and down my spine. “Come on, I’ll walk you up to your flat,” he said, finally breaking the quiet. I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was still hard. Moving my hand to his crotch, I rubbed and whispered, “Do you need something?” Lee groaned but grabbed my hand, stopping my movement. “As much as it pains me to say this, I’ll be okay.” Staring at him, I watched his Adam’s apple as it bobbed in his throat, and I knew it really had taken a lot for him to say no. I wondered why all of a sudden he wanted the night to be over. Dark shadows flickered in his expression, and I knew he had other things on his mind. Things that hadn’t been there earlier tonight. It was the guy who’d been standing outside his car; something about the whole encounter had been just downright off. My voice was quiet when I asked, “Do you have a lot of enemies, Lee?” He turned back to me, his face intense as he answered, “It comes with the territory, Karla.” IT DIDN’T TAKE me long to fall asleep that night, but the next morning when I woke up, everything came crashing down on me like a tonne of bricks. I couldn’t believe what I’d done, couldn’t believe I’d given in so easily. I may not have been the strongest woman in the world, but I’d always prided myself on living my life by a firm set of principles. Then Lee came along and threw a bomb on my rules, reducing them to a pile of meaningless rubble. Now I wasn’t sure I had it in me to resist him, but really, it was all my fault. I never should have started texting him so regularly. It had allowed me to get to know him, but, more importantly, it had allowed him to get under my skin. Seeing him in the club last night after interacting with him remotely for so long had felt drugging; I’d been completely under his spell. Anyhow, at least I had the day off and could take some time getting my head around everything. Alexis and I went grocery shopping, and then we caught a movie and got gelato on the way home. If my best friend hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own problems, I was sure she would have noticed there was something wrong with me. I’d deliberately left my phone off all day, telling myself it was because I wanted to go unplugged for a while. The truth was, I was afraid of Lee calling, and even more afraid of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to resist answering. Remembering the man standing beside his car the night before, I knew I had to stop this before I got in too deep. He had enemies, and if any of them discovered Lee was conducting a relationship with a cop, it wouldn’t end pretty for either one of us. Several days passed and I was back to work, finding a strange sort of relief in keeping busy. Tony and I were sent on call after call, from burglaries to street muggings to road accidents. We’d just pulled up outside a high-end clothing boutique, where a young woman was being held after a shop assistant caught her

trying to steal some lingerie. “You want to take this one?” Tony asked, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. “Hey, I took the lead on the last call, and I need a break. You should go in. Fair’s fair. He frowned. “Fine. I’ll be back in a few.” Getting out, he slammed the car door, disgruntled, and made his way inside the boutique. Picturing him having to question the woman on the nature of the items she’d stolen made me grin, and I realised it had been my first proper smile in days. My phone chimed in my pocket and I pulled it out, finding a message from Alexis asking if I could grab milk on my way home. I’d received a number of calls and messages from Lee, but nothing in the last two days. After I’d consistently ignored him, perhaps he’d given up. A guy like Lee didn’t need to pine after any woman; I was sure there were harems just waiting for a chance to keep his bed warm. All of a sudden, my grin faltered and I found myself frowning. I rubbed my thumb across the screen, scrolling through the texts he’d sent and feeling forlorn. I wanted him, but this was for the best. As I’d said, nothing good could come of us being together. It was just as I was sliding the phone back in my pocket that I heard the car door open and Tony climbed inside. “That was quick,” I said, lifting my head. When I saw who’d entered the car, all thought fled my mind. It wasn’t Tony. It was Lee. How the hell had he found me here? I swallowed thickly, a bunch of gobbledygook coming out of my mouth, “You… ah…what the…huh?” Lee didn’t smile at my fluster, but instead he stared forward, his lips set in a firm line as he slammed the door closed. He didn’t say a word as I gaped at him, and when the silence became too much, I finally managed to ask, “What are you doing here?” His eyes slid to the side. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, so I had to get creative.” “Uh-huh, and how did you know where I was? Just happened to be in the neighbourhood, did you?” One eyebrow rose sardonically. “Nah, I had to bust out the old police scanner.” I sputtered a laugh but went silent when he shot me a serious look. “You’re not joking.” “Nope.” I sat up straighter. “Well, be that as it may, you need to go. Tony will be back any minute, and if he sees you here, it won’t take him long to put two and two together.” Lee bristled, working his jaw. “Do I look like I give a fuck?” His question angered me as I twisted in my seat to glare at him. “Well you should give a fuck! If you have any feelings for me at all, you’d care whether or not I

lost my job.” His expression softened, and he seemed remorseful for his flippancy. “It’s not like they can fire you for having a sex life, Karla.” “Maybe not. But my superior has it in for me, and if she ever caught wind that I was seeing someone with a record, she’d use it against me. Not to mention she’d probably start looking into you and your business,” I said, pausing to eye him meaningfully. “Is that what you want? Do you want police sniffing around your garage, Lee?” “They could sniff all they wanted. They wouldn’t find anything.” “Right, because it’s all above board.” His expression sharpened. “Not what I said, Snap.” A leaden silence fell between us. I wanted to tell him to leave, that he was committing an offence by the simple act of coming inside a police vehicle without permission. At the same time I didn’t want him to go. I’d missed him. And every night my dreams had been full of his voice and heated looks, how it felt to finally be with him. “Why does your boss have it in for you?” he asked, breaking the quiet. I turned my head to see he wore a fierce look, and for some reason it made me thaw slightly. Letting out a slow breath, I answered, “She and my dad have had some feud going on since like, forever. So, even though I was barely out of nappies when it happened, she hates me just as much as she hates him.” Lee’s brows drew together. “What did he do to her?” “Beats me. Everyone says they had an argument and he’d called her some pretty horrible names, but that’s hardly the sort of thing you carry around for decades.” “I dunno, your old man’s quite the fucker. He’s pretty much universally hated by everyone I know. And to be honest, with the amount of big players he’s put away, I’m surprised he’s still breathing after all these years.” He paused and slid his eyes to mine, picking up a pen that had been resting on the dash and flicking it between his fingers. “Though as they say, the devil can wait for his own.” I stared at him, conflicting emotions warring within me. At once I wanted to agree, because he was sort of right about Dad. But then again, this was my own father we were talking about, the only one I was ever going to have, and the insinuation that he was going to hell pissed me off. Any of the warmth I might have felt toward Lee vanished as I told him sternly, “You need to leave now. Otherwise, I’ll have no other choice but to arrest you.” “Any excuse to slap a pair of cuffs on me, eh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were something of a fledgling dominatrix,” Lee joked before leaning in close to whisper, “But we both know that’s not true.” A pause. “Fucking beautiful sight to see you give yourself to me like that, Karla.” I swallowed thickly and closed my eyes, memories of the nightclub flooding my mind. They were so visceral I could almost feel his fingertips digging into my hips, taste his tongue as it invaded my mouth. Suddenly I was too hot, unable to find enough air. I desperately wanted to undo some buttons on my shirt, but I wouldn’t

give Lee the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me. “I can’t do this. It needs to end before it begins.” Moving closer, he closed his hand over my knee, his voice deadly serious. “This started a long time ago.” Before I could react, he reached out and grabbed my chin, turning my face to his and laying a quick, butterfly-inducing kiss on my lips. After only a second of hesitation, I pushed him off me. “Get out,” I told him, breathless. “So this is how it’s gonna be, then?” “There isn’t any other way,” I replied. Without another word, he opened the car door and slid out. Only a minute later, Tony returned. He opened the door and guided a handcuffed brunette into the back before coming around the front and dropping into the seat Lee had just vacated. I sent him a tight-lipped smile, noticing he seemed a little perplexed. “Everything okay?” I asked, nervous tension coiling inside me. Had he seen Lee? “I just don’t get it.” “Don’t get what?” “Why someone would risk being arrested for the sake of a piece of string to stick between their arse cheeks.” The woman in the back seat scowled furiously while I burst into laughter, a small part in relief that he hadn’t spotted Lee. “People are bonkers.” “Tell me about it.” THE NEXT FEW days on the job were fairly quiet, and Tony and I were practically chomping at the bit for some action. It wasn’t like I wanted anything dangerous to happen, but when your day consisted of dealing with minor incidents and paperwork, you needed something to break up the monotony. I was about to get my wish. We were sitting in the patrol car, having a quick coffee break, when a call came in about a Gran Coupe that had just been reported stolen. Apparently, it was headed in our direction, and when the vehicle went sailing by seconds later, I immediately hit the sirens and started the engine. As soon as the assailant saw us following he increased his speed. I’d been driving since I was seventeen, and, not to brag, but learning how to drive in London gains you a lot more skill than learning to drive in other places. I could park in the smallest space known to man, but more importantly, I could manoeuvre my way through narrow streets and cobbled alleyways at high speed like nobody’s business. “I think we need some music,” said Tony as I yanked on the gear stick a little too hard. “Don’t even think about it,” I told him, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face.

He smiled right back. “But it’s tradition. You can’t break with tradition.” “Fine, put it on and shut up. I’m trying to drive here.” Tony tapped a few buttons on his iPod, and seconds later the opening chords to “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC came blasting through the speakers. Don’t laugh. The very first time we were in a high-speed chase, this song had come on the radio, and it had been so appropriately badass that we’d made a tradition out of putting it on when chasing down a stolen vehicle ever since. It also had a strange way of helping me concentrate, kind of like how surgeons listened to “Stayin’ Alive” during operations. I pressed harder on the gas pedal. Whoever was behind the wheel of the BMW had some mad skills, though, and even I had a hard time keeping up when they made a sharp left turn. If the music wasn’t so loud, I was sure I’d hear tires squealing. I almost lost control of the wheel, but Tony launched himself forward in time to grab it. Before long we were on the motorway, and I swore loudly, because it was going to be harder to catch him now. Or her. The assailant dipped dangerously in and out between vehicles, causing several drivers to swerve, almost leading to an accident. It was moments like these that I wondered if we should continue chasing him, because if he kept up the dangerous driving, people were going to get seriously injured, or worse, killed. Tony was on the radio, reporting our location and proximity to the stolen car, while I tried my best to get closer. I saw the vehicles up ahead start to slow, traffic building up. The BMW pulled left to drive in the empty bus lane, and I followed suit. Unfortunately for him, about half a mile ahead there were a number of buses using the lane, and what with the traffic on the other side, he had nowhere else to go. I had to brake suddenly when the BMW screeched to a halt and the driver’s-side door flew open. A man exited, and Tony was already out of the patrol car, running after him as I spoke into my radio. “The perp is now on foot. Male, about 5 feet, 9 inches, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, white trainers. PC Pollard is in pursuit.” Slamming the door closed behind me, I went after Tony. Thirty or forty yards ahead of me, he chased down the thief, who had jumped over the metal railings separating the road from the area beyond. I was out of breath as I ran, my legs pumping to catch up with them. Tony closed in on him, kicking his foot out to trip him up, and the guy went flying face first into the grass. As I reached them, I heard him swear and try to get back up, but Tony grabbed his arm to stop him as he ordered, “Hands above your head, now!” The thief began raising his hands as Tony quickly pulled out his cuffs, locking his wrists together and lowering them behind his back. Next he instructed him to turn around, and that was when I came face to face with Liam Cross.

TEN

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iam was just twenty years old. I found this out when I accessed his file back at the station so I could fill in my incident report. He was looking at a court date within the next few weeks, and most likely prison time. The scary thing was, I didn’t know how to feel about that. Stealing cars was like a job to him, and, growing up in his family, he saw it as a means to an end. Steal so you can put food on the table, or don’t, and go hungry. Lee and his brothers weren’t little kids anymore; they could get out of this racket and make an honest living for themselves if they really wanted to. The problem was, I had no idea how deep in they were, who they had ties to, and if those people would ever let them get out. I was still sitting at my desk, filling out the report, when Lee strode confidently into the station, all tousled hair and cocky swagger. He wore jeans and a white Tshirt with oil stains down the front, a work shirt tied around his waist. Clearly, he’d just come from the garage. Probably been working on a ringer, I thought to myself disgruntledly. After that first glance, I refused to look at him again, staring intently at the papers in front of me and listening just as intently to his voice as he spoke. It quickly became apparent that he was there to post bail for Liam. The constable he spoke to scurried off, and Lee stood by the reception. I allowed myself one more glance at him and found him leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the space before they found me. I looked away again. Jumping when my phone buzzed in my pocket, I dropped my pen and pulled it out. Lee: You arrested my brother? Oh, he had some nerve. I shouldn’t have responded, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Karla: I didn’t arrest him. Tony did. Lee: But you were there. A second went by, and my anger flared. He was acting like I should have, what? Convinced Tony to let Liam go with a gypsy’s warning and a slap on the wrist? Lee: Not gonna come over and say hello?

Okay, that did it. Without thinking, I pushed up from my chair and strode across the room. I’d inherited my temper from my dad, and sometimes I just didn’t have the strength to hold it back. Lee smirked when he saw me coming, but there was a hardness behind it. I cursed myself for giving him a reaction. I should have just continued ignoring him. Checking to make sure nobody was watching, I grabbed his hand, yanking him around the corner and into an empty corridor. “You’ve got some cheek,” I hissed. Lee held his arms out as he asked sardonically, “What? No hug? No kiss?” I slapped down one of his arms. “Quit being a smart-arse. Your little brother could go to prison. He could do a seven-year stretch, and he’s just a kid.” My throat constricted with worry. I didn’t even know Liam, but he looked so much like a younger version of Lee. Maybe that was why the idea of him doing time stressed me out so much. Lee’s eyes flickered between mine, his mouth firm as he studied me. It obviously surprised him to realise that I actually cared about what happened to his family. He took a step forward so that there was barely an inch between us. “You think I don’t know that?” he gritted out, voice low. “I had no idea it was him in that car. I was doing my job. So don’t you dare try to lay the blame on me.” Lee scowled. “When did I ever lay blame?” “Your text.” “I asked you a question. I never blamed you. Liam’s actions are his own, but I practically raised that kid. I’m allowed to be angry.” “I never said you weren’t, but it’s your own fault for leading him down this path in the first place, so don’t go directing your anger at me. It could have been any number of officers chasing him. He still would have been caught.” Lee shook his head and turned away for a second. His shoulders rose and fell sharply, like he was trying to gain some composure. Finally, he swiped a hand down his face and turned back to me, one eyebrow arched, “Were you behind the wheel?” I bristled. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with it.” “Liam’s driving is second to none. No ordinary cop would have caught him.” He paused, some sort of interest lighting his eyes. “You must have some skills, Snap, chasing down a Gran Coupe in a Vauxhall Corsa.” He actually seemed impressed. “Yeah, maybe I should pack it all in and come work for you, huh?” I deadpanned, cynicism lacing my every word. We locked eyes for a long moment, a silent battle of wills. He didn’t like me insinuating he was a thief. Few people enjoyed the sight of their true reflection. “Be real careful about what you say next, Karla,” he warned me. “Or what? Will you have some thugs come and rough me up? That’s generally how it works with people like you, right?” He neared me again, and my back hit the wall. His voice was low and measured when he spoke. “You have no clue what you’re talking about. And, just so we’re

clear, I would never hurt you, never. If any man tried to lay his hands on you, I’d make sure that was the last thing he did.” I stared at him, not sure how to feel. I’d been all geared up for a fight, and then he went and said something that was so protective, but equally so wrong. It took me a long time to reply, and when I did, my tone was a good deal softer. “I know what I’m talking about.” “No, you don’t,” he said, snapping his fingers over the material of my shirt. “When you put this uniform on every morning, you see a woman working to make the streets a safer place. To you, the law works to keep good people from hurting bad people, but ever since I was a kid, I knew that wasn’t true. The police were just a bunch of pricks in black and white threads and a stupid fucking hat, trying to stop me from feeding my family.” His words hit deep, and I was just about to say something, anything, when I heard footsteps approaching. Immediately, I turned and walked back to my desk, picking up my pen and pretending like our conversation never happened. Lee went back to the reception area to wait for Liam, and all the while his words rang in my ears. To you, the law works to keep good people from hurting bad people, but ever since I was a kid, I knew that wasn’t true. I WAS ALMOST FINISHED my shift and on my way back from a house call later that day when Keira texted asking if I’d pick up some drinks and sandwiches for the station. Making the mistake of stopping at a shop in a rough neighbourhood, I went in, threw a few things in my basket, checked out, and left to find a gang of young men waiting for me. I counted them all, five in total, and clenched my fingers tighter around the plastic bag I was carrying. “Your lot aren’t welcome round ’ere,” one of them called over, and I kept walking. I was outnumbered, so there was no point in responding. I didn’t think they’d get physical, since I wasn’t trying to stop them from doing anything, but then one of them stood in front of me, sucking on a smoke and exhaling right into my face. “Good-looking for a copper, though. Hey, red, why don’t you stick around and have some fun with us?” “Look, lads, there doesn’t need to be a problem here, so if you could quit the side show, I’ll be on my way.” I knew instantly that my tone didn’t sit well with the ringleader, as he flicked the butt of his smoke to ground and shot me a dirty look. He had tattoos on his neck and face, and, by the look of them, they’d been done in prison. This bloke obviously had some sort of chip on his shoulder about law enforcement. “Side show?” he said, and glanced back to his boys. “This stupid bitch has a mouth on her.”

He took a step closer. Quickly shifting my shopping bag into my other hand, I pulled out my Taser and held it at arm’s length. “Back off now,” I ordered him, and he stared at me cockily, like he wasn’t scared. Lifting his T-shirt, he revealed a gun tucked inside the waistband of his pants. “You’re not the only one who’s packing, cunt,” he spat, but I stood firm. “Do you really want to pull a gun on an officer right out in the open? I’m pointing this Taser directly at you, so who do you think is going to be quicker?” “Come on, she’s not worth it,” one of his mates said. A few seconds passed before he threw a few more ugly words at me and slunk off. Letting out a slow breath, I returned to the car, dropped my shopping bag in the back seat, and pulled out my phone to call the station. I made a report on the incident, described what the guy with the gun had looked like, and then hung up. By the time I arrived home that evening I was exhausted, but I’d still managed to pick up some groceries for dinner – in a better neighbourhood this time. Turning my key in the lock, I heard Alexis chuckle, and stepped inside to find she had company. Needless to say, I wasn’t too happy when I found out her company was Lee. “What are you doing here?” I asked irritably, too tired to even pretend to be polite. “I’m here to visit Alexis, see how she’s doing with the baby and everything.” “Lee’s offered to drive me to the hospital if I ever need to go when you’re working,” Alexis put in, eyeing me curiously. She had no idea about the stuff that’d been going on between me and man sitting across from her these last few weeks. “How kind,” I muttered, throwing the groceries in the kitchen before shutting myself inside my bedroom. I leaned back against the door and let out a long, weary sigh, really needing this day to be over. A knock sounded above my head, and I startled when Lee called, “I unpacked your stuff, Snap. Why don’t you go relax for half an hour, and I’ll get dinner started?” Was he shitting me? And God, I just remembered that there was a packet of tampons in with the groceries. Wonderful. Not wanting to alert Alexis to any weirdness, I replied in an even tone, “That’s quite all right. I can make my own dinner.” “Let him make it,” Alexis called. “No offence, but Lee’s a better cook than you.” “That’s lovely.” “You know it’s the truth!” I grabbed a change of clothes and swung the door open. Lee, who’d been leaning his hand against the wood, fell forward slightly, and I suppressed a smirk. “Fine, you can cook. I’m going to take a shower.” And with that I strode to the bathroom, affecting a casual demeanour and not giving either one of them a second glance. “I put your tampons in the top cabinet if you’re looking for them,” Lee called after me, a smile in his voice.

Cringing, I resisted the urge to respond, my skin prickling as I undressed, knowing he was in the next room. I spent longer than necessary washing myself, not wanting to go back out into the apartment and wonder why exactly Lee was there. I knew for a fact that he hadn’t come just to be all chivalrous and offer Alexis help while she was pregnant. No, he was there for me, and I hated how I couldn’t seem to escape him, not even in my own home. I spent time putting on body lotion and braiding my wet hair into a plait. I’d put on the T-shirt and shorts I usually wore to bed, but couldn’t go braless like I normally did. Lee was standing in the kitchen when I came out, and the place smelled great. He’d taken the ingredients I’d bought and turned them into a chicken stir fry. We made brief eye contact as I passed him by, his gaze dipping to my face, then dropping and lingering on my bare legs. I huffed a breath and went into my bedroom, dumping my clothes in the laundry basket before coming back out. Alexis sat by the TV, flicking through the channels, and I came to sit beside her. “Oh, Tony called, by the way. He’s been trying to get a hold of you, but your phone was off. He sounded worried.” “Yeah, my battery died. I had a run-in with a few thugs earlier. He must have heard about it and wanted to check if I was okay.” I didn’t even realise Lee had been listening until he asked in a tight voice, “What did they look like?” I turned to him for a second, finding his eyebrows drawn together. He looked pissed. I waved him away. “It’s fine. I’ve already made a report about it.” “What did they look like, Karla?” He repeated his question, this time more firmly. I noticed he was holding a chopping knife. Alexis motioned for me to tell him, like I had no reason not to, so I finally said, “Tall guy, shaved head, neck tattoo of some sort of bird. An eagle, I think. He was the main one who put it up to me. I didn’t get a proper look at the others.” “When you say ‘put it up,’ what exactly do you mean?” “He was just running his mouth, calling me a bitch. He had a gun, though.” Lee kept nodding, taking it all in, but I could see the cogs in his head turning. He went back to cooking dinner and I turned to the TV, trying to concentrate on the show Alexis had put on. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to focus, and I kept wondering why Lee wanted to know what the guy looked like so badly. Did he plan on doing something about it? I remembered his words at the station earlier. I would never hurt you, never. If any man tried to lay his hands on you, I’d make sure that was the last thing he did. This guy hadn’t exactly put his hands on me, but I had no doubt that he would have if I hadn’t been so quick to pull out my Taser. A few minutes later dinner was ready, and Lee served us each a huge plate of stir fry. I was too hungry not to dig in right away, and he seemed pleased by my eagerness. He shot me a grin from where he sat on the armchair, and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, my God, Lee, this is amazing!” Alexis enthused. “Jamie Oliver in da

house.” He shot her a wink. “I’m more of a Gordon Ramsey type.” “Oh, yeah, I can definitely see that. You in the kitchen, swearing your head off at the staff because you can’t bear to send out second-rate risotto to paying customers.” Lee chuckled. “That’s the plan.” “No, seriously, you should chuck in all this car business and open up your own restaurant. I’m not joking.” Shaking his head, Lee settled his attention on the television. I noticed he hadn’t made anything for himself, which left me feeling sort of guilty, but perhaps he’d already eaten. Once Alexis was finished, she declared she was going to bed. She seemed a little too quick to announce it, and I wondered if she’d sensed something between me and Lee and wanted to give us privacy to talk. A few beats of silence passed before I asked, “How’s Liam doing?” “He’s angry. We all are.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. I mean, Tony, one of my closest friends, had arrested him, so if Lee was angry, then I didn’t really understand why he was here in my flat, acting like everything was normal. “If he can cut a deal, maybe he can avoid a stretch,” I said finally. “Already thought of that,” Lee replied, his voice tight. “And?” “And it probably won’t come to it. I’ve got a good solicitor.” My curiosity piqued. “And who would that be?” His eyes sharpened. “William Dunning.” I blinked at him, my mouth agape. “You do realise how much that tells me about you, right?” Lee shrugged, but his expression was fierce. He wouldn’t make any apologies for who he was. Dunning was a snake, and he represented some of the most powerful individuals in London. If he had Lee on his books, it meant that the man sitting before me was far more dangerous than I’d thought. I was suddenly anxious about having him in my home. Was he being monitored by the NCA? They tended to keep an eye on all the big players, but being so low in rank, I wouldn’t know anything about it. Somebody could be watching him right at that very moment. Since I lived in a huge tower block, they wouldn’t know which flat he was in unless they followed him inside. But still, this was way too close for comfort. Lee seemed to read my thoughts clear as day on my face. “Relax. Nobody knows I’m here.” “Why are you here?” He frowned. “I needed to talk to you about something.” I motioned with my hand. “Then talk.” Letting out a long breath, he rubbed at his short-cropped hair and levelled me with his eyes. “You remember the bloke from outside the nightclub?”

“The creep standing beside your car? Yes.” “Well, let’s just say, his boss and my boss have been having something of a disagreement of late. Long story short, things aren’t safe, and this guy thinks you’re my girlfriend. He’s threatened to…do things.” My body tensed. “Things? What kind of things?” Lee shook his head. “Nah, not going there with you, Snap.” A sick feeling crept into my stomach. “Does he know who I am?” “He knows what you look like, that’s all. But I have a plan to set him straight. In the meantime, I’m having Trevor watch you when you’re off duty, just to be on the safe side.” “Nobody’s watching me. I can take care of myself. And anyway, I’m not even your girlfriend, but if this guy so much as tries to lay a hand on me, I’ll arrest him.” Lee shook his head. “That’s not how this works, Karla.” “There is no ‘this,’” I snapped. “If you’d just left me alone in the first place, then none of this would be happening.” Lee leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. All of a sudden, I saw how exhausted he was. “Can you not fight me on this just once? Fuck, I know I should have left you alone. I tried, believe me, but I couldn’t do it. Now our situation is what it is, so can you just stop being a cop for a second and let me protect you?” I stared at him, unsure of what to say, or if I should even say anything at all. This entire situation was spiralling out of control, and we’d only been together once. “Look, I know today must have been awful for you, and to tell you the truth, I hate that I helped catch Liam. But even more, I hate the fact that he was stealing in the first place. And yes, I understand your life’s been tough and you’ve had to make hard decisions, but we have to make new decisions every day. Maybe tomorrow you can make the right one.” Lee’s tired eyes rose to meet mine. “The right one?” “Yes, like deciding to get out of this business you’re in and go legit.” He let out a joyless laugh. “Because it’s that simple.” “I can help you.” His gaze dropped to his hands, and his voice was quiet when he said, “There’s no help for me.” A long silence fell between us, and he lifted his head to stare at me again. Shivers trickled along my collarbone, a heavy tension filling the air. “I don’t understand why you don’t hate me right now,” I whispered. Lee looked at me, his crystal-clear blue eyes full of sincerity. “Neither do I.” What he said jolted me, because it meant he understood that he should hate my guts, and the idea of him hating me made my stomach twist with nausea. Though I didn’t want to admit it, I felt sick at the thought of losing the affection he so obviously felt for me. It was messed up. After a minute he stood, turned, and walked to the front door. “See you around,

Karla,” he said before he opened the door and left the flat. Barely a second went by before Alexis’ bedroom door burst open, and my best friend stood before me, an open-mouthed look on her face. “I bloody well knew it!” she exclaimed, marching around the sofa and coming to plonk down beside me. “I want to know everything, you secretive little tramp, and start from the beginning.”

ELEVEN

or the next three days, I worked. Every once in a while I found myself looking F around, trying to spot Trevor, but I never saw him. Perhaps Lee had decided to

respect my wishes and not have his brother follow me. Or perhaps he was just good at hiding. The night Lee visited our flat, I’d given in and told Alexis everything. She’d warned me off from the very start, and I had every intention of heeding her advice, but my heart, or maybe it was my vagina, had other ideas. In the end, she didn’t berate me for my choices. After all, if anyone could understand what I was going through, it was Alexis. She’d had an affair with her boss, which in a way was just as illicit as what had been going on with me and Lee. When I clocked out of my shift on Saturday evening, I’d almost forgotten about all the nasty business and threats to my safety. I had the entire weekend off, and I planned on making the most of it, starting with going to see Reya perform at a small music venue in Soho. Since I worked such unpredictable hours, I rarely got the chance to see her play, so it was a real treat for me. I decided to catch the Tube into the city so that I could have a few drinks, and wore a dark blue pencil dress with a long royal blue coat and heels. It wasn’t often that I dressed up in a proper girly fashion, so when I did, I put in the effort. I blowdried and straightened my hair, so it looked shiny and sleek, and wore a small bit of makeup. I was just walking out of my building when a head suddenly dropped down from above, giving me the fright of my life. Holding my hand to my heart, I stared up at Trevor, who was hanging by his legs from an overhead bar like a goddamn monkey. “What the hell?” I said, willing my pulse to slow down. Trevor swung his body around and dropped to the ground, shooting me a wide, toothy grin. “Sorry about that, Constable. I forget sometimes that people aren’t used to my ways.” “Your ways?” “I like to get around in an unconventional fashion.” “Uh-huh, and what are you doing here?”

“Watching out for your safety,” he replied. “Though if you ask me, I’m not sure you deserve it, what with how you had a hand in fucking up my little brother’s life.” Oh, for crying out loud. I was in no mood for this conversation. “Your brother fucked up his own life. I just happened to be the one to catch him doing it.” “Potato, potaaato.” “I’m serious, Trevor. I was doing my job.” Stepping past him, I tugged my coat tighter to defend against the cold and walked in the direction of the tube station. Trevor followed heavy on my heels. “You know, that sounds a lot like something a Nazi would say,” he commented. I rolled my eyes. “I appreciate a well-placed Nazi card as much as the next person, but in this case, you’re completely off the mark.” Trevor gestured a salute and I narrowed my gaze, beginning to think that of all the Cross brothers, this was the eccentric one. He wore a pair of pale ripped jeans, chains hanging from the pockets, steel-toe cap boots, and a baggy grey T-shirt that read “Oh. Okay.” under a red tartan bomber jacket. His build was slightly wiry, and his short dark brown hair was messy. We walked side by side for a few minutes, begrudgingly on my part, before arriving at the Tube station. I swiped my Oyster card while Trevor proceeded to jump the barriers and continue toward the escalators like he hadn’t a care. I looked around, irritated to find there were no attendants about. “Hey, you can’t just….” I called before stopping mid-stride, my mouth agape as I watched him jump atop the escalators and effortlessly slide down the middle. Several people watched in surprise the same as me, while one man shouted after him angrily, saying he was going to break his neck. I boarded the moving steps and looked down to see Trevor waiting for me at the end, casually leaning against a wall as he checked his phone. He slid it in his pocket when I finally reached the platform. “So, where to?” he asked, like everything was perfectly normal. “You…I…eh….” I mumbled, trying to get my head around what he’d just done. “Are you crazy?” He held up his thumb and pointer finger. “Just a little bit.” “You need to go back up now and pay for your fare,” I said, trying to sound stern. Trevor shook his head. “Nah, don’t fancy it.” I was about to protest further when he grabbed my arm and propelled me forward just as a train reached the platform. Before I knew it, he’d shoved me on board and was ushering me into a seat. I yanked my arm out of his hold and glared at him. “You’re going to get us both killed.” He let out a long sigh, sounding like a bored teenager as he replied, “You need to loosen up.” He paused as he cocked a curious brow. “What is it that Lee sees in you anyway?” What he said got my back up as I stood, walking away from him and down the centre of the aisle. I went through the doors separating the carriages and entered

the next one. It had fewer passengers than the last, and I sat down in an empty seat, folding my arms across my chest. A second later, Trevor plonked down beside me, and I scowled hard. “It’ll take a lot more than storming off in a huff to get rid of me, Constable,” he teased, a grin on his face. “I’m not in a huff.” “You are,” he said, pointing his finger into my shoulder. “You’re all in a tizzy because I wondered what Lee sees in you, but you didn’t wait to let me finish. I think it’s the hair. He’s always had a thing for gingers, though his last girlfriend, Tammy, had a dye job, that weird plum colour.” His mention of an ex-girlfriend caught my interest, and I slid my gaze to him. Trevor’s grin widened. “Oh, now she’s curious.” “Shut up.” He nudged me. “All ya gotta do is ask, Constable. They don’t call me ‘old blabbermouth’ for nothing.” I gave him a tiny smile. There was something about Trevor that was so playful and child-like that I couldn’t seem to help being charmed by him, even if he had just broken several laws in the space of about three minutes. I was off duty, after all. “So, tell me, then,” I urged him. “What do you want to know?” “How long have they been broken up?” “About six months. Lee called it quits when she started asking for too much stuff, wanted him to buy her a house, a new car. I mean, the brazen-faced cheek of it!” he exclaimed, and I laughed. “Seriously, though, Tammy wasn’t too bright, didn’t realise that the minute you start flashing the cash, people begin to take notice.” Trevor eyed me meaningfully, and I didn’t need him to explain further. My gut twisted as I was given yet more evidence of Lee and his family’s criminality. “Anyway, Lee’s been all ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ ever since. Well, until you came on the scene, that is.” “I’m not sure you should be telling me this.” “What you gonna do, arrest me?” he asked jokingly, though there was a bite to his words. He still hadn’t forgiven me for Liam, not by a long shot. “Believe it or not, I only want what’s best for you and your brothers, and though it goes completely against everything I stand for, I care a great deal for Lee, more than I should.” Trevor eyed me, a quiet descending between us. I turned my head and stared out the window at all the blackness whizzing by. The silence was only broken when Trevor asked cheekily, “So, does this mean I can start calling you sis?” I shook my head at him, unable to hold back a chuckle. “Piss off.” At the next stop we got off, chatting on the walk to the venue where Reya was performing, and, surprisingly, Trevor bought me a drink when we got there. It was

a couple of minutes before she was supposed to be on stage, and my unlikely companion was on his phone again. It was starting to irritate me. “Who are you texting so furiously?” I asked. Trevor chuckled. “I’ve never heard texting described as furious before. Do my fingers look angry or something?” “Answer the question.” “It’s Lee. He wanted to know where we are.” “Oh?” “He also told me he’d break my balls if I try coming on to you. I told him you weren’t my type.” “My disappointment is palpable,” I deadpanned. Trevor held his phone up to snap a picture. “Say cheese.” “What are you doing?” “Lee asked for a pic,” he answered simply, focusing on his phone. “He says he likes your dress. Wants to know what you’re all dolled up for.” “Tell him it’s because I’m meeting a man,” I replied sassily. Trevor widened his gaze but continued tapping on his phone. “If you say so.” I sipped on my drink and waited for Lee’s response. Trevor chuckled. “He says he almost forgot you two had a booty call set for tonight, but he appreciates your effort.” “That’s a lie.” “Sure.” “It is,” I exclaimed. “Anything that went on between me and your brother is over.” “Well, alrighty, then. So, what’s on tonight? Anything good?” “Reya’s performing. Remember my friend you met at the nightclub?” “Chesty Laroo? No shit.” “If you call her that to her face, I’ll punch you in the testicles.” Trevor threw his hands in the air. “Hey, ease up. Though it might surprise you to discover, she’s not my type, either. I just said all that stuff about her the other night to piss you off.” “Are you gay?” “Nooooo.” “Well, you seemed to like her at the club.” “That’s because I’m a shameless flirt,” he said, batting his long lashes. I had to admit, they were pretty enviable. “I can’t help it. Don’t get me wrong, I’d give her a go for a night, but I’m not sure I’d be a returning customer, if you get me.” “You’re disgusting.” “I’m just honest. People can’t handle honesty these days. But anyway, I was talking to her because I have a gig I think she’ll be good for.” “What kind of gig?” “A ‘none of your bidniz’ kind of gig.” I levelled him with a deathly stare. “Whatever you’re up to, don’t you dare even

think about involving my friend. Reya’s had a rough enough time of it already.” “Oh, yeah, what happened to her?” Lifting my martini glass, I threw his own line back at him. “None of your bidniz.” Trevor laughed loud enough that the women sitting on the other side of us turned their heads. When they saw who the source of the laughter was, they took their time checking him out. Trevor shot them a wink and a suave little, “Ladies.” Turning back, he eyed me up and down, a secretive grin shaping his lips. “Okay, I think I get it now.” “Get what?” “Why my brother has such a hard-on for you. You’ve got a smart mouth. It’s kinda sexy.” “Oh, shut up,” I said, just as the house lights dimmed down and a brunette stepped onto the stage to announce Reya’s performance. She had a quite a good following these days, so the bar was packed to the rafters. A minute later my friend took to the stage, dressed all in black: black dress, black tights, black shoes. Her hair was styled in vintage waves, and her makeup was golden-era Hollywood. She looked striking without showing an inch of skin, and I noticed Trevor’s attention was glued to her. He sipped on his pint as Reya’s hands met her piano keys and she played the opening chords to her song. Mouth close to the microphone, she breathed in and out, creating a sound effect as though she was gasping for air. Her style was so realistically unique, and the very reason why I’d been drawn to her from the first time I saw her perform. When she sang her voice was clear, her accent slipping through and making the lyrics sound more honest. She had the attention of every person in the room, and I noticed that Trevor was uncharacteristically silent. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but I didn’t quite catch what he said. All too soon her set was over, and the crowd roared their applause. She gave a little bow and walked off the stage, disappearing behind a red velvet curtain. I knocked back the end of what was my third martini, or was it my fourth? Anyway, I finished it and nudged Trevor with my elbow. “I’m going backstage to see Reya. You coming?” He nodded and followed me. A minute or two later, we found her packing up her stuff up into a small duffle bag. Sometimes she brought her keyboard to gigs, but since the venue had its own piano, she’d played that instead. It meant she didn’t have a whole bunch of equipment to carry home. Rising, she hitched the bag up on her shoulder before she saw us. I hurried forward, pulling her into a hug and telling her how great the show was. She held her hand up to me, displaying a bandage on her middle finger. “I almost had to cancel. Cut myself trying to get the crappy window in my bedroom open. It’s killing me now, but at least I got to play.” “Well, you’d never notice.” “Bit of WD40 should do the trick,” Trevor put in randomly, and Reya’s eyes

wandered to him. She seemed perplexed as to why he was there, but she didn’t question it. “Pardon?” “For the window,” Trevor explained. “If it keeps sticking.” “Oh, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, an awkward silence elapsing. Trevor stood with his hands clasped behind his back, studying her. “Why don’t you open your eyes when you sing?” he blurted, something like disappointment in his voice. “I….” Reya began. “I don’t know,” she lied before turning back to me and changing the subject. “Did you see how many people were here tonight? Crazy talk. It’s a relief I’ll be able to pay this month’s rent now.” “I know,” I exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you.” Reya beamed before a guy approaching us caught her attention. “Speaking of which. That’s the club manager. I’d better go and collect my pay.” I motioned for her to go and a minute later she was back, frowning as she slotted an envelope into her bag. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern. She shrugged, not meeting my eyes, and I knew she was upset about something. “The bastard low-balled me. When I booked this gig, they said I’d get to keep forty percent of the ticket sales, and now he’s claiming we agreed on twenty. Since I never signed any official contract, there’s nothing I can do. God, I’m such an idiot sometimes.” “Are you serious?” I said angrily. “He can’t do that. I’m going to have a word.” Reya grabbed my hand. “No, don’t. If I kick up a fuss, they won’t let me play here again, and I need the money.” We shared a moment of eye contact, and a second went by before we simultaneously realised that Trevor wasn’t standing next to us anymore. Scanning the room, I found he’d approached the club manager, and appeared to be having a serious talk with him. “Oh, my God, what’s he doing?” Reya hissed, her grip on my hand tightening. “I don’t know,” I said, pulling out of her grasp before she left a permanent mark. The club manager gestured wildly with his hands while Trevor spoke over him, his stance confident. The manager frowned and rubbed his chin. Trevor said something else, and then the manager seemed to motion for him to calm down. A moment later he pulled some money from his pocket, counted out the notes and shoved them into Trevor’s hand. Lee’s brother turned and sauntered back to us, holding the money out to Reya. “There ya go,” he said. “What’s this?” she asked. “The twenty percent he owed you.” “How did you….” she began, but Trevor cut her off. “Nobody puts baby in the corner,” he said, as though that explained everything. Reya stared at him, flustered, clearly no idea what to say.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” I told him. “Course it does. Now come on, I believe you two lovely ladies owe me a drink.” Yep, definitely the eccentric one, I thought to myself as we let him lead us back to the bar. I WOKE up the next morning with the mother and father of a hangover. I’d stayed out longer than I planned to, letting Trevor convince me into going to nightclub after nightclub. The three of us drank and danced, and then drank some more. I literally lost count of how much alcohol I’d consumed, and that never happened. Every time Trevor looked at his phone, I got a little tingle down my spine, knowing he was texting Lee. It was disconcerting that just being around someone who had contact with him got me excited. Though honestly? There was very little about my relationship with Lee that wasn’t disconcerting. Or, well, my non-relationship, as seemed to be the case now. Alexis gave me a smug grin as I trudged my way to the bathroom. She sat by the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal, and looking pleased with herself now that she wasn’t the only one who wanted to vomit their guts up first thing in the morning. Though at least she had a valid reason. Instead of taking a shower, I ran a bath, pouring in extra bubbles before sinking into the soothing water. The honey and almond scent made me feel a little less like death warmed over. When I finally got out and dressed myself, I decided the first order of call was to go shopping for hangover food. It was after one o’clock when I left the flat to walk to the nearest shop. Unlike last night, this time I spotted Trevor before he spotted me. He was hanging from the same metal bar, half his body suspended in mid-air. “How’s the head, Constable?” he called when he finally saw me. “Thumping. Why are you here?” “I’m on guard duty again. No rest for the wicked.” “Well, I’m just going to the shop. Then I plan on spending the rest of the day in bed, so you can head home,” I said, continuing on my way as Trevor dropped to the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking alongside me. “Lee wanted me to invite you over to ours. When I told him about our escapades last night, he said you must be hung over as fuck, and in need of a good feeding. He’s cooking a roast.” “I’m not going to your house,” I said, my statement final. “Why not? It’s free food, plus you’ll get to swoon over my brother and be all, Oh, Lee, take me upstairs and handcuff me to your bedpost. I want you to take me prisoner this time,” Trevor teased, pitching his voice higher. I smacked him on the arm and told him to shut up. “I do not sound like that,” I huffed, and he chuckled. “I know you don’t, you’ve got a bit of a husky rasp going on. Very sex-ay. But seriously, you’ve got to come. Lee said he wants to update you on everything that’s

been happening. I mean, he’ll probably end up crying tears of sorrow into the gravy pot if you don’t show.” I gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You’re really weird, do you know that?” “Oh, give it up, we both know you’re charmed.” “I’m far from charmed.” “Then why have we already walked by the shop, huh? You’ve decided to come over and you don’t even realise it yet.” “Why can’t Lee just call me on the phone and ‘update me’?” “Maybe because that’s the unsexy option. Or maybe because the phone lines are being tapped.” He widened his eyes in mock terror. I frowned, knowing I was never going to win with him. “But won’t it be a bit awkward? Liam’s got to hate me, and Stu’s never exactly been my biggest fan.” “Lee’s already had a word with them. They’ll be on their best behaviour.” I eyed him for a minute, unsure whether he was telling the truth. Unfortunately, I couldn’t deny that I really wanted to find out what was going on. Maybe my hungover brain wasn’t functioning properly, because after a minute I finally gave in and told Trevor I’d go with him. When we got to Lee’s street, I glanced up and down, checking to see if there were any suspicious-looking vehicles around. As it happened, there were only a few cars, and all of them were empty. Besides, being such a shrewd customer, I thought that if Lee was being monitored, he’d know about it. Christ, what the hell was I doing? I really shouldn’t have been there. The old woman I’d noticed peeking out her window at me before was standing by her doorstep two houses down, a sweeping brush in her hand as she swept dust from her hallway out onto the street. “Hello, Trevor,” she said with a warm smile, at the same time eyeing me somewhat suspiciously. Did she recognise me out of my uniform? “Afternoon, Mrs Spencer,” Trevor replied, “You’re looking fetching this fine Sunday.” The woman chuckled and shook her head, waving him off. God, he really was a shameless flirt. I swear, if there was a cat in front of him, he’d find some way to chat it up. Stepping inside the house, Trevor led me into the living room, where Sophie was sitting on the floor, playing with her son and another little girl. It took me a moment to recognise her as the next door neighbour’s kid, the one I’d seen the first time I came here. “Isn’t that the girl from next door?” I asked curiously. I remembered how she’d run to Lee, like he was a safe place away from her nutjob of a mother, and how it had warmed my heart. Trevor’s expression sobered as he nodded, while Sophie explained, “This is Billie. I’m taking care of her because her mum’s gone AWOL. She was in the house alone for two days before I found her. Some people don’t deserve to have kids.” She sounded angry, and I couldn’t blame her. I remembered Lee telling me how

Sophie’s mother had abandoned her in a similar fashion when she was only little. Looking back at the girl, I saw that she was wearing clean clothes and her hair was braided into a French plait. It seemed like she was being well looked after, but I still wanted to suggest they call social services. “Sophie’s determined to foster her,” Trevor told me quietly. “Lee’s not sure the social will give her the green light, though.” I nodded, looking back to Lee’s cousin and completely getting it. Even though she was young, there were some women who were just born to be mothers, and seeing how Sophie interacted with Billie and her son was evidence of that. “So, you’re with Lee now? Can’t say I saw that coming,” said Sophie, breaking me from my thoughts. Her expression gave nothing away, and I really couldn’t tell how she felt about me. “Oh, no, we’re not….” I began, but she waved me off. “Don’t bother. I get it. I just hope you both know what you’re doing,” she said, her face serious. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure either one of us had a clue what we were setting ourselves up for, or where this would lead. Ever since I’d first met Lee, a feeling of recklessness had formulated in my gut, and it had only grown bigger and bigger each time I saw him. A part of me didn’t want to live by all the rules and procedures anymore; it wanted them to scatter in the wind. Trevor turned to go into the kitchen, and I followed him. Stu was sitting at the table, typing on a laptop, while Lee stood by the cooker, checking on the food. “What the fuck’s she doing here?” somebody asked angrily, and my attention went across the room to Liam, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. I shot Trevor an annoyed glance. Clearly he’d been lying when he said Lee had told his brothers I was coming. “Yeah, I second that,” Stu piped in, his eyes narrowed to slits. The two of them regarded me with open hostility, causing my stomach to twist with discomfort. The notion that I shouldn’t have been there echoed in my head once more. Lee wiped his hands on a dishcloth and levelled each of his brothers with a sharp look. “The two of you, shut it. She’s here because I say so.” Both Liam and Stu bristled at the authority in his voice, but they didn’t argue. I barely had a chance to blink when Lee came toward me, his stride purposeful. “Karla,” he breathed, and the way he said my name made me shiver. He slid his fingers between mine and pulled me back out into the hallway for privacy. “They’re right — I should leave,” I said before he could get a word in. His hands went to my face, palms cupping my cheeks as his eyes flickered over my features. “You look tired,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. The gravelly tone had a strangely arousing effect on me, and I suddenly felt too warm. I was also overly aware of how much I’d missed him. All of him. Trying to summon some reserve, I took his hands and lowered them from my face before stepping back a bit. Clearing my throat, I said, “Trevor said you had an update for me.”

Lee frowned and closed the distance I’d put between us. “Still all business, eh?” “I don’t see how I should be any other way.” We stared at one another in silence, so much want between us I could almost taste it on my tongue. Unable to resist, my gaze lowered to his lips. I missed how they felt on me, missed how his eyes could devour me from the inside out. Schooling my expression, I knew Lee could see just how much of a hard time I was having being this close to him. He took a deep breath and stepped away. “All right. Let’s do this your way, then. The update is that everything’s been settled. Nobody’s gunning for you anymore. It was mostly a precaution anyway, because they didn’t even know your name.” Air rushed out of me all at once. “That’s good news.” Lee eyed me speculatively. “Yeah, it is. So, are you staying for dinner, or are you gonna run off now that you’ve gotten what you wanted?” “You could have just called me, you know.” “I know,” Lee said, looking me up and down before whispering, “but then I wouldn’t get to see you.” He breathed in deep, moving closer, and I shivered slightly. “You smell incredible. What is that?” “Uh, honey and almond,” I answered, blinking. His proximity was causing me to flounder a little. “Stay, Karla, eat. I want to spend time with you. And I promise I won’t touch you unless you ask me for it,” he told me huskily. I should have tucked tail and fled right then, but I didn’t. No, I was my own worst enemy, because I didn’t have the willpower to say no to him. Finally, I nodded shyly and was rewarded with the handsomest of smiles. He took my hand in his again and led me back into the kitchen.

TWELVE

remember how long it had been since I sat at a table and ate a proper I couldn’t family-style dinner. Sure, I visited Mum and Dad’s every once in a while, but

that was different. There was no warmth between us. The Cross brothers did Sunday dinner the way it was supposed to be done. People passed bowls of food around, they spoke over each other, they laughed, but more importantly, it was clear that they all genuinely enjoyed one another’s company. Well, aside from the fact that Stu and Liam refused to acknowledge my presence. Still, it wasn’t a chore like it was when I went to visit my parents. And really, it made me uncomfortable to think how much more functional this family of thieves was compared to the strict, law-abiding household I’d grown up in. Sitting between Lee and Trevor, I tried to focus on my food rather than the fact that Lee’s thigh was pressed up against mine, the weight of it sending butterflies flittering around in my stomach with wild abandon. As soon as he’d taken the seat beside me, he positioned his legs so we were touching. He was already breaking the promise he’d made in the hallway, but I didn’t care. In fact, I savoured the contact. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off Sophie where she sat at the end of the table, helping her son with his dinner. More so than ever I felt sort of…empty, knowing I’d never get to experience that maternal bond, or care for a child who belonged to me. “You okay, Snap?” Lee asked, his eyes wandering from Sophie and then back to me. He’d obviously caught me looking. I scooped some potatoes up onto my fork and nodded, before shovelling them in my mouth so that I wouldn’t have to speak. Unlike Trevor, who seemed to have decided we were buddies now, Liam and Stu continued to ignore me. When everyone was finished eating, Lee went over and took a plate covered in tin foil out of the oven. “Liam, go bring this down to Mrs Spencer, would you?” he said. Liam nodded and got up, taking the plate from him and heading out. He’d set aside dinner for the old lady? My heart really didn’t know how to deal with that information, because it made him far more appealing than he had any business being.

I tried to help Lee wash up, but he told me to sit and relax. Next, dessert was served, which consisted of a delicious jelly trifle. I was stuffed by the time I was done, and Sophie invited me into the living room to sit with Jonathan and Billie while the boys cleaned up. Standing by the door, I felt unsure of myself, but then looked down and found Billie staring up at me, a doll in her hand. “Do you want to play with Sally?” she asked, presenting the doll. “Uh, sure,” I replied, taking it while she led me into the room. I sat next to Sophie while Billie informed Jonathan they were going to play a game of tea party. I almost laughed when Jonathan screwed up his face in displeasure. “Trevor said you want to foster her,” I said quietly. Sophie let out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s a bad idea, that I’m too young.” “Not at all. I think it’s a very honourable thing to do. In fact, I can send you some information if you’d like. It’d help you figure out where to get started.” She glanced at me in surprise. “Really?” “Sure.” Her lip quivered slightly as she shot me a look of thanks and looked back to Billie. “She reminds me so much of myself when I was little, you know. I just hate the idea of her going through what I went through. If I can give her a safe place like Lee gave me a safe place, then I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.” Lee gave her a safe place, and God, he was only a kid himself. The thought made my heart squeeze yet again. A silence passed between us before Sophie turned to me. “He’s a good person, deep down. We all are.” Unsure of what to say, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze before finally replying, “I know you are.” After a while, I excused myself to go use the bathroom. Once there, I splashed some water on my face to freshen up, still feeling kind of crappy after last night’s indulgence. When I returned, I found Lee had come in from the kitchen. He had Billie on his lap as he unravelled the French plait from her hair. I was struck speechless by the sight of him being so affectionate and caring with a child who wasn’t even related to him, and a feeling of warmth spread across my chest. “There, all done,” he said before Billie turned and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Lee. Sophie always plaits my hair way too tight,” she told him, rubbing her head. “Hey! I heard that!” Sophie exclaimed, feigning annoyance. Lee chuckled, his eyes finding mine, and he saw how I was hovering. “Come in, Snap.” Stepping inside, I went to sit on the couch, but Lee grabbed my wrist and swung me around, pulling me down to sit next to him on the love seat. The heat of his body pressed all along the side of mine, and I felt a sudden bout of nervousness. It was doubled when Sophie gave Lee a knowing smile and announced she was taking Billie and Jonathan for a walk.

Lee picked up the remote, flicking through the stations. “You want to watch a movie?” he asked, his attention fixed to the screen. Peering at his profile, I took in the smooth sweep of his nose, the angular curve of his lips. “Okay,” I replied, my voice unexpectedly soft. It snagged Lee’s attention, and his gaze flicked to mine, catching me studying him. I looked away quickly, fighting a blush. Without looking, I knew he was smirking. “You looked hot last night in your blue dress.” “Thanks.” “Pity I didn’t get to see it.” “You saw a picture.” He let out a slow breath. “Not the same thing.” My attention returned to the screen as Lee selected a movie to watch. I settled into the seat, and he draped his arm along the back. I could feel his heat on my neck then, and there was something relaxing about it. He smelled of a fresh citrus cologne and fabric softener. I wanted to rest my head on his shoulder, but I wasn’t brave enough. The house seemed quiet, and I wondered if his brothers had gone out somewhere. As the movie progressed, I found my eyes drifting shut. Somewhere along the way, Lee’s arm dropped down and was now tucked around me, holding me close. I felt warm and safe, so much so that I fell asleep. I only woke up when I felt Lee’s nose nuzzling into my temple. The closing credits were rolling down the screen. “I should get going,” I said past a yawn. Lee didn’t respond, but instead his mouth dropped slowly to my neck, where he pressed his lips against my skin. A quiet breath escaped me, and his arm pulled my body close. His lips continued to travel from my neck to my jaw, and then finally to the edge of my mouth. When he kissed me, I trembled. It was slow at first, just a gentle press of his mouth before his tongue sneaked out to taste me. There was something about the slowness of his movements that felt drugging. His hands circled my waist, then lifted me so I was straddling him. The kiss intensified as our bodies moved, seeking friction. We stayed like that for a while, and by the time we came up for air, we were both breathless. “Stay with me tonight,” Lee murmured, his voice a sexy rumble. I leaned back down to kiss him again, grinding myself off his erection, and his eyes flickered shut. His tongue dipped into my mouth while his hands roamed my bottom. “Fuck,” he swore. “Let me take you upstairs — otherwise, I’m gonna embarrass myself.” I felt a blush coming on again when I got his meaning, and allowed him to pull me up from the seat. Lee laced his fingers with mine and led me up two flights of stairs to the attic. His room must have been the biggest in the house. It had a kingsized bed, a flat-screen TV on the wall, a large wardrobe, and an en-suite bathroom. I let go of his hand and walked around, taking it all in. There were two

windows, but instead of looking out, they looked up. The way I could see the stars was sort of romantic. Lee approached me from behind, his arms sliding around my waist, pulling my arse flush with his cock. His mouth returned to my neck, and I swear my entire body turned to liquid. “You can see the stars from here,” I whispered. “I’ll make you see stars, Karla,” he promised before pulling me over to his bed. He was unexpectedly tender when he laid me down. It was at odds with the predatory look he gave me as he climbed onto the mattress, his hands going to the waist of my jeans and unbuttoning the fly. “What are you doing?” I asked, breathless. When he glanced up his eyes were dark, and I shuddered, recognizing his intention. Seconds later my jeans were gone, and I was left in my T-shirt and boy shorts. “Hmm, these are sexy,” Lee said, humming. “But they need to go.” He pulled them off with practiced hands. Nerves coiled in the pit of my stomach when I was bared to him, suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t even turned the lights off. This was so much different from being with him in the darkness of the nightclub. Here in his bedroom, he was going to be able to see everything. I clammed up, and he seemed to sense it. “Don’t do that,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.” His eyes wandered between my legs, gently parting my thighs so he could see all of me. Letting out a low expletive, he rose long enough to rid himself of his clothes. I stared open-mouthed at his body, at the taut muscles and smooth skin. His cock was unmistakably hard, and when he fisted it, pumping up and down, a fire sparked within me. I was so wet for him I ached. “You see what you do to me,” he asked, voice gruff. Biting my lip, I nodded. “Let your hair down, babe.” I reached up, pulling out my clip and letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Lee’s eyes blazed, eating up every inch of me. A second later, he was climbing back onto the bed, positioning his face between my thighs. A quiet gasp escaped me when his head dipped forward and his tongue flicked experimentally over my clit. I moaned, and a low growl emanated from deep in his chest. I squirmed a little, but his hands went to my thighs, holding me down. His stubble scraped deliciously along my skin when he pressed his mouth over all of me. “Lee,” I cried out, my hands fisting his blankets as my body bucked forward. “Watch me,” he said, his voice low and commanding. His tongue flicked out and licked a line all the way up to my clit. One finger entered me, and I felt myself spasm around him. He moved it slowly in and out, intense pleasure shattering through me. When his tongue began circling my clit with determination, my eyes fell closed, unable to handle the intensity. One of Lee’s hands went to the hem of my T-shirt. “Take this off,” he grunted

between licks. When I pulled it up over my head and threw it to the floor, his eyes moved over my breasts as though mapping every inch of them. Aware that there were people downstairs, I tried not to make too much noise, but it was difficult. Lee clearly knew what he was doing and he took his time, dragging it out, trying to make me beg. It didn’t take long for me to give him what he wanted. “Please,” I mewled. His hands circled my waist, fingers digging wantonly into the flesh of my hips. He groaned when our eyes met, and I watched his tongue as it moved on me. The sight was unnervingly erotic, and within seconds I came with thundering shudders right on his mouth. He continued licking me, drawing out every ounce of my pleasure. I was still revelling in a post-orgasmic haze when his heat left me, and I was vaguely aware of him opening a drawer. A moment later he was back, rolling a condom down his impressive length as he knelt at the end of the bed. His head was tilted to one side as he murmured, “Fucking beautiful.” “I need you,” I whispered, breathless. Now that I’d come down from the high he’d just given me, I was desperate to have him inside. His eyes traced my body, stopping momentarily on the scar on my stomach. It was old, barely visible, really, but in that moment I was hyperaware of the imperfection. Lee didn’t ask me where I’d gotten it, and instead continued to soak in the sight of my naked body like it was his favourite work of art. Bracing his hands above my shoulders, he leant his head down to lick at my nipples. I moaned when he sucked one into his mouth and then the other, swirling his tongue around the needy flesh. “You’re all soft and ready for me,” he said, his voice the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. “I can’t wait to feel you, Karla.” My breathing began to quicken again when he lifted my thighs around his hips. He held me up, staring at me fiercely, and some sharp emotion cut through my chest. A second later he plunged into me hard, causing electricity to crackle all over my body. Our eyes stayed connected, and I felt like I could see right to the core of him in that moment. There was no wall up, no mask or pretence. All I saw was him, and it was beautiful. He moved in me slowly, and I closed my eyes so I could savour the lazy drag against my nerve endings. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I did as he said, struck speechless by the emotions washing through the clear blue depths of his irises. Right then, I knew that this thing between us was real to him, that he felt things for me far stronger than simple lust. It was jarring, but at the same time it gave me clarity on my own feelings, and how I felt more than fleeting attraction for him, too. He never sped up his movements, but instead continued to rock back and forth in an even pace. He was learning me, feeling me, making love to me. The sound of

our breathing and the quiet slap of our bodies as they connected filled the room. I moaned when he reached down and pressed a finger to the bundle of nerves between my legs. His forehead shone with a thin layer of sweat, the muscles of his abdomen tensing with every thrust of this hips. I loved the definition in his arms as he held his body above mine. His movements became a little more frenzied when he leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “Come on my dick,” he urged, his voice strained. I clenched my thighs around him tight, feeling the sensation build in my core. He grunted when he began fucking me in hard, measured thrusts, and pleasure shattered though my body. Rubbing faster at my clit, he captured my lips in his and plunged his tongue against mine. I felt completely possessed, like he was everywhere all at once; his taste in my mouth, his noises in my ears, his cock doing wonderful things to my insides. Everything in me coiled tight, the onslaught that was Lee reaching his pinnacle, and I came for the second time that night. Only now it was so much more, because I felt him coming, too, filling me as his breathing grew choppy and his movements began to slow. “Jesus,” he said, his forehead resting on mine again. Our hearts seemed to beat in time, our breaths matching as he held me to him so tight I didn’t think he was ever going to let go. “You make me feel so fucking alive,” Lee said fervently, his words muffled by my skin. “Made for me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close, a strange fear clutching at my heart. A silence fell between us until Lee flipped us over, wrapping his arms around me and spooning me from behind. “You’re being awfully quiet,” he whispered in my ear, and there was a touch of uncertainty in his words, like he was worried I was going to run on him. I lifted his hand and intertwined our fingers. “I’m just frightened, Lee. The way I feel about you, it’s intense. It scares me.” His arm tightened around me, pulling my body closer to his. “I feel it, too, the intensity. It shouldn’t scare you.” For some reason, my eyes grew watery, and I couldn’t understand why I was being so emotional. Maybe it was the way he spoke. Here, alone with me in his bed, his voice was different. There was no cocky bravado or teasing. He was just open, real, and it made it difficult to keep a handle on my feelings. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I was glad I wasn’t facing him right then. He’d probably think I was a complete head case, crying after sex. It was just that being with him made everything else in my life a lie, and yet, the idea of being without him made everything seem empty and grey. So I was trapped in the lie. In fact, I’d walked right into it willingly with both eyes open. I pressed my cheek into the pillow to dry away the tears and turned in his arms. Needing the comfort, I buried my face in his neck and felt a breath whoosh out of him.

“Karla?” said Lee, his tone questioning. I spoke into his skin. “I just really, really like you. I like the things you do to me, and I don’t want to lose them.” Feeling his jaw move, I thought he might be smiling. “If it’s any consolation, I really like the things I do to you, too. Actually, I fucking love them. And you won’t lose me, so long as you make the choice to be with me.” I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “But it’s impossible. We can never have a normal relationship. Other than Alexis and Reya, there isn’t a single person in my life I could tell about you, no one who wouldn’t condemn me for it.” “It’s simple, then — don’t tell them.” “So what do we do, sneak around?” “If that’s what it takes.” My lips turned downward. “How would that even work?” “We’d figure it out. I’m very inventive,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows. I laughed softly, and he caught my lips in his for a quick kiss. “For tonight, let’s not worry about it. Tomorrow’s a new day.” Lee pulled me back down into the pillows and I closed my eyes, snuggling into his chest this time. His hand stroked soothingly up and down my spine, and before I knew it, I was out cold. I woke some time in the middle of the night, hearing voices. The room was dark, but a thin sliver of light trickled in from outside. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Lee standing with the door slightly ajar, wearing only his boxer briefs. Stu was outside, and he didn’t look happy. I immediately closed my eyes, feigning sleep. “I’m sorry, bruv, but you’re losing it. All that cop pussy’s blurring your vision.” “Oi, eyes on me. You try looking in my room again, and I swear I’ll deck you,” Lee warned him. Crap. I suddenly realised that my legs and a good deal of my left breast were exposed. I must have kicked the blankets off in my sleep. My skin prickled with the need to cover up, but if I moved, they’d know I was listening. “How do you know she’s not snitching on us to her bosses?” Stu asked, his voice gruff. “Because she doesn’t know anything. Besides, other than what happened with Liam, we haven’t caught an inch of heat lately. What’s between me and Karla is between us. It’s got nothing to do with her job or this family.” “It has everything to do with them. Christ, Lee, how can it not?” Abruptly, I didn’t want to hear any more, because if he said something incriminating right then, it’d put me in a bad position. I’d have to decide whether or not to report it, and I didn’t want to report anything. I just wanted to forget about my job for a while and enjoy being with Lee for however long it might last. Letting out what I hoped sounded like a sleepy sigh, I shifted in place. Both brothers went silent before Stu said, “I’m going. Just think about it, Lee. You’re supposed to be the smart one.” With that the door clicked shut, and I felt the bed dip as Lee climbed back in

beside me. He didn’t ask if I was awake, just draped an arm around me and pressed a kiss to the back of my head. Before long I heard his breathing even out, and I knew he’d fallen back asleep. I struggled with the decision on whether or not to leave, but his warmth felt too good, and in spite of the fact that Stu had spoken a lot of sense, I was far too comfortable in Lee’s bed to go anywhere. THE NEXT TIME I woke up, the bed was empty again. Somehow though, I sensed that I wasn’t alone. Rolling onto my side, I rubbed at my eyes and blinked a few times. Lee was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room. He was topless, his hair wet and a towel tucked about his waist. He must have taken a shower. His chin rested on his fist as he studied me, his expression pensive, and I wondered what he was thinking about. “How long have you been sitting there?” I asked, holding the duvet to my chest as I sat up. Lee cocked an eyebrow at my attempt to cover myself, obviously because he’d seen everything there was to see last night. “Not too long.” Our eyes locked, and I felt goose bumps rise on my skin. His gaze was possessive, knowing, and memories of what we’d done the night before flittered through my mind. I could still smell him on me, and it made my thighs quiver in want. Several quiet moments passed. “Where’d you get the scar, Snap?” Lee asked, his curiosity evident on his face. My heart gave a sharp thud of both pain and surprise. Surprise that he cared enough to ask, and pain because of what it represented. I hugged the duvet tighter around myself. “When I was a kid, I was in a car accident with my parents. The impact came from the side and there were glass fragments embedded in my abdomen. I had some internal injuries, so I had to stay in hospital for a couple of weeks. God, it was boring,” I said, trying to offset my discomfort. Lee sucked in a sharp breath, his expression sympathetic. “Karla.” I waved him off. “It was a long time ago.” “Well, I always say that a scar’s better than being dead.” “Uh-huh.” Lee frowned. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?” The tenderness in his voice made my throat tighten. I hadn’t planned on telling him anything, but the truth just came spilling out of me anyway as I blurted, “My internal injuries were bad. I can’t have children.” In the quiet of the room, the sentence sounded shockingly stark. Lee didn’t speak for a second, and I stared at my hands. Before I knew it, the bed dipped and warm, muscular arms wrapped around me from behind. Lee pulled me into his embrace, and there was something about the gesture that made me feel worse and better at the same time. “Did you always want kids?” he asked in a whisper, his mouth resting at my

temple. “Not always. But once something is taken away from you, you tend to want it more. I know I can live a full life without children, but it’s like my heart gets all horrible and heavy when I think about the fact that I…that I can’t.” “You could adopt,” Lee suggested, his hand lowering to my thigh and stroking. I let out a joyless laugh. “It’s not the same.” He heaved a breath. “No, I suppose not.” A long quiet elapsed, Lee’s chin resting on my shoulder, his breath warming the side of my neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been held like this, skin to skin, feeling cut open and exposed, yet sewn up and healed all at once. Lee’s voice was low and solemn when he said, “We’re stronger in the places that we’ve been broken.” His words hit me square in the gut, the sentiment causing my eyes to grow a little wet, and I wondered who he was quoting from. “Who said that?” I whispered. “Hemingway.” A soft, surprised laugh escaped me, even though my eyes were still watery. “You read Hemingway?” I felt him move his head in a shake. “There used to be this tunnel near where an old friend of mine lived. Lots of graffiti on the walls. I remember walking home one night and seeing this mural in crazy vibrant colours with that quote as the centrepiece. You ever read words and they just make sense to you? I had one of those moments.” “Yeah, the truth of them just kind of…resonates,” I said. Lee caught my chin between his fingers, turning my face so he could look me straight in the eye. I’d never seen his expression so sincere. “The strongest part of you is the broken one, and having kids isn’t the only way you can become a parent, Karla. The way you protect people makes you a mother to the world.” His statement struck the centre of my heart and I clung to it, feeling a renewed sense of meaning about myself. I’d never thought of it that way before. Seriously, I had to change the subject, because otherwise I was seriously going to start bawling. The warmth of his hand felt soothing, and I was suddenly curious about him. “You’ll probably have a dozen kids running around one day. I can definitely see that for you. You practically raised your own brothers, after all.” He was silent for longer than I expected, and he seemed thoughtful. Maybe it was the insinuation that his future would be with someone else, filled with someone else’s children. The idea pained me more than it should have. His breath warmed my cheeks as he mustered a reply. “Nah, maybe raising my brothers was enough for one lifetime. And let’s remember, I didn’t exactly do a bang-up job.” “You did your best. You were only a kid yourself.” “I was ruthless, but that’s only because I had to be.” I snuggled further into his arms and placed a hand on his cheek. “You know, I might end up regretting telling you this someday, but if I’d been in your position,

I’d probably have made the exact same choices.” Lee’s nostrils flared, and his gaze intensified at my words. They were the truth. I could sit on my high horse, spouting moral virtues, but I knew that if I’d been born into Lee’s situation, I would have done whatever it took to survive. Perhaps we were more similar than I cared to admit. Dipping his head, he caught my lips in a kiss and pulled me on top of him. Both his hands stroked my thighs as he stared up at me, his eyes hooded. “I like you,” he murmured. “I like you, too.” “You shouldn’t be so cynical about what we could be, you know.” I crinkled my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means I know what you were playing at just now, talking about me having kids, like the idea of you being in my future is such an impossibility.” “Lee,” I said, air whooshing out of me when his thumbs dug into my muscles, massaging out the kinks. “My dad would disown me if he knew I was with you.” “So what? You don’t even like the man.” “I know that, but he’s my father. Besides, he’s a product of his environment. My parents grew up at a time when you couldn’t walk down the street without worrying if a bomb was going to go off. That kind of thing hardens people.” “Hmm.” Lee grinned. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me, you cheeky little shit. And what’s the grin for?” “It’s for the fact that you’re gonna forget all this serious talk in a minute when I fuck you.” “Oh, really?” “Really. So hard it’ll rewire that brain of yours, so afterward, when you think about the future, all you can see is me in it.” Reaching up, he palmed both my breasts, then bent forward and captured one of my nipples in his mouth. The action rendered me incapable of doing anything but surrendering. And when he flipped me over and pulled me onto all fours, he made good on his promise, because it might have been morning, but I really did see stars.

THIRTEEN

laughing so hard I had to bend over and hold my stomach, so hard that I was tears were rolling down my cheeks. Tony and I were sitting in the break room

eating lunch and trying not to wet ourselves as Keira did an impression of DI Jennings. “Constable, tuck your shirt in and straighten your tie. You look like the vagrant lovechild of Keith Richards and Worzel Gummidge.” “Stop!” I begged, trying to calm my laughter. “I haven’t heard anyone use Worzel Gummidge as a reference since I was five years old.” “That’s because you never bloody listen, do you, Sheehan? Cotton wool in the ears,” Keira clipped, not dropping the act. I swiped a thumb under my eyes, finally calming down, and glanced up. The smile immediately fled my features, because standing in the doorway was none other than Jennings herself. Keira had her back turned, continuing with her impression. Jennings’ face was indecipherable, and I went completely silent, waiting for her to stride into the room and put Keira in her place. But she didn’t do that. Instead, she cast me a quick, uncomfortable glance, turned on her heel, and left without a word. I wanted to tell Keira that she’d been caught, but I knew it’d only make her worry. If Jennings planned on reprimanding her, it was going to happen whether I told her or not. Packing away the end of my lunch, I felt a strange urge to go after Jennings. Even if she did relish making my job difficult, I couldn’t help but feel bad. I wanted to apologise for Keira, and for myself for laughing. Leaving the break room and hurrying down the corridor, I made my way to her office, knocking gently on the door before stepping inside. What I saw when I entered made me wish I’d waited for her to call me in, because Jennings was sitting at her desk, dabbing tears from her eyes with a handkerchief. Her gaze widened when she took me in, and several moments of the most uncomfortable silence I’d ever felt fell between us. The woman had feelings. This thought unsettled me. “I, uh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Excuse me,” I said, and turned to leave. “Don’t you dare,” said Jennings. “You just had the gall to burst into my office unannounced, so now you can stay and say your piece. I presume you have some

sort of speech to make?” “That’s not why I….” “Then why did you?” Jennings snapped, and I startled a little. “I don’t really know. I just wanted to apologise, I suppose, for what Keira was doing, and for laughing. Mostly for the laughing. You don’t deserve that kind of behaviour, and it’s unprofessional on our part.” Well, maybe she did deserve it just a little, but I wasn’t going to say that to her face. “Unprofessional behaviour from you is no great surprise, Sheehan. Christ, look at your father.” I gave her a funny look. “My dad might not be the most pleasant man in the world, but he’s hardly unprofessional.” Jennings only snorted and dabbed once more at her eyes before tossing her hankie aside. I narrowed my gaze. “What’s the deal with you two anyway?” She glanced up in surprise. “Pardon?” “You hate my dad like he murdered your grandmother or something. Why?” Jennings straightened in her seat. “You have no business asking such questions. Now get back to work.” “No, I want to know. I’ve never done anything to you, yet you treat me like I’m a piece of dirt on the end of your boot. I deserve to be told the reason.” A silence fell, and Jennings eyed me shrewdly. “How’s your mother these days?” Her question seemed a little random, but I answered anyway. “Um, she’s fine.” “I’ll bet she is,” Jennings muttered, and I wasn’t sure why, but there was something in her tone that I found curious. It was jealousy with a hint of resentment…. Oh, hell no. Suddenly, everything fell into place, and to be honest, it made me feel a little queasy. “Oh, my God,” I whispered, gaping at her in disbelief. “No way.” “What are you prattling about?” “You and my dad.” Jennings frowned. “Me and your dad, what? Bloody hell, finish you sentences, Sheehan, you’re not a toddler.” “You and my dad had a thing, didn’t you? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” She stared, her blue eyes cutting into me like a knife, and all at once I knew it was true. My dad had an affair with Jennings. I felt like I’d just stepped over the threshold and into the twilight zone. “Your father is a spineless coward,” said Jennings, her voice sober. “He is the worst decision I’ve ever made.” “Spineless?” My brow furrowed. “Spineless,” Jennings repeated. “Do you know that I was once beaten so badly by the members of an organised crime ring your father and I were investigating that I almost lost my life? Thugs broke into my home and attacked me, and when your father showed up and ran them off, he refused to give evidence or identify my

attackers, because it would result in people discovering that we were conducting an affair. He allowed those men to walk free in order to save his reputation and keep his marriage intact.” My gut churned again, this time for a very different reason. I wanted to think she was lying, but she had no reason to, and her story didn’t sound made up. In fact, the longer I contemplated it, the more it sounded exactly like something my dad would do. “Go on, tell me I’m lying,” said Jennings, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “I believe you,” I whispered, and her eyes flared in shock. A moment passed between us, and I didn’t know what to say. In the end, I went with a simple, “I’m sorry that happened to you. And I’m sorry my dad is spineless coward.” Because he was. And even though Jennings was no ray of sunshine, no woman deserved to be treated like he’d treated her. She lifted her chin, and we shared a moment of eye contact. Finally, she nodded her acceptance of my apology, and I turned and left her office. BY THE TIME I got home from work that evening, I felt emotionally drained. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jennings and my dad, could barely get my head around it, really. He’d cheated on my mum with her, and then did something so abhorrent as to abandon her when she needed him most. At long last, her treatment of me all these years made sense. Hell, if I was Jennings, I’d hate me, too. The flat was empty when I went inside, and I remembered that Alexis had an afternoon modelling job to go to. Dropping my keys on the coffee table, I pushed open the door to my bedroom and got a fright to see a man sitting at the end of my bed. Jumping back, my hand went to my baton, which, since I was still in full uniform, was resting in its holster. It took a second for my pulse to slow down. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” I breathed. “How did you get in here?” Lee’s eyes traced over me tenderly. “Alexis let me in about a half an hour ago.” He paused and ran a hand over his short-cropped hair, seeming a little out of sorts. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Last night my bed felt empty without you in it.” I could tell he was perplexed by his feelings, and truthfully, after our emotional conversation the previous night, I felt the same. His words made something inside me soften, and I let him pull me over to sit next to him on the bed. I’d left his house yesterday afternoon, after a night (and a morning) of life-altering sex, the kind of sex that made you realise you were being shafted with all the sex you’d had before it. “I’ve had a strange day,” I said as he gently pulled the pins from my hair and ran his fingers through its length. “A really strange day, actually.” His hands stilled for a second. “Strange how?” “You remember my boss I was telling you about?”

Lee nodded. “The one who has it in you for you, yeah.” “Well, we had something of a heart-to-heart, or as close to a heart-to-heart as we could have. I know why she hates me now. She and my dad had an affair years ago, and it ended badly.” Lee’s hands resumed their movement, this time massaging the back of my neck as he made a thoughtful face. “Didn’t see that one coming.” “Me neither. Like I said, weird day.” His breath met my skin as he asked, “You want me to make it less weird?” His voice was pure sex. I shivered, closed my eyes, and silently nodded as his fingers went to my shirt to undo the buttons. I sat back and allowed him to undress me, never once opening my eyes. When his lips brushed lightly over mine, my mouth fell open. I could almost sense his grin when his tongue slid along my lower lip and then dipped inside. My head tilted back, and I moaned when his lips travelled along my jaw and to the crook of my neck, where he began planting kisses that got me instantly wet. He was already learning what I liked. Somewhere between now and the night we’d spent together, I’d made the unconscious decision to let this happen, to let myself have Lee in whatever way I could. Maybe it was because of the sweet things he’d said, the way he understood me better than anyone else. Or maybe it was all down to the rush of being with him when I knew I shouldn’t. I convinced myself that if no one ever found out, nothing bad could come of it. I wore only my black bra and matching knickers when Lee pushed me to the top of my bed. He climbed over me, still fully clothed, eyes roaming my face as he spread my hair across the pillow, a halo of red. My chest rose and fell with my breathing, and my breasts rubbed against the fabric of his top, desperately needing him to remove my bra. Instead, he took both of my hands in his and raised them above my head, then bent his mouth to mine and kissed me so fiercely I felt it all the way down to my toes. He settled his weight between my legs and began to move his hips gently back and forth, his hardness meeting my softness. I gasped into his mouth right before something cold met my wrists and I heard a recognisable click. Abruptly, I dragged my mouth from his and tried to lower my hands, only to find he’d handcuffed me to the bedpost. My heart pounded rapidly, my adrenaline kicking in. “Lee!” I hissed. “Did you take those from my uniform?” He smirked, still on top of me, and pressed his erection between my legs once more. “Spur-of-the-moment decision, couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, kissing me again. “Just go with it.” “Give me the key, now,” I demanded between kisses, trying not to melt under his assault. “Hush, you’ll like this,” he assured me, chuckling huskily as his mouth descended. He lifted my body slightly to unsnap my bra, and then he was caressing

my breasts, running his lips tantalisingly over the peaks of my nipples and making me squirm in place. I wanted to protest more, tell him I’d kick his arse if he didn’t release me within the next three seconds, but I couldn’t, because the truth was that Lee was right. I did like it. In fact, I liked it a little too much. Especially when he sucked my breast into his mouth and his hand slipped inside my underwear, his fingers finding me instantly. He groaned, his tongue flicking around my nipple, and broke away long enough to growl, “So wet.” It was both agonising and tantalising not being able to touch him. All I could do was lie there and let him do what he wanted to me. My pores tightened in anticipation. “Take something off,” I pleaded, frustrated that he still hadn’t removed a single article of clothing. He chuckled, and his mouth left me when he rose to pull his T-shirt off over his head. I allowed my eyes to trace the contours of his body, enjoying how his hips tapered at the waist of his jeans. His gaze trailed over me as his hands lowered to undo his fly, pulling a condom from his pocket before shoving off his jeans. With his mouth he tore the wrapper, then threw it onto the bed as he positioned his head between my legs. “You,” he began, kissing my inner thigh, “are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” My back arched against the mattress when he pressed his lips to my folds, his tongue peeking out and giving a soft lick. His eyes were on my breasts, which were pushed high into the air with my position as he licked. I pulled my hands against the cuffs, my wrists knocking into the bed frame in my effort to struggle free. “You’ve got to — ” I gasped, stopping mid-sentence when he slid his tongue down and then inside me. “God, you’ve got to make me come.” He chuckled, not coming up for air, and continued to eat me out until I was just on the cusp of orgasm. Then his mouth left me, and I huffed out a breath of dissatisfaction. Grabbing the condom from where he’d thrown it on the bed, he rose up to his knees and rolled it down his stiff length. Barely a second later, he was thrusting inside me hard and fast, his hands circling my waist, eyes roaming my body as I lay there completely at his mercy. He fucked me with abandon, his hips jutting in and out in a frenzy of lust. My vision grew hazy, and I could barely find my voice to speak. “Mine,” Lee grunted, his fingertips digging into my flesh. “This is mine.” “Yes,” I breathed, my voice more air than sound as his eyes shone with a fierce victory. “God, look at you. You’re so beautiful when you let go, Karla.” “I need to touch you,” I whimpered. Lee smiled a beautifully handsome smile. “Not yet.” “Lee,” I moaned needily. “Please.” His eyes captured mine as his movements sped up. After having his mouth on

me, I was so ready to shatter, and every thrust of cock felt incredible. The keys must have been left in the cuffs, because he reached up and released them, taking one hand and lowering it between our bodies. “Don’t touch me, touch yourself. I want to see you,” Lee said, bringing my fingers to my clit as he continued to move. Coaxing me to draw lazy circles over my flesh, his eyes blazed with arousal. The knowledge that touching myself did that to him was a huge turn-on. “Fuck,” Lee swore, watching me, his gaze wandering from my fingers and up to my face. I felt my own wetness coat my hand, and the sensation of having his cock inside me while I brought myself to orgasm was unbelievable. I shook around him, moaning loudly when I came. Lee kissed me, swallowing my sounds as he sought his own release. His tongue swept across mine, over and over, until I felt his movements slow down. I opened my eyes, watching him come, his brows drawn together tight. He looked so masculine, so perfect. His body dropped to mine, his arms going around me and pulling me close. When we fell asleep, he was still inside me.

FOURTEEN

he next day when I took my lunch break, I decided to visit a nearby deli to T grab a sandwich. When I’d woken up that morning, Lee was gone, a note on my

bedside dresser from him saying he’d be back that night. My heart did a flip-flop, knowing that at the end of the day I’d get to see him again, get to lose myself in his body. It was a new sensation for me, because I’d never felt like this during any of my previous relationships, had never craved a man in a way that made me feel quite so…crazed. My mind kept wandering as I replayed his words when we had sex, or remembered his smell or the feel of him. I was basically walking around in a continuous state of arousal, and it felt a little bit obscene. Almost as though my thoughts had summoned him, I glanced across the street from the deli, and there he was. Lee stood speaking with two other men I recognised from his garage, which was just around the corner. I was in uniform, so I knew approaching him wasn’t an option, especially so close to the station. Not being discovered was key to this secret relationship we were conducting. I chanced one last quick glance in his direction, and it was right at that moment that he looked up and saw me. His eyes flared, and I looked away swiftly. Hurrying inside the deli, I busied myself placing an order and tried to encourage my heart rate to slow down. My skin prickled and I felt myself flush, suddenly recognising what was wrong with me. I was excited. Just knowing he was close sent my pulse racing. It was so wrong. When I emerged he was gone, and a sudden bout of disappointment hit me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I was doubly disappointed to find he hadn’t sent me any messages or tried to call. Continuing on my way back to the station, I let my thoughts wander to the day ahead and the paperwork I had to complete, when suddenly I was pulled around a corner and into an alleyway. The brown paper bag I was carrying fell to the ground as Lee crushed his mouth to mine in a kiss that sent adrenaline flooding my system. His arms pulled me in, but my uniform had too many layers and I couldn’t get quite close enough. His hands came up to slid inside my shirt collar, gently cupping my neck as his

tongue made me dizzy. When we finally broke apart, I was practically gasping for air, my cheeks heating and my chest rising and falling rapidly. “I woke up this morning still inside you,” Lee whispered, his words making my tummy flutter. “Have you any idea how hard it was for me to leave?” As he pressed his forehead to mine, his minty breath washed across my cheeks. He never broke eye contact when he moved one hand from my neck up to my lips, his thumb slipping inside my mouth. I moaned quietly, my head tilting back as I flicked my tongue over it and he slid it all the way in. “Tonight,” said Lee, still whispering, “I’m gonna get you down on your knees and slide my hard cock into this pretty little mouth.” His shockingly dirty words turned me on, and I gasped quietly. He hummed low in his throat, his eyes fixed on his thumb as I felt the press of his erection against my hip. A second later his phone started ringing, and he growled in irritation. “Fuck,” he swore, lowering his hand. “I should be getting back to work,” I said, glancing around for my dropped lunch. It sat on the ground, relatively undamaged. I picked it up and straightened myself out. Lee grabbed my wrist, pulling me back to him and laying another intense kiss on me. “Later,” he promised when he broke away, breathless. I nodded, trying to calm my nerves, and then he was gone. Swallowing harshly, I waited a few seconds before walking around the corner and heading back in the direction of the station. I’d only made it a few steps when I saw another uniform coming my way. I almost stumbled over my own feet as Steve walked toward me, a smug gleam in his eye. For a moment I wondered if he’d seen something, but then again, he always looked smug. There didn’t necessarily have to be a reason. “Ah, picked up some lunch for me, did you, Karla? How kind,” he said, and I narrowed my gaze. “Funny.” Steve studied me, his thin eyebrows drawing together. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Something about his close attention caused me to grow a little flustered as I answered harshly, “Nothing.” It was a mistake, because if I’d been acting normally I would have thrown some barb back at him. Now he looked suspicious. His gaze wandered over my shoulder, but I knew Lee was long gone. There was no way he could’ve seen anything. At least, I hoped there wasn’t. “You’re acting strange,” he said with a thoughtful expression. “Time of the month,” I threw back casually, regaining some of my composure. Steve screwed up his mouth in distaste while I strode past him and continued back to the station, all the while my heart pounded in my ears. That call was far too close for comfort. I needed to be more careful.

MY PHONE WOKE me early the next morning, and I rolled over to check who was calling. I frowned when I saw Tony’s number, knowing he’d never phone at this hour unless it was something important. My shift didn’t begin until midday, and I’d planned on allowing myself a few extra hours’ sleep. Lee’s warm body surrounded mine, his breathing deep as he slept. He’d come over late last night after Alexis had gone to bed, and we’d been up until the early hours, hardly able to keep our hands off one another. I thought it was funny that he’d waited until Alexis was asleep, because my friend was far too savvy not to know something was going on. Plus, it wasn’t like I hadn’t already told her everything, unbeknownst to Lee, of course. My bed smelled like him, and memories of the previous night flooded my senses. I sat on the edge of the mattress, staring up at him as he towered over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “Take it out,” he murmured quietly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. I reached forward, undoing the buckle of his belt and pulling down the zipper on his jeans. His erection was already outlined sharply against the fabric, and when I slid my hand inside and caressed him, he was harder than I’d ever felt. “Put your mouth on me,” he urged, his voice strained. I bent forward and pressed my lips to the side of his cock, then licked up the length of him. The masculine growl that emanated from deep in his chest made my thighs quiver as I lowered my mouth over his head. His hands fisted in my hair, the grip tight with an edge of pain that felt exhilarating. I began to move up and down in a leisurely rhythm. My eyes were closed, but when I opened them and looked up, I’d never seen such raw, animalistic need. “Hello,” I said, my voice groggy as I answered the call, trying to clear my mind of thoughts of the night before. Lee’s body shifted slightly, but I couldn’t tell if the ringing had woken him or if he was still asleep. “Karla, is there any chance you could come in early?” Tony asked, an urgency in his voice. “We’ve had some information about that garage you and Steve visited a couple weeks ago, the one owned by the Cross brothers.” As soon as the words left his mouth, my body grew still, my thumb instinctively going to the button on the side of my phone and lowering the volume. “Information?” I practically whispered. “Apparently, it’s being used as a base to chop and store stolen cars until they’re ready to be shipped overseas. We’ve gotten a search warrant issued, but we need all hands on deck. I thought that since you’ve already been inside and know the layout of the place, you’d like to be on the team.” Even though I was lying down, I felt like I might pass out. My pulse thrummed as I tried to figure out how to proceed. I still couldn’t tell whether or not Lee was awake, but if he was, could he hear what had just been said? Should I warn him that his garage was about to be searched? My gut sank as a horrible feeling took over. I was torn, didn’t know which side I was supposed to be on anymore. “Okay, thanks for calling. I’ll be in as soon as I can,” I said, trying to keep my

voice even. “See you in a bit,” said Tony before hanging up, completely oblivious to the moral dilemma he’d just put me in. Placing the phone back on my nightstand with shaky fingers, I felt my throat begin to tighten. Lee’s breathing was deep and even, so I thought he must have still been sleeping. Turning in his arms, I gripped his shoulder and gently shook him. He made a disgruntled noise at being woken, and it took him a few moments to open his eyes. I stared at him, the decision I had to make twisting me up inside. “Snap,” he said, his blue eyes sharpening as he took me in. I let out a shuddering breath, and Lee’s expression sobered. He must’ve sensed something was up, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “What time is it?” “Just after seven,” I answered. “I’d better get going. I’ve got a meeting with a supplier at nine.” Leaning forward, he placed a quick kiss on my lips before hopping out of bed. His swiftness caught me off guard, and I began to wonder if he’d been faking sleep, if he’d been listening to my entire conversation with Tony. It hit me suddenly that I’d been about to tell him everything, and it completely sobered me. I’d been about to warn a criminal that his business was going to be searched, and I’d barely even had to think twice about it. What the hell was happening to me? Being with Lee was changing everything, and I was one-hundred-percent sure I didn’t like it. He dressed like normal, and there was nothing in his demeanour that made me think he was anxious to leave. He acted just like any man who had a meeting to get to; hurried, but not overly so. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he hadn’t heard the call. I sat up in bed, watching him dress, and when he was done he came toward me, kissing me one last time. Again, it was on the tip of my tongue to warn him, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. Lee hovered for a second, his eyes flickering between mine, almost like he was waiting for me to say something, but that couldn’t be right. As soon as he was gone, I got up, showered, and dressed, all within the space of half an hour. I had just enough time to grab a large coffee from Starbucks on my way to the station in lieu of a breakfast. When I arrived, I found DI Jennings in the briefing room, heading the search team. Steve had a list of the cars suspected of being stored at the garage, including all of the makes, models, and vehicle identification numbers. All of a sudden, everything felt a little too real, and though I hadn’t yet eaten a thing, I was struck by a wave of nausea. Tony drove and I sat in the passenger seat, with Keira in the back as we made the short journey to the garage. Keira prattled on about the fight she’d been having with her boyfriend, but I barely registered what she was saying. On the outside I might have seemed calm, but on the inside I was panicking. Why hadn’t I warned Lee? Yes, he was guilty, and I’d always believed that guilty people deserved to be punished. But now that I had very real feelings for a guilty person, the lines were

starting to blur. I pulled my phone from my pocket, on the cusp of typing out a message, but it was too late, and what on earth would I say to him anyway? It wasn’t like you could flush a stolen car down the toilet or hide it under a rug. A minute later Tony pulled up outside the garage, joining a number of other police vehicles. Jennings was standing by the entrance, her mouth moving as she barked orders at the assembled officers. Tony, Keira, and I got out and joined the others right before Jennings turned and banged three times on the door. My heart hammered as I waited, hoping like hell that it wasn’t Lee who answered. In the end, it was Stu who appeared, and Jennings immediately announced herself and her intention to search the premises. “No chance,” said Stu, standing tall and crossing his arms over his chest. “This is private property.” I was suddenly aware of his size, his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and how scary he appeared when facing down Jennings, who was half his size but just as fierce. She took her time pulling out the search warrant before smugly waving it in his face. Stu scowled at her for a long moment, but eventually stood back and let her pass. Jennings turned and motioned for the search team to enter. I was one of the last to go inside, and when Stu saw me he shook his head, letting out a hard laugh as he shot me a look of pure disdain. “Oh, this is fucking priceless,” he said, not a hint of humour in his voice. I was thankful nobody else was paying attention to him. I was about to follow the others when Jennings stopped me in my tracks. “Sheehan, stay here and make sure no members of the public try to enter.” I nodded at the instruction and went to stand by the door. The search team was noisy, barrelling through the garage, pulling open cabinets and toolboxes in search of anything even remotely suspect. Jennings knocked loudly on Lee’s office door, and I went utterly still when I heard him saying something to her, the irritation clear in his voice. Stu stood just a couple of feet away, leaning against the wall with his arms folded as he continued to eye me. “I warned Lee about you, and now look. Knew you were going to be nothing but trouble for us.” “This hasn’t got anything to do with me,” I said quietly, fervently, unable to prevent the hitch in my voice. Stu rolled his eyes. “Likely fucking story.” “I’m not lying!” I whisper-hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening. “I care about your brother a lot.” “Not enough to warn him about all this, though,” Stu responded, motioning to the search team currently rifling through the place. “I never planned for any of this to happen, and if I could rewind the clock, I would. I’d try to make a better decision, but you should know that all of this would have happened whether or not Lee and I became involved.” He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare me down, and I was surprised I

managed to stand my ground. Stu was nothing if not intimidating, especially when he was angry. Eventually he turned and walked in the direction of Lee’s office. I heard the two brothers talking and grew nervous, wondering if Stu was telling him that I was there. I expected Lee to come and find me at any moment, but it never happened. Over an hour passed, and I had to turn away a number of customers who stopped by. Clearly, there was a legitimate side to the business; I just didn’t know what percentage it was compared to the non-legitimate side. My stomach was rumbling loudly, a reminder that I hadn’t eaten yet today, when Tony came over. There was a crease in his brow as he stared down at the clipboard he held, listing the stolen vehicles. “I don’t understand,” he said, confused, and I perked up suddenly. “Not a single one of these motors matches the ones on this list.” I let out a breath, whether in relief or surprise, I couldn’t say. “Do you think somebody gave Jennings bad information?” “Either that, or someone tipped them off that we were coming,” said Tony, his gaze drifting around the room, and all of a sudden I knew. There was no suspicion in his voice, only a statement of fact, and yet my stomach twisted like he’d just pointed an accusatory finger right at me. “Has Jennings been told?” Tony nodded. “I just informed her. She’s on the warpath. Probably best to steer clear of her today.” “I hear that,” I muttered, rubbing my fingers over my tired eyes. It wasn’t bad information. Tony had hit the nail on the head. They’d known we were coming, and it was all down to me. This morning had gone from bad to worse. First I felt guilty for not warning Lee about the search, and now I was fuming that he’d pretended to be asleep while he’d quite clearly been listening to a private phone call. Whatever way you wanted to spin it, he’d taken advantage of our personal relationship and jeopardised my job in the process. But really, I was even angrier at myself, because I’d jeopardised it too just by being with him. I was also dumb enough to think I could trust him. Whatever happened to the woman who’d said she’d never let herself say yes to Lee Cross? She forgot to use her brain, that’s what. The more minutes that passed, the angrier I became. At some point I saw Jennings stride out of the garage, a face like thunder, and several members of the search team left with her. Only a few remained, and I took the opportunity to go and find Lee. He was standing in a back corridor of the building, one side of which led to a break room and the other to a bathroom. He had his back to me as he and Stu spoke in hushed tones. Looking behind me to make sure none of my colleagues were nearby, I grabbed Lee’s arm and yanked him inside the bathroom before he could react. “Hey!” Stu yelled as I slammed the door shut and flicked over the lock. “What the fuck?” Lee swore, his expression furious. I took a step toward him. “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you did.”

He cocked an eyebrow and splayed his arms out. “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?” “You took advantage of me, that’s what. You weren’t asleep this morning when Tony called, were you? You bloody well heard everything.” Lee didn’t answer, just stared at me stonily. I let out a crazed laugh and placed my hands on my hips as I peered up at the ceiling. “God, how could I have been so stupid?” Suddenly, hurt began to mix in with my anger, a sharp pang shooting through my chest. “You and your brothers have probably been laughing at me all this time, laughing at the dumb cop who couldn’t see through your act.” “You’re wrong,” Lee said firmly. “Oh, yeah? Explain it, then.” His expression softened by the tiniest fraction as he stepped closer. “I can’t do this right now, Karla. I’ll come over to yours later and we’ll talk, okay?” His response made my temper flare as I pressed both hands to his chest and pushed him back. “You’ll do no such thing. I don’t want to see you after this, not ever. You’re just a little boy playing around with fire, only I’m the one who got burned.” Before I could pull away, Lee caught my wrists, yanking my body to his as he glared down at me. “I was never a boy, not in this life. Even when I was a kid, I didn’t feel like one, so don’t give me that. And do you know how much I was willing you to say something this morning? Anything. But you didn’t breathe a word. Not one fucking word. I should’ve known you didn’t really give a shit about me after what happened with Liam. But no, I didn’t listen to my gut, I just let my cock lead me, thinking you were perfect. That makes me the stupid one, not you.” His words cut me deep and I pulled at his grip, but he held me too tightly and I couldn’t break free. “Don’t you dare try turning this around.” “Why not?” he asked, his warm breath hitting my cheeks. “Yes, I listened to your phone call, but you were going to let me walk out of your flat completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to be fucked over. You know this isn’t the life I’d choose if there’d been another option, yet you were going to let me go to prison, Karla. Let that sink in for a minute. It killed me when you didn’t say anything, and I waited. I gave you every opportunity.” The hurt in his eyes was plain as day, and the wind went right out of my sails. “I wanted to tell you,” I whispered. “But I just…I just couldn’t.” “Of course you couldn’t, because you care more about being a cop and saving all the people you perceive as innocent than you’ll ever care about me. You’ll never see that the world isn’t all black and white.” Anger and anguish mixed in his voice as it cracked around the edges, catching. “Sometimes the innocent ones are guilty only because the world didn’t give them a chance to stay innocent. Maybe I’m the one you should think about saving.” Right in that moment my gut sank. His anger was too sad to be angry at in return, and for a second all I saw was a hurt little boy. When I spoke, I kept my voice gentle. “I’ve tried talking to you about going clean, but you won’t hear a word of it.”

His mouth twisted as he gestured around us. “Because I’m in too fucking deep, I told you that!” “I can help you. There are things we can look into, procedures.” Lee laughed harshly, shaking his head, “God, look at you, still a fucking cop. Always a fucking cop. Can you just be on my side for one bloody second?” Any tenderness in my voice vanished, and my expression hardened. “I was a cop long before I met you, Lee, and I’ve barely even scratched the surface of knowing who you are, so how can you expect loyalty when it hasn’t been earned?” He bent his head to look me directly in the eye, his lips mere centimetres from mine. “Don’t pretend like you can’t feel what’s between us.” He paused, his voice dropping low. “I’ve been deep inside you, Karla. I know who you are and you know who I am. You’re just too scared to admit it.” I shook my head, refusing to listen to him rationalise so irrationally. “Lee, we need to be smart. This thing we’re doing is going to destroy us. Look what’s happened already. I love being with you, but all this” — I peered at him despairingly — “it’s not worth it.” He shook his head. “You don’t believe that.” “I do. I believe it. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but so long as it stays the same, we can’t be together. I’m sorry.” I took a step back and he let me go. Tears prickled at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, not wanting to look weak. Lee’s features turned hard, his eyes thin slices of blue. We stared at each other for a long time, until the tension in the small room became unbearable. “I have to go,” I said, turning on my heel and unlocking the door. Stepping out into the hallway, I found it was empty, the garage quiet now that most of the search team had left. Lee didn’t call for me to stay or come after me, and as I walked away from him, I brought my fingers to my cheeks, wiping away the tears.

FIFTEEN

ack at the station that afternoon, it was a rare occasion that I saw my dad. My B emotions were still a little off kilter after what had happened with Lee, so I wasn’t

sure I was fit to deal with my father. Luckily, he was there in a professional capacity, to debrief the team after the failed search. Not surprisingly, Jennings was nowhere to be seen, and I had to admit I was slightly disappointed. There was some weird part of me that wanted to see them interact, perhaps do something to prove that Jennings had been lying about their affair. I sat at the back of the room in between Tony and Keira, listening to him talk about how the search was connected to a much larger case, the one he’d been working on to take down Tommy McGregor. I could barely breathe as he clicked through a series of projected images, all displaying pictures and evidence on the powerful crime lord. It was suspected that the Cross garage was one of his main sources of high-end stolen vehicles, and they had pictures of all the brothers. My heart stuttered when a surveillance shot of Lee came on the screen. He was crossing the street, his phone held to his ear as he took a drag out of a cigarette. Tiny pinpricks tickled at my palms, and my mouth felt dry as a bone. They’d misjudged the setup, though, suspecting that Stu was heading the operation since he was the eldest. Everything fell into place. Lee’s boss was McGregor; that was why he’d been at the warehouse the night of the rave. “Unfortunately for the investigation,” my dad went on sourly, “information was leaked that the garage was to be searched today, which as you all know, resulted in the place being cleaner than a priest on Sunday.” Little did he know, the source of that leak was me. I’d never felt more conflicted in my entire seven years on the job. When Dad finished up the debriefing, I stood on shaky legs and made my way to the front of the room, where he was talking seriously with one of the sergeants. I waited until they were done before approaching him. “Dad,” I said, and his eyes came to me. “Constable,” he replied formally, refusing to use my actual name. We never really spoke to one another at work, but it still hardened me inside that he couldn’t

even bring himself to acknowledge that I was his daughter in front of colleagues. It was perplexing that I’d approached him at all, but for some reason I had the sudden urge to talk to him. “Do you have time for a quick cup of tea?” I asked. For a brief moment he looked disgruntled, put out by the idea of actually spending some small amount of his precious time with me. A few moments went by before he finally nodded, glancing at his watch. “Yes, but not long.” “There’s a café across the street,” I suggested and got another nod. We walked in silence out of the station and over the road, not speaking until the waitress had brought us our beverages. Dad studied me curiously, and a little impatiently, waiting for me to speak. “I spoke to DI Jennings the other day. She told me some stuff,” I began, and Dad’s posture stiffened. “That woman has no business telling you anything,” he practically grunted. “I’ll take that as confirmation that what she told me is true, then, shall I?” He turned away, staring out the window as he brought his teacup to his mouth and took a sip. I clasped my hands together, my stomach in knots. “I can’t believe you’d do that to Mum,” I said, breaking the silence. “She’s never been anything but loyal to you, more loyal than you deserve.” “It was a long time ago, Karla. I’ve put it behind me,” he answered, dismissive. “Well, Jennings certainly hasn’t. Have you any idea what it’s like for me working with her? She literally goes out of her way to fuck with me every single day.” Dad bristled at my use of language, but he didn’t reprimand me for it. “Katherine’s always been volatile,” he said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a note of affection in his voice. Was he shitting me? I’d never heard him sound like that before, not even with Mum. “You let the men who beat her go free,” I said, and the vein in his neck began to throb. “Don’t try to act like you understand any of it, Karla. You were only a child when it happened.” “I understand that you could have easily given a witness statement describing the men who broke into her home, but you refused.” What I really wanted to say was left unspoken, but I could see he knew what I was thinking. It was a cowardly act. “Do you think I don’t regret what I did?” Dad asked after a long stretch of silence. His question surprised me as I levelled my eyes on him. “I don’t know. Do you?” “Of course I do. I was young, afraid of damaging my reputation. Why on earth do you think I’ve been putting all my energy into the McGregor case? What we had is in the past. It’ll never been rekindled, but I’m trying to do right by Katherine by finally putting that monster away for good, even if it might be years too late.” “McGregor’s the one who beat her?” Dad nodded soberly. “He and his men. You were a wee girl at the time, and you’d

just started expressing an interest in the police. It was ridiculous. Why any woman would put herself in harm’s way like that still astounds me.” Even though what he said pissed me off, I could read between the lines. He’d never admit it out loud, but maybe he didn’t like the idea of me becoming a policewoman because it frightened him. It was a little bit sad that he’d never be able to show weakness, admit his fears, even to his own daughter. He was too hard, too gruff, to ever be any kind of loving presence in my life, for us to ever have a relationship where we could share our feelings without worry of being judged. And on the matter of women joining the force, we were destined to forever disagree. Truthfully, it was a sorry state of affairs, because I’d known him my whole life, and that was long enough to know he’d never change, would never learn to admit he was wrong. “I think you’ll find, Dad, that men are made of flesh and bone just like women. They can be hurt, too. This has nothing to do with gender. Katherine was just unlucky, as I’m sure many male officers have been.” “You’re not as strong. That’s a genetic fact,” Dad countered. “We’re not weak, either — far from it.” He stared at me, silent, and it felt like we’d come to something of an impasse. I’d hardly touched my tea, but Dad picked his up, downing the rest of it before rising from the table. “I have to get back,” he said, acting like we hadn’t just been discussing something as monumentally important as we had. “If you can spare the time, it’d make your mother happy to see you visit this week.” With that he left, and I watched him go. THE FOLLOWING EVENING, I decided to pay a visit to the gym. What with everything that had been happening, I’d been falling behind on my workouts. Reya had a gig, so she couldn’t come along, but I didn’t mind. I needed some time alone to clear my head, my feet pounding hard on the treadmill as I pumped my legs fast. I was a hot, sweaty mess by the time I finished, and made my way to the showers, where I scrubbed my body clean. My head was full of conflicting thoughts, the foremost being what was going to happen to Lee when my dad finally arrested McGregor. Would he get caught in the crossfire, just another piece of collateral damage? Or would he finally be free of the life he was embroiled in? I so desperately wanted him to look me in the eye and promise he was going to clean up his act, get out of the game. But perhaps I was overestimating what I meant to him. Perhaps I’d allowed my feelings to grow too deep. Piling my wet hair up into a messy bun, I quickly dressed in a T-shirt and some yoga pants before making my way out of the changing rooms to head home. I stopped in my tracks as soon as I stepped out and found Lee waiting for me. The gym was due to close in half an hour, so there weren’t many people around. He

stood leaning back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he eyed me. “Hi,” I said, wondering what he was doing here. After how we left things yesterday, I didn’t think he’d want to see me again. I’d told him I didn’t want to see him, but I knew the statement had fallen flat. I couldn’t even convince myself it was true, never mind anyone else. His gaze travelled from my wet, messy hair to the scooped neckline of my T-shirt. “Snap,” said Lee, pushing off the wall and stepping toward me. “Is everything all right?” I asked. “Is it ever?” he asked back, expressionless. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” I eyed him meaningfully, my gaze flickering over his face. There was a tension in his features, and he seemed stressed. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. We were both amped up, and everyone says shit they don’t mean when they’re angry.” He paused, seeming tired, and ran a hand over his stubble. “Anyway, we both knew what we were getting into.” “But we got into it anyway,” I finished. He let out a quick breath. “Yeah, we did.” “Well, at least we were clever enough to end things before they got out of hand.” Lee’s eyes sharpened, his lips forming a straight line, and I could tell that what I’d said pissed him off. All I got out of him was a flat, “Huh.” “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you,” I said, moving to walk by him. He stepped in my way, blocking my path, and kept coming forward, forcing me to retreat until my back hit the wall. Pressing his entire body into mine, he whispered, “You think it’s going to be that easy, Karla?” His question made me swallow as I brought my hands to his chest and pushed. He barely moved an inch. In fact, my pushing him only incited him to press into me harder. I could feel every inch of his torso, from his hard pecs and abs to the beat of his heart thumping wildly at his collarbone. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. “I miss how you feel,” he said, his voice deep and sensual. My body grew soft against his, the tone he used making me melt. I needed to be stronger. “You should hate me.” “I know, but I can’t. I don’t think I ever could.” “Lee, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” I said, my hands moving up from his chest to touch his neck. “It’ll be easier if we don’t see each other. Proximity is a problem for us, you know that.” He dipped his head, his mouth touching my earlobe. “I can’t help it that you draw me in.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you back in my bed. I want to feel you shake for me.” I trembled, my throat catching as I responded, “It can’t happen.” “It can. You just have to let it. I’ll take care of everything else.” Suddenly, I realised I was letting him get to me just like I always did. I was letting him blur my vision and jumble up my thoughts with sex. His mouth fell from my earlobe as I drew back as far as I could.

“But don’t you see, that’s just the thing. You’re not taking care of anything. You’ve gotten away with murder for so long that you’ve lost your fear. I know you steal. I know you work for a dangerous man, but you have to get out now.” I paused to catch my breath and eyed him pointedly. “You have to get out before it’s too late, and, believe me when I say this, it’s going to be too late very soon, Lee.” His brow furrowed, and I hoped he got my message. I couldn’t say it outright, but I could warn him in my own particular way. “What are you saying?” “The other morning I was silent. Well, now I’m not. You need to listen to me. Otherwise, I can’t predict what might happen to you and your family. Do you understand?” His eyes grew serious as his lips firmed, and a long moment of quiet passed before he nodded. “Yeah, I get you.” I exhaled deeply, knowing I’d done my bit. Now it was down to him to make things right. My dad was gunning for McGregor, and it was personal. He wasn’t going to stop until he took down him and everyone who worked for him. I just hoped Lee pulled himself and his brothers out of the building before the bomb went off. “I’m going home now,” I said. “I have to work in the morning.” Lee allowed me to move away, but only because he was deep in thought. Reaching down, I took his hand in mine and gave it a soft squeeze before continuing on my way. It was a relief to know he’d taken my words to heart, and some of the tension inside me eased, knowing that Lee and his brothers might get a chance at a different kind of life. The entire concept was flipped entirely on its ear the very next day when I arrived at the station to find the place packed to the rafters. Young men lined either side of the reception area, all sporting handcuffs. I had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear: If the men hadn’t been restrained, we would’ve had a riot on our hands. Hostility permeated the air like a real live thing. It was only as my eyes travelled over those present that I saw Liam, Trevor, and Lee all standing by one wall. A constable began guiding Lee through the double doors that led to the interview rooms. Despite the fact that his face was all cut up, he wore a wide grin that was directed firmly at a dark-skinned guy on the other side of the room. Blood stained Lee’s forehead, and there was a wound on his chin. When I took a proper look at the man he was grinning at (who, by the way, was seething back at him), I recognised the neck tattoo. It was the same bloke who’d tried to intimidate me outside the grocery shop that one evening, the one I’d told Lee about. The blood in my veins turned to ice as an unsettling idea came upon me. This wasn’t about that, was it? “Real brave grinning at me like a smug fuck when I can’t do nothing about it,” said the neck tattoo. “Where’d you leave your balls, Cross?” “Left them under your mum’s bed. She’s keepin’ them warm for me,” Lee quipped, and the neck tattoo dove for him right before two officers hurried to hold

him back. I stood in place watching it all unfold, and Lee’s smile faltered only slightly when his eyes finally landed on me. He hadn’t been expecting to see me there, that much was clear, perhaps because I’d told him last night that I had to work early. It was a lie to end our conversation. I wasn’t due in until midday, which was why I was still on shift. His jaw firmed as the constable continued to lead him from the room. I hurried over to Tony to ask what was going on. “Seems to be some kind of gang rivalry. A woman called in to report the fighting going on outside her building. No weapons were involved, but a few of them are in a bad way. And get this, it was the Cross brothers who started the fight. The eldest one is being interviewed right now, and I’m about to question the other,” Tony paused to glance down at the file he was holding. “Lee Cross. You wouldn’t mind sitting in on it, would you? You’ve dealt with him before. Maybe he’ll be more inclined to talk to a familiar face.” I felt about two inches tall when Tony looked at me with such sincerity and trust. He had no idea what a crappy excuse for a police officer I was, or just how deeply familiar Lee and I truly were. “Sure,” I replied stiffly. “Anything I can do to help.” Tony nodded and motioned for me to follow him to the interview room, which consisted of bare magnolia walls and a table with three chairs, one of which Lee was currently occupying. The constable who’d brought him there was standing by the door, while Tony and I took the seats across from Lee. I glanced at him, unable to prevent the pang of concern in my gut at seeing him beat up. My first instinct was to reach across the table and inspect his injuries, make sure he was okay. His cuffed hands were behind his back, and I desperately wanted to take them off, massage his wrists to ease the strain. I tried to push those perplexing instincts aside and harden my resolve. Lee had instigated a dangerous gang fight. He deserved to be suffering. I hadn’t even known he was part of a gang, or maybe Tony just presumed he was. After all, he was a boss, an under-boss, but a boss nonetheless, and he obviously had a lot of young men working for him, stealing for him. I kept reminding myself of these facts, my expression sullen. Lee’s gaze fixed on me as the muscles in his jaw twitched. “I’ve forgotten something. I’ll be right back,” said Tony, after rifling through the file he’d carried in. Once he was gone, I was alone at the table with Lee. The other constable still stood by the door, so I couldn’t speak openly. We found ourselves in something of a staring contest. I didn’t look away, nor did I let my expression falter. He needed to know I wasn’t happy with any of this. Lee smiled vaguely and leaned his body forward as much as he could, studying me as he cocked his head. “Why so blue, blue eyes?” “I didn’t give you permission to speak, so be quiet,” I replied firmly, irritated by how his lips curved around the edges at my hot-tempered response, hating how it

made my insides flutter. “Such a pretty blue,” he went on, goading me. “I told you to shut it. That’s your final warning.” “You know, I kinda like it when you boss me around, Constable.” Deciding he was enjoying himself far too much, I gave him the silent treatment, staring at the wall as we waited for Tony to return. It only took a minute, and his chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it back. Once he was seated, he cautioned Lee before starting the interview. “So,” Tony began, flipping through a new folder, “do you want to tell me what started all this, son?” “My solicitor’s on his way. I’m not talking to you until he gets here. End of.” “An eyewitness claims you were the instigator in the disturbance, says you walked right up to Carl Finley and attacked him, completely out of nowhere.” “Bit dramatic,” said Lee. “So tell me your version of events.” “You got a hearing problem? I said I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Tony raised his hands in the air. “That’s fine by me. I’ll just keep talking, then, shall I?” Lee shrugged, his eyes flicking to me for a second and then back to Tony. I’d never felt more tense in my life. He could’ve outed us right then and there. He could’ve said anything, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. “Our witness maintains you were shouting at Carl, saying he disrespected something that belonged to you. It sounds like maybe he had it coming, and you know, I’ve got to wonder what he disrespected. It must be something pretty special,” Tony went on, and my entire body turned cold as my eyes rose to Lee’s. He stared back at me, completely expressionless, but in that moment I knew. I knew he’d started the fight with the neck tattoo guy, or Carl Finley, because of what he did to me. It was unbelievable. Inexcusable. I dealt with aggressive individuals on a daily basis. I was used to it. And the fact of the matter was, Lee had no business starting fights over me. We weren’t even together, and in spite of what he’d tricked me into saying during sex, I certainly didn’t belong to him. Lee levelled me with his gaze as he replied to Tony, “You have no idea.” My pores tightened, my tummy fluttering in response to the intensity in his words. The reaction pissed me off. “You don’t seem very remorseful for your actions,” I put in, unable to keep quiet. “I don’t have any regrets, if that’s what you’re getting at.” I grabbed for Tony’s folder, which contained details of those who’d been taken to hospital. “One of the men involved in the fight has a busted jaw, and another has a smashed kneecap. It’d take a fairly cold-hearted individual not to feel concern over such serious injuries.” “If Mugabe got his jaw broke, would you shed a tear?” Lee asked with derision. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Oh, it’s not? Do you have any idea the kind of disgusting shit Carl and his boys get up to? Gang rapes, violent attacks, muggings, intimidation, you name it. You heard about those drugs that’ve been going around? The ones that teenagers were overdosing on?” He paused to eye me pointedly. “He’s threatened people at gunpoint. He’s beaten people half to death, and he still gets to walk the streets like he’s king of his own little empire. I think you’ll find it’s exactly the same thing.” “So, you started the fight as what, some kind of vigilante form of justice?” Tony put in cynically, and I suddenly remembered we weren’t alone. I also felt awful, because Carl had threatened me and I’d let him away with it. If I’d arrested him that day, then maybe I could’ve saved a few of the people Lee had spoken about. The thought made me wither with guilt. I hated to admit it, but what he’d told me was true. The world wasn’t all black and white, and I was starting to realise that a lot of my beliefs could be turned upside down when I took in another person’s perspective. “Did I say I started a fight?” Lee asked. “Because I’m fairly sure I didn’t.” “All right, well, let’s talk about the drugs, then. Can you give us any more details?” said Tony. “If you have information, we can work together to have him charged.” Lee shook his head as he let out a derisive chuckle. “Do I look like a fucking mug to you? Jesus Christ, pull the other one.” “You offered up the information. I was just curious to know more,” Tony replied. He was being nice, playing good cop. Did that mean I was bad cop? No, I didn’t think so, not with the amount of feelings that were swirling around inside me for the criminal on the other side of the table. The radio of the officer standing by the door went off, calling him away on an errand. He told Tony he’d be back as quick as he could before leaving the room. With him gone, the place felt oddly smaller. I sensed movement under table as Lee stretched out his leg, his shoe knocking against mine. Immediately withdrawing my foot, I narrowed my eyes at him and willed him not to do anything that might make Tony suspicious. I wanted to ask him if he’d started the fight only for me, or if he’d done it because of the other things Carl was guilty of. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for ending things between us, but that it couldn’t be helped. But most of all I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him violence wasn’t ever a solution. I wanted to show him what the world could be like without it. In reality, I’d never get to do any of that, because there would always be a divide. The thin blue line would always lie between us, with me on the side of order and him on the side of chaos. “Have you seen a nurse for your injuries?” I asked, the tenderness in my voice unexpected. Tony shot me a curious look while Lee shook his head. “My health doesn’t factor very high on the list of priorities where the old bill are concerned, but thanks for asking.” “Well, how do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere we can’t see?”

Lee’s chin rose as his eyes twinkled mischievously. “Why don’t you come a little closer and take a look, Constable?” “Don’t be cute.” On the outside I sounded stern, while on the inside I was pleading with him to let me know he was okay. I remembered back to the time when Steve beat him up. He’d tried to hide his injuries from me then, too. I continued staring at him until his expression softened. “I’m fine. Nothing a hot bath and a few beers won’t fix.” His answer relieved me. Tony cleared his throat and addressed me formally. “Constable, can I speak with you outside for a moment?” I glanced at him and nodded. “Sure.” Rising from my seat, I frantically wondered if I’d done anything to give myself away. Had I shown too much affection when talking to Lee? I couldn’t tell. As soon as we were outside and the door was closed, Tony eyed me speculatively. “Are you feeling okay?” I shrugged. “Yeah. No different from usual.” “You’re acting strangely. Why all the questions in there? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was something you’re not telling me.” Every muscle in my body coiled tight, and I suddenly realised how transparent I was being. I never expressed concern over a suspect’s health, not in the way I had with Lee. I also never lost my cool in interviews, or acted like I had a personal investment in the crime being investigated. Tony knew me well enough to know something was fishy. “Well, now that I think of it, I am having a bit of an off day. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I lied in an effort to explain my behaviour. Tony let out a slow breath. “You’re sure that’s all it is?” “Very sure.” “Right, well, it doesn’t look like young Mr Cross is going to give us anything we can work with. Can you escort him to a holding cell until his solicitor gets here? I’m going to bring another of the men in for questioning.” “Of course, I’ll do that right away,” I said, turning to go back inside the interview room.

SIXTEEN

Sixteen

LEE LOOKED up as soon as I entered, glancing behind me to see if I was alone. He seemed different now that Tony was gone, less cocky and more concerned. Even his voice was different when he spoke, softer. “Everything all right?” “Yes,” I answered shortly. “Your interview is over. I’m bringing you to a holding cell until your legal advisor arrives.” “Hey,” said Lee, his tone gentle as I motioned for him to get up from his seat. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Now move. We haven’t got all day.” He stood, towering over me by a couple of inches, his eyes tracing my features. “What’s up with you?” I glared at him, incredulous, as I whisper-hissed, “Are you shitting me? You started this fight because of me, and now you expect me to act normal. This behaviour is inexcusable.” Lee bit his lip as though to keep from smiling at my attempt to scold him. “It is inexcusable — you’re right. But it wasn’t all for you. You know how I feel about drugs. Something had to be done.” He paused and took a step closer until there was hardly any space between us. “And if it meant I got to teach him a lesson for so much as even thinking about laying his hands on you, then all the better.” His voice was a low, husky murmur, and I felt my throat tighten with opposing emotions. I wanted to kiss him and slap him all at the same time. “I don’t know why you’re acting so casual right now. If Carl decides to press charges, you could get six months for aggravated assault, more if it turns out that anybody was seriously injured,” I told him. Lee levelled his eyes on me. “Finley won’t be pressing charges. That’s not how we do things.”

“Oh, it’s a ‘we,’ is it? So you consider yourself the same sort of person as him? How reassuring.” “Not what I meant.” I shook my head and opened the door, gripping his upper arm to move him forward. “This conversation is over. Now start walking,” I ordered him. He stepped out into the corridor, and I heard loud voices up ahead. “Fucking hell,” Lee swore, looking to his right. I stepped past him just in time to see Carl Finley head-butt one of the two constables who’d been trying to escort him to an interview room. Lee positioned his body in front of mine, as though to shield me from getting caught in the crossfire. My heart clenched momentarily at the protective move, but then the officers got the upper hand, restraining Carl to the floor. The one he’d head-butted kicked him hard in the lower abdomen, and Carl grunted in pain. Seeing that they had things under control, I began to guide Lee farther down the corridor. He chuckled quietly as we passed by Carl, who twisted his head to look up at Lee, venom in his eyes. Lee glanced at the constable who’d kicked him, still laughing. “That’s bang out of order, mate.” “Shut it or you’ll be next,” the constable spat. “Just try it,” said Lee, baring his teeth. The constable took a step forward, but I narrowed my gaze at him and intervened just in time. “A little bit of professionalism wouldn’t go amiss, Connors,” I said sternly before continuing to guide Lee away. “You’re too good for this shit,” Lee said once we were alone again, his statement surprising me. He walked ahead of me, so all I could see was his back. I still held his upper arm, whether to keep him from running off or to appease my need to touch him, I wasn’t sure. When I didn’t respond, he kept talking. “I hate thinking of you being hurt, Karla, hate imagining you in all the dangerous situations you have to walk into every day.” His words stirred a pang of emotion in my gut, but I tried to bat it down and keep my voice steady as I whispered, “And you think that doesn’t go both ways? I hate thinking of your life just as much as you hate thinking of mine.” Lee didn’t breathe a word after that, and when I locked him into the cell, he stared at his hands, clearly deep in thought. IT WAS four days after seeing him at the station that I decided to visit Lee’s garage. I drove over in my own car, hoping he’d be around. It was only when I arrived that I remembered they didn’t open on weekends. Engaging the handbrake, I sat there for a moment, wondering what the hell I was doing. The radio silence on his end worried me, and I desperately wanted to know if he was doing anything to remove himself from McGregor’s inner circle. I knew the

only way he was going to be able to do it peacefully was to buy himself out, but how much would that even cost? I had no idea. Finally deciding I was being an idiot for trying to see him, I determined to go home and quit wasting my time worrying over a man who wasn’t even my partner. In the grand scale of things, very little had happened between us. We’d had sex a few times; that was it. I needed to give myself a good firm reality check. It was evening, and the sky was just beginning to darken when I took one last look at the doors to Lee’s garage. I furrowed my brow when I noticed something on the ground, and on closer inspection I realised it was actually someone. Without thinking I got out of the car, hurrying over to help the crumpled body lying in a heap. He wore a peaked cap, but when I gently pushed it up with my fingers, I saw it was Liam. Half his face was bashed in, and blood stained his clothing. Feeling for a pulse, I let out a relieved breath to find he was alive and still breathing, albeit raggedly. It took me only a few minutes to look him over and determine his injuries. His body was badly bruised and he had several painfullooking cuts, but there were no bullets or fatal wounds as far as I could tell. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I began dialling the number for emergency services when a hand suddenly shot out, plucking the phone from my grasp. Liam was awake. “Don’t,” he croaked. “Just bring me home. Find Lee.” “You’re hurt,” I said. “You need an ambulance.” “No,” he went on fervently. “No ambulance, please.” The fierce look in his eyes gave me pause, and entirely on instinct I ran to my car, opening the back door before returning to Liam and helping him to stand. It was a good thing I was strong, because anyone else might have had a hard time getting the muscular twenty-year-old into the back of their car. Once I had him situated, I slid into the front and started the engine, heading in the direction of Lee’s house. Glancing through the overhead mirror I saw that Liam had passed out again. I was already there, rushing to the front door and knocking frantically, when I wondered why I hadn’t gone to the hospital, or called the station to make a report. It was a sobering thought, and not for the first time I questioned just how much of an influence my feelings for Lee were having on my actions. Trevor answered the door, the smile instantly dropping from his face when he saw my panicked expression. Without saying a word, I grabbed his hand and yanked him outside, pulling him to my car and opening the back door. He swore profusely when he saw the state Liam was in, then ran back inside the house. Before I knew it, Stu and Lee were there, their entire forms twisting with rage when they saw their youngest brother. Sophie came out of the house, too, her hand going to her mouth in shock. I watched silently as they worked together to get him inside. They all laid him carefully down on the couch, while Sophie ran upstairs to grab a first aid kit. Once

Liam was settled, Lee came to me, his hands going to my face as he looked me directly in the eyes. There was a strain in his voice, his rage barely concealed. My breathing was still frantic, my heartbeat racing. “Tell me what happened, Karla, and start from the beginning.” I quickly relayed how I’d gone to his garage to speak with him and found Liam on the ground. Trevor and Stu were mere feet away, listening to me as I spoke. “This has Finley written all over it,” Stu growled, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Lee’s fingers dropped from my face as he shot Stu a loaded glance. A hundred words were exchanged in the silence, and then all three brothers were on the move. I had no idea what was happening, but I followed Lee into the hallway, where he opened a storage closet, pulling out a baseball bat, a steel pole, and a hammer. He handed all three to Stu before running up the stairs. I was in too much shock to react, staring at them as they gathered munitions with my mouth open. When Lee came back downstairs, he wore a black hoodie with the zipper pulled all the way to the top. Next he tied a bandana around his face, covering everything but his eyes before pulling up his hood. “No,” I said, my voice harsh. “No fucking way. You’re not doing this.” Lee moved to step past me, but I grabbed his arm. He glared down at me, and I was startled by the fact that all I could see were his glacial blue eyes. “Stay out of it,” he grunted, ripping his arm from my hold. “Finley’s got to pay,” said Stu, like it was that simple. “You deal in justice, but so do we. We just have our own particular brand of punishment.” “Wait,” I pleaded, my thoughts scrambling as a realisation hit me. “This couldn’t have been Finley. Just listen to me for a second.” Lee turned, giving me his full attention, and I let out a long exhalation. “After your interview the other day, Tony’s been like a bloodhound going after Carl. He found out where he was running his drugs from and searched the place. He and a good lot of his crew were arrested and have been held in custody ever since. It couldn’t have been him.” Finally, the brothers were actually listening to me, and my pulse began to slow down. Lee pulled the bandana from his face so that it rested around his neck. “You’d better not be lying to me, Karla.” “Hand to heart, it’s the truth.” He looked to Stu, and again they had one of their silent communications. “Couldn’t have been Hartfield’s lot. We sorted everything out with them weeks ago,” said Stu. Lee ran a hand over his stubble, his mind clearly racing. “This is completely fucked. Somebody beat Liam to send a message.” Turning, he stormed into the living room, where Sophie was currently tending to Liam’s injuries. We all followed, and Lee knelt on the floor, running a soft hand over his brother’s hair. “Liam, mate, can you hear me?”

At the sound of Lee’s voice, Liam’s eyes fluttered open. “Who did this, bruv? Did you see?” Liam stared at him, his attention landing on me for a second before returning to his brother. “Come ’ere,” he wheezed, motioning for Lee to get closer. When he did, Liam whispered something in his ear and Lee’s entire body went still, his every muscle coiling tight. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted me to hear whatever it was he had to say. When he stood, he gestured for Stu and Trevor to go into the kitchen. They both went and then Lee turned to me, taking my hand in his and pulling me out into the hallway. When he reached the front door, he drew my body close, embracing me in an unexpected hug. “Thank you,” he whispered into my hair. “I don’t know what you came to see me for, but if you hadn’t found Liam when you did, he could’ve been out there all night.” My hands fisted in his hoodie as I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. We stood there for a long time, holding each other, not exchanging a single word. I felt his gratitude in how tightly he held onto me, and I got the sense he had a lot of stuff churning around in his head. Drawing away a little to look up at him, I said, “I know there are things you’re not telling me, but if you need help just say the word.” His expression turned tender as he ran a hand over my cheek. “If I asked you to go up those stairs right now and wait for me to come back, would you do it?” he asked, his eyes piercing. “That wouldn’t help either of us.” “Right now, it’s the help I need.” I couldn’t say no to him, not again, so I simply shook my head. Some of the tension returned to his body as his expression sobered. “You’d better leave, then.” “When I say I want to help, I mean it, Lee. Stop taking everyone’s load onto your own shoulders.” “If you wanted to help, you’d go to my room, take off your clothes, and warm my bed,” he growled, gripping my hair and tugging gently. The sensation gave me a small tingle between my legs. “You’d make everything I own smell like you, and you’d stop leaving me all the time.” “When I leave, it’s not because I want to.” “Then stay,” he murmured, dropping his mouth to mine and allowing our lips to meet in a brief, barely there kiss. I stepped away from him, trying to communicate my turmoil in one tortured look. “Nah, didn’t think so,” Lee said harshly. I took a deep breath, turned on my heel, and walked out the door. “BAD

DAY?”

Alexis asked when I came into her room, crawled into bed beside her,

and rested my head on the rounded part of her belly, which was growing bigger by the day. “Something like that,” I answered tiredly. “Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” “Sure. Want to talk about it?” “Not really.” “Okay.” A quiet fell between us, and I could feel her stomach rising and falling as she breathed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to call the baby when it’s born?” I asked, trying to think of something that made me happy rather than something that made me sad. She let out a long sigh. “This is probably fucked up since he abandoned me, but if it’s a boy, I don’t think I can call him anything other than Oliver. Olivia if it’s a girl, I guess.” “Those are both good names.” “Yeah,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Does your heart still hurt when you think of him?” I asked, unable to help it. I heard her inhale in a quiet gasp, and she was silent for a long time before she responded. “Every day.” “My heart hurts when I think about Lee. Does that mean I love him like you love King?” Another gasp escaped her, this time for an entirely different reason, as she looked down at me, her expression stunned. “Oh, Karla, I had no idea. I mean, I knew you two were doing things, but I didn’t know it was like that.” “I don’t want it to be.” “Neither did I.” I let out a small, joyless laugh. “What a pair we make.” Her answering laugh was just as joyless, the sound echoing my sentiments and agreeing wholeheartedly. Two weeks passed. Two horrible, agonising weeks. Everything seemed to amplify my loneliness, like how the fabric of my uniform brushed coldly at my skin, no humanity in the touch, or how I’d lie in bed and get a phantom-like whisper of his scent. I knew it wasn’t real, because I’d washed and changed my sheets several times since we’d last shared a bed. It was branded into my memory, though, and every time I was at work and smelled a man’s cologne that reminded me of his, my gut twisted. I was on the night shift with Tony, driving around town in the patrol car, when my phone buzzed with a text. Tony’s attention was fixed on the road as I pulled it out, looking down to see Lee’s name on the screen. All at once, a brick dropped to the pit of my stomach. He was making contact, but it was after eleven. I just hoped this wasn’t some kind of booty call. Lee: Its Stu. Ned u @ our boozer. Lee in bad wey.

My heart pounded as I read the misspelled text, questions swirling around in my head. Had he been in a fight? Had somebody beaten him like Liam had been beaten? Looking to Tony, I said, “Hey, I have a friend who’s in a spot of trouble. You wouldn’t mind taking a little detour with me, would you?” “No problem, it’s been a quiet night anyway.” A couple of minutes later, we were parked outside the pub. I gave my appearance a quick look in the mirror, taking my hat off and fixing my hair in the usual bun I wore to work. “You want me to come in with you?” Tony asked. “Nah, you take a break. Check in with the girls. I won’t be long.” He nodded and I got out, my heart thrumming as I stepped inside the noisy pub. The place was busy for a Wednesday, but then I remembered there was a football match on earlier. They’d probably been watching it on the flat-screen TV that hung in the far corner of the bar. A couple of men eyed me aggressively, wondering what a police woman was doing in their local, but once I didn’t bother them, they returned to their conversations and ignored me. I walked through, scanning the faces of those around me, until I saw Stu having what appeared to be a heated argument with two other men. “Put a leash on your brother, would ya? He’s been on the sauce since midday.” “Oh, fuck off,” someone shouted, and I turned to see Lee making a jerk-off motion with his hand, blind drunk and very clearly angling for a fight. The man looked at Stu again. “I mean it — we don’t want any trouble.” “He’s been having a bad night. I’ll make sure he behaves,” said Stu, and the men seemed relatively appeased as they returned to their booth. “Yeah, that’s right, piss off back to where you came from,” Lee slurred, and Stu scowled at him. “You trying to start a war?” he hissed, disgruntled. Lee let out a derisive laugh. “Like we’re not already in one.” Finally getting my feet to move, I approached them, directing my question at Stu. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?” “Snap,” Lee said, blinking like he thought I wasn’t real. “He’s drowning his sorrows, that’s what, and trying to get us both killed,” Stu answered. “You see that bloke over there? That’s Ade Fowler. He just got out of prison for manslaughter. Killed the man who’d been having it off with his wife, and this dumb bugger,” he says, gesturing to Lee, “rolls right on up and asks him how his Mrs is doing, big smarmy fucking look on his face.” He paused, taking in my appearance properly. “Jesus, Karla, you could’ve at least gotten changed.” “I was working, and I thought it was an emergency.” Before he could respond, Lee was in front of me, his scent invading my senses as he grabbed my wrist and pulled my body to his. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, alcohol heavy on his breath. “Let’s get out of here.” I tried to steady myself, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him back. “What are you doing to yourself? This isn’t you,” I said, my voice half angry, half

sad. “Yeah,” he said, riled. “Well, this is what happens when I have to be without you.” He paused for a second, his expression turning tortured. “Life is shit without you, Karla.” My eyes went to Stu, who was looking at me like it was all my fault his brother was acting like an alco. “Let me talk to him in private for a minute.” “By all means,” said Stu, lifting his hands in the air. “Come with me,” I said, focusing back on Lee. Putting his arm over my shoulder, I led him from the crowded pub and into the ladies’ toilets, which were thankfully empty. His face was in my hair, inhaling deeply. I tried to ignore the butterflies scattering around inside me at his touch. I’d missed him, too, desperately. His hands went to my neck, his thumbs rubbing softly at my throat as a deep groan escaped him. I could feel that he was hard, his erection grinding into my hip. Fingers fumbling at the collar of my shirt, he urged me, “Take this off.” I caught his hands to stop him. “No, Lee, look at me. What’s going on with you?” He lifted his head, his eyes a little bloodshot. “Everything’s going to shit, and I can’t sleep when you’re not there. I need to feel your skin, just for a minute,” he pleaded, and I swallowed tightly. His hands returned to my buttons, but this time I didn’t stop him. I knew I was supposed to be the strong one, but I couldn’t summon enough willpower. I wanted to be touched just as much as he wanted to touch me. His hands slid inside my shirt, gliding over my collarbones and caressing the rise of my breasts. “So perfect,” Lee groaned, and I breathed raggedly. One hand sank into my hair, and he growled in frustration when he couldn’t get it out of the bun. “Don’t,” I whispered. “I have to go back to work in a minute.” His face rose then as he looked me square in the eyes, and even though he was blind drunk, he still managed to look sexy and predatory. “Fuck work. I want to be inside you.” A second later his lips seized mine, his tongue invading my mouth as my entire body turned to mush. I needed this, needed him. He was still kissing me when his hands dropped from my hair and began fumbling at my belt. Before I knew it, his hand had disappeared inside my pants and his fingers were sliding along my folds, feeling how wet I was. A deep, masculine noise rumbled up out of his chest, and his mouth went to my neck, kissing me feverishly below the ear. “Fuck, I love you,” he swore, and I went utterly still. My pores tightened, and my hands pushed at him harshly. “What? What did you just say?” I asked in panic. “Shhh,” Lee hushed me in a lazy voice. “No talking now.” I tried to get my heart to beat normally but it was no use. He’d just said he loved me, but he was drunker than I’d ever seen him, and he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. He was horny and full of beer, and though they said that alcohol was truth serum, I wasn’t quite sure that was the case in this instance.

People often mistook lust for love, and that was clearly what was happening with Lee. He wanted me, yes, but love? How could Lee love a woman who stood for everything he didn’t? He stroked at my clit, while two fingers dipped inside and I let my head fall back in pleasure. His mouth caught mine again, and I savoured how he devoured me, how he acted like I was the only thing in his entire world. It was just as I was about to come that my conscience began to niggle at me. I was being a selfish bitch, letting Lee get me off when I knew full well I was going to have to leave him after. I’d walk right out of the pub and get back in the patrol car with Tony, go back to the job that meant nothing would ever be right between us. “Lee,” I breathed, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand from my pants. “Stop.” “Why?” he asked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “You were almost there. I could feel you swelling for me.” I blinked, bit harshly at my lip, and gathered all my courage. “Because it isn’t right. You’re drunk, and I’m taking advantage of you.” He laughed loudly, his face so handsome when he smiled. “You can’t take advantage of someone who wants it.” I looked at the floor. “Yeah, well, there are lots of different ways to take advantage. Whatever way you want to look at it, I’m police. I’m in a position of power over you, and just being here is reckless behaviour on my part.” Lee leaned closer and tapped at my forehead. “You’re thinking too much.” Now it was my turn to laugh. “No, actually, I’m not thinking at all. If I was, I wouldn’t be here.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this shit again. Sometimes I feel like I just go around in circles with you.” “That’s because we keep trying to ignore what’s right in front of us,” I argued. At this he placed his hands on either side of my face, lifting my head so I was looking directly at him. “I’m ignoring nothing. I see what’s right in front of me, and it’s fucking perfect. You’re perfect. Come back to me, Karla.” My eyes flickered between his, my mouth falling open as his terribly romantic statement washed over me. My heart pounded, my lungs filled with air, and all at once I wondered if I’d ever feel this way for any man ever again. Before I could respond, the door to the ladies swung open, and I winced at the idea of being caught in a clinch by some random woman. It was only when I turned my head and saw Tony standing there that I wished that had been the case.

SEVENTEEN

Seventeen

TONY’S EYES flared wide as he took in the scene: me with the front of my shirt splayed open, my bra exposed, the fly of my trousers undone, Lee’s hands cupping my face. After just a second, his expression darkened, and he levelled me with a hard look. “Fix yourself up, Constable, and meet me outside. I’ll be waiting in the car.” With that he turned and left the bathroom, and I flew into a panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I swore, backing away from Lee and right up into the opposite wall. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure me. “I’ll go and talk to him.” “You won’t do anything of the sort. This is my mess. I’ll fix it. Just…just help me set my uniform back to rights.” Silently, he came forward, redoing my belt as I buttoned up my shirt and tried to straighten out my hair. Glancing in the mirror, I saw that my lips were red and swollen, my cheeks flushed. This was so, so bad. There was no way of convincing Tony that what he’d seen hadn’t been what it looked like. “I have to go,” I told Lee, stepping away from him and heading toward the door. “Wait,” he said, grabbing my wrist. I turned back, our gazes locking, and a sense of despair washed over me. All my recklessness had finally reached its climax. Either Tony was going to report me for seeing a man currently under police investigation, or he was going to keep my secret, and I had no idea which option was for the better. “I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Lee promised. “Yes, fine,” I replied, flustered. “Right now I just need to go and deal with Tony.” With that I yanked my wrist from his hold and walked out of the ladies’. When I climbed into the car beside Tony, I found him staring straight ahead, his mouth a firm line. A moment of quiet passed before he spoke. “How long’s it been going on?”

Guilt and remorse roiled within me. We were supposed to be friends. Friends didn’t deceive each other like I’d deceived Tony. “I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to believe me when I say that.” “How long, Karla?” “Two months, maybe a little more. The first time I met him was six months ago, but nothing happened between us for a long while.” Tony shook his head and let out a slow breath. “You know what? I should’ve seen this coming. Looking back, all the signs were there. I just never expected this from you. You’re supposed to be one of the good ones. Fuck knows there’s so little of us left as it is.” “I am one of the good ones. My relationship with Lee is entirely personal. It’s never had anything to do with my work.” Tony gave me his fatherly stare, the one that made me wither in place. “So you’re telling me the time we searched his garage and came up empty, it had nothing to do with you?” I turned to him, my expression agonised. “Okay, yes, but that was the only time, I promise. He was with me when you called and overheard the conversation. I never told him anything. It was just bad timing.” “Can you even hear yourself right now? You’re having a relationship with a known felon. Christ, your own father is working on the case that will put him behind bars. You’re one of my closest friends, Karla, so please listen to me when I say this. You need to get out now before everything implodes around you.” My voice was barely a whisper when I replied, “I’ve tried to get out. It’s not that easy, especially when feelings are involved.” Now he looked concerned. “Do you love him?” “No!” I exclaimed. “Of course not.” A pause. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.” He was quiet for a long minute, and I could tell that his temper was dying down a little as he contemplated things. His voice turned softer. “Look, I get it, believe me, I do. The bloke is charismatic, and, from speaking with him in the interview room, I get the sense he’s out to set his own version of justice on the world. There’s an appeal to that, and in a certain way I can respect it. But when it comes down to brass tacks, that boy lives in a different world from us, Karla, with an entirely different set of rules.” “I know that, but it’s not been easy for him. He practically raised his brothers all by himself. That family had nothing. If either one of us were born into that, we’d be living by a different set of rules, too.” Tony stared at me sadly, his breath leaving in a heavy rush. “You do love him.” I focused on my lap. “Maybe.” He reached over and took my hand in his. “Listen, I have your best interests at heart. You’re young. I look at you like I would one of my own daughters, so when I say this, it’s with the utmost care. You need to step away and put this in the past. There’ll be other men, ones who don’t hold the ability to wreck your life, your

career. You’ll just have to go through the heartache before you can come out the other side.” I stared at the hand he was holding, completely deflated. Tony was talking sense, and I knew he’d never give me bad advice. He cared about me, and he was right. I had to be the strong woman I always claimed to be and stop seeing Lee for good. “Are you going to report me to Jennings?” I whispered into the quiet of the car. Tony let out a gruff breath. “If you promise to end it, then no. I’ll forget this night ever happened.” “Thank you,” I said, looking him in the eye, and I meant it. This was my final chance, and I had no intention of screwing it up. THE FOLLOWING DAY I was off work. It was late evening and starting to get dark, and I was on my way back from the corner shop, where I’d gone to pick up a few things. I was walking alongside a row of storage compartments, where some of the locals kept their cars and household tools. There were lots of them around London, because most people lived in flats and didn’t have anywhere to keep extras like ladders and lawnmowers. I kept thinking I could hear feet pounding from above my head, but maybe I was imagining things. Why would anybody be running along the roofs? Reaching the break between one row and the next, I looked up just in time to see Lee leap through the air, bridging the six-foot gap and making a perfect landing on the next row of compartments. For a second I stood there in awe. The sight was just so completely unexpected, and something about the way he moved niggled at my memory, like an odd sense of déjà vu. “What are you doing up there?” I called, stopping in my tracks to peer up at him. When he saw I’d spotted him, he stopped, shooting me a cheeky grin before backing up a few steps, then taking a run and jump to the ground. Whoa. He crouched when he landed, and I couldn’t hide that I was impressed. “I thought it was only Trevor and Liam who did…all that stuff.” I motioned with my hands, pretending like I hadn’t known. Lee rose to standing, the grin still on his face as he dusted himself off. “Who d’ya think taught them?” “Oh,” I breathed, unsure what else to say. I wanted to ask him where he learned, if he ever got scared that he might fall and really hurt himself, but I didn’t. Now wasn’t the time. “What are you doing here?” “Came to see you, like I said I would,” he replied, stepping forward and taking my hand, his fingers intertwining effortlessly with mine. He was already tugging me forward, relieving me of my shopping bag before I could try to stop him. “Let go, Lee.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Just give me half an hour, okay? Then I’ll leave.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, I allowed him to lead me inside the block of flats opposite mine. We climbed almost fifteen flights of stairs before we reached an emergency exit and Lee pushed it open, leading me onto the roof of the building. I pulled my hand from his, not too thrilled to be up so high. I didn’t have a fear of heights, but there wasn’t any proper sort of railing around the edge of the roof, which would make anyone a tad nervous. Folding my arms across my chest, I shot him a wry look. “You’re not going to try to push me to my death, are you?” Lee smirked and came to pull me forward once more. I noticed somebody had left an old couch up here, and there were a bunch of cigarette butts on the ground alongside a few empty beer cans. Lee plopped down onto the couch, but I resisted when he tried to pull me down with him. “I’m not sitting on that.” Without a word he stood, unzipped his jacket and laid it down for me, leaving him in only a grey long-sleeved T-shirt. Finally, I sat, inhaling his scent on the fabric almost against my own will. “Well, this is romantic,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. We were both staring at the view beyond us. It was twilight, not quite day, not quite night, and there were rooftops and buildings as far as the eye could see. Smog hung thick in the sky, another day in the city drawing to a close. “Glad you approve,” Lee replied. “So, how’d the old guy take it last night?” “Tony’s forty. He’s not old,” I told him grumpily. Lee slid his arm around my shoulders, and I bristled at his touch. “You took my jacket. The least you can do is let me snuggle close for warmth,” he flirted, trying to charm me. Letting out a long sigh, I finally explained, “He didn’t take it well, but he’s not going to report me.” I paused, cocking my head and sliding my eyes to his. “On the condition that I stop seeing you.” Lee’s expression gave nothing away. “I thought you already had.” “So did I. But you seem to keep turning up like a bad penny,” I elbowed him in the side. “Ouch,” said Lee, putting his hand to his chest like he’d just been wounded. A quiet passed. “Why did you drink so much yesterday? I’ve never seen you like that before.” His breath came out in a heavy whoosh. “A combination of reasons.” “Such as?” Rubbing at his jaw, he answered, “It was the anniversary of Mum’s death. It’s always been a shit day, but it was shittier than usual this year.” With his arm still around my shoulders, he picked up a strand of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “For one, I was missing you, and for two, I was dealing with the fallout from discovering who beat Liam.” I let out a quiet gasp. “Who was it?” Lee looked away and into the distance. “My boss.”

I gaped at him in disbelief. His boss was Tommy McGregor. Lee made a lot of money for the man, so why on earth would he do such a thing? As though he could read my thoughts, Lee continued, “He got an inkling I was fixing to get out, didn’t like that, didn’t like the money he’d lose if I left. So he decided to send a message, showed how he’d hurt my family if I ever fucked him over.” “Lee,” I whispered, trying to absorb the fact that he was planning to go clean, wondering what his brothers thought of it all. “I know who you work for.” He exhaled. “I thought you might.” “So, he won’t let you out of your…arrangement?” “He wouldn’t at first, but we spoke this morning, made a deal. He’s gonna let me and all my brothers make a clean break.” “If?” I probed. “If what?” “There’s got to be a catch.” “You don’t need to worry about the catch, Karla. Just know that in a couple weeks’ time, I’ll be a free man.” I didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. Nobody got out of working for a gangster like McGregor without losing something. You had to pay your way, and often money wasn’t the only currency. I wanted to ask more questions, but I knew I wouldn’t get anything out of him. Instead, I asked what my heart wanted to know. “Are you doing this for me?” “For you, and for my family. I never wanted this life for my brothers, but it was the only option in front of me at one time.” Allowing my body to settle into his, I asked gently, “Will you tell me about it? The life you’ve lived.” I paused before adding humorously, “How you learned to jump through the air like Batman, etcetera.” Lee emitted a soft chuckle, his hand moving to my stomach and feeling up toward my chest. “You wearing a wire, Snap?” “Oh, shut up, you know I’m not,” I said, laughing when he tickled me. His hand paused, his thumb brushing softly over my belly, as his smile turned contemplative. “The first time I met him was a couple months after Mum passed.” Instinctively, I knew he was talking about McGregor. “I’d just nicked some old geezer’s wallet, was halfway down the street when he came out from around a corner. I’d never seen anyone so flash — he had all these gold rings, designer suit, the works. Anyway, I thought I’d been caught, but then he started talking me up, telling me I thieved like a pro, said he had work for me if I wanted it.” “How old were you?” “Fourteen. Sounds young, but I know people who started earlier. He asked me where I lived and then began coming around all the time. In the end, I didn’t have a choice but to work for him. Stu got in on it, too, and before we knew it, we were turning over four or five cars a night. London’s a big place, ripe for the picking. The money started to roll in, and it felt good. Being able to feed Liam, Trev, and Sophie, put clothes on their backs and send them to school gave me a high. I could give

them something our parents never did. “There were other perks, too. I could buy nice things, go places, have fun. In the end, supply wasn’t meeting demand, so I had to recruit others. I couldn’t hide what I did from Liam and Trev, and I told them point blank they didn’t have to do what I do. They could go to college, get normal jobs, whatever they wanted. Stubbornness runs in the family, though, and they wanted to do their bit. Before I knew it, we were all fully embroiled in the life, no inclination of ever changing.” “And the Batman stuff?” Lee laughed softly. “It’s called parkour, you nerd. I suppose I picked it up sort of randomly. Saw a bunch of Spanish students doing it in Hyde Park when I was about fifteen and thought it looked cool as fuck. So I approached the one who seemed like he knew what he was doing the most and asked him to teach me.” “Clearly, he agreed.” “Clearly. His name was Alejandro,” said Lee, camping it by putting an accent on the name. I giggled. “Good bloke. I helped him with his conversational English, and he helped me learn how to drop twenty feet without breaking a leg.” “I’m sure that came in handy.” Lee nodded. “My brothers loved it, especially Trev. They all wanted to learn. Believe it or not, I never really set out to use it to my advantage. I just wanted to do something fun. I suppose the whole thing sort of…evolved.” “Is that why you pretend you can’t do it?” “Come again?” “You’re not like Trevor — you don’t show off. I’m guessing it’s for discretion. If you see a man hopping off a building to get away from the coppers, there are only so many people it could be.” Almost as if my own words had led me to it, I realised why I’d had déjà vu watching Lee jump. It reminded me of the video Tony had shown me of the burglar robbing the cash-for-gold scammers. “There’s that,” said Lee, drawing me from my thoughts. “Plus, Trevor’s a flashy fucker. He can’t help it, really.” He paused to eye me curiously. “What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.” I shook my head. “It’s nothing, I just…well, no, it’s not nothing. Can I ask you something?” “Might as well. This already feels like a This Is Your Life interview,” Lee teased. I mock-scowled at him. “I saw this surveillance footage of a robbery once. I think it might have been you.” Lee chuckled. “Was I wearing black and white stripes and carrying a sack with a dollar sign on?” “No. You were wearing a balaclava, and climbed ten flights of a building before swinging down through the scaffolding.” A tension fell as his eyes shone in the dark, but he didn’t say anything. Somehow, his silence was more confirmation than words. “The people you stole from were scamming the elderly. You took their things back and anonymously handed them in to the police. Why?”

He didn’t look at me when he spoke, his posture stiff, almost like he was embarrassed. “You know Mrs Spencer who lives on my road?” “The old woman you saved dinner for, yes, I remember, Lee. That was really sweet, by the way.” He huffed awkwardly. “She’s a widow. Been living in that house all her life. When we were kids, she used to get on to Mum about how badly mistreated we all were. She’d even give us food when she could afford it. Well, Mrs Spencer told me how she sent her old wedding ring and a few expensive pieces of jewellery off to those scammers, hoping for some money to do her house up. Obviously, she never saw a penny. I found out where the racket was being run from and put an end to it.” I stared at him, warmth suffusing my insides. “You’re such a liar.” Lee frowned at me, confused. “Why would I lie?” “You said you couldn’t understand why I help people with no payback, but you do it, too. You did it for Mrs Spencer.” “I care about Mrs Spencer. She’s my neighbour, and she was kind to me when I was just a kid. I could give a fuck about your average Joe Soap walking down the street.” I just smiled at him. “I’m being serious, Karla. I’m no saint. Don’t go building any fanciful ideas about me. I’ve robbed from people just like those scammers. I just don’t rob from the vulnerable. I rob from the wealthy.” “High-end motor vehicles, I know.” “Yeah, well, not anymore.” “You really want to get out?” I asked, ever hopeful. Lee emitted a weary sigh. “I can’t stay on the second-last rung of the ladder forever, Karla. You either move up, or somebody else comes along and moves you out, and I don’t want to move up. Liam’s court date is a couple of weeks away, and if he gets sent down, I’ll never forgive myself. Maybe it’s too late, maybe it’ll be all for nothing, but I at least have to try.” His words gave me confidence. Perhaps I didn’t have to stop seeing him after all, not forever anyway. We could stay apart until everything settled down, and then we could see where this thing went between us. Lee picked up my plastic bag and began rooting through it. Pulling out the milk, he asked, “You mind?” I shook my head. “Not at all.” He opened the carton and took a long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m hung over as fuck, barely got a wink of sleep last night.” Right after he said it, I noticed the bags under his eyes. He looked tired. Reaching out, I placed a hand to his chest and rubbed. “You shouldn’t drink so much.” Lee let his head fall back, savouring my touch. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Sometime between us arriving on the roof and now, the sky had darkened to night. It felt peaceful and quiet up there, civilisation far below us. Streetlights

glittered in the sky, cars moving along on the roads in the distance. “Lee,” I said, my voice seeking as it broke though the silence. “What is it, Snap?” “What if something bad happens? What if even after you do everything he’s asked of you, he still doesn’t let you go?” It was a while before he responded, like he was really thinking about it. “There are dishonourable thieves, and there are honourable ones. Despite everything you might have heard about my boss, he falls into the latter category. If he makes a promise, he’ll stick by it, no matter what.” I stared at him, not sure if I believed that. If McGregor had honour, then he never would’ve had Jennings beaten, or Liam, for that matter. People like him liked to claim they had a code, but when it came down to it, it was dog eat dog. Or maybe Lee’s version of honour was just a lot different from mine. He looked at me, his eyes fierce. He seemed very sure of what he said. I just hoped his faith wasn’t misplaced. I hoped his plan worked. Because I wanted to believe that one day we’d look back on all this and wonder how our lives had ever been so tumultuous.

EIGHTEEN

Eighteen

“I BET I can beat you to the ground,” said Lee, his eyes flashing with devilry. We’d been sitting on the roof for over two hours, talking about life, our past relationships, everything, really. I told him all about Gavin, and what a disloyal, narcissistic arsehole he’d been, and Lee told me all about his ex, Tammy, and how materialistic she was, only really with him so that he’d buy her stuff. What was left unsaid was how we both knew we were the opposites of our ex-partners. I wanted Lee for the core of who he was, and he would never cheat; it wasn’t how he was wired. He was too loyal. It felt like we’d been trapped together in a bubble neither one of us wanted to leave, subtly finding new ways to touch one another that weren’t explicitly sexual, but still made my bones ache with need. “What do you mean?” “You take the stairs. Fuck, you can even take the lift, and I bet I’ll make it to the ground before you.” His words gave me a little rush, my pulse starting to speed up. There was something about making bets with Lee that was always decidedly exciting. “And if you win?” He leaned close, his breath warm amid the cold night air. “I get to kiss you for the last time before everything changes.” His answer made me shiver. “And if I do?” He smiled widely, and it only enhanced his handsome features. “You get to kiss me for the last time before everything changes.” I don’t know why, but I laughed loudly, smiling back at him and holding out my hand. “It’s a deal.” We shook, and Lee stood. I watched as he walked over to the edge of the building, and all of a sudden my panic set in as I realised what he planned to do. He was going to jump. He still faced me, his back to the edge, and I got up hurriedly,

rushing toward him. “Wait, no, I’m calling it off.” Lee took his final step backward, his foot meeting the last bit of concrete before there was nothing but air. He raised his hands, still smiling, “A bet’s a bet, Karla.” Right after he said it he dropped, and I let out a startled yelp, my hand going to my mouth in fright. I ran the last few yards to the edge and looked down, shocked and exhilarated by what I saw. The balconies of each apartment jutted out from the building, almost like steps on a ladder – if you were a giant. Lee leapt diagonally from one to the next, each balcony bringing him closer to the ground. I put my hand to my chest to feel how hard and fast my heart was beating, my fear lessening as excitement took over. His body moved with purpose, his rangy muscles perfectly aligned, his jumps measured to avoid injury. He was already halfway to the bottom when I realised what a head start I’d given him. Even though we both got the same thing, no matter who won, my competitive streak set in and I hurried to the lift, no qualms about cheating. By the time I got to the ground floor, my breaths were coming out frantically as I ran from the carriage and outside. Lee sat confidently on a bench facing the entrance, his arms folded and a cocky grin shaping his lips. I shook my head and laughed, hurrying toward him and stopping only a foot or two away. “That was incredible. But I think you might be even crazier than Trevor,” I breathed, my words all air. Lee got up from the bench and closed the distance between us. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat after his exertion, and I savoured his warmth. I wore his jacket, having grown cold up on the roof after a while. He cupped his hands around my face and stared down at me. “Crazy can be a little exciting, though, yeah?” I laughed again, this time more breathily. “Yeah.” And then he kissed me, pressing his mouth to mine and coaxing my tongue to glide with his. I trembled under his assault, my chest on fire and my lungs too full. His kiss was piercing, too much and not enough, and through it I felt him communicate everything he felt inside. I gripped him tight, my fingertips pressing into the dips and lines of his shoulder blades, and tried my damnedest to communicate everything I felt right back. “MIND IF I SIT?” I asked as I stood by the table Jennings was occupying in the break room. There were a few other officers milling about, but mostly the place was empty. She looked up from her newspaper and frowned, her mouth turning down grimly at the edges. After a moment of consideration, she motioned for me to join her, and I took the seat on the other side of the table. My lunch consisted of a cheese and ham

sandwich, an apple, and a carton of juice. Jennings proceeded to ignore me, reading her paper as I began to eat. “Anything interesting?” I asked after a minute or two of quiet. She let out an impatient sigh. “If this is about the application for sergeant, then you’re wasting your time.” “Don’t worry — I’ve long since given up trying to get on your good side, Katherine. And I’ll keep applying for sergeant until you finally get sick of me and decide to give in. Simple as,” I replied with confidence. She glanced up from her paper. “Well, then, what do you want?” “Is it so strange to imagine I might be here for the pleasure of your company?” Jennings scoffed, and if I wasn’t mistaken, something almost like a smile began to shape her lips. But that couldn’t be right. Looking out the window, I didn’t see any pigs flying. “I find that terribly hard to believe,” she said stiffly. “Don’t sell yourself so short. If you’d actually take that stick out of your arse and quit treating me like a particularly unpleasant fungal infection, you’d realise we actually have a lot in common.” Closing over her paper and giving me her full attention, Jennings folded her arms across her chest and levelled me with a cynical expression. “Now this I have to hear.” I held up all five fingers. “Well, for one, we’re both tough bitches, and for two, we can handle working in a male-dominated environment without buckling under the pressure. Three, let me see, we both hate my dad. Four, we’re funny.” Five, we both had love affairs that jeopardised our careers. I left the fifth finger standing. “Funny?” Jennings asked with a huff of scepticism. “The other day when Connors wanted to know if he had food in his teeth, you asked him if he cared so much about his appearance, then why was he walking around with a barnet like a crow’s nest?” “That falls more into the bitch category, if you ask me,” said Jennings. “But he does have awful hair.” “And a bad attitude. You give put-downs where they’re due. Well, except for with me, but I guess you have your reasons for those, which I’ll allow,” I told her cheekily. I was pushing my luck, but if I knew anything about this woman, it was that the only way to get on her good side was to stand my ground. If I tried licking her arse, she’d tell me exactly where to stick it. Sure, I was complimenting her, but with bite. In this instance, the bite was key. “You’re persistent,” she said, eyeing me shrewdly. “I have to be, with the likes of you.” At this she surprised both of us when she huffed a begrudging laugh. “You remind me a lot of your father in that way. And just to be clear, that’s not a compliment.” “Don’t worry, I know.” I paused to lower my voice. “He does feel bad for what he

did to you, though. Well, as bad as a man like my dad can feel about anything, which isn’t much. Usually, his way is the right way, no ifs or buts.” I paused to eye her seriously. “You do know he’s been working so hard on the McGregor case so that he can finally get justice for you.” “Yes, well, it’s all a bit too little, too late in that regard.” “Maybe, but we’re all fallible. It’s the ones who can’t accept they’ve made a mistake who have problems.” Jennings stared at me for a long time, so long I began to grow self-conscious. “Do you know,” she said, “none of the other constables have ever tried to join me for lunch.” “Well, I’m happy to break you in.” At this she let out another laugh, a real laugh. I looked out the window again. Yep, still pig-free. “Keep applying for sergeant, Sheehan. Who knows, maybe after ten or fifteen more attempts, you’ll finally get what you want.” With that she stood and gathered her things, leaving me alone at the table. I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, and after a couple of chews, I started to smile. “I’M TELLING YOU, the answer is 9 p.m.,” I told Tony as we discussed the riddle he’d given me weeks ago, the one Stu had solved. It was one of those puzzles that even when you had the answer, it still took a while to get your head around. “Nine p.m.,” Tony repeated. “Nah, I’m still not seeing it.” “Just keep thinking, and it’ll start to make sense.” His brow furrowed, and I grinned at how serious he looked when he concentrated. His thick black eyebrows were like two big caterpillars on his face. We’d just finished dealing with a homeless man who’d been causing a drunken disturbance on the tube, and were driving back to the station. I heard the scratchy sound of the radio coming on right before a call from dispatch came through. My heart rate picked up when I heard the details of the report. The panic button had been pushed at a city centre bank, and all available units were being called in to investigate. Before the call had even cut off, I hit the sirens, put my foot down on the gas pedal, and hightailed it to the scene. It was mid-morning, one of the quieter periods, and everything looked like normal when we arrived on the street where the bank was located. I scanned the area, noticing a few pedestrians strolling by and several parked cars. It was the black transit van that caught my attention, and just as I was pulling up to the kerb, the bank doors flew open. A number of men dressed in dark clothing emerged, their faces disguised beneath balaclavas. I swore when I saw two of them were carrying Kalashnikovs, the others with weapons more discreetly hidden. They were also lugging a number of black gym bags. Tony was already on his radio, reporting what we were seeing. The men looked in our direction, the sirens drawing their attentions, then ran straight for

the transit van, pulled open the back doors, and hopped inside. Within seconds they were speeding away from the scene. Clearly, there’d been a driver waiting. Not even bothering to stop, I gave chase, calling out the van’s licence plate number as the dispatch operator did a search. “It was reported stolen two days ago,” he told me, but I wasn’t surprised. Stolen vehicles were business as usual for a bank job. We were halfway to Canning Town when three other patrol cars joined in the chase behind us. They were unarmed units, just like us, which wasn’t going to do much good once the thieves began to panic. The sentencing for armed robbery was seven years, more if they’d used their guns to harm anyone. If push came to shove, I had no doubt they’d open fire on us to get away. Suddenly, my palms felt clammy on the steering wheel, my adrenaline kicking in. “Where’s my ARV?” I asked dispatch. “On its way. Just keep your distance and follow the van until they get there.” We were entering a rundown residential district, a jungle of tower blocks with half the windows boarded up. They weren’t going to be able to lose us here, not in the van, anyway. The buildings were too close together, no space for them to speed up and make a break for it. Almost as though confirming my thoughts, the van screeched to a halt about two hundred yards ahead of us and the men emerged. I had to stomp hard on the brakes to stop the patrol car before it collided with the van, and by the time we’d ground to a halt, the men were climbing the metal ladder that ran up the side of the nearest building. With barely a second to think about it, both Tony and I got out of the car and ran after them. I was first to get on the ladder, and as I looked into the distance, I saw the ARV approaching. If we could just keep track of the thieves until the armed unit caught up with us, then maybe we had a chance of catching them. I was probably six or seven rungs ahead of Tony, and the final thief had already disappeared over the roof of the building. By the time I reached the top, all four of them were on the other side. I got there just in time to see the first man jump and breach the gap between one building and the next, and all at once a niggling sense of dread fell over me. I ran across the roof, my legs pumping on the flat concrete. I was too slow, though, and all of them bar one had already made the jump, headed for the next building. There was anywhere between fifteen and twenty towers all in the same vicinity, and with them able to jump from one to the other so easily, who knew where they’d end up. For some reason, the final thief turned back just before making the jump, and I came face to face with a pair of blue eyes impossible not to recognise. Barely a second passed, but time stood still, the moment dragging out as my heart beat wildly in my chest. No. Memories flooded my vision. Trevor jumping a ten-foot wall the first time I’d

caught him trying to steal a car. Lee telling me he’d made a deal with McGregor to get out of their arrangement. And later, betting me he could make it to the ground from the top of a fifteen-storey building with nothing but his own two feet. I blinked back to the present just in time to see him land on the roof of the next building before disappearing out of sight. Trying to gather some composure, I lifted my radio, spouting off details of what had happened, completely on autopilot. A minute later, Tony and several armed officers arrived. I told them how the men had escaped, and immediately a plan was put in place to search every building in the area. I kept busy, helping with the search and trying not to let my mind wander to the reality of what I’d seen. Several hours later, after my shift had finished, I found myself sitting on a closed toilet seat in the ladies’ bathroom back at the station, my face in my hands as I experienced a minor anxiety attack. Thankfully, no employees or civilians at the bank had been harmed. The sight of the guns was enough to keep everyone from trying to be a hero. The search had been unsuccessful, though a forensics team was currently checking out the abandoned transit van. I didn’t expect them to find anything. Lee was too clever for that. He’d just robbed a bank. It wasn’t so shocking when you considered the fact that he’d spent his entire life stealing cars, but then I thought of the amount he’d gotten away with. Three million pounds in cash and bearer bonds. It suddenly made sense that McGregor was willing to let Lee out of their arrangement. He was going to pay his way out, and good old-fashioned cash was the currency of choice. My entire body grew cold and clammy, and I felt sick to my stomach with the decision that was now weighing heavily on my shoulders. Should I give an eyewitness account, saying I’d recognised Lee as one of the robbers? Or should I keep my mouth shut, let him pay his way out of a life of crime, and finally have some semblance of freedom? I knew which option my heart desired, but could I live with myself if I allowed Lee away scot-free? I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finally left the cubicle. Staring at my face in the mirror, it was the first time in my life that I looked at my own reflection and barely recognised the woman who stood before me. In that moment, I knew I was never going to hand Lee in. Was it because I loved him? Was it because I knew deep down he was a good person and deserved a better life? Or was it because I was selfish and didn’t want him to be taken away from me? Right then it felt like a mixture of all three. When I arrived home that night, it was late and Alexis was fast asleep, light snoring coming from her room. The flat was dark, and when I switched the lamp on, I got a fright to see Lee sitting on the couch. Even though I knew it was him, I grew anxious. There was something about the tension in his shoulders that put me on edge. He wasn’t here to whisper sweet

nothings in my ear, that was for sure. “How did you get in?” I asked into the dimly lit room. “Alexis,” he answered simply. The last I’d spoken of Lee to my best friend, I’d been wondering if I was in love with him. She didn’t know about Tony discovering our relationship, or about the bank job. As far as she was concerned, she was doing me a favour by letting Lee into our home. Passing by the living area, I went and dropped my keys down on the kitchen counter, bracing my hands on the cold Formica and letting out an exhausted sigh. “Why did it have to be me? If I could rewind the clock and go back to this morning, I never would have gotten out of bed. I would’ve called in sick. Then I’d never have to know.” “You can’t unsee what you saw,” said Lee. “So, what are you gonna do about it?” Turning abruptly, I scowled at him. “Is that the only reason you’re here? You want to know if I’m going to turn you in?” Lee’s expression was sober. “I’m a survivor, Karla, first and foremost. If someone’s fixing to feed me to the lions, I want to be prepared.” My hands clenched into fists, my mouth a firm line as I levelled him with all the animosity I had inside me. “And what if I say I’m going to do it? Will you hurt me? Will you threaten me to keep quiet?” I was glad I’d managed to withhold my tears and keep my voice steady, when all I wanted to do was cry. Lee stood from the couch, his posture tense. “You think I have that in me?” “I have no idea what you have in you, Lee. Not two days ago you told me you were getting out of the game. Today you robbed a bank. What do you want me to say?” “I want you to at least give me the respect I deserve and believe that I’d never lay a hand on you. And if you were going to turn me in, then I think there should be enough loyalty between us by now for you to give me a heads-up. Let me get out of the country before you put me in the firing line.” “You’d do that?” I asked, disbelieving. “You’d leave London?” “Yeah, and I’d take everyone I care about with me,” he replied before a sad look passed over his features. “Well, almost everyone.” My heart hurt, my head swimming with emotions as I tried not to succumb to the tenderness in his voice. Several moments of quiet ensued, and I went to sit on the couch. Lee remained standing, his eyes glued to me like I was a wild animal who might bite at any moment. “I’m presuming you gave all the money to McGregor.” Lee’s voice was low. “Apparently, the price of freedom these days comes at a cool three million.” I flicked my gaze to his. “Do you have any idea what he’s going to do with it?” “Buy another villa in Spain for his mistress. Fuck if I know, Snap. All I care about is that he won’t be bothering me or my family again. We can stay in London and go clean. It’s a win-win.”

“He could use it to do bad things, bring even more crime into the city.” “He’s gonna do that anyway. Look, this isn’t about him doing bad, it’s about me doing good. You can sit there and spout all the moral philosophies you want. I still know it’s all bullshit. Nice guys finish last, and I’d step over a thousand people if it meant the ones I cared about were safe, because I know every single one of those thousand would step over me, given half the chance.” What he said went against everything I believed in. I could name him a hundred times I’d put a stranger’s safety before my own because it was my job. Still, I understood why he had such a cynical view of the world. His own parents had abandoned him when he was just a child, so too had his aunt. From a young age he’d learned that people were selfish, only out for themselves. It hardened him to believe everyone was like that. For Lee, true altruism didn’t exist. Well, I was going to show him that it did. “It’s not true, you know,” I said finally. Lee looked back at me, clearly having been lost in his own thoughts. “What’s not true?” “That they’d all step over you. I wouldn’t.” “Yeah, well, you’re different.” “Not really. You just think that way because you’re not looking in the right places. Good people exist, selfless people.” Taking a step forward, he closed the space between us and knelt down in front of me. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “Was I looking in the right place the day I met you?” “Yes,” I replied. “And I’m not turning you in.” Lee exhaled a heavy breath, all the tension going out of him. He bent his head to stare at the floor, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at me. “Why?” he asked, the quiet word laced with confusion. He was genuinely surprised, and I knew that up until this moment, he truly believed I was going to report him. “Because in spite of everything, I can’t help protecting you, the same way I would anyone else who needed it.” As soon as the words were out, I knew they weren’t entirely true, and though I was doing something good for Lee, I wasn’t being selfless. In fact, saving him was probably the most selfish decision I’d ever make. I knew then that I cared more about him than I did my career, or the law, and it was downright terrifying. The thing was, sometimes when I looked at Lee I saw the boy he used to be, the one who had to grow up too fast. The fact that I couldn’t be there to help him back then made me feel so powerless, but I could regain that power by helping him now. He lifted his head. “So that’s it? I could be anyone, and you’d still be making the same choice?” “Your brothers need you,” I answered, avoiding the question. His expression sobered as he drew away, staring at me like he was trying to figure out my game. There was no game. I’d fallen for him, plain and simple, and

I’d never be the same again. “I won’t forget this,” he said, his voice steady. It wasn’t full of gratitude or emotion, no tears of happiness were shed, but somehow I knew he meant it more this way. For the rest of my life, Lee Cross would always believe that he owed me, when in reality he owed me nothing. Maybe someday he’d learn that real gifts were freely given, no need for payment in return.

NINETEEN

POLICE REPORT

CASE NO: 78956012 Date: 25/02/2010 Reporting Officer: PC Tony Pollard Prepared by: Arresting officer Incident: Grand theft auto

DETAILS OF EVENT: At 2:15 p.m. on 25/02, PC Karla Sheehan and I were informed via dispatch of a stolen vehicle en route to our location. Once spotted, we proceeded to chase down the vehicle. When arriving in an area of heavy traffic, the suspect, one Liam Cross, age 20, fled, and both myself and PC Sheehan pursued him on foot until he was caught and apprehended.

ACTIONS TAKEN: Initial caution was given. The suspect was arrested and transported to Bethnal Green Police Station for processing, where he remained in custody for several hours before a family member posted bail. A date has been set for a preliminary hearing at the Central Criminal Court.

SUMMARY: Liam Cross, age 20, resident of Hackney, East London, was arrested for Grand Theft Auto on February 25th, 2010. Based on his crime, he will face a preliminary court hearing on April 17th, 2010.

I STARED at the short but succinct report Tony had made when he first arrested Liam, biting my lip and dreading the impending day in court. There was nothing I could do now to change what happened, and I’d have to take to the stand and detail the events for the judge, most likely in front of Lee and all his family. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t have another choice. I couldn’t exactly call in sick. It had been three weeks since I’d last seen Lee, and the investigation into the bank robbery had fallen flat. It’d been well-planned, and it was looking like Lee and his brothers were home free. For now. Whatever happened during Liam’s case could throw the family into yet more turmoil. The bank job hadn’t been a victimless crime. The employees working that day and the customers present were surely dealing with all kinds of emotional trauma. Still, it was as victimless as you could get in this day and age. I mean, the bank’s money was insured. I tried to reassure myself of this, that at least they hadn’t hurt or killed anyone, but I still felt uneasy. And really, I wondered if it would even be possible for Lee to go straight. Would he go into work in the morning and feel bored? Would he miss the thrill? Shouts sounded from the corridor leading to the locker rooms, and I stood to go and check out what the noise was about. When I rounded the corner, I found Tony and Steve in a standoff, DI Jennings with her arms crossed just a few feet away. She was eyeing Steve with nothing short of disdain as he argued with Tony. “Nothing but a pair of bloody jobsworths, the both of you,” Steve fumed, and Jennings raised her hand to pat her mouth, emitting a yawn like she was bored with his theatrics. “You’re been suspended indefinitely,” said Tony. “You need to go home and calm down, maybe take some time to reflect on all these stunts you’ve been pulling.” “Please hand your badge and your weapons over to PC Pollard,” said Jennings. “You’re delaying my lunch, and I have a date with a tuna sandwich that’s far more interesting than anything you’ve got left to say.” I almost laughed, but I reined it in. Tony held his hands out for Steve’s things, and Steve reluctantly handed everything over. When he turned to leave and saw me watching, he shoved me purposefully in the shoulder, muttering something like “nosy bitch” under his breath. “Jesus, what happened with him?” I asked, looking to Tony. “PC Pollard discovered him taking cash from the evidence room,” Jennings answered simply, before turning and, I’m assuming, going to have her date with that tuna sandwich. What she’d said didn’t surprise me. Tony and I shared a loaded glance, mine laced with thanks. We’d discussed Steve and his underhanded schemes a few times over the last few weeks during our shifts, both of us eager to catch him doing something on camera so we could have him suspended. It looked like Tony had been a busy bee. “Have I ever told you how awesome you are?” I said, grinning. Tony smiled and casually shrugged. “All the time. Can’t shut you up.”

I laughed and went to give his hand a squeeze before going back out and returning to my desk. When I arrived home that evening, I found Alexis had cooked roast chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. My stomach gurgled, reminding me I was hungry, as I went to change clothes and take a shower. The table was set by the time I came back out, and we both sat down to eat. “Lee visited me today,” said Alexis, and I almost choked on the food I’d just swallowed. “He did? What did he want?” “To see how I’m doing,” she answered with no small amount of sarcasm. “I’m sure it was all just a front to check up on you.” I stared at my plate. “Yeah, well, I don’t need checking up on.” “Liam’s court date is this week, you know.” “I’m well aware of that, Lexie.” “You have to be there, don’t you?” I glanced at her, wondering what she was getting at. “You know I do.” She eyed me sympathetically and appeared torn over what to say. Dropping her fork onto the table, she rubbed at her belly. “Is the baby kicking?” She nodded her head. “Yeah, but it’s not that. Lee told me something, and I don’t want you walking in there with blinders on. It wouldn’t be fair.” “Tell me, then.” She inhaled a quick breath. “He’s having Liam’s solicitor broker a deal. If he gives up the name of the person he was working for, they’ll let him go free.” “But then Lee….” I gasped, unable to finish my sentence. “Will do time,” said Alexis, her brown eyes turning down at the ends sadly, our conversation falling into silence. I barely slept that night, and the next day I seemed to have drawn the short straw, because everything that could possibly go wrong did. First off, a woman I arrested for shoplifting went crazy and attacked me at the station, resulting in me sporting an awful welt across one cheek. Secondly, the evidence I’d collected on a drug pusher from several weeks ago went missing, which meant he couldn’t be prosecuted. I was willing to bet it was a last “fuck you” from Steve. And thirdly, just to add icing on the cake of a supremely shitty day, my car broke down. It was dark, and I was on my way home after my shift. When I called the AA, they said it’d be one to two hours before a tow truck arrived, so I was stuck on the hard shoulder of a busy motorway with no other option but to wait it out. Only about thirty minutes had passed when there was a steady knock on my driver’s-side window. I thought with relief that the truck had gotten there early, but then glanced up to find Lee peering down at me through the glass. Okay, so if my car breaking down was the icing on the cake, then Lee showing up was the magic sprinkles. I didn’t open the door, only rolled down my window for him. “Need help?” he asked. Damn, he looked good, his hair casually tousled. I

noticed his eyes drifting over me, checking me out in the same way I was him. Shaking my head, I answered, “No, thanks, I’m good. The AA will be here soon.” He didn’t look like he believed me. “How long you been waiting?” “Thirty minutes,” I muttered, looking down at my phone. Lee emitted a soft chuckle. “In that case, they’re not getting here any time in the next century. Let me take a look,” he urged me, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers. “This is what I’m good at.” “It’s fine. I’m happy to wait. I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be.” I wanted him to leave, not only because of the feelings his nearness provoked, but also because I was two seconds away from confronting him over his bullshit plan to go to prison instead of Liam. He levelled me with a challenging stare, not breathing a word, but instead of arguing, he just walked around to the front of the car and proceeded to open the hood. Oh, no effing way. Getting out, I stomped toward him, pushing his hands back and slamming it down. Trying to ignore the spark I felt when our fingers touched, I scowled at him with all my might. “I said I don’t need your help. Are you going deaf or something?” Lee cocked his head, perplexed. “Why are you being so difficult?” “I’m not being difficult. I’m just irritated by how you always think you know best,” I huffed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t angry at him for being heavy-handed — I was angry at him because he was going to sacrifice himself for his brother, and refusing to let him fix my car was the only way of expressing how I felt right then. Lee held firm when I tried to stand my ground, and before I could react, he gripped me by the waist, lifted me, and threw me over his shoulder. I wriggled in his hold, but seconds later he’d opened my car door and shoved me in the back. I hadn’t even seen him swipe my keys, but by the time I tried to scramble forward, he’d locked all the doors. My car was an old Nissan, so I could still open it from the inside. Lee saw me going for the lock and warned me, “If you get out, I’ll kiss you.” He was such a little fucker. I huffed a sigh and folded my arms, my annoyance written all over my face at his threat. Lee chuckled as he watched me, but then his expression sobered when he saw the welt on my face. His voice was muted since all the windows were closed, but I could just about hear him as he brought his fingers to his own cheek. “What happened there?” “A woman I arrested today did it. Absolute nutjob.” Lee frowned in concern, placing his hands on his hips before turning away. He returned to the front of the car, and I sat and waited while he fiddled around with the engine. A few minutes later he reappeared, sliding into the back seat next to me.

“Your HT leads need replacing. You should call AA and cancel. I’ll hitch you up to the back of my car and drive you to the garage, replace them for you for free.” “Is this you paying me back the favour you owe me?” I asked. Lee eyed me and smiled. “Nah, this is me trying to be more like you, helping the needy and all that.” I scoffed. “Sure.” Lifting his hand, he ran his fingers over my hurt cheek. “This looks bad.” “I’ve had worse.” “I hope you gave as good as you got.” “Oh, yeah, I kicked her arse right in the middle of the station while the other officers cheered me on.” Lee pursed his lips, still smiling. “Don’t be a smart-arse.” Picking my phone up from my lap, he shoved it into my hand and said, “Call them. Otherwise, you’ll be sitting out here all night.” Giving in, I called and cancelled the tow truck. When I hung up we were both silent, and his plan to switch places with Liam burned heavily on my heart. I was upset and angry at him, but I couldn’t let out everything I was feeling without coming across as hysterical. Still, I had to broach the subject. The court hearing was tomorrow. I needed to convince him to change his mind. “Alexis told me what you’re going to do for Liam,” I said, my voice quiet. Lee exhaled and stretched his legs out as much as he could in the small space. “I take it from the way you’re looking at me now that you don’t approve.” “Please don’t do it, Lee,” I begged, unable to hold back my desperation. A tear fell down my cheek, and he reached out to wipe it away. “Don’t cry,” he murmured tenderly. “I’ve been breaking the law for years. It’s only right that I finally serve my time.” I turned into him, burying my face in his neck as I whispered, “But I don’t want you to go away.” “It won’t be forever,” he replied, stroking my hair as his lips pressed against my temple. “I don’t understand how you’re just accepting this. Before you said it was going to be fine. You said your solicitor could get Liam off, no problem.” He sighed. “Yeah, well, when I stopped working for McGregor, I lost a lot of privileges. One of those included my legal representation. So now we don’t have William Dunning on our side, and we also don’t have a hope in hell’s chance of getting Liam’s charges dropped. I can’t let my baby brother go to prison for something I got him into in the first place, Karla. It has to be me. You understand that, right?” I looked into his eyes and knew I couldn’t argue with him. If I ever had a sister, I’d do the exact same thing, no question. God, he’d been right all along. We were the same. Too stubborn and brave to know what was good for us, out on a mission to save everyone but ourselves. “Yeah, I understand.”

Soaking him in, I tried to comprehend the fact that in just a few short weeks he could go to prison. I wasn’t going to see him for years, and that terrified me. A surge of desperation clutched suddenly at my heart as I smashed my mouth to his, kissing him like my life depended on it. He was only twenty-five, so young and handsome and clever, and all his best years were going to be spent in a prison cell. The worst of it was that I knew he wouldn’t come out the same man. He’d lose the spark that always shone so brightly in his eyes, would no longer be the flirty, carefree guy I was once met on a chilly London morning. Lee’s hands clutched my face, his tongue sinking deep into my mouth as a loud moan escaped me. My fingers slid beneath his shirt, tracing his hard abs. When he grabbed my thighs and pulled them around his waist, his erection was hard as steel against my core. It’d been so long since I’d gotten to touch him like this that my need was close to maddening. Gasping, he broke our kiss, trailing his mouth down my neck and unbuttoning my blouse until my bra was exposed. He buried his face in my cleavage, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest, and the vibration made me tremble. “Lee,” I breathed right before a car went sailing by out on the road. The horn honked as I heard a man shout saucily out the window, “Oi oi!” Lee and I fell into awkward laughter after that, and I drew away, buttoning my top back up. “Do you, uh, have anything in your car we could use as a tow?” His hand met my lower back. “Stay with me tonight, Karla.” I was helpless to refuse, and only nodded my head in response. Lee placed a quick kiss on my lips, then got out of the car and jogged to his, which was parked just a few yards behind mine. Minutes later, he had my car secured, and I climbed into his passenger seat. All throughout the journey he touched me, whether it was to tuck my hair behind my ear or to squeeze my knee, and every time he did, my stomach fluttered with anticipation. He didn’t bother going to the garage, but instead drove straight to his place, saying he’d have one of the boys come fix my car in the morning. I knew that tomorrow everything would change, but for tonight I just wanted to live in the moment. Lee tugged me inside his hallway and immediately pressed his mouth to mine, his hands everywhere as we tried to find our way upstairs without stopping what we were doing. I giggled when we both simultaneously tripped and fell halfway up. “Hush,” Lee whispered, his lips finding mine again. I loved how he kissed me; whether fast or slow, he always made it feel like it could be our last. I tried to push that thought aside when I realised how sad it made me. Somehow we managed to make it to his room, and proceeded to strip one another of all our clothing. Completely naked, he laid me down on his bed, his handsome features serious in the dim light. “I hate everyone who gets to be near you when I’m not there. And I hate it because I love my brothers more than anything, but you’re the one I’ll miss the most.”

My heart ached at his proclamation, fear and sadness gripping me tight and not letting go. I placed my hands on his cheeks, my eyes flickering between his, struck speechless. Closing my eyes, I showed him with my body the things I couldn’t tell him in words. Flipping us, I climbed on top of him, bracing myself above his length and sinking down until he filled me completely. When I began to ride him, I lost all thought, totally consumed by sensation. Lee gripped my waist and held my eyes, never looking away once. If this was the last time, I was going to make it count. Lee reached down and found my clit with his thumb, rubbing intense circles with his practiced hands. His cock felt amazing, and it was only as I began to climb toward orgasm that I realised we hadn’t used protection. He was inside me bare, but surprisingly, I didn’t panic. I felt closer to him than I’d ever had, and if there was a single doubt in my mind that I loved him, it fell by the wayside. I’d never loved before. Now I loved too much. And in the morning, I’d lose him. There was a sweet sort of tragedy to it all. When I came, I closed my eyes, dropped to his chest, and sank my face into the crook of his neck, whether for comfort or to hide my tears, I couldn’t seem to tell. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you,” I whispered into the dark room. Lee was quiet for a long time before he whispered back, “Hurting with you is better than a painless life without you.” His words penetrated deep, and I held him tighter, wishing I didn’t have to let go.

TWENTY

ony and I stood outside the court house, sipping on bad takeaway coffee and T waiting out the last few minutes before we had to go inside. He knew just how

difficult a day I had ahead of me, and he didn’t try to fill the quiet with random small talk. He let me have my time to think and prepare. I’d left Lee’s bed early in the morning, my heart sore as I watched him sleep. My gaze traced the contours of his body, taking pictures to store in my memory. I was lost in thought when I felt Tony nudge me with his elbow, and looked up to see the Cross brothers arrive. They all wore suits, looking smart and professional. It was at odds with their usual laid-back, streetwise style. My heart pounded when I locked eyes with Lee, flashbacks from the night before flooding my mind. I remembered how his lips tasted, how his hands roamed my skin, claiming everything they touched. It was a cold day, but I still felt too hot in my uniform. It was suffocating, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Two men approached the brothers, their legal representation, I was assuming. Some words were exchanged, and then they all began to make their way toward the courthouse. The closer Lee got, the more my lungs constricted, and when he walked right past me without so much as a glance, I felt bereft. “Come on, we better head inside, too,” said Tony, his voice gentle. Knocking back the last of my coffee, I followed him in, and we took our seats in the court room. There were a number of cases being heard that day, and when the judge came in, he looked harried and stressed. Why did judges always look like that? Like the last thing they had in the world was time, and you were being intolerably rude by presuming you warranted even a moment of it. Several other cases were heard first, and I was glad because I wasn’t ready for all eyes to be on me yet. Unfortunately, it all went by too quickly. Tony gave his account of what happened, and before I knew it, I was being called to the stand to give evidence. Every step felt like an eternity, and when I sat and cleared my throat, I couldn’t see anyone else in the room but Lee, his expression stoic as he watched me from the public viewing stand. I’d spoken in court countless times before, but today was different. Stammering nervously through my statement, I just wanted it to be over. When I was dismissed,

I practically ran from the room, finding the ladies’ and shutting myself inside. I seemed to be having quite a few bathroom panic attacks lately. Trying to steady my shaking hands, I imagined they’d be calling Liam to the stand. He’d have his say, and then he’d be asked to give up the name of the person he worked for. He’d tell them it was Lee, and then everything would fall to pieces. I was in there for at least twenty minutes when I heard voices shouting angrily from outside. Immediately, I hurried from the bathroom to see what was happening. Following the sound of the argument, I found all four brothers at the end of one corridor. Trevor held Lee back, who was fuming at Stu, a look in his eyes like he wanted to commit murder. “How the fuck could you do this?!” Lee yelled, his face red with fury. “I had to,” said Stu, his expression resigned as he tried to reason with his brother. “There wasn’t another way.” “Of course there was. We already decided. Everything had been decided!” “You’re wrong — none of us got a say. You made the decision for all of us, thinking you could just put your head on the chopping block like always. Well, this time I’m not letting you be the martyr.” “So you thought you’d be one instead? You’re supposed to be my brother — you’re not supposed to lie to me. You let me walk into that courtroom thinking Liam was going to give my name, knowing full well you’d convinced him to give yours instead.” Time stood still as my hand went to my mouth and I silently gasped. Stu had switched places with Lee. What the hell? The brothers stared each other down. “Ever since we were kids you’ve taken the brunt of the shit we’ve had to go through, but I’m the eldest. It should’ve been me.” Stu looked away, his shoulders turned inward with something close to shame. He ran his hands through his short hair before turning back. “Now it’s my turn to make a sacrifice for this family, just like you’ve been doing your whole life.” Lee began shaking his head frantically, turmoil written all over his face. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Nah, I’m not letting you do this.” “It’s already been done,” said Stu, stepping forward and placing his hands on Lee’s shoulders. “You need to let it happen.” Lee growled, ripping Stu’s hands off him and turning away. “It’s bullshit, and I’m not accepting it,” he shouted before he began stomping down the hall in my direction. I’d never seen him look so furious, like he was about to explode out of his own skin and transform into the Incredible Hulk. He stopped abruptly when he saw me, a million feelings mixing into one heartbreaking look. It was almost like I could read his thoughts, because in that moment, I knew he blamed me. I was the perfect scapegoat. I’d been the one behind the wheel that day, and I’d had a hand in Liam being here. I’d had a hand in all of this. I could almost feel the anger corrupting him, twisting and evolving into a raging bull just beneath the surface of his skin as he stared me down.

There was no reasoning with him now. I knew that, and I knew he said he could never hate me, but right then I thought he’d come close. I didn’t blame him, not one bit. Because it was right for him to hate me. Him hating me was the natural order of things, and he should’ve done since the moment he first laid eyes on me. This was good, I tried to reassure myself. Lee finally seeing the destruction us being together created was beneficial to everyone. I could handle this. Last night I’d said goodbye; I’d mentally prepared myself for the separation. So why did it feel like my heart was breaking all over again? Inside the strings were snapping with a violent crack, indefinitely severed. After locking me in his stare for what felt like forever, Lee didn’t breathe a word, just stalked right by me and out the door. Somehow that was worse, his silence. I would have preferred him to shout something terrible, call me a bitch. That way, I could hate him in return, but I didn’t. And the terrifying thing was that I never would. “STU GOT SEVEN YEARS,” Alexis told me a few weeks later as I drove her to the doctor’s for one of her scheduled checkups. “With good behaviour he could be out in two.” “Who told you this?” I asked, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tight, instantly clammy with sweat. “I bumped into the Trevor on the high street.” “Did he say how Lee’s been holding up?” My heart pounded to think of him, knowing he’d have moved on from blaming me and started in on himself. “He’s angry, drinking too much, a nightmare to live with, according to Trevor,” Alexis answered. “I can imagine.” She glanced at me sideways. “He never tried to make contact with you, did he?” “Not since the day in court,” I answered, unable to disguise the sadness in my voice. A day later, I found my car keys in an envelope slotted through our letterbox. My car sat repaired and good as new outside the building, the final connection between us carefully cut. Sure, no contact was for the best, but it still stung that he never even tried to call, not once. Alexis reached over and gave my arm a squeeze, empathy in her eyes. “When you grow up like those boys did, around people who’d knife you for so much as looking at them the wrong way, everything in life is either one extreme or the other. And they hold grudges, serious grudges. It’s the only way they know how to operate.” “You think I don’t know this? I deal with people like that every day.” “Then why are you acting so heartbroken? Deep down, you expected this. You know you did.” I heaved a breath. “Yeah, well, I have daddy issues. It’s not surprising that I picked the wrong man to fall in love with,” I joked flatly.

Her hand still rested on my arm, and she gave me another squeeze, her other hand going to her belly. “Why don’t we make a pact to stop loving men who aren’t good for us, and put all our love into the little one who’ll be arriving soon?” Her smile was tender, and I practically squealed. “You’re having a boy?! When did you find this out?” “The other week. I was going to keep it a secret, but you know me, can’t keep my big mouth shut for love nor money.” I was so excited, I almost stopped the car. “So it’s going to be an Oliver after all,” I said, grinning widely, momentarily forgetting my worries. “I can’t wait to meet him.” Alexis returned my grin. “Me neither.” CHEERS SOUNDED from inside the station, and I frowned curiously as I walked in to find a crowd of officers circling my dad, all congratulating him and patting him on the back. I stepped up to Keira, who was standing by the reception desk, and asked what was going on. “Your old man just sent Tommy McGregor away for fifteen years. Got him up on racketeering and money-laundering charges.” “Seriously?” I asked, shocked. I knew my dad was determined, but at the back of my mind, I’d almost thought McGregor would be his Chinese Democracy, his one unfinished piece of work. My eyes wandered across the station, where I saw Jennings standing in a doorway, arms folded. Her gaze was fixed on my dad, her expression revealing a begrudging sort of respect. I watched as my dad turned in her direction, caught her watching, and gave her a single nod of acknowledgment. She nodded back, then turned and left the room. It was like she’d silently accepted what he’d done for her without the need to exchange words. They’d never be friends, but the feud between them was finally over. A strange relief hit me as I realised Lee could’ve been caught the same as McGregor if he hadn’t gotten out when he did. And with the man behind bars, Lee and his family could relax, knowing he wasn’t going to try to come into their lives again. Now I just worried for Stu, because truthfully, I wasn’t sure he’d get out after just two years. Sure, of all the brothers, he was probably the most suited to prison. He was the biggest and least sensitive, and he was certainly tough. I couldn’t see many men being brave enough to try to intimidate him. I just hoped he kept to himself and avoided unnecessary trouble. MONTHS WENT BY, and I started to fall into a regular routine. The more time that passed, the less my heart hurt. My life was a series of work, studying for my sergeant’s exam (yes, Jennings finally decided to approve my application!) and helping Alexis in the final stages of her pregnancy. We planned for either me or her

dad to drive her to the hospital, depending on whoever was available. I was on the late shift, just about to take a break, when I pulled out my phone to check if I had any missed calls. Glancing at the screen and seeing Lee’s name caused everything inside of me to spiral out of control. Every painful feeling of heartache returned in an instant, just from looking at his name. Before I could delve too deeply into what that meant, my phone started ringing again. With a shaking hand I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear, my voice scratchy. “Uh, hello?” “Karla, thank fuck. Listen, you need to get yourself down the hospital. Alexis has gone into labour,” he told me urgently. All at once my heart did a somersault, half in panic, half in excitement. I hadn’t been expecting this, because she wasn’t due for at least another ten days. The baby was coming early. “What…uh, I mean, why are you calling?” “She couldn’t get through to you and her dad’s at work. She called me to drive her to the hospital.” I was already on the move, mouthing the words “Alexis” and “Baby” at Tony, so he knew where I was going. He nodded and motioned for me to run. I knew he’d cover for me until I could get back. “Okay, well, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said, then heard someone moaning in the background, and it wasn’t a moan of pleasure. “Are you in the delivery room?” I asked with a jolt. Lee’s voice held a hint of humour, but mostly he sounded stressed. “She won’t let me leave until you get here, and I’d appreciate it if you hurried, because she’s doing a good job of cutting off the blood supply to my hand right now.” I laughed, a high-pitched, airy sound, as I slid into a patrol car and put my foot on the gas. I even turned on the sirens, and Lee chuckled when he heard them. “Such a little rule-breaker.” I smirked at his comment and hung up the phone. I was on an adrenaline rush, not only because the baby was coming, but also because I hadn’t spoken to Lee in months, and his voice alone had the ability to excite me. When I arrived at the hospital, I rushed through the corridors, following the signs for the maternity ward. The place was like a maze, and it felt like it took forever for me to find the delivery room. Still in my full police uniform, I burst inside, all eyes turning to me as I stood there, breathless. “I’m here,” I announced dumbly, seeing Lee standing next to Alexis, who sure enough was gripping his hand like her life depended on it. Her face was red and sweaty, but it was etched with relief when she saw me, and she finally let go of Lee. He walked toward me, his eyes drinking me in like he hadn’t seen me in years. Levelling his palms on my shoulders, he whispered, “Take care of her,” and then he was gone. I hurried to my best friend’s side, lifted the hand Lee had just been holding, and began taking deep breaths right alongside her.

TWENTY-ONE

liver was born at 6:12 a.m. He was ten days premature, had a tuft of blond hair, O and weighed just under six and a half pounds. Both mother and baby were healthy

and sleeping when I quietly left the room, feeling exhausted but happy. Finding the ladies’, I splashed some water on my face, washed my hands, and did my best to fix my hair. I planned to go home and take a shower, get some sleep, then collect some things to bring back for Alexis. When I stepped out and went to check on her one last time, I saw Lee sitting on a chair in the corridor. The empty space between us felt vast, though in reality it was nothing. I wanted to bridge the gap and run away all at the same time. “You’re still here,” I said, standing before him. He looked up, his eyes tired, and smiled. “I was waiting for you.” “Did you hear the news?” Lee nodded. “Just spoke to one of the nurses. Healthy baby boy. I’m made up for her.” Not knowing why, I sat down beside him, staring at the wall in front of us like it held the answers to questions I hadn’t asked yet. “It was so scary, being in there with her, not knowing how everything was going to turn out.” I didn’t voice the fact that it was also kind of sad, because I knew I’d never experience that for myself, would never get to hold my own baby in my arms. But I could hold hers, watch him grow up, and that was enough. It would have to be. Lee shot me a look of compassion, like he sensed what I was thinking. He was one of the few people who knew I couldn’t have children, and I remembered his words from months ago. We’re stronger in the places that we’ve been broken. Our time together had broken parts of both of us, but were we stronger there now? Was there a patch of soil within us, with the capability of growing something new? I didn’t know. A silence fell between us, and I wasn’t sure how to act around him. Since we hadn’t seen each other in so long, there was a tension, like we were strangers again, but not. I watched as he laced his fingers together, staring at the work-

roughened skin and trying not to succumb to the memory of how it used to feel when he touched me. “How’ve you been?” he asked, breaking the quiet. I slid my gaze to his. “Good. I’ve been keeping busy. Got my sergeant’s exam coming up next week.” His eyebrows rose as he teased, “Sergeant, eh, moving up in the world, are we?” “Something like that.” “Well, I think it’s great. The more people like you they have in the police, the better.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Constables who use their sirens so they can skip traffic and get to the hospital in time for their best friend to give birth?” Lee laughed softly. “Yeah, pretty much.” I smiled back at him, and the eye contact did something strange to my stomach. All at once I was aware of the shape of his lips and the way his hair had grown longer. He used to keep it clipped close to his skull, but now there was more length on top. His expression turned intense, and I cleared my throat to break the tension. “So, what about you? What’ve you been up to?” “Quite a bit, actually.” “Yeah?” He paused, like he was hesitant to tell me. “Yeah, I’m, eh, I’m setting up a new business.” “Oh.” His eyes narrowed. “Not like that. A legitimate business. I’m opening a restaurant.” Gaping at him, I couldn’t have been more surprised if he told me he was opening up his own beanbag emporium. “That’s amazing news. What are you calling it?” “Grub Hut. You should stop by sometime. We’re not opening for another few weeks, but I’m there most days doing prep.” I nodded, smiling again. “I like the name. So you took Alexis’ advice in the end. Remember she said you should open a restaurant? It makes sense. Your food is amazing.” “Well, I’m still learning. I’ve hired a team of experienced cooks to help run the kitchen, though, so I won’t be on my own.” “What about the garage?” “Sold it. It felt too strange staying there with everything that’s happened. A fresh start is what we all needed.” I exhaled, and a foreign sensation came over me. After a moment, I realised what it was. He was going straight, and I was proud of him. Softening my voice, I asked, “How’s Stu coping? Have you been to visit him?” At this Lee’s expression darkened. “He’s coping, but it’s hard inside, especially when you come in strong, with a reputation to uphold. It’s…challenging, but he’ll get there.” My stomach churned, reminding me of my guilt. I’d had a hand in Stu being

behind bars, so I couldn’t help feeling remorseful. “Well, he’s got a lot of people waiting for him on the outside. Just keep reminding him of that and it’ll see him through.” “Yeah,” said Lee. “I hope so.” Turning his body slightly, his eyes wandered from the top of my head to my shoulders. I grew self-conscious, wondering why he was studying me so closely. “You been seeing anyone?” he asked. I shot him an incredulous look, trying not to smile. “Are you seriously going there?” “Got a soft spot for ya, Snap. Always have.” He winked, but there was a sadness behind his eyes. We both knew that what he’d felt for me was far more than just a soft spot. I let out a sigh. “No, I haven’t been seeing anyone. Like I said, I’ve been busy.” I paused, not looking at him when I asked shyly, “Have you?” I could practically feel him smiling, and when I chanced a glance, I noticed his chest puffing out as he rested his arm along the back of my chair. “No. There’s no lucky lady in my life right now.” “Oh.” We shared a moment of eye contact, a fire in his gaze that made me swallow hard. His breath hit my ear when he broke the quiet. “I’m sorry for how I blanked you in court that day. It was a shitty move, but my head was all over the place.” “I know, and I don’t blame you. You love your family, and a piece of it was torn apart. It’s understandable that I was the last person you wanted to see.” “Still, I should’ve said something, should’ve tried to explain, but I felt so powerless. I thought I had it all figured out. I could throw myself under the bus and everyone else would be safe, no clue that Stu planned on beating me to it.” “I think he had to do it, though,” I said. “He needed to be the one to take responsibility this time.” “Yeah, I get that now.” A quiet descended, and I smelled Lee’s cologne. The scent provoked memories that I tried to push away. “So, sergeant, eh?” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “Will you get to wear a new insignia?” “RW 79, all the way,” I answered, saluting him. “Plus, I’ll get to boss all the constables around. It’ll be ace.” “Oh, yeah, I can see it now, you shouting orders, all sexy in your uniform,” Lee teased, plucking my tie between his fingers. I rolled my eyes. “I swear, you must be the only bloke in the world who’s got a thing for this uniform.” Lee’s eyes sharpened as he continued to grin at me, and then he let my tie drop and stood. “Tell Alexis I said congrats. Oh, and I’ll see you around, Serg.” “Not sergeant yet,” I called after him as he walked away. He turned around long enough to reply, “You will be.”

His faith in me stirred my emotions, and I slumped back into my seat, my lungs suddenly too full of air. The following week, I found an envelope in my cubbyhole at the station. My heart leapt when I recognised the stamp. I’d sat my exam just the other day, and already the results were in. Becoming a sergeant was something I’d wanted for years, and I was nervous to open the letter. What if I’d failed? Sure, Jennings and I weren’t mortal enemies anymore, but we weren’t bosom buddies, either. I didn’t want to have to face her smug look that was all, I told you so. I almost gave myself a paper cut as I anxiously tore open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and let my eyes scan the contents. I’d passed! Without thinking, I emitted a highly unprofessional squeal of delight, fist pumping the air and grinning like a maniac. Excited, I first called Alexis, who was home from the hospital with Oliver. Next I called Reya, who insisted we meet for cocktails once my shift ended that evening. I changed into some jeans and a silk blouse before I left the station, letting my hair out of its bun and running my fingers through the waves. Applying a small touch of makeup, I thought I looked good and headed to the bar where Reya had told me to meet her. When I arrived, I found her sitting at a table by the window, engrossed in her phone. There were two fresh margaritas in front of her, and I reached forward to take a sip just as she glanced up. “Hey! Has anyone ever told you that you’re silent like a ninja?” she asked, grinning. “Oh, many times.” She rose from her seat and came around to hug me. “Well done! I’m so proud of you.” “Thanks,” I said, and she went to sit back down, glancing at her phone again as she lifted her own margarita. “Anything interesting?” I asked, arching a brow. She waved away my intrigue. “Oh, no, it’s just Trevor.” “Trevor as in Cross?” I gaped at her. “Yeah, we text every once in a while. I gave him my number when we all went out together that night after my gig.” “Right,” I replied. “So what do you two talk about?” “This and that. He’s got this harebrained idea to create a web series following him and a group of his friends who do parkour. You know, capturing their stunts and all that. He was originally going to ask me to be the presenter, but then he decided against it. Apparently, I have the ‘look,’ but I’m not outgoing enough,” she scoffed. “You’re a singer, you perform on stage all the time. How is that not outgoing?” “Yeah, but it’s the whole ‘not opening my eyes’ thing that got him thinking I was too shy, which, by the way, I am. Anyhow, it’s not like I would’ve said yes. Travelling around with a bunch of smelly boys barely out of their teens isn’t exactly my dream job.”

I glanced at her hands, noticing how she was fiddling with the cardboard coaster. It got me thinking that maybe she wasn’t being entirely truthful. “So there’s nothing going on between you two, then?” I probed. Reya blushed, which was a feat to achieve on her caramel complexion. “Nope, just texts. Oh, and he friended me on Facebook.” “Uh-huh.” “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me, Karla. There’s nothing going on. He told me I’m not his type, and I’d well believe it. His profile is full of pictures of him with tiny blondes, and I am neither blonde nor tiny.” “Right, so you’ve been snooping through his profile,” I continued, goading her. “Yes, of course I have. I’m a student. I have lots of free time and I get bored. What else is there to do?” “Plenty.” “Oh, shut up. You barely ever go online. You don’t understand the temptation to snoop.” “Especially when there’s a twinkly-eyed pretty boy in the mix.” Reya scowled. “That’s it. I’m changing the subject. When do I get to come see Lexie’s baby? I need some cuteness in my life.” “Whenever you like. I doubt she’s gonna get the chance to leave the flat any time soon.” Reya smiled like she couldn’t wait, and then a curious gleam lit her eyes. “So how was it with Lee? He drove Alexis to the hospital, right?” “Who told you that?” “Trevor,” she answered, like it was obvious. “That boy’s got a big mouth. And it was fine, positively civilised, actually. We chatted for a bit. He told me he’s opening a restaurant, asked me to stop by.” “I’m sure he did,” said Reya. “He’ll be all, Oh, I just spilled marinara sauce all over my muscle-T, whatever shall I do? Then he’ll whip it off, flex his abs at you, and you’ll be putty in his hands.” “And then we’ll go at it right out in the open for all the world to see,” I deadpanned. “So you’re saying there were no unresolved feelings, no longing glances or hot stares?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” “Liar!” “Hey, if you want to talk about Lee, then we have to talk about Trevor. How’s that sound?” She pursed her lips, frowning. “You’re no fun.” I shot her a pointed look. “Neither are you.” “That’s not true. Talking about your love life is a lot more fun than talking about mine.” “Right, so there is something going on with you and Trev.” I grinned. “Oh, my God, shut up. Fine, let’s talk about these cocktails, then, shall we?

They’re pretty amazing. I want to sample at least five different ones before the night is through.” Smiling wide, I lifted my hand to her for a high-five. “Sounds like a plan.” By the time I arrived home, I was more drunk than tipsy. It was barely ten o’clock, but we’d started drinking at six. When I got in, I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag on the floor, and turned to find Alexis and Lee sitting in the living area, cups of tea placed in front of them on the coffee table. Positively cosy, my drunken brain mused. “Looks like somebody was out celebrating,” said Alexis with a smile. “Congratulations again, by the way.” I grinned at her in a way that revealed my drunkenness, and wobbled slightly on my feet as I went to the kitchen to find a glass of water. It was at the back of my mind to ask why Lee was there, but I thought he must have come to visit the baby and see how Alexis was doing. With my glass full, I hobbled my way over to them and plonked down on the couch next to Lee. “Reya and I went for cocktails. I think I might have gone a little overboard,” I said, trying not to slur my words. When I looked at Lee, I found him regarding me fondly, his arm resting along the back of the couch. I scrunched up my mouth and pointed a finger into his chest, half the water in my glass sloshing out onto my lap. “Did you know about Reya and Trevor?” He shook his head. “What about them?” “I dunno. I think they’re having a thing.” “Sounds serious.” “Don’t be cheeky,” I warned, pointing at him again. A noise came from the baby monitor, and Alexis went to go check on Oliver. I might have been drunk, but I didn’t fail to see the cynical, knowing look on her face as she glanced between the two of us. “You should get to bed, Snap. Sleep off all that booze,” Lee murmured. “I have to drink this water first. Otherwise, I’ll be hung over in the morning.” His laugh was soft. “I think that’s gonna happen anyway, beautiful.” “Ugh, you’re so…so…annoying,” I said, and lifted the glass, downing the rest of its contents. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I added, “And don’t call me beautiful. You think I’ll let you in my pants because I’m drunk, wellll, no way, José.” “Ah, you have me pegged. I’m a dirty opportunist.” Lee sighed dramatically, unable to wipe the grin from his face. He thought I was funny. Getting up from the couch, I stumbled slightly, but he caught me in time to prevent my fall. “Easy,” he murmured, his hands clasping my elbows. Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I swallowed tightly and stepped out of his hold. Turning, I managed to make it to my bedroom, where I unceremoniously bumped into my wardrobe. “Ow,” I whined, clutching my knee. Lee stood just a few feet shy of my doorway. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I answered, and then proceeded to face-plant onto my mattress. Fully clothed; I had no intention of going to the effort of undressing. I could sleep like this. Lee entered my room. “You sure you don’t need some help?” “Nope, I’m good,” I said, waving a hand in the air. “You’re just going to sleep in your clothes?” he asked. “Pretty much.” “Karla, let me help you.” Annoyed, I flipped over onto my back and levelled him with a hostile glare. “I said, I’m fine.” Lee sighed and went back out into the living room, not bothering to shut my door. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the waist of my jeans began to bite into my skin, and I felt uncomfortably sweaty in my silk blouse. Only a minute or two had passed when I called out sheepishly, “Lee?” The smile in his voice was unmistakable. “What is it, Snap?” “Maybe I could use some help.” No way were these skinnies coming off on their own. Chuckling, he returned to my room and stood at the foot of my bed, grinning down at me. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk.” I scoffed. “Sure.” “Let’s get these off you, then,” he said, resting a knee on the mattress and bending forward to undo my fly. With effort he pulled them down my legs, finally getting them off. I was already unbuttoning my blouse when I realised he’d gone quiet, and looked up to find him standing over me, heat in his eyes as they traced my bare legs. “You good from here?” he asked, swallowing tightly. I couldn’t answer, because his stare was creating a burning need between my thighs. My throat was thick when I finally said, “Yeah, I’m good.” He had turned to leave when I added, “Wait, can you help me with the duvet before you go?” I shouldn’t have said it. I could easily deal with a bloody duvet by myself. The truth was that I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Nodding, he didn’t say a word as he returned, slid an arm around my waist, and lifted me up while pulling the duvet out from under me. Exhaling heavily, I stared at his thick lashes, then at his lips, before finally resting my gaze on his. Acting purely on instinct, I seized his mouth, moving my lips and coaxing his to open. He groaned as I kissed him, his entire body still and tense. My skin heated, my body responding to the contact as I arched my hips and felt the stirrings of an erection in his pants. “You’re drunk,” he said as he broke away briefly, like he was trying to reason with himself. “Mm-hmm,” I murmured indistinctly, pulling him back as I slid my tongue into his mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck. Lee hissed when I ground myself

off his dick, seeking friction. For a second he kissed me hungrily, drinking me in and tasting me. Then a moment later he was gone, rising off the bed and running his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he swore. “You can’t test me like that, Karla. I’m not strong enough,” he said gruffly. I lay there, staring up at him, breathless. “I’m sorry.” Lee frowned and shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I just don’t want to take advantage….” “It’s okay, I know. You’re a good person, Lee,” I told him, not sure if that was drunk Karla talking, or sober Karla. The way his eyes raked my half-naked body gave me chills. “The thoughts I’m having right now are far from good. Tell me to leave.” “Leave?” “Okay, I’m going,” he said, still staring at me, or my chest, to be more exact. “Yep, definitely leaving now.” Turning, he walked out of my room, this time closing the door behind him. I pulled the blanket up around me, savouring the warmth but wishing it was another kind. In the end the alcohol in my system won, and I passed out cold.

TWENTY-TWO

up to the sound of Reya’s voice, and, sure enough, when I walked into the I woke kitchen, she was sitting across from Alexis, holding Oliver in her arms and

cooing at him like an annoying grandmother. Or maybe I just found it annoying because my head was spinning. “How are you not dying right now?” I asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. Reya shrugged. “I don’t really get hangovers.” “Just you wait,” said Alexis, pointing to me. “A few years, and you’ll be as bad as this one.” “Yeah, no offence,” I added, “but I kind of hate you right now. I’m going to take a shower.” When I came back out, clean and dressed, I found breakfast waiting for me. Apparently, Reya felt guilty for her lack of a hangover and decided to cook me bacon to make up for it. She was such a gem. Sitting down at the table, I dug into my food. Her phone went off with a text, and she hurried to check it. I was willing to bet I knew who it was. “Trevor?” I asked between bites. She nodded sheepishly and put her phone back down. “He wants to hang out today.” “Really? You should go.” She shook her head. “It’s more of a group hangout. He and a few of his buddies are practicing for some free-running competition. He wanted to know if I was interested in coming to watch.” “That sounds exciting. I could think of worse ways to spend a Saturday.” “So why don’t you come with me?” she put in eagerly. “It’ll be fun, and I’ll buy you ice cream.” There was something about the innocent look in her eyes that I couldn’t say no to. “Sure, I’ll come. Got nothing else planned anyway.” “You’re the best,” she said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. A half hour later we were on the Tube, heading toward Hyde Park. Trevor texted Reya, telling her to meet him at the Albert monument. When we got there, we

found him, Liam and a bunch of their friends leaping up and down ten steps at a time, like they were running drills. There were also lots of people hanging about watching; not surprisingly, they were mostly female. That wasn’t what caught my attention most, though, because sitting off to the side and shouting encouragement was Lee. I grabbed Reya’s arm, my voice tight as I said, “You never told me he’d be here.” She shrugged out of my hold, smiling at me like butter wouldn’t melt. “Trev never mentioned it.” I knew she was lying when I caught the both of them sharing a secret little smile as Trevor waved to her from the steps. They were trying to play Cupid, I could tell. Deciding not to let it get to me, I continued walking toward Lee. “Hey,” I said tentatively, and sat down next to him on the steps. “So what are you, their coach or something?” He looked up at me, eyes moving down my body before settling on my face. “Or something. How’s the head?” “Thumping. I’m sorry about, uh, last night,” I said, fiddling awkwardly with the zipper of my jacket. Unfortunately, I remembered every second of my embarrassing attempt to kiss him and his subsequent rejection. I wished I could scrub the humiliating behaviour from my brain, but they hadn’t created a pill for selective memory loss yet. I knew from the set of his mouth that he was trying not to smile. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Leaning forward, he nodded to Reya. “Good to see you again.” “You, too,” she replied shyly. My friend tended to get quiet around good-looking men, which explained her behaviour with Lee. What it didn’t explain was her friendship with his brother. Then again, when Trevor decided he was going to be friends with someone, they didn’t really get a say in the matter. I’d learned that firsthand. “So what are they all practicing for?” I asked in an effort to make conversation. Lee rubbed a hand over his jaw, where an attractive bit of stubble was growing. “Big competition up in Brighton next week. The winning team gets a round trip to Thailand to climb the Doi Inthanon Mountain.” “And that’s their idea of a good time?” I said. “I’d rather stay on the beach.” Lee chuckled. “That’s you and me both.” I noticed Trevor and the rest of them stopping to take a break, and he ran over to us, plopping down next to Reya. Waggling his brow at her, he teased, “I know I’m delectably sweaty right now, but do try to resist.” He leaned closer, but she pushed him away. “Eww, get off. You need to take a shower.” “I’ll just go hop in the pond, shall I?” he joked, lifting the end of his T-shirt to reveal an inch of toned stomach. Reya laughed tightly. “I dare you.” “And I’ll second that dare,” I added, goading him. “Crack on.”

Trevor scowled at us both playfully. “It’s a good thing I’m immune to peer pressure. There’s probably typhoid in that water.” “And cholera,” said Lee. “So don’t even think about it. I’m not taking you to the hospital.” “You just don’t want to clean up after I get the shits.” Trevor grinned, trying to gross him out. Lee stared at him, expressionless, which was kind of funny. “Can we leave bowel movements out of the conversation, please?” I grimaced. “You don’t know what he’s like,” said Lee, still eyeing his brother. “He’s off his nut. Can’t back away from a challenge.” Trevor scoffed. “Jumping into a pond is no challenge. Now, if you’d asked me to climb atop old Albert, strip off all my clothes, and jump to the ground while crying out the lyrics to ‘Dancing Queen,’ I might have to take you up on it.” Reya stared at the monument. “You’d break your neck.” He leaned closer to her. “Is that a dare?” Her eyes flared with worry. “No! Absolutely not.” “Too bad. Could’ve been fun.” “I think there might be something wrong with you,” I said, my brow furrowing. Lee smirked and shook his head. “Nah, he’s just flirting with your friend.” “Hey, now, bruv, don’t be tellin’ porkies. Reya here’s a good buddy of mine,” said Trevor, throwing his arm around her shoulders. Reya looked away for a second, and I thought she might be feeling awkward. It was clear that she fancied him, so maybe she was embarrassed that her crush was unrequited. Lee eyeballed his brother, his pull the other one expression pure comedy gold. Reya caught my attention, a pleading look in her eyes. “Do you want to go get ice cream now? I spotted a stand on our way into the park.” “I’ll go,” Lee said. “You stay where you are, love.” Reya frowned, annoyed that he’d thwarted her escape plan, and settled back onto the grass beside Trevor. I was about to lie back and enjoy the unseasonably sunny weather when I felt Lee nudge me with the toe of his shoe. “Come help,” he said, eyeing me pointedly. “Oh, sure,” I replied, and got up to follow him. I waited until we were a good enough distance away to whisper, “They’re trying to set us up.” Lee smiled. “I know. You like how I turned it back around on them?” “I do. You’re an evil mastermind.” “Just giving them a taste of their own medicine. See how they like it. By the way, I never got to congratulate you properly last night, what with you being shitfaced drunk and all.” “I do believe that’s the technical term for it, yes.” He laughed. “Well, I heard you passed your exam, so, well done.” Reaching out, he gave my hand a small squeeze. My skin tingled where he touched me. It wasn’t long before his hand was on me again, this time when we reached the ice cream stand. He placed his flattened-out palm to the base of my spine, standing beside me as I scanned the choices. His warmth spread through me, both soothing and

disconcerting. Slipping his other hand inside his jeans, he pulled out a small business card and handed it to me. Glancing down, I saw it was for his restaurant. “Address is on there,” he said. “You should come see the place.” “You already invited me, remember? At the hospital.” “Just wanted to make sure you knew the invitation was still open,” he replied, eyeing me intensely. I swallowed back the lump in my throat that always seemed to come when I was around him these days. “I’ll come next week on my day off.” “Good.” I saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Was he feeling this just as much as I was? After we got the ice creams, the walk back to the monument was quiet. I thought I could feel him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t be certain. “So, are you both coming out with us tonight?” Trevor asked as we ate. “What’s tonight?” He nudged Lee with his elbow. “It’s this one’s birthday bash. He’s being an old curmudgeon and won’t let us throw him a party, so we’re just going for a few drinks at the local boozer.” I gaped at Lee. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say?” He lifted a careless shoulder. “Not really big into birthdays, Snap.” There was something sad in his expression, and I wondered if he didn’t like celebrating because of when he was a kid. I didn’t imagine birthdays were very fun for him back then. Since I was sitting next to him, I reached out and gave him one of those consolation prize half-hugs, wishing I could give him a full one. “Happy birthday,” I said, my voice quiet. He turned his head, his mouth only centimetres from mine. “Thanks.” Time stood still, and I couldn’t look away from his lips. I watched him inhale sharply, his nostrils flaring as his hand came up and wiped a spot of ice cream away from the corner of my mouth. Bringing it to his own, he licked it away, and I felt all of my insides clench tight. In the end, Trevor broke the moment by announcing loudly, “Oh, my God, just kiss her. This is getting downright inappropriate for my youthful gaze.” Reya laughed quietly next to him, and I looked away, trying to control my blush. Right then I wanted to kick him, annoyed that a cocky little twenty-three-year-old could embarrass me like that. Thankfully, there was a distraction when a group of girls barely out of their teens approached, smiling demurely and giggling as they eyed the aforementioned cocky little shit. “Hi, Trevor.” One of them finger-waved. Reya began fixedly studying the crumpled ice cream napkin she held as Trevor flashed them a charming smile. “Ladies.” “We were watching you earlier. It’s amazing the stuff you guys can do.” “Oh, yeah?” Trevor preened.

Reya quietly stood and announced, “I just remembered I have to go collect my laundry. I’ll see you all later.” With that she turned and walked away, an urgency in her gait. I glanced at Lee. “I’d better go after her.” He nodded. “Go. Will I see you tonight?” “Sure, we’ll stop by around eight or nine.” His eyes warmed. “Okay, see you then.” WHEN I CAUGHT up to Reya, she still wouldn’t admit that she had feelings for Trevor, and swore out and out that she really did have laundry to pick up. In the end I left her to it, with a promise to meet up later for Lee’s birthday drinks. My stomach was all a-flutter at the thought of seeing him again, but it felt different now. There was no anxious sense of foreboding, no feeling like I was doing something wrong. All I felt was excitement that I was going to see a man I found attractive and had some deep unresolved feelings for. So, you know, the usual. Look, at least he wasn’t thieving anymore, nor was he on my dad’s watch list. Although Lee and his brothers were being monitored by Dad’s team originally, he knew he didn’t have anything on them. Plus, he seemed satisfied enough that Stu was doing time, the person he’d always thought was the ringleader. That was the problem with my dad. He was so wrapped up in his own alpha maleness that he couldn’t see another alpha when he was staring him right in the face. And sometimes, the big dog wasn’t necessarily the largest. Feeling the need to get Lee a birthday gift, I stopped by a bookstore on my way home and picked up a Cordon Bleu cookery book that I knew he’d like. I smiled to myself, remembering the time I’d teased him for baking lemon cakes like a little old granny. In truth, the idea of him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, tattoos all on display, and wearing an apron was kinda sexy. Or maybe I was just a weirdo. I spent the rest of the day helping Alexis with Oliver, then went to get ready. Settling on a pair of black skinny jeans, boots, and a white shirt, I thought I looked good without making too much effort. I tied my hair up in a stylish ponytail before heading out. Reya met me on the Tube, since she lived two stops away, and when we got to the pub, the place was busy. I spotted Lee, Trevor, Liam, and two other blokes sitting at a big table, drinking pints. “Hey, everyone,” I said in greeting, and Lee immediately stood to place a kiss on my cheek. His gaze travelled over me as I shrugged off my jacket, and then he whispered in my ear, “You look hot as fuck.” I shivered at his words, wondering if he only said it because he was drinking, but the alcohol on his breath wasn’t heavy. I sat down, and Trevor proceeded to quiz Reya on where she’d run off to earlier. He’d been so busy flirting with his gaggle of groupies that he hadn’t even noticed her leave, which just said it all. I thought maybe my friend was better off with him staying oblivious. Sure, Lee was a handful,

but I imagined it’d take ten women to keep up with Trevor’s hyperactive personality. Reya needed someone kind, someone safe. Not an adrenaline junkie who jumped off buildings and climbed mountains just for kicks. Sure, Lee was…okay, you get the point. Of all the brothers, Trevor was the wildcard. Speaking of brothers, Liam was eyeing me cautiously from the other side of the table. I understood why he was sceptical, especially with Stu’s current incarceration. But I wasn’t there for any reason other than the fact that I was drawn to Lee. We’d been out of each other’s lives for three months. I’d thought I was over him, insomuch as you could ever get over a lost love. But the second I walked into that delivery room and saw him there, standing by my best friend’s side as she went through one of the most difficult and important experiences of her life, I knew I wasn’t over him. Not by a long shot. All my feelings had come rolling back, but with a renewed sense of warmth. I didn’t have to worry about my career or my reputation. He was just a man now. Just an ordinary man. Anything could happen. The idea caused my every pore to draw tight with anticipation. I wanted to say something to Liam, but I knew that if he was ever going to accept me, it was going to take time. I’d have to get him to warm up to me little by little. For now, I simply nodded my head at him in lieu of a hello. He nodded back. This was good. I’d half expected him to flip me off. “Oh, I brought you a present,” I said, turning to Lee. My knee knocked into his, and I was far more aware of the simple touch than I should have been. Pulling the gift-wrapped book from my handbag, I passed it to him. Lee stared at the gift, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Aw, Snap, ya shouldn’t have,” he said, leaning forward and giving me yet another peck on the cheek. This time it was dangerously close to my mouth, and I inhaled a sharp breath. A second later, Lee’s attention was on the book as he pulled it from the wrapping. The smile took over his entire face then, and his eyes lit up as he looked at me. “This is great, thanks.” “All right, it’s time for tequila shots,” said Trevor, returning from the bar. I’d been so wrapped up in Lee that I hadn’t even noticed him leave the table. He slammed a bottle of Patrón down, alongside some salt and limes. Then he went to grab a bunch of shot glasses from the barman before returning. “Nah, man, that stuff makes me puke,” said Liam, shaking his head. “Lightweight,” Trevor jeered, then turned to Reya, flashing a devilish grin. “How about you, Queenie?” She blushed at him using her stage name, her eyes downcast as she nodded. “Sure.” Trevor glanced at me. “And you, Constable?” “Hey, it’s sergeant now,” said Lee, and Trevor looked at me, wide-eyed. “No shit? You made sergeant? In that case, you definitely have to do a shot. All sergeants are notorious tequila fiends,” he said, making no sense whatsoever, but that was Trevor for you.

“Okay, I’ll do one,” I said, feeling Lee’s attention next to me. “But only one.” Trevor began lining the shots up in front of us. When Reya passed me the salt, I licked a line between my thumb and forefinger, poured it on, and picked up a slice of lime. Before I could react, Lee grabbed my hand and levelled me with a hot look. A moment passed, and then he bent his head to lick off the salt, his tongue hot and wet on my skin. My tummy fluttered wildly as I tried to steady my breathing, especially when he glanced up at me, eyes dark with mischief. I watched, transfixed, as he knocked back his shot, then bit down on the lime. It was probably one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. “Your turn,” he said, voice husky as he held his hand out to me. “Oh,” I breathed, heart pounding loud in my ears. After a second of hesitation, I brought my mouth to his skin and licked. This close, all I could smell was him, his salty taste on my lips. To my horror, I found myself lingering, and a rumble only I could hear rose from his chest. I drew away quickly, downing the shot and biting into the lime. Expecting to turn around and find everyone watching our borderline pornographic exchange, I was relieved to see they were ignoring us completely. That was mostly because Trevor was on his third shot, and the boys were egging him on to do more. There was music in the pub and a small dance floor, a few women and men busting sloppy, drunken moves. Lee’s breath hit my skin right before he whispered, “Come dance with me.” He didn’t give me time to respond, only grabbed my hand and pulled me up with him. I followed, my head foggy with either arousal or tequila, I couldn’t seem to tell. My eyes traced the muscular lines of his broad shoulders, shoulders made for hard work and fucking, and I began to imagine where this night would lead. Some cheesy eighties rock ballad played through the speakers as Lee spun us around, pulled me close, and slid his arms around my waist. I stared up at him, his bright blue eyes arresting. The way he moved was purposeful, every brush of his body against mine designed to seduce. “Lee,” I said, unsure whether he could hear me over the music, “why did you leave last night?” I knew by the set of his mouth that he didn’t like my question, but he answered it anyway. “I didn’t want to, if that’s what you’re asking.” What he said was a relief, because although he was showing all the signs that he wanted me, there’d always be that lingering doubt in the back of my mind, questioning whether or not he still harboured blame. “So….” I ventured. “You just didn’t want to take advantage while I was drunk?” “Yeah, I want to do things right this time.” “This time?” He nodded, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “If you think I’m here for friendship, Karla, you’re shit out of luck.” The growl in his voice did wonderful things to my insides. “I want you back in my bed, for good.”

“Oh,” I breathed, uncertain as to what to say. “But it won’t be like last time. I refuse to sneak around or keep things secret. I won’t have you letting go of my hand because you’re ashamed to be seen with me. That shit is over. I want you to be proud to be by my side. I want you to want everyone to know you’re mine. But most of all, I want to be worthy of you.” “You were always worthy. Circumstances just weren’t…optimal.” He shook his head, still swaying our bodies gently to the music. “Nah. You said something to me once that rang true. You said I’d gotten away with murder for so long that I wasn’t afraid of being caught anymore, and you were right. When you’re in as deep as I was, you get numb, but you also start justifying your actions. You begin to believe you’re doing good, that it’s either you or them. You convince yourself that the law’s wrong. That’s where my head was at when I first met you, and little by little you broke down the walls of bullshit I’d built up. You showed me all the lies I’d been telling myself until I finally woke up and believed you.” I stared at him, taken aback by his admission. Because the truth was that he’d shown me so much, too. The law wasn’t perfect. There would always be Steves around to screw people over and take advantage of the power that came with the job. There would always be corruption and unfairness. And it was those like Lee and his family who bore the brunt of that, because he’d shown me that people’s actions are a result of their circumstances, and sometimes breaking the law is the only choice. I thought on all this as I lowered my head to rest on his shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is, I want to date you, Karla Sheehan,” he said, a smile in his voice. I laughed softly and nuzzled my nose into his skin. “Like an old-fashioned courting?” He breathed deeply and drew me closer, his mouth at my temple. “Maybe not so old-fashioned. I’m not sure I can keep my hands to myself for that long.” “I’m not sure I’d want you to,” I whispered, and felt him shudder when my breath hit his earlobe. “But there’s just one more thing.” “Oh, yeah, what’s that?” “When do you plan on announcing your intentions to my father?” As soon as the question was out, we both burst into laughter. It went without saying that my dad was never going to accept Lee. It was a good thing I’d never been one to wait around for parental approval. “How about this, if I promise you never have to meet my old man, then you have to promise I never have to meet yours?” Eyeing him in amusement, I took his hand and we shook on it. “It’s a deal.”

TWENTY-THREE

L

ee was working out some kinks in his menu. This was exactly how he phrased it when he called and asked me on our first official date. Come over to the restaurant, he said. Let me cook for you, and you can tell me what you like and what you don’t like. It didn’t take too much convincing for me to say yes, especially since he made all that sound decidedly sexual. But now I was nervous. I had no idea what to wear, and had changed my outfit several times. The previous night we’d said goodbye without so much as a kiss, with Trevor drunk from too many tequila shots, and Lee and Liam helping him into a taxi. Needless to say, I was all amped up, excited and nervous for what would happen when I got to the restaurant. Would there be workers around, or would we be alone? In the end I chose a dark purple skater skirt, boots, and an old Metallica T-shirt. It harkened back to my teenage grunge years, but it looked sexy and casual at the same time, so I forced myself not to try for another outfit change. When I arrived at the Grub Hut, the sign above the premises was done in stylish carved metal. Peering in the window, I saw there was still work being completed on the interior, but I imagined it was going to look great when it was finished. I texted Lee to let him know I was outside, and a minute later he appeared from out the back, the end of his black T-shirt covered with flour and his hair tousled. Opening the door, he welcomed me with a warm smile and pulled me into a hug. “Hey,” he murmured, placing a kiss on my temple. “Hi,” I replied, stepping inside. “The place looks great. I love the sign.” Lee grinned at my compliment and took my hand, leading me out back to the kitchen. The place was brand new, all stainless steel, with a long metal work top in the centre of the room. My mouth watered as I took in all the ingredients. There were bowls laid out with all manner of foods: chopped tomatoes and onions, avocados, coriander, quartered lemons, chilies, fresh tortillas, and a whole host of spices. It became clear that he was planning on making some kind of Mexican dish. “Those shots last night gave me inspiration,” he said with a wink, and I got a little tingle along the back of my neck as I remembered his tongue on my skin. Lee’s eyes darkened, like he was remembering, too, and then he came over and took my jacket.

“Nobody else around?” I asked, trying to sound casual. He shook his head and smirked. “We’re all alone.” Trying to act like his flirting wasn’t affecting me, I hitched myself up onto the counter opposite his workspace and folded my arms. Looking around, I knew it must have cost a pretty penny to do the place up, not to mention the rents in London weren’t cheap. Though I didn’t suspect he’d used dirty money to fund the new business. Selling the garage would’ve left him with more than enough to start over. “So how’s everything been going? You had any old acquaintances sniffing around?” “No, and if they’re smart, they’ll steer clear. A couple of the boys who used to work for me wanted to go clean, too, so I gave them jobs here. If anyone comes trying for a protection racket, they’ll be shown where the door is.” “That’s good. Do you expect they will?” Lee shook his head. “Spent years building up a certain reputation, Karla. If anyone tries messing with this place or me, they’ll have to be dumb as fuck.” I let out a breath and braced my hands on the edge of the counter. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but if you ever have any problems, let me know. So, what are you making?” He motioned to the ingredients. “Isn’t it obvious? Tacos.” “I love tacos.” He smirked. “Me, too.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. Lee went to wash his hands and then returned, throwing some minced beef into the pan and mixing in a few spices. I found it strangely relaxing to watch him cook, and my stomach was rumbling by the time he was finished. He set three tacos on a plate for me and pulled up a stool. “Okay, so each one has a different spice mix in the beef. Tell me which one you like best.” I grinned, enjoying myself. “The second one is best. I like the smokiness,” I told him after I’d tasted all three. “Yeah?” Lee asked, his eyes lighting up with interest. “What about number three? I tried a pinch of cardamom just for shits and giggles.” “It’s good, but not as good as the second.” He stood before me, his arms folded. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Now we move onto my béarnaise sauce recipe. I’ll make mini-steaks to go with it.” He tried to take my plate, but I pushed his hands away. “Hey! I’m not finished yet.” Lee chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “No need to bite my head off. I just thought you might get full.” “Ha! I’m a cop. I’m never full.” “This is true. I should see about frying you up some donuts.” I narrowed my gaze, still chewing. “Don’t be a dick.” “You want my dick? Whoa, ease up there, serg. I’m not a piece of meat.” His

cheeky wink held pure mischief as he bent to pull a pot out of the cupboard. I scowled playfully at his comment, slightly annoyed by how easily he could get to me, and honestly, feeling a little turned on now that he’d switched up the conversation. I watched as he began melting butter in a saucepan and adding shallots. Already the smell was heavenly, and he hadn’t even put in the other ingredients yet. When he got some melted butter on his thumb, he stuck it in his mouth to suck it off, and without even realising it, I was clenching my thighs at the visual. When the steam made him too hot, he lifted his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, exposing his abs. I swear, if anyone ever decided to make a cookery show about Lee, they’d get top ratings. I put down my empty plate and took a sip of water. Yes, because I was thirsty, but also because I was too warm. “The sauce looks great,” I told him, and he glanced up. “Yeah? You should come over again tomorrow. I’m makin’ a Ruby Murray.” “Oh, my God, you’re such a Cockney sometimes.” I mock-cringed. Lee grinned impishly. “You don’t like it?” “Danny Dyer doesn’t really do it for me.” “You lie. All the ladies love a bit of the Danny. They want him to take them down the rub-a-dub and dip his Hampton Wick in their Morris Minors.” I almost wheezed, I laughed so hard. “That’s truly awful. Please don’t ever talk dirty to me in Cockney again. It’ll put me off sex for life.” Lee was laughing too, his face handsome as he raised his hands. “Okay, understood. We wouldn’t want to put you off sex.” “And why’s that?” I asked, suddenly feeling flirtatious. “Because you get the orgasm version of hangry. If I don’t make you come, you’re in a right mood.” “Shut up! That’s not true.” “Happened a few times, Snap,” he asserted teasingly. “Oh, you’re a little liar.” My expression showed my annoyance, and he looked pleased as punch that he was riling me. Clearly, that had been his intention all along. After we ate the mini steaks, and I told Lee which version of his béarnaise recipe I preferred, he grabbed two beers from the fridge and brought me upstairs where there was a rooftop terrace. It was only a two-story building, so you couldn’t exactly see for miles, but it was still nice. The weather was mild, and the sky was starting to darken. Lee popped open the bottles, handed one to me, and took a long swig of his own. We sat side by side on folding chairs, our feet propped up on an old wooden bench. “I like it here,” I said, breaking the quiet. “Yeah? I’m gonna get some of those funky coloured lights and hang them over the fencing, set up a few outdoor heaters and get some deck furniture. Make a nice little outdoor dining area.” “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

“If you’re gonna do something, might as well do it right,” said Lee, tipping his bottle to mine. “I’ll drink to that.” We sat in quiet for a few minutes, letting the nighttime city noises wash over us. Lee had pulled his chair up close to mine, so our shoulders were only inches apart. My hair was up in a ponytail and my old T-shirt hung lazily off one shoulder. I was vaguely aware of a feathery sensation before realising it was Lee’s lips brushing just below my hairline. Letting out a low sigh, I tilted my head farther to the side to grant him more access. “You know I love you, right?” he whispered, shocking me out of my reverie. My heart pounded, and I momentarily lost the ability to breathe. He’d told me he loved me once, while drunk beyond belief, but this was different. This time I knew it was true. Emotion clogged my throat, blocking my voice, and I felt wetness prick at my eyes. “I know,” I finally managed to whisper. “I understand if you can’t say it back yet. I just wanted to tell you how I feel.” Involuntarily my mouth dropped open as I stared him. How could he ever think I didn’t feel just as strongly for him as he did for me? “Lee,” I said, my voice scratchy, “I know I never admitted it, but I started falling for you a long time ago. It was impossible not to.” I saw him hesitate, his face stoic as he watched me. I knew what he was waiting for. He needed me to say the words. After a moment that felt like forever, I managed to muster the courage. “I love you, too,” I said, and he reached over to caress my cheek. “Yeah?” he asked, his eyes searching mine like I might change my mind between one second and the next. “Yeah,” I whispered. In quick succession, he took both our bottles and set them down on the bench. Then he was back, his mouth devouring my neck, kissing and nipping in a way that sent tremors throughout my entire body. How was it that a few carefully placed kisses could reduce me to a quivering, breathless pile of need? Lee tugged me over to sit on his lap, dragging my mouth to his and kissing me with a relaxed, confident sort of urgency. The spot between my legs ached to be touched while his erection dug into my hip. Before I knew it, I was straddling him, and he’d pulled the tie from my hair, letting the strands fall around my shoulders. I was delirious with arousal, needing his mouth everywhere at once. Lee shoved my calf-length skirt up around my waist, his hands finding my underwear and hastily pushing the fabric to one side. When he slid a finger down my folds, he broke our kiss, leaned back, and stared up at me. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice fierce. I let out a weak moan, my breaths quickening. “I’m going to watch you come,” Lee went on. “I bet it’ll be fast.” He wasn’t wrong. I’d been without sex for months, and being around him for the

last few days had me wired. I was in woeful need of a release. Lee pushed two fingers inside me, and I savoured the feeling of fullness while he began rubbing my clit with his thumb. Enjoying the pressure, I closed my eyes, and his other hand slid beneath my T-shirt, pulling down the cup of my bra and palming my breast. He moulded it with his hand, then plucked my beaded nipple, causing me to shudder, ever closer to orgasm. His thumb flicked lazily back and forth. I opened my eyes just as I was about to come, locked gazes with Lee, and shook as pleasure overtook me. “So fucking beautiful,” he repeated, devouring me with his stare. Once my orgasm faded, I snuggled close to him, breathing in his scent. His hand was still on my breast, and he absentmindedly massaged it as we sat there in the afterglow. I was disappointed when he gently moved me, helping us both to stand, and said, “I should get you home.” I wanted to pout and complain like a child, wanted to beg him to take me right there on the roof, but I had to maintain some measure of decorum. So instead I nodded and followed him back down to the kitchen, where I’d left my jacket and handbag. I was standing by the counter, gathering my things, when I felt his heat at my back. “Ah, fuck taking it slow,” said Lee, his hands at my waist. I gasped when he pushed my skirt up again, this time pulling my underwear off and stuffing it in his pocket. All of a sudden I was reminded of our first time, in the dark of the crowded nightclub, absorbing one another like it was our last night on earth. We’d been so desperate for each other back then, had spent so long in a dance, playing a game without any set rules or guidelines. Lee’s hand clutched my neck, his mouth at my ear as he asked, “Do you want me?” “Yes,” I whimpered. His hold on me wasn’t gentle, and I savoured the hint of pain. With his other hand, he undid his belt and shoved down his jeans. When I felt his warm cock brush my arse, I arched my spine, seeking. His breath stuttered out of him, like he was having a hard time keeping it together. “So perfect,” he growled right before he gave me a light slap on the bottom. “I need you. Now,” I breathed, my voice airy and light. His hands roamed up my back, removing my bra and letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor. Everywhere he touched me, I shivered. When he cupped my bottom with both hands, his thumb slipping into the crease and smoothing over a forbidden place, I shuddered, my eyes fluttering closed. His cock brushed my entrance teasingly, hands gripping me now as he pushed inside in one hard stroke. When he was embedded deep in me he stilled, his mouth on my nape, planting wet little kisses that got me going even more. We were both still standing, the sensation more intense that way. Lee’s hips

began to move, hammering in and out quickly as he unleashed his need for me. One hand came up to mould my breast, the other spread out flat on my stomach, holding me in place. I arched my spine, letting him in as deep as he could go. “Come back to mine tonight,” he breathed harshly. “Yes,” I said, my voice high as it mixed with my moans. He bit down on my shoulder. “Maybe we’ll stop by yours first, pick up those handcuffs.” A quick, unexpected laugh escaped me. “I can’t wait to put my mouth on your pussy,” Lee continued in a growl. “God, you’re clenching me so tight right now.” Man, when he didn’t go all Cockney, he was really good at dirty talk. His voice filled my ears, telling me all the naughty things he planned on doing to me. I was so wet right then, his cock pounding me hard. I lost the ability to think and fell into the sensation. Lee’s mouth went to my neck, sucking my skin as his movements sped up even more. He was going to leave a mark, but I couldn’t even summon the urge to care. I was sure my uniform would cover it at work. When he came, it was with a sharp, gravelly expletive, his teeth grazing me as his hips slowed and his warmth filled me. I sighed as my walls tightened around him and he pulled my body tight to his. “Love ya, Karla, always will,” he said as he finally caught his breath. “Love you, too,” I replied, turning my face and capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss. HERE’S what you need to know: We did go back for the handcuffs, and it was incredible. I was going to order a pair of furry ones online, because real cuffs hurt like a mother…especially when you couldn’t help straining against them. Aside from prying ourselves apart when we had to work, Lee and I were inseparable over the following week or two. When the day finally came for the opening of his restaurant, I made sure I had the night off to attend. Lee was putting on a big shindig, with free food and drinks to celebrate the grand opening. I wore a figure-hugging black dress with heels, and styled my hair in loose waves. Alexis even had her parents babysit Oliver for the night so she could come. My BFF never turned down free food, even if she had to drag herself away from her adorable newborn for a few hours. This was her first night out since giving birth, and I was glad she was getting the chance to let her hair down. Reya came, too, looking stunning in a dark blue dress that hugged her curvy form. She’d slotted herself right back into Trevor’s friend zone, but there was no reasoning with her. Trevor had an energetic sort of charm that could become addictive, especially for an introvert like Reya. She got to live vicariously through his extrovert behaviour. In any case, he and his group of traceurs had won their competition and were headed off to Thailand for a month of sightseeing and mountain climbing. Since the two of them had been spending so much time

together, I wondered how she’d handle his absence. Lee had been at the restaurant all day, preparing for the party, so I hadn’t seen him since the night before. Arriving with my two friends, I saw him standing by the service window, a row of plates lined up before him as he okayed the dishes. He looked busy so I left him to it, accepting a glass of white wine from the waiter carrying around a tray. A little while later I excused myself to use the bathroom, and bumped into Liam on my way back out. He was sitting on the staircase, nursing a glass of whiskey. His eyes grew wary when he saw me, knocking back the last of his drink and slamming down the glass. “Not feeling the crowds?” I asked, hovering close by. “Big parties aren’t really my thing,” he said, and I took that as an invitation to sit down. “Yeah, mine neither.” I felt him looking at me curiously as we fell into a silence. “Lee seems happy these days,” said Liam after a time. “I like to hope he is.” Turning his body, his voice and face were serious as he said, “Can I ask you a question?” “Of course.” “Do you think I’d make a good copper?” He couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d asked if he’d make a good micro-pig farmer. My brow furrowed as I hurried to reply, “Oh, well, sure, I think you could be a good anything if you put your mind to it, Liam.” He turned away again, his gaze levelled on his hands. “That’s a pat answer, Karla. Give it to me straight. I want your honest opinion.” “Is this something you’ve been thinking about?” I asked. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that Liam was considering joining the police. I wasn’t an easy person to surprise, but this certainly took the biscuit. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and uncertain. It made me wonder if he felt insecure about opening up to me. “Liam, I think you’d make a fantastic policeman, and that’s the God’s honest truth. But you’ve got a record. You could find it difficult getting your application accepted.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said glumly. I studied him, my eyes tracing his handsome profile and short brown hair. Liam was the Cross brother I’d spent the least time with. But looking at him now, I was beginning to think he was the most self-serious, even though he was the youngest. I thought maybe he pushed himself harder to prove his worth to his older siblings. Nudging his shoulder with mine, I said, “I could help you, you know. Put a good word in. It can’t hurt matters. And if it doesn’t work, there’s always the army.” Liam shook his head. “Nah, the army’s not for me.” “So why the police?”

He lifted a brow. “Honestly? It’s got a lot to do with all the stuff we used to be involved in.” He paused and sighed. “I just feel like stealing’s the only thing I’ve ever really been good at. It’s the thing I know best, but I can’t do it anymore. So I thought maybe I could switch it around, use all the stuff I know about thieving and be the prevention instead of the cause.” He glanced at me. “It’s stupid, I know.” I grasped his shoulder. “It’s not stupid, not at all. I actually think it’s very noble. Half the people I work with got into policing because it’s a government job with a steady paycheck, and those are the good ones. You don’t even want me to get started on the bad.” Liam seemed hopeful, and a little embarrassed at my compliment. “So you think I’ve got a chance?” “I do. And I’ll do everything I can to help.” A few minutes later, I crept up on Lee in the kitchen as he stood typing out a message on his phone. I slid my arms around his waist and squeezed tight. “Hey,” I murmured. “Everything going okay?” He let out a breath and twisted in my arms. “Yeah, we’ve run out of beer, though. I was just texting the supplier, seeing if he can get another delivery in before closing.” I nodded. “Fingers crossed he can. Hey, I was just talking to Liam.” Lee’s brow furrowed. “What did he say? He’s been a moody little sod the past few weeks. I don’t know what’s going on with him.” “He told me he’s been thinking about joining the police,” I said, my words coming out in an excited rush. Lee shot me an arch look. “Is this a wind-up?” “Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are. But no, it’s not a wind-up. I think he’s been considering this for a while.” Lee still seemed sceptical, but he gave me a small smile anyway, his hands lowering to cup my arse as he whispered, “Maybe having you around’s been a good influence.” I pressed a kiss to his lips before drawing away. After all, there were half a dozen staff milling about, and PDAs weren’t my thing. I lifted a cracker spread with cream cheese smoked salmon off a tray and shoved it in my mouth. Lee gave me a playful smack on the bottom and told me to stop picking at his finger foods. Just as I rubbed away the sting, threatening to get him back, Liam walked into the kitchen. “Well, well, well, aren’t you full of surprises,” Lee announced loudly at the sight of his younger brother. “Thinking of joining the coppers. Our dear old granddad would be turning in his grave. You know mum’s old man was a black marketer back in the day.” Liam shot me an exasperated look. “You didn’t have to run right off and tell him.” “What?” I said, already shoving another cracker into my mouth. “I was excited.” He sighed and turned to Lee. “And why the fuck would I give a shit about some old geezer I’ve never met?”

“Because you’re making a change, cleaning up the Cross name,” Lee replied, slipping his arm around my waist and preventing me from eating any more of his finger foods. “Hey, who’d have thought the coppers’d be the new family business?” I grinned and stuck out my tongue. “You should be thanking me for the improvement. And I’m not family yet.” Lee barked a laugh. “Yet being the operative word. I’ll have a ring on that finger before the year is out.” I gaped at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread from ear to ear. “Shut up.” “Make me,” he purred, capturing my lips in another kiss. Liam groaned and left the kitchen, not wanting to witness any more of our smug coupledom. LEE STOOD across the street from the police station, his arms folded as he leaned against his parked car, waiting for me. I got a warm fuzzy feeling in my tummy as I walked across to him and he pulled me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my temple. It was nice having a boyfriend to pick me up after a long day on the job. “Hey,” he said, pressing his face into my hair and inhaling deeply. “Ugh, please don’t smell me right now. I had to chase down a mugger earlier, and I stink.” “You smell amazing,” he countered huskily. “And you’re a sergeant now. Let the others do the grunt work….” “Ah, but you’ve gone straight. I have to find my excitement somewhere.” Lee chuckled and ran a thumb across my lower lip. “I’ll give you excitement, you cheeky little minx.” His laughter died when his attention snagged on something just behind us. I sensed my dad’s presence before I even turned around, my skin prickling when he said my name. “Karla.” I stepped out of Lee’s arms and turned to face him, his frown and thick, narrowed eyebrows signalling his disapproval. I didn’t necessarily need to be doing anything bad; he just disapproved of me in general. “Dad,” I said firmly as I stood up straight. He was studying Lee, his face stern with concentration as he tried to figure out how he knew him. Lee and my dad had had a small few run-ins over the years, plus Dad had pictures of him from the McGregor investigation. Still, Lee’s hair had grown out and he wore a trim, fitted shirt, a suit jacket, and slacks. He dressed like that on days when he was in business mode, so he didn’t look the way Dad was used to seeing him. I swear, it was crazy the things a suit could do to blind people. Though in this case Lee was a retired wolf in sheep’s clothing. Dad’s attention came back to me as he cleared his throat. “I heard you passed your sergeant’s exam,” he said. He wouldn’t be giving me any “congratulations” or “well done” hugs. God

forbid he show some actual emotion. However, the fact that he’d approached me at all was out of character. Dad was the kind of man who waited for you to come to him; otherwise, he’d lose his sense of importance. “I did.” “At least now you won’t be in the trenches,” he said cynically. And there it was. I knew he couldn’t keep up the good behaviour for very long. A silence fell, and Lee slid his fingers into mine as a show of support. I didn’t really hate my dad, but I knew I didn’t love him, either. I felt a strange sort of disconnection, and it was kind of sad, but that’s how it would always be between us. Dad’s attention returned to Lee. “I supposed this is your young man.” “Very pleased to meet you, Superintendent Sheehan.” Lee smiled widely and reached forward to shake his hand. I could tell he was getting a real kick out of this. “Likewise,” said Dad. “Karla, it’d please your mother greatly if the two of you came for dinner this Sunday.” “Oh, sure,” I said, trying not to simultaneously stutter and choke on my own restrained laughter. “We’ll try our best to make it.” The fact that he didn’t recognise Lee was too hilarious for words. If Dad knew who he was really inviting over for dinner, he’d probably turn around and vomit all over his shiny brown leather shoes. “Good. I’ll let her know,” he said before tipping his hat to us and turning to walk away. Before he could complete the turn, he twisted back, eyes on Lee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name.” “The name’s Lee. Lee Cross,” my boyfriend replied, and as soon as the words left his mouth, my dad’s eyes practically popped from their sockets. “Well,” I blurted. “We’re in a bit of a hurry, so we’d better go.” Tugging on Lee’s hand, I ushered him over to the car. We were already pulling away from the kerb when Dad finally came to his senses, his jaw firming and his expression darkening as he watched us drive away. “I’m sorry, but that was priceless,” said Lee, laughter bubbling out of him. “My poor dad,” I chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look both furious and confused at the same time.” “Serves him right, the old prick. Couldn’t even muster up a single congratulations for you. See the difference between him and me? I lift you up, he pushes you down. You don’t need that shit in your life.” God, I adored him. “No, you’re absolutely right. I don’t.” Lee shot me a tender smile and focused back on the road. “Hey, by the way, 007,” I said, poking him in the arm. “Don’t think I’m letting you away with that cheesy line. I’m telling everyone how you introduced yourself. And I mean everyone.” Lee gripped my thigh and gave it a firm squeeze, his other hand still on the steering wheel. “Do it, and I’ll withhold oral sex for a month.” I mock-gasped. “You wouldn’t!” “I most certainly would.”

“Fine. I’ll keep your James Bond secret. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your rep, now, would I?” I teased him before continuing, “Anyway, I’m willing to bet the invitation to dinner at my parents will soon be rescinded.” “Yep.” “You could at least pretend to act disappointed.” “Nope.” I laughed. Seriously, there was no way I could love the man sitting beside me any more than I already did. Placing my hand over his, I rested my head on his shoulder and exhaled. I was happy in the moment but also looking forward to the future. And it felt good. Later that evening, I stood on the edge of a seven-foot wall in an old industrial estate near the docks. Lee was beside me, holding my hand. The other week I’d asked him to teach me the basics of free-running, and he’d thought I was joking. I wasn’t. Just because I was a sergeant didn’t mean my days of chasing down thieves were over, and who else better to teach me than one of the best? “Loosen up,” said Lee. “When we fall and hurt ourselves, it’s because our bodies go rigid when we panic. You ever see a cat break a leg? No, because they’re all loose and springy. Pretend you’re a cat.” I resisted the urge to meow. “Okay, I’m a cat.” “Just so you know, the first time I tried a jump like this, I sprained my ankle.” “I can deal with a sprained ankle.” “Liam broke his leg once. And Stu nearly shattered his knee when he didn’t warm up properly.” “Are you trying to freak me out? Because if you are, it’s working.” Lee’s fingers squeezed mine. “I just want you to be aware that this won’t be easy. You’re gonna have bruises and sprains. Shit, you’ll ache in places you never knew existed before.” I firmed my mouth and narrowed my gaze. “You’re trying to put me off.” “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he replied simply, affection bright in his eyes. I leaned over to kiss his cheek, my voice turning unexpectedly soft. “Everything good hurts first. If we hadn’t soldiered on, we wouldn’t be here right now.” His expression shone with love, but he stayed silent, smiling at me tenderly before finally whispering, “No, we wouldn’t. You ready?” “Yes.” No. “Just relax. I won’t let go of your hand.” Staring at the ground, I leapt at the same time Lee did, the air whooshing past my ears as my heart pounded in an exhilarating rush. Our feet landed simultaneously, and I crouched low just like he’d instructed me to do. And, like he promised, he didn’t let go of my hand.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

Nick: Steal You’re nicked: You’re under arrest The nick: The police station Old Bill: Police Bruv: Bro/Brother Trainers: Sneakers DI: Detective Inspector ARV: Armed response vehicle NCA: National Crime Agency Ringer: A car made from stolen parts, or one with a swapped licence plate. Tooled up: Carrying a weapon Numpty: Idiot Bent: Corrupt Quid: Pounds (£) Boozer: Pub/Bar Mug: Fool/Face Smarmy: Smug Barnet: Hair

EPILOGUE 2 YEARS LATER. HM PRISON BELMARSH, LONDON.

Lee on the steering wheel. Gear stick in neutral. Heart lodged firmly in my H ands fucking throat.

I’ve been waiting at her good Majesty’s prison for the last half an hour. Any minute now my brother will walk out those gates and finally be a free man. After serving two years of a seven-year sentence that should’ve had my name on it, he’s finally going to walk. I’m not angry. Not anymore. But I’m not grateful, either. Life’s too short to go around acting like you owe people. Stu did for me what I would’ve done for him. It was simple. We were brothers. We still are, but recently it hasn’t felt like it. For the last three months, he’s refused to take my visits. I haven’t had a single phone call, letter, or smoke signal, and I’m beginning to get worried. Fuck it, that’s a lie. I was worried long before now, but I have it on good authority that Stu’s alive and in perfect health, so why the hell has he cut off communication? I sit up straighter when I see the gates open and two screws step out. They usher forward three blokes, and I immediately recognise Stu as one of them. He walks straight, head down, wearing a hoodie and jeans. I smack my hand down on the horn to get his attention and he looks up, recognising my motor. I see him mutter something to himself, a few effs and jeffs, I’m willing to bet, before turning his wheels in my direction. Liam and Trevor are at the house, helping Sophie and Karla set up the welcome-home party. By the looks of it, they’re going to have a fuck of a time getting Stu in the party mood. He opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. “Didn’t ask you to come,” are the first words out of the moody bastard’s mouth. If I had less restraint, I’d give him a kick in the balls. “Wasn’t going to let you get the bus, now, was I?” I say, starting up the engine. We drive in silence for a couple of minutes, Stu staring out the window, big horror head on him. “Well, I must say, Stuart, you’re a veritable ray of fucking sunshine today.”

All he does is turn his head, level me with an expression that has “piss off” written all over it, and resumes looking out the window. “So you’re not going to explain why I’ve gotten nothing but radio silence off you for months?” He tilts his head to me, all snotty. “Wasn’t feeling chatty.” “I thought they put you in the hole. Found out from Jimmy Kelly’s cousin that you’re walking around fit as a fiddle.” “Jimmy Kelly’s cousin can go fuck himself.” That does it. I slam my foot down on the brakes and pull the car off to the side of the road. He’s putting up a front, I can just tell. Snapping free my seatbelt, I turn to him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. He flinches at my touch, and let me tell you, seeing your six-foot-two, brick-shithouse brother flinch away from a friendly touch would do a number on anyone. “This is me, Stu. There’s nobody else here. No bullshit, so stop blocking me out.” I keep my voice measured, not letting my temper get the better of me. All of a sudden, Stu slumps in his seat. His breathing goes funny, and he closes his eyes. I stare at him, not knowing what to do. It seems like he’s ignoring me again, but then I see the wetness on his cheeks and I realise he’s crying. “Ah, fuck,” I swear quietly, emotion biting at my gut as I pull him into a hug. He heaves in my arms, all two hundred and some pounds of him, and I notice he’s become a lot bulkier during his time away. The pain he’s been dealing with rolls out like a riptide now that he has a safe place to expel it. It’s a bullshit social standard that men aren’t supposed to cry anyway. Fuck, I’d cried like a baby into a bottle of Jack when I thought I’d lost Karla, and I’m man enough to admit it. I know Stu had a rough time of it when he first got sent away, trying to avoid fights and stupid political mind games. A bloke like me can disappear into a crowd, become wallpaper, but not Stu. He stands out. “Fuuuuck,” he curses, gripping my shirt as he pulls back and runs his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.” “Not necessary.” “It is. You don’t need me coming out with a chip on my shoulder. And I missed your wedding.” I laugh softly. Missing my and Karla’s wedding is the last thing I expected him to feel bad about. “It’s not like they were going to let you take a day trip.” “Yeah, but, I could’ve, I dunno, Skyped myself in or something. I always thought I’d be your best man.” “Me, too. Trevor did an okay job.” “Little prick stole my thunder.” I chuckle and grip his hand in mine. “You didn’t miss nothing fancy, that’s not mine and Snap’s style, but it was the best day. I wish you could’ve been there.” He perks up, sliding his eyes to mine. “Yeah?” Sitting back in my seat, I describe the day, knowing it’d be good for him to picture something other than a six-by-eight cell and high walls. “Yeah. Alexis was

her bridesmaid. You would’ve appreciated the low neckline.” Stu groans. “Don’t fucking torture me. It’s been two years, bruv.” I frown. “I know. My bad.” “Not your fault. What else?” “Karla had her hair up in this thing, looked like a bloody Danish pastry. I don’t know how birds do that shit. It’s like it’s purposefully designed to make you want to pull it and make a mess. Obviously, her old man didn’t show. Her mum made a brief appearance, though. Karla seemed real happy about that. We had Liam give her away. Trevor, the greedy little git, wanted to play father of the bride and best man, but I wasn’t having it.” Stu laughs. “And during the afters he tried getting off with Larry Murphy’s wife. The bloke nearly de-bollocked him. Trust Trev to pull a stunt like that, but fuck it, a wedding’s not a wedding without a bit of colour.” “True.” A quiet falls between us, and I cast him a look. “Are we good?” Stu nods before letting out a long exhalation. “Yeah, we’re good.” “Great, because Soph’s throwing you a welcome-home party, so you’re going to have to plaster a smile on that ugly mug for the next few hours.” Stu chuckles loudly. “You’re jealous of this mug and we both know it.” A pause as he side-eyes me. “She hasn’t invited a bunch of people, has she?” I shake my head. “Nah, just the family today, bruv. I’m making you a slap-up meal, by the way. Been planning it for weeks. It’s gonna blow your socks off, make you forget about all that prison slop you’ve been eating.” Stu groans. “I never thought I’d miss fruit, but Christ, I swear I’d get a stiffy if I saw an apple right now.” “All round and ripe for the picking,” I say with a grin. “Sexy little bitches.” Stu barks a laugh, and it makes me feel ten feet tall to see him smile, even if it is only for a minute. I pull a pack of ciggies from my pocket, light one up, and hand it to him before lighting another for myself. We sit in quiet as we smoke, staring at the road ahead. When we’re done, we throw our butts out the window and I start the car up again. “Wait,” says Stu, putting his hand on mine. I turn to him. “Can I drive?” he asks. “Go for it,” I reply, and we get out to switch seats. All the way home I watch him, little by little seeing the tension seep out of him the farther we get away from the prison. Still, he seems different, more stoic and thoughtful somehow. I mean, being put away would change anyone, no matter how strong they are going in. I wonder what it’s like to be all caged up like that, stuck looking at the same dumbfuck faces every day. That fate was almost mine, and I’m resolved to do everything in my power to make life better for my brother from here on out. By the time we arrive at the house, Stu almost looks like his old self again. We

step in the front door and everyone’s waiting in the kitchen, shouting “welcome home” and blowing on party whistles. Stu shakes his head, but I know he’s secretly loving it. Karla steps up and gives him a hug, and he seems to sink into the touch. It doesn’t make me jealous, far from it. He hasn’t smelled a women in over two years, so I understand that he can’t help absorbing her softness. She smiles when she catches my eye, letting go of Stu and moving across the room to greet me. I love her punch-to-the-gut beautiful smiles, love her bright blue eyes and sexy red hair. I love her body, love how everything about her seems like it was made for me. But most of all I want that for my brother. After everything he’s been through, I want him to find a woman who grabs his heart by the balls and shows him what it feels like to truly love someone. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her, laying a quick kiss on her mouth while my hand slips down to cup her arse. “Oh, but you’re prettier,” she teases me, giving my lip a saucy little bite. For a second I consider dragging her upstairs for a quickie, but then I remind myself that today isn’t about me and my horndog needs. Today is about Stu. Letting go of my perfect, tough, kickass police sergeant wife, I head to the fridge and pull out the ingredients I prepared earlier. I’m cooking Stu an Angus steak with all the trimmings. “Fuck yes,” he says when he sees what I’m making, clapping me round the shoulder and knocking back a slug of the beer Sophie handed him the moment he stepped through the door. Karla goes to sit at the table, in between Liam and Trev. She smiles at them both as she pulls Billie up onto her lap. The kid’s been living with us full time ever since Karla helped Sophie foster her. She affectionately pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear and asks Liam how he’s getting on at the police academy, then questions Trev on his latest adrenaline-junkie endeavour. Stu sits on the other side of the table, beside Sophie, content to listen to the conversation flow around him. It’s like a strike to the chest, seeing Karla surrounded by all my family. They’re her family now. And she doesn’t even realise it, but she’s become like a mother to all of them, looking out for their welfare, giving them help when it’s needed. I’d always done it alone, but now I have someone to hold my hand and shoulder some of the burden. She’ll never have my kids. I know that and I hate it, but it doesn’t take away even an ounce of the love I have for her. In fact, it only makes me love her more. Because she’s made my brothers her sons, Sophie her daughter, and bettered all our lives in the process. The world isn’t blue, isn’t lonely any more, and though I was supposed to be the thief, she was the one who stole my heart. End.

IF YOU ENJOYED Hearts of Blue, then you might be interested in Stu’s story, Thief of Hearts. Read on for the blurb.

Seduce the teacher. Meet the cousin. Make a deal. Steal the painting. Andrea Anderson has no clue of the thoughts churning around in the dark and dangerous ex-con’s head as he enters her classroom. In fact, she’s momentarily lost for words. Not in her entire teaching career has she had a student who looked quite like Stuart Cross. A widow at just twenty-eight, love is something Andie hasn’t considered a part of her life for a very long time. However, when lingering touches turn to whispered words and hot, searching stares, she begins to wonder if maybe she should take a leap of faith. But Stu is in her class for a reason, and it has nothing to do with love. He’s there to burrow his way into her life and repay a debt, otherwise his family will suffer. Andie is the first person to show him true kindness since he left prison, and though he doesn’t want to mislead her, he doesn’t have another choice. Before long, Stu can’t tell whether or not he’s acting anymore, and his feelings for Andie could throw all of his carefully crafted plans into complete and utter disarray. Thief of Hearts is available now! Kindle US Kindle UK Kindle DE Kindle CA Kindle AU

CROSS MY HEART A HEARTS NOVELLA (#5.75)

For Bowie and the imaginations he captured.

Copyright © 2017 L.H. Cosway All rights reserved. Cover design by RBA Designs. Editing by Marion Archer at Making Manuscripts. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

ONE

Life on Mars? henever I was feeling down I watched the musicless version of Dancin’ in the W Street. What? It was the perfect remedy for a case of the blues. Then I watched the original version, the ultimate catnip for oddballs like me. Bowie was my guru, my constant companion, my imaginary friend. He visited me from beyond the grave, each time dressed in one of his many guises. Some would say this was the reason my life was in the gutter, but those people could go kiss my shiny Ziggy Stardust boots. Okay, I tell a lie. I didn’t own a pair of shiny Ziggy Stardust boots. That sort of luck only fell upon the truly blessed. I did, however, possess an encyclopaedic knowledge of Bowie and his madcap crazy lifeliving skillz. For example, did you know that David (I felt I knew him well enough to be on first-name basis) used to anonymously comment on his own fan forum under the code name ‘Sailor’? He relished the fact that people had to say “Hello, Sailor” when they greeted him. It was these sorts of titbits that really kept me going. I know, kinda sad. Unfortunately, when you’re twenty years old, homeless, and wash dishes for a living, it’s the little things that seem like bright, shining beacons of hope. I was a glass half full kind of girl. I had to be, otherwise I’d be a hand me the crack pipe kind of girl. A car honked loudly from somewhere outside the building I was squatting in, prompting Mr Hector to jump off the sleeping bag and do a runner. The little coward. Mr Hector was my stray cat. I didn’t own him or anything, he just kept showing up. I named him Mr Hector after the concierge in Home Alone 2 (obvs), because he possessed the exact same disdainful, snobbish personality and facial expressions. Yes, cats had facial expressions.

Well, I liked to imagine they did, anyway, and I had quite a vivid imagination, hence my fictitious Bowie visitations. He sat by the crumbling window ledge, looking out onto the dead environs of a forgotten part of London. “They’ll probably try to gentrify this place soon,” Bowie sighed, rolling his glass orb from one palm to the other. He was Jareth the Goblin King this morning. “Then where will that leave you?” “I’ll have enough for a deposit to rent a flat by then,” I replied. “But you don’t have any references from previous landlords. Everybody asks for references these days. It’s not the 1970s anymore,” he continued, arching a wry, well-plucked eyebrow. Damn imaginary Bowie, always pointing out the flaws in my plans. “More’s the pity. If it were the ’70s I could go live with you and Iggy Pop in Berlin.” He paused his orb rolling. “You couldn’t hack that lifestyle.” I gaped at him and gestured around myself. “Eh, hello, I’m living in a squat. I can hack any lifestyle. And besides, I’m sure I’ll be able to find somewhere willing to let me rent. Maybe if I pay them in cash they’ll turn a blind eye.” Bowie didn’t look convinced. Neither did Mr Hector, who was sitting in the far corner of the room licking his privates now. Mr Hector and his privates needed to get a different room. I glanced at the time on my cracked but still functioning alarm clock and jumped into action. I had a shift at The Grub Hut in two hours and upon sniffing myself, deduced I needed to wash. That meant paying a visit to the local public swimming pool and availing of their showers. Please, don’t judge. I did what I had to. I could only afford the swimming pool twice a week. Three at most. Other days I either used the bathroom at work, or I brushed my teeth and washed my face with a bottle of water here at the squat. There was no running water in the building. Or electricity for that matter, and when it got dark my only source of light came from the collection of candles I’d accumulated over time. Saying goodbye to Bowie and Mr Hector, I made my way outside. I’d been living here for three months and so far so good. In other words, no police had come knocking. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t eventually, of course. I needed a contingency plan, but between work and making sure some junkie didn’t usurp my living quarters, I didn’t have a lot of time for coming up with Plan B. My story was a typical one. After my mum died of an overdose when I was fourteen, I’d been placed into care. I aged out of the system at eighteen and have been doing my best to survive ever since. My philosophy was that nobody was going to show up and give me a home. I had to fight for one, and working hard was the only way I knew how to fight. Hope was a powerful thing. So long as I held on to positivity and hope, I knew I’d better my situation. I had to. My hair was still a little wet when I arrived at work. My boss, Lee, was kind of

amazing. When I’d shown up asking if he had any jobs going, he’d taken one look at me and somehow sensed my desperation. Maybe he’d been in my position before, or maybe he was just a good person, but he didn’t tell me to sling my hook when I confessed I couldn’t give him my address. Instead he nodded soberly and told me that if I showed up on time and did my job well, he’d turn the other cheek. I felt a little bad that I secretly charged my iPod in the break room during my shifts. I’d had it since my thirteenth birthday and managed to keep it in nearpristine condition. It was one of the last things Mum ever bought me. It kept me feeling warm on so many cold, lonely nights. I could live without a home. I could live without a family. But I couldn’t live without my music. Luckily, Lee liked to pipe the local radio station into the kitchen while we worked, which helped make my shifts go by quicker. I was carrying a stack of dirty dishes from the front of the restaurant and out to the kitchen when I caught sight of a familiar police uniform. My pulse sped up and my posture stiffened. This always happened when he came in, but for some reason I never got used to it. My living situation being what it was, I tended to run the other way when I saw police. In this particular case, I knew he wasn’t here for me. Liam Cross was my boss’s little brother. Lee was always talking proudly of how he’d completed his training and started working as a PC. Great for him, but not so great for me, especially considering the suspicious looks he frequently threw my way. It didn’t help that he was singularly the prettiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. Closely cropped light brown hair, blue eyes brighter than the Mediterranean, and the kind of toned, muscular physique girls swooned for the world over. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, not making eye contact. He was standing in the hallway that led to the kitchen, blocking my entry. His gaze flared ever so slightly when he turned and saw me, then he quickly plastered on a bland expression. “Sorry, go ahead,” he replied and moved to let me pass. “Thanks,” I managed and scurried by. A few moments later I was back by the sink, hosing down dishes and trying to calm my nerves. What was it about Liam Cross that made me so nervous? Sure, there was his profession, but Lee’s wife was a policewoman, and she didn’t make me feel antsy like Liam did. I got this sense that he was constantly watching me, evaluating, searching for flaws. Since I’ve always tried to fade into the background, it made me seriously tetchy. Had Lee told him of my unconventional employment status? No, I didn’t think he’d do that. He didn’t know I was homeless, probably just thought I was surfing friends’ couches until I could save up enough money to get on the renting ladder. Well, at least the last bit was true. “Iris.”

I froze. It was him. Why was he talking to me? He never talked to me. I turned off the water and slowly turned. God, I was right about him being pretty. It was even worse up close. And as much as I tried to avoid the police, I couldn’t deny that the uniform was sexy. At least, it was on him. “Y-yes?” I stammered and dried my hands on my apron. My eyes locked with his and a moment passed between us. The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end and I hoped he didn’t notice. His gaze moved from my eyes to my nose, lingering then on my lips. The way his eyes darkened made me shiver a little. Crap, was I shaking? He cleared his throat. “There’s been a spill over by table nine. Lee asked if you could grab a mop and bucket to clear it.” How romantic. “Oh right, yes, of course.” I had my head in the clouds if I thought Liam Cross harboured any sort of attraction for me. I nodded and moved to walk by him, but in a flash he took hold of my wrist. I glanced up at him, questioning. His eyes moved cautiously between mine. I felt small. On display. Studied. Liam wasn’t a particularly tall man, but being that I was only five foot two, he practically dwarfed me. “Are you all right?” I did my best to appear casual. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” “You seem a little shaken.” I frowned at this. He was very direct. I effected a weak laugh. “Shaken? I’m fine. Seriously.” He didn’t let go of my wrist, and it only functioned to panic me further. His gaze narrowed the tiniest bit, an expression on his face like he was trying to read my thoughts. “You’re lying.” “I’m not.” “You are.” I grit my teeth, pissed with him now. “Let go of me.” After the tiniest moment of hesitation, he let go and I scarpered. One of the customers had spilled their Coke all over the floor, so I busied myself cleaning it up before somebody happened by and slipped. It was the lunchtime rush so the place was jam-packed. Five minutes later I was done and returned to my place by the sink, an endless routine of rinsing and stacking, rinsing and stacking. It was monotonous, sure, but I didn’t care so long as I got paid. When you’ve experienced true hunger, you’ll do just about anything to keep food in your belly. Back at the squat I had a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a packet of biscuits stashed inconspicuously behind a few bits of broken furniture. My stomach grumbled just thinking of them. I really hoped Mr Hector didn’t discover my secret stash, because he was a notorious food thief. Although, the upside of working here was that meals were provided, which was obviously a godsend for me.

I was humming along to Psycho Killer by Talking Heads when I sensed somebody’s attention. The lunch rush was over and Lee had gathered the crew to prep for dinner. I would’ve loved to be a part of the cooking staff, but I wasn’t qualified. I harboured a secret ambition to ask Lee if he’d train me, but I was still building up the courage. I was also a little obsessed with food, although I wasn’t sure if it stemmed from constantly being hungry or a natural affiliation. I glanced quickly to the side and sure enough Liam was standing by one of the countertops, a bowl in hand as he ate some spaghetti, eyes on me. I really wished he’d quit. I might’ve been humming about a psycho killer, but that didn’t mean I was dangerous. I was only trying to get by. You’d swear I was the prime suspect in a murder case by the way he continued to observe me. I endeavoured to ignore him and continued washing dishes, too self-conscious to continue humming. “Iris,” said Lee and I jumped. Damn Liam and his constant surveillance. “Yep?” “You can go on break now. There’s some cottage pie in the fridge if you want to heat it up.” “Okay, thanks,” I replied, grateful that today’s lunch consisted of something carb heavy. I hated the days when he made soups or salads. Most people didn’t understand the need to fill up as much as you could because you didn’t know when or where the next meal was coming from. I studiously ignored Liam’s attention as I pulled off my rubber gloves, but as soon as I sat down in the break room to eat the chair across from mine moved. I looked up and Liam was there, joining me at the table. What the hell? Since I was last to go on break today, there was no one else around. Yes, I was completely alone with Liam Cross, a man I both feared and fancied in equal measures. My brows crinkled as I bit my lip, my eyes automatically going to my iPod that was still charging under the table. Liam followed my gaze, his attention landing on the slim pink contraption before moving back to me. “Yours?” “Um, yes, my battery ran out,” I mumbled and reached down to pull out the plug. “You couldn’t charge it at home?” I shook my head. “I forgot.” He didn’t say anything, just studied me. “Do you need something?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from wavering. “Not particularly.” “Then why are you sitting here? My food’s going cold,” I complained, growing irritable. “I just thought we could chat. I’m on pretty friendly terms with my brother’s staff, all except you.”

I shifted in my seat, the scent of cottage pie wafting up and making my mouth water. Damn him. I wanted to devour it like a wild animal, but I obviously couldn’t do that with an audience. “I like to keep to myself.” “I noticed.” His stare was intense now and it made my stomach twist. He knows about you. He knows everything, my brain panicked. “You have?” At this his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away. Wait, what? Was he embarrassed? He cleared his throat and his gaze returned to me. “I watch you a lot.” I know. “You do?” He smiled a little. “Like you haven’t noticed.” “I haven’t.” I have. “I’m pretty much in my own little world most of the time.” He didn’t say anything for a minute, then, “Yeah, I think that’s what intrigues me so much. You’re very . . . solitary.” “I am?” Jeez, why couldn’t I manage more than two words at a time today? Instead of answering my question, he nodded to my food and said, “Eat.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. I dug into the pie with gusto. Aside from the slice of bread with peanut butter I ate for breakfast, this was all I’d had all day. A minute or two went by and Liam didn’t speak. Instead he watched me eat. I probably would’ve felt awkward if the food wasn’t so good and I wasn’t so hungry. “Is that your natural hair colour?” I glanced up. “Huh?” “Your hair. It’s very dark. Is it natural?” I self-consciously ran a hand over my loose bun. “Oh, um, yeah. It’s natural.” “I thought it might be dyed because of all your tattoos. Thought you were going for the Goth look.” I laughed softly. “I’m more of a punk.” “Ah.” “So, how did you come by all that ink?” I swallowed a bite, deliberating over whether or not to answer. Surprisingly, my mouth wanted to talk to Liam even if my brain thought it a questionable idea. “I used to have this friend. She was an aspiring tattoo artist and I let her practice on me.” I held my arm out for him to see, my skin visible since I was wearing a shortsleeved T-shirt. Liam’s gaze traced over the oriental fishes, five-point stars, and other random illustrations with interest. My pores tingled. “You were her guinea pig?” “Yeah.” “Do you regret that?” I shook my head fervently. “No, definitely not. My friend . . . she died. They’re all I have left of her.” “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” “What happened to her?” I let out a breath. This conversation had taken a turn for the morbid. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We lived in a rough neighbourhood and there was a shooting, a rift between two gangs. Becky got caught in the crossfire.” Liam sucked in a harsh breath. “Christ, were you there?” “No, but I wish I had been. I hate thinking of her dying alone.” My thoughts wandered back, pain clutching my heart. Becky and I had met in foster care when we were fifteen, and for two short years we’d been inseparable. Sisters. At least, she was the closest thing I had to family. She brought colour into my life, and when she was gone everything felt empty. Again. Liam went quiet and I returned my attention to eating. He was there when I finished, still not talking. I wondered what was going through his head. My stomach felt delightfully full, which worked to keep me from feeling too down remembering Becky. “Don’t you have to be getting back to work?” I asked, pointedly eyeing his uniform. He arched a brow. “Don’t you?” I glanced at the clock. “I have ten minutes left.” “What a coincidence. So do I.” He was smiling now. It made me feel funny. “What’s it like being in the police?” I asked, unable to hold in my curiosity. His smile warmed. “Why? You interested in joining?” I scrunched up my mouth. “No. God, no.” “Got a problem with the law, little punk?” He leaned closer over the table and a waft of his cologne invaded my senses. He smelled good. Citrusy. “No. And don’t call me that.” His mouth twitched. “But you said you were a punk.” I made a face. “I’m not into nicknames.” He nodded. “Okay, no nicknames. Your real name is too pretty not to use anyway.” I barked a laugh. “Is that a line?” “If it was?” “I’d advise you to try a different one.” “Noted. So, what do you do when you’re not scrubbing dishes for my brother, Iris?” The way he said my name made my pores tingle again. It felt luxurious somehow, like a caress. “I talk to my cat. I read. I wander.” Talk to Bowie. “You wander?” “Yeah, I like to choose a starting point and let my feet lead the way.” He looked displeased hearing this. “Only during the day, I hope.” Huh. Was he worried about me? Nah, he was just being a copper. Nosy. I shrugged. “Sometimes at night. I’m good at being invisible though, so I rarely run into

trouble.” His displeasure increased. “How often is rarely?” I tilted my head. “Why do you care?” His expression turned serious. “A tiny little thing like you wandering around in the dark is a recipe for trouble. Do you realise how easy it’d be for someone to just pluck you up off the street and do whatever they wanted?” Ha! That was a laugh. The street was my home. I knew how to survive there, and I’d done fine so far. “Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m not tough. Let some fucker try to pluck me up. It wouldn’t end well for him.” I stabbed my forked into the empty plate with force to emphasise my point. For some reason the action made him smile again, but this time there was a spark of calculation behind his eyes. “So, if I were to grab you right now, push you up against that wall,” he paused and gestured to the wall by the door, “you’d be able to fend me off?” I swallowed. Not surprisingly, that visual wasn’t as scary to me as it should’ve been. Instead my gut twisted with anticipation. Do it. Do it. I nodded casually. “Sure.” “Let’s try it, then.” He moved to get up and suddenly my courage fled. I forced a laugh. “No, thanks.” He shot me a wry look. “No?” “No.” “So, you’re all talk then.” He folded his arms, pleased with himself, and it made me want to punch him. I’d never been good at backing away from a challenge. I grit my teeth. “Fine.” His gaze flicked to my mine, his pupils dilating. I didn’t care to ponder what that meant. Without another word, he advanced on me. My heart hammered and I was too fascinated to react when he lifted me up off my chair, carried me across the room, and slammed my back into the wall. I exhaled choppily when he used one hand to grip my neck and the other to hold me down. My chest rose and fell as I looked up at him, entirely too engrossed. What was he going to do next? I wriggled my hips, though not to break free. He made a curious noise in the back of his throat. I tilted my head. He looked pissed. Huh. “Iris,” he practically growled. “Y-yes?” “You aren’t doing anything.” “Should I be?” His hand on my neck loosened. “I just physically assaulted you and you haven’t lifted a finger to stop me.” “Sorry.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t fucking apologise. Fight back.” Fight back.

Right. It was a little hard to do that when all I wanted was for him to tear off my clothes and do very, very bad things to me. But I had to prove a point. I had to show him I could protect myself. Summoning my resolve, I twisted in his hold and tried to get my leg up so I could knee him in the balls. Unfortunately, his entire body was pressed into mine, preventing all movement. I continued twisting, testing his strength, but I couldn’t find a single weak spot. In the end, I let out a frustrated sigh and relented. “Fine. You win. Maybe I won’t go wandering at night anymore.” “I’m not trying to be a dickhead. I’m just trying to make you more aware of the dangers,” he said, releasing me and taking a step back. No, don’t go. I’d been warm with him on me. Warmer than I’d been in a very long time. I cleared my throat. “Job well done.” He seemed conflicted, his eyes wandering over me and then to his watch. He swore under his breath. “I have to go.” “Okay.” He eyed me seriously. “Think about what I said, yeah? Don’t have me worrying.” I only nodded and then he left, a question hanging in the air. He hardly even knew me, so why would he worry?

TWO

The Man Who Fell to Earth he next day at work I’d barely taken my seat in the break room when someone T pulled out the chair across from mine. Liam. He wasn’t wearing his police uniform

today. Instead he wore jeans, a grey woollen jumper, and a curious expression. Interesting. Thankfully, we weren’t alone like yesterday. One of the cooks and two of the waitresses were eating at a nearby table, chatting about the latest episode of the Kardashians. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched TV. “You again,” I said, peering at him over my food. He smiled. “Me again.” I twined some spaghetti around my fork and shoved it in my mouth. Liam watched me the entire time. “Not working today?” I asked as my eyes traced his outfit. He looked good. Maybe even better than he did in his uniform. Something about how the wool hung on his solid frame. He shook his head. “Today’s my day off.” “Ah. And you decided to come pay me a visit. I’m honoured.” His smiled deepened. It was very, ah, interesting. That seemed to be the recurring adjective of the day. “I had to drop something off for Lee.” I effected a pout. “You wound me.” He cocked his head to the nearby table. “Why don’t you ever sit with the others?” I glanced down, my mouth settling in an uncomfortable line. “I haven’t been here long. Besides, they all have their groups.” “I’m sure you could become a part of a group if you tried.” Yes, but that would mean making friends, and friends wanted to know things about you, your family, where you come from, where you live. The shame I felt at the very idea of anyone at The Grub Hut discovering my circumstances was immense. My gut literally turned over at the thought. Sometimes I had nightmares

where I was laying on the floor in my dirty old sleeping bag and all my fellow workers came into the squat, disgust in their eyes as they discovered the reality of my life. I lifted a shoulder, feigning disinterest. “No? You too cool for the staff here? Are they too mainstream for your dark and aloof self?” I laughed at this. “Has Lee enlisted you to try and get me to be more sociable or something?” “Nah, I enlisted myself.” Why? I wanted to ask. Instead, I ate some spaghetti. When Liam didn’t say anything more I spoke. “You shouldn’t waste your energy on me. I only wash the dishes. Maybe direct your effort towards the cooks, that’s where the money’s at.” “You’re odd, Iris.” “And you’re wasting your time. For all you know I could be gone tomorrow.” His jaw firmed at this and he appeared unhappy for some reason. “Are you planning on leaving?” “No, I’m not. I was just saying it’s a possibility is all.” “Don’t leave.” I furrowed my brow, not getting him. “Why?” All of a sudden, my mind was awash with apprehension. Did he not want me to leave because he was keeping tabs on me? No, he couldn’t be. Police didn’t care about the homeless unless they were bothering nice, civilised people for money or doing drugs out in the open. As long as we hid away in the cracks so nobody had to feel bad by seeing us, we were left alone. Sure, I didn’t look as obviously homeless as some because I actively took care of myself and I was young. Give it a few years and all the sleepless nights and bitter cold was going to catch up on me. “Because I’d worry about you,” Liam replied after stewing on his answer a moment. Something squeezed at my chest but I endeavoured to ignore it. I also tried to ignore the genuine concern in his eyes. After so long on my own, with nobody giving a crap about me, it felt foreign to have someone express concern. Made me feel vulnerable, and I didn’t understand it. My eyes watered a little but I pushed back the emotion. “Why would you worry?” I practically whispered. Liam’s handsome features formed a sad, empathetic expression. “Because I can tell you’ve got no one looking out for you.” I stiffened, growing defensive. “I’ve got people.” He cocked a brow. “Really? Who?” I averted my gaze. “That’s none of your business.” “You’re closed tight as a bank vault, Iris. You’re closed tight because you’ve been let down too many times.” How could he possible know this?

“I know because I’ve been where you are,” he went on. Man, could he read minds, too? “You have?” “You know I’ve got two other brothers aside from Lee, right?” I nodded. Stu and Trevor had been around the restaurant a time or two, but I’d never really spoken to them. “Well,” he continued, “we were let down by grown-ups a lot when we were kids. Ended up having to raise ourselves. If it weren’t for Lee being so determined for us to survive on our own, I’m not sure what might’ve happened.” I gaped at him in disbelief. Sure, my boss didn’t strike me as the kind of man who came from a fancy background, but I didn’t imagine he’d been in a similar boat to mine. Suddenly, I felt even more warmth for him. After all, if it weren’t for Lee showing me kindness, I might not have had food in my belly the past few weeks. Nor would I have two-hundred pounds in savings hidden at the end of my Doc Martin boot. Another three-hundred and I’d have enough for a rental deposit. “Where were your parents?” I asked quietly. “Mum passed away. Drug overdose. Dad was MIA. We had our aunt for a while but eventually she fucked off on us, too.” A shiver trickled over me. Was this why I’d always felt so drawn to Liam? Because our stories were so similar? “I’m sorry to hear that.” “Hey, we all survived, didn’t we?” “Yeah, you did.” A quiet fell and Liam held my gaze. It was like he was reading a book in my eyes. I felt exposed. “Are you okay, Iris?” he asked, his voice heavy. The question might’ve seemed out of the blue if it weren’t for the way he’d been looking at me. It also wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded. Somehow, he wasn’t merely asking if I was okay, he was asking if I was safe, if I really had anyone looking out for me. “Of course, I am,” I answered confidently, pure bravado. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m not in uniform today. Anything you say will stay between the two of us.” I bristled. “There’s nothing to say.” “No?” “No.” “I nearly went to prison once,” he confessed and I startled. “What?” “I said, I nearly went to prison once, but my brothers, they protected me. Our lives weren’t always so law-abiding.” He broke the law? But how? It didn’t make sense. Criminals didn’t get to become police constables. That wasn’t how the system worked. At least, I thought it wasn’t. Maybe he was lying, trying to lure me into a false sense of security so I’d talk. “Sure.” You could’ve cut my sarcasm with a knife.

“I’m not lying. How else do you think we pulled ourselves out of the gutter? Because it sure as shit wasn’t by following the law. We stole cars, got caught up in a gang. It took a long time to get out. Again, I owe it all to Lee. I was too young at the time to realise the path I was going down. Sometimes we all need to accept help from others or else we’ll sink below the tide.” His eyes flared meaningfully as I studied him. He didn’t look like he was lying, and for some reason I wanted him to be telling the truth. Because if he was, it meant we weren’t so different. It also meant I had a chance of living a good, normal life one day. If Liam and his brothers could manage it, then so could I. Still, if he thought telling me all this meant I was going to open up to him he was dead wrong. “Well, I’m glad to hear you changed your ways,” I said and stood from the table, my voice toneless. “I need to be getting back to work now.” He exhaled a frustrated breath. “Iris.” I cut my gaze to his. “What?” “If you need a friend I’m right here.” Suspicion swelled within me. In my experience, people didn’t offer up friendship out of the kindness of their heart. No, if I knew anything about human nature, I knew that Liam Cross wanted something from me. That was the only reason he was being kind. I just had no clue what it was he wanted. He didn’t follow me out to the kitchen, and despite my tenseness, I finished up the rest of my shift without incident. It was dark when I made my way home, and when I turned the corner that led to the abandoned building I was squatting in, I heard voices. Loud, raucous voices. Crap. A group of bedraggled-looking homeless men had set-up shop outside the building, drinking cans of cheap beer, and warming themselves next to a fire they somehow managed to get going in the icy cold. My heart pounded, a lump of dread sinking in my gut. If they were outside the building it meant they’d likely taken a look inside. I always kept the money I’d saved on me, because I didn’t have a safe enough place to stash it. All of my things, however, were inside that building, and though they weren’t much, they were mine. I was going to kill every single one of those hobos if they’d so much as lain a finger on my stuff. I crept around the side of the building, blending into the shadows. I was an expert at that. I always wore dark, inconspicuous clothes so I didn’t stand out. Attention wasn’t my favourite thing, which explained why Liam Cross had become a source of anxiety. The men were either too drunk or too oblivious to notice me scuttle by. I crept inside the building and bounded up the stairs two at a time, my heart in my throat at what I might find. Mr Hector sat in the doorway and as soon as I saw him I knew.

His fathomless green eyes were somehow accusatory. You let this happen. You let them wreck our home. My sleeping bag was torn to shreds. My candle collection had been tossed aside and lay scatted all over the room. The clothes I’d kept tucked inside a small duffle bag were strewn all over the place. Clearly, the men had been searching for valuables and come up empty. They probably thought I’d hidden money in the lining of my sleeping bag, but no such luck. Still, I was distraught. My few possessions might’ve been worthless to them but they were everything to me. Where was I going to sleep tonight? It was cold, and later it would turn icy. My sleeping bag had been the only thing to keep me from freezing to death and now it was useless. I didn’t cry much, not anymore. It felt like I’d spent so much time crying as a kid that I was all cried out. Even so, tears stung at my eyes now as I slid down to the dirty floor. I held my head in my hands as I sobbed heavily and something warm and furry crept into my lap. Mr Hector was mewling, probably wondering why I was acting so mental. Don’t you understand? They took everything. But no, cats didn’t get the concept of having to start over from scratch. And starting over from scratch was exactly what I had to do now. I had to find a new place to sleep and buy a new sleeping bag. That was going to cut into my savings. Still, tonight was going to be rough because it was late and all the shops were closed. A new sleeping bag would have to wait until tomorrow. I petted Mr Hector and then got up to check if my food was still in its hiding place. By some stroke of luck the men hadn’t found my stash. I pulled out a slice of bread and ate it, wondering where Mr Hector went during the day to get food. He wasn’t a skinny cat, so he had to be eating somewhere. If only humans could eat out of rubbish bins and not get sick from salmonella. I sniffled a few more times, dried my eyes with the back of my hands, and went to gather my clothes. My duffle bag lay emptied on the floor and disturbingly some of my underwear and one of my T-shirts were missing. A chill ran down my spine. I tried not to think too much on that. I gathered everything into the bag and wracked my brains for places I could go for the night. I couldn’t stay here. Those men might decide to come back inside and God only knew what they’d do if they found me. “Why don’t you pay Maude a visit?” Bowie suggested. He was The Man Who Fell to Earth tonight, his hair as orange as a flame. “I can’t go to Maude’s. I’m too old, and besides, there wouldn’t be any room for me there,” I huffed and continued gathering what remained of my possessions. Maude was one of my old foster parents. She owned a large house and usually had anywhere between five and ten teenagers living with her. She ran a tight ship and although she could be very cold and practical, had probably been my favourite foster carer. However, as soon as I turned eighteen she regretfully couldn’t put me up anymore. That’s how I ended up on the streets.

“Well, you can’t sleep rough. You’ll catch your death,” said Bowie, visibly worried for me. I stiffened. “I’ve survived worse.” “Maude will let you stay at hers. Just rock on up and be all it’s Britney, bitch. Confidence makes people give you what you want.” I chuckled. “You obviously don’t know Maude. She’d be like call me a bitch again and I’ll shove this broomstick up your arse.” Bowie shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. “Nah, I can get through this without help. I’ve done it before.” Mr Hector followed me as I took one last look around the decaying room that had been my home for the last two months, then quietly left as though I’d never been there at all. When you’ve got nobody but yourself to rely on, you learn how to become a ghost. An incorporeal shadow that no one ever notices. It’s the only way to keep safe. When you’re solid you can be used, taken from, hurt. I snuck out of the building as inconspicuously as I’d entered, Mr Hector heavy on my heels, the shadow of a shadow. I wasn’t sure why he insisted on sticking by me, because sometimes I got the feeling he didn’t even like me much. Maybe it was survival. Stay with the human that gives you food. I walked for hours, but every time I thought I’d found a place to sleep, it turned out someone else was already there. If anyone ever said homelessness wasn’t an epidemic in London they were lying through their false teeth. In the end, I crouched down in a darkened alley not too far from The Grub Hut and closed my eyes. Mr Hector curled up beside me, his warmth a welcome comfort. I tugged my long coat tight around myself and prayed it didn’t get any colder tonight. Sleep never came, only that horrible half sleep where you drift in and out, constantly aware of your surroundings. By the time morning came I couldn’t stop shivering. I was so cold I felt like I’d never get any heat back into me. Why did I have to be homeless in such a cold part of the world? Why not somewhere warmer, like Miami or Barcelona? I had an early shift at work so I ambled my way down the street, my chin tucked inside my threadbare coat to avoid the morning chill. I still shivered all over. I just had to make it to the restaurant where I could hide in the bathroom for a little while, maybe warm my hands under the hot tap. Instead of using the front entrance like I normally did, I went around the back, hoping to avoid any of my co-workers before I could clean myself up. Mr Hector followed me all the way there, then disappeared. It was like he was making sure he knew where I was so he could find me. Were cats that clever? I hoped so, because I wasn’t sure I could handle Mr Hector abandoning me. He and Bowie were my only friends. And perhaps Liam. Speak of the devil.

To my dismay, there was a delivery truck parked out back. Lee and Liam were unpacking boxes and carrying them inside. Maybe I was suffering from frostbite, because my reaction time was seriously slow. Before I had the chance to tuck tail and turn in the other direction, Liam spotted me. It was like he had an internal radar, because I was still a good distance away. He homed in on me, seeming to notice something was wrong. There was nothing else for it, I had to keep walking and pretend like everything was normal, even though my teeth chattered and my bones ached. “M-morning,” I said, stammering from the cold. “Iris, what the hell? You look like shit.” “Jeez, thanks.” He swore under his breath. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. What happened to you?” I mustered a casual expression and moved to walk by him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He caught me by the elbow, and though he didn’t do it roughly, in my current condition it hurt like hell. “You’re pale as a ghost and your lips are blue. And Jesus Christ, you’re shivering.” “I’m fi—” Before I could finish the sentence, he pulled me inside. The warmth of the restaurant hit me instantly, the smell of breakfast filling my nostrils and making my stomach clench with hunger. Lee, who was coming out to get another box, shot both of us a perplexed look. Liam didn’t stop to explain, he simply dragged me down to the end of the corridor where there was a large radiator affixed to the wall. Without a word, he pushed me up against it, then encapsulated me in his arms. Ah, heat. Sweet, delicious heat. “You’re freezing cold, Iris,” he said, sounding frightened. I sank into his warmth like a sugar cube melting into a cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure why he was doing it, but he felt so good, warm, alive. I felt icy cold, near death. So I took the comfort he offered. I tried to remind myself that I’d been through this before. Hell, I’d been in worse fixes in my time. I just needed to get warm. Liam could help me do that. I knew I wasn’t in my right mind, wasn’t thinking clearly, when I burrowed my face into his neck and snuggled into his clean skin. A gruff breath fled his lips and he tightened his strong arms around me. “Christ,” he swore, his hands moving carefully down my back and up again as though searching for injuries. “I’m n-not hurt, just cold,” I managed to croak out. I sensed his anger even though I wasn’t looking at his face. “Who did this to you?” I let out an unexpected yip of laughter. I might’ve been driven mad by way of frostbite. “The weather.” “Iris, don’t play games with me. Did someone chain you up and leave you

outside all night or something?” “Nah, I did that all by m-m-myself.” He shifted his head and glanced down at me, his brows furrowing attractively. My teeth chattered. His eyes moved back and forth between mine as he studied me, coming to some sort of silent realisation. He swore again. I burrowed back into his neck, just wanting to live in the moment with him warming me, rather than contemplate the reality that he might’ve just figured out my circumstances. “I’m taking you back to mine,” he said in a firm voice. It was the bucket of cold water I needed. Quick as a flash I pulled away from him, finally coming to my senses. “You can’t. I’ve got work.” “You can’t work in your condition. God, Iris, look at you,” he said, his eyes sad. I stuck to my guns. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” He reached for me but I took several steps back. “L-leave me alone or I’ll tell Lee you’re harassing me,” I stammered. It was a low blow, I knew that, especially considering how he’d been trying to help me. But pride was a funny thing, and mine simply wouldn’t allow me to admit my circumstances to Liam. Even if he might already have guessed them for himself. “Iris, we both know that’s not true.” I knew that even if I did lie to Lee, he wouldn’t believe me over Liam. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me either. I was an inked up, bedraggled, homeless little nobody and Liam Cross was a police constable. He had friends and a family and a life. He was the one to believe. My lip quivered. I felt awful for threatening him like that. “Thank you for . . . for holding me just now. You don’t know how much I needed it, but I assure you, you don’t want anything to do with me. I’ll only drag you down.” Before he could reply I turned and hurried to the staff bathroom. I turned over the lock and exhaled a deep breath. I might not be in danger of freezing to death anymore, but without Liam’s arms around me my heart felt cold.

THREE

Ziggy Played Guitar my hands under the hot tap for long minutes, until my shivering subsided. I ran When I emerged from the bathroom, Liam was gone, and with a relieved sigh I

went and clocked in for my shift. He didn’t show up again, but I did catch a few questioning glances from my boss. Lee was obviously wondering what was going on between me and his brother. This fact was confirmed when he approached me during my break. “Saw you and Liam earlier. What was that about?” No one could ever accuse Lee Cross of beating around the bush. I shrugged. “I think we might be friends.” Lee’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile. “You don’t seem too happy about that.” “Yeah well, I didn’t get much say in the matter.” And honestly, I wasn’t sure if he still wanted to be my friend after how I behaved this morning. “Sounds about right. He’s a stubborn one is our Liam. Kind of the silent, deep thinker of the family. When he picks someone, a person to be one of his people, it’s a big deal. Means he sees something in you. He’s had the same best mate since he was five. Bloke named Gary, nice guy, little bit of dry bastard but he’s a decent sort.” “Right.” Lee studied me. “Can’t remember the last time he took interest in someone.” “Uh huh.” “Iris, are you feeling okay? You look a little peaky.” “I’ll have you know I was born with this delightful, sickly pallor.” I hoped my attempt at humour might keep him off the scent, but like his brother, Lee was very perceptive. He didn’t leave me be. Instead he kept on looking at me, then asked. “You ever sort out those living arrangements of yours?” My heart thudded and a sick feeling of dread filled me. “Not yet.”

Don’t sack me, please don’t sack me. Lee arched brow. “Been staying with a friend?” “Something like that.” Silence fell. I wanted to go eat my lunch but I couldn’t afford to be rude. “Looking for somewhere to rent?” Lee went on. I nodded. “Yeah, it’s hard to find somewhere affordable in London. And even when you do, you’re up against fifty other people vying for the same spot.” “There’s a room going spare at mine,” he said and I immediately waved him off. “You’ve already done enough for me.” “You didn’t let me finish. I’ve been thinking of renting it out for a while now, so why not to you? You’re one of my hardest workers and I trust you, Iris.” My chest ached. He was being too nice to me. I didn’t know how to take it. Still, the idea of moving into Lee’s, of having a warm, safe place to sleep at night sounded like heaven. My voice was a little choked when I replied, “Let me think about it, okay?” “Sure. You think about it. Just don’t think too long,” he said with a kind smile before leaving me to my lunch. All through my break, my head was filled with thoughts, the main one being, if I did take Lee up on his offer, that would mean Liam and I would be living under the same roof. The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. It scared me mainly because Liam was the first person in forever who’d managed to break past my walls. I could only imagine how easy it would be to fall for him. And then, what if things went sour and we still had to be housemates? That wouldn’t be a pleasant situation for anyone. Needing a break from my meandering thoughts, I pulled out the dog-eared copy of Great Expectations I’d been reading and nestled into the story as I ate. I really liked Pip, could relate to him since we were both orphans. Both alone in the world. It felt nice to know I wasn’t the only one, even if he was a fictional character. It was coming to the end of my shift when I heard Liam’s voice out in the restaurant. I swore I could pick him out from a thousand chattering souls, his cadence deep and distinctive. “You like him, don’t you?” said Bowie. He sat perched on the edge of the counter, Ziggy Stardust today. “Get down from there. I’m trying to work,” I scolded. He plucked a wet dish from my rubber-gloved hand and set it down. “Now I’m helping.” He grinned. “Is it so boring in the after-life that you’d rather be here helping me scrub dishes?” I questioned. “It can be rather dull up there, yes, but I came to make sure you were still alive after last night’s debacle.” “Of course I’m alive. If I wasn’t you would’ve seen me make an appearance in your neck of the woods.” Bowie raised his hands in the air. “How am I to know you weren’t headed for

warmer climes?” I splashed some washing up liquid suds at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” “It’s always a possibility.” “Don’t you have some songs to be writing? I must admit, of all the different phases you’ve gone through, this is my least favourite.” He shot me a self-deprecating look. “You obviously haven’t heard my stuff from the late nineties.” “Okay, maybe death is better than your Hours album,” I allowed. Bowie glanced at the clock and met my put down with one of his own. “Looks like it’s home time for you. Oh wait, you don’t have a home.” “Very funny. Pick on my misery, why don’t you.” He smiled. “You know I love you really.” I smiled right back at him. “And you will always be my most treasured idol.” I packed up my things and clocked out, not looking forward to the night ahead. I still hadn’t had time to buy a new sleeping bag, but it wasn’t like I had anywhere to sleep either. Lee’s offer was looking more and more appealing by the minute. As I made my way out through the front of the restaurant, I could feel Liam’s eyes on me. He sat by the bar in his uniform and appeared to have just finished eating. Was it my imagination or was he spending a lot more time here than usual? We made brief eye contact before I stepped out into the cold. Even though I’d managed to warm up during my shift, a chill still lingered in my bones. It was only going to get worse tonight. I walked in the direction of the nearest Argos, hoping they might have a sale on. I hadn’t gotten far from The Grub Hut when I sensed someone walking close behind me. Too close. I turned my head a little to the side and caught sight of a familiar uniform. I swung around. “Are you following me now?” Liam stopped in place. “I want to apologise for earlier. I overstepped my bounds and I’m sorry. I’m just concerned about you, Iris.” His apology took me off guard. I stared at him and saw genuine remorse in his eyes. He didn’t really have anything to be remorseful for. I was the arsehole here, pushing him away when all he wanted to do was help. Be a friend. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” The expression he gave me said he agreed but he was going to stand by his apology all the same. There was something about that uniform that made him seem older, authoritative, but I knew he couldn’t be any more than twenty-five. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” Liam asked. “Starbucks or something?” I didn’t have much time before the shops started to close and that meant another night of icy cold. I felt rude saying no to him, but I didn’t have any other choice. “I can’t. I, uh, have some errands to run.” “Then I’ll come with you. I’m off duty now anyway and we can talk while you run

your errands.” I didn’t know what to say to that. Deep down, I really wanted Liam as a friend, even if it was dangerous. And I knew if I pushed him away again I’d lose him. People could only put themselves out there so many times. “Okay then,” I said and swallowed nervously. A small smile touched his lips, but there was still an edge of concern in them. He was still thinking of the state I’d been in his morning. He confirmed as much when he commented, “You look much better now than you did this morning.” “Yeah, I feel it.” Just barely. I was still exhausted since I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and had completed a full day’s work. He eyed me closely. “Tired?” “Mm-hmm.” “Lee told me about the offer he made you.” My pulse thrummed. “He did, did he?” Liam nodded. “Yeah, and I think you should take him up on it. You’ll like it at our gaf. Got an eighty-inch flat-screen TV in the living room.” “How very garish.” “Hey! Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” He chuckled. “It’s like having a private cinema in the comfort of your own home.” “And just think there are people out there who don’t even own a television,” I chided. Liam nudged me in the side. “I’m not bragging. I’m trying to sell you on the idea of moving in with us, that’s all.” “I know.” “So, have you made a decision?” I blew breath out through my mouth and looked around. “People probably think you’re arresting me.” Liam frowned. “How do you reckon that?” I gestured to myself and laughed. “Just look at me; black hoodie, dirty hair, tattoos, mean face. I’ve got criminal written all over me.” He stopped and stood in front of me, his expression gentle. “That’s not what I see.” His words made my throat clog as I stared at him head-on. “What do you see?” “Intriguing fashion sense, hair so black it’s almost blue, skin that’s a work of art, gorgeous face. No, strike that. Beautiful fucking face. Sad eyes.” I almost gasped at what he said, trying my hardest to maintain a neutral expression while my heart wanted to soar right out of my body. No one had ever complimented me like that. Not ever. I wasn’t the sort of woman who swooned, but right then I could definitely go for some swooning. I looked to the ground. “Why are you so nice to me?” Liam’s fingers touched my chin and tilted my head up so I was looking at him again. “Because I like you. And because for some reason I desperately want to make those sad eyes of yours happy.”

“Is Mother Theresa a distant relative of yours?” “Nope. Though my grandad used to say we were related to the Crays.” I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “I wouldn’t go bragging about that, especially not in your line of work.” “And a captivating smile. Add that to the list,” Liam murmured, thumb brushing across my chin once before he dropped his hand. A moment passed where we just stared at one another. When I couldn’t take much more of the intensity radiating off him I blinked and looked away. “I really wasn’t lying when I said I had things to do. We need to get moving.” He made a gesture with his hand. “After you.” I turned and started walking again, noticing a few weird glances thrown our way. We definitely looked strange together. Liam the respectable uniformed officer and me the scruffy twenty-year-old dirtbag. When we arrived at Argos there were just a few minutes before they were closing. Liam stood browsing a display while I made a beeline for the catalogues. I’d found the cheapest sleeping bag available when he came up behind me. Crap. I’d been hoping to make my purchase and shove it in my backpack without him noticing what I was buying. “Iris, why are you buying a sleeping bag?” he asked. The note of anger in his voice made me nervous. I kept my eyes on the catalogue as I lied, “I’m going on a camping trip with some friends next weekend.” “Iris.” “Hmmm?” “Please be honest with me.” “I have to go put this order in before they close the tills,” I said, ignoring his plea and heading to the other end of the store. Liam followed heavy on my heels. He didn’t say anything but when I took a quick peek at him he appeared to be grinding his jaw in irritation. “Somebody’s got a bee in their bonnet,” I said in an effort to lighten the mood. “Time of the month, Constable?” Liam didn’t answer, his silence creating a horrible tension between us. I didn’t understand why he was so angry. It wasn’t like he was the one who had to sleep rough. By the time my order was brought out I was about ready to make an exit. He seemed furious and I was too exhausted and hungry to deal with that kind of attention. I stopped when we got outside the shop. “Well, I better get going.” Liam looked me dead in the eye. “I’ll walk you home.” “There’s no need,” I said, attempting to brush him off. “I don’t want to put you out.” “You’re not putting me out. I want to walk you.” There was a steel in his voice that brooked no argument and I started to panic. “Seriously, Liam—”

“Iris, I’m walking you home, so get moving.” I nodded nervously, and started walking, trying to think of a plan. I could lead him to a block of flats, hope like hell someone let me inside and wait until he left. Yes, that might work. I tried to think of a place that would be easy to get into. There was a block of flats I used to hang out in when I was living at Maude’s. It wasn’t fancy and the security was non-existent, so it was likely I wouldn’t have a problem getting inside. A couple of minutes passed and Liam still hadn’t breathed a word. “You’re very quiet for someone who claimed they wanted to talk to me.” “I wanted to talk to you about moving into our place, but I know if I bring it up you’ll only change the subject.” I didn’t have an answer for that. Instead I eyed him up and down and asked, “How old are you anyway?” There was the tiniest twitch in his left eye that indicated my continuing to be obstinate was truly bothering him. “Twenty-four,” he replied, voice hard. “Huh. That makes you four years older than me. When’s your birthday?” Liam arched an eyebrow. “You planning on buying me a present?” I shot him a small smile. “Maybe.” “June 27th.” “No way! Mine’s June 30th. That makes us both cancers.” He thawed a little. “Is that why we seem to argue so much, because we’re so alike?” “Maybe. Lee told me you’re stubborn. I’m stubborn, too.” He gave a low chuckle. “No shit.” A pause as he glanced at me sideways. “What else did Lee say?” “He said you haven’t had a girlfriend in a long while. Been going through a dry spell?” I was lying – sort of. Lee hadn’t said that in so many words, but it was implied, and call me a masochist but I really wanted to know about Liam’s love life. He shook his head and chuckled some more. “I’ll have to talk to him about his meddling. Oh, and not having girlfriend doesn’t mean it’s been a dry spell,” he went on, eyeing me hotly. “True. I’m sure the ladies go wild for this uniform,” I teased and reached up to tug on his collar. His eyes darkened. “Some of them do. What about you?” “What about me?” “You like my uniform?” I hesitated. How was I suddenly so warm when I’d been freezing all day? He was flirting with me, that much was clear. I just honestly didn’t get it. I imagined the sorts of women who came onto him in nightclubs and bars, clean, nice-smelling women in tight dresses and fancy shoes. And here I was the exact opposite, all grungy and in desperate need of soap and water. “It covers your body and prevents you from walking around naked, so I guess it

does what it’s supposed to do,” I finally answered, mustering a casual tone. Liam shook his head and looked up at the sky. “You’re a master at avoiding the true question, do you know that?” “Actually, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied innocently and nodded to the building in front of us. “This is me, by the way.” Liam studied the block of flats like it was a shifty-looking geezer passing clear little plastic bags of powder around at a house party. His attention came back to me. “You live here?” “Sure do.” “What’s your flat number?” Shit. I scrambled through my brain. “Thirty-six.” Liam stepped up to the door entry system and scanned the row of buttons. “These only go up to thirty.” I slammed my hand to my forehead. “Did I say thirty-six? I meant twenty-six. Yep, flat number twenty-six, that’s where I live, don’t wear it out.” Oh, God, somebody tape my mouth shut, please. Liam stared at me so hard I swear he was going to burst a blood vessel. I thought he was going to start arguing with me, but instead he grabbed my hand and began leading me away from the flats. “Um, where are we going?” “To my house.” “But—” “I swear to God, Iris, if you lie to me one more time I’ll arrest you.” “You can’t arrest me. I haven’t broken any laws,” I protested. “I’ll think of something.” “But then you’d be breaking the law.” He shot me a dark look, and even though it was supposed to be threatening, it was kinda sexy. “I’ve done it before. I can do it again.” That shut me right up. Liam threw up his hand to hail a taxi and before I knew it he was ushering me into the back of a black cab. “Evening, Constable,” the cabbie greeted. “Where to?” Liam rambled off his address then sat back and avoided looking at me. I continued to stare him down. “This is kidnapping,” I said in a quiet voice, not wanting the driver to hear. He let out a long, tired breath and turned his body to mine. When our eyes met in the dark cab, his seemed to plead with me to just let him take care of me. We both know you need help, so let me help you, they said. I like you, Iris. Stop fighting this, they said. I’m afraid of what might happen to you if you don’t come with me, they said. Maybe I was so used to the cold that I didn’t recognise the offer of warmth when it was staring me right in the face. Or maybe I really was too stubborn to accept charity when it was presented to me. Too proud. I stuck out my chin and swallowed down that pride. Swallowed and swallowed until I could finally see the light. Accepting the offer of a room to rent from Liam

and his brother didn’t mean I was weak. It meant I was a survivor. I always told myself I wasn’t above taking things for free, even if I hadn’t earned them. Babies took things for free. They took the protection of the grown-ups who bore them. That’s how they turned into adults who knew how to take care of themselves. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t prepared to pay rent. I’d earn my keep, just as if I was renting a room anywhere else. “Fine,” I said after the longest silence of all time. “I’ll take Lee up on his offer.”

FOUR

Changes

L

iam slotted his key in the door, then held it open for me. The house was quiet when I stepped inside and there was the smell of food recently cooked. Someone had probably just had dinner. A firm hand slid under the strap of my backpack. I glanced over my shoulder. “Let me take this for you,” Liam said quietly. I didn’t argue, too exhausted after the day and night I’d had. Instead I let him take my heavy backpack and carry it into the house. He pushed open the living room door, revealing a sleek, modern set-up. Two women sat on the black leather couch watching TV. One of them had light brown hair, the other blonde. I vaguely recognised the brown haired one from being at the restaurant a few times. “Soph, I didn’t know if you’d be around,” said Liam, addressing the brunette. “This is Iris. She works at the Grub Hut for Lee. She’s going to be our lodger since Stu’s room’s empty now.” “Oh,” the woman exclaimed, eyeing me up and down, though not in a snooty way. She just seemed surprised at the news. Obviously, Lee hadn’t mentioned me to her, whoever she was. She mustered a wary smile, which I didn’t blame her for. I didn’t exactly look like anyone’s ideal housemate right then, dirty and bedraggled as I was. “Hello, Iris,” she said in a friendly voice. I lifted a hand. “Hi.” The other woman, the blonde, gave me an outright bitchy look but didn’t speak. She had cruel lips, which was the main thing I noticed about her. “This is Sophie,” said Liam. “She’s my cousin. She lives in the extension out back with her kids, Jonathan and Billie. And this is her friend, Valerie.” “Hey,” said Valerie. Even her tone was bitchy. Jeez. I nodded my greetings and both Liam and I turned to leave. We were just out the door when I heard Valerie speak. “Did you know about this, Soph?” “No,” Sophie replied, hushed. “But it’s fine. Like Liam said, the room’s going

spare.” “Yeah, but shouldn’t you, like, at least get a say in who lives in the same house as you? That girl looks half feral.” “She seems fine.” A scoff. I made eye contact with Liam and saw his jaw tense. “Bet you a tenner she robs you all blind before the week is through.” At that Liam turned and strode back into the living room. I waited outside, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever he was going to do. “You got something to say, Val?” I heard a loud huff then, “I’m only looking out for Sophie. She’s my best friend and I care about her living with some stranger she knows nothing about. Not to mention there’s the kids to consider.” “Yeah well, she can trust Iris. She has my word on that. And if Sophie has any concerns she’s got a mouth of her own to voice them.” Discomfort clutched at me. I should’ve known this was too good to be true. I wasn’t really welcome here. Maybe Lee and Liam were okay with it, but the rest of their family probably weren’t. I was already halfway to the front door when Liam’s voice stopped me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I stared at the floor. “This was a bad idea. I don’t want to cause trouble.” He was in front of me in a few short strides. His hands came to rest on my shoulders. “Val’s always sticking her nose into other people’s business. Don’t listen to a word she says. Besides, Sophie’s fine with you staying here. You heard her say as much. Lee wants you here. I want you here, Iris.” His passionately spoken words soothed some of my fears, his touch a comfort to my misgivings. I sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him. “Okay.” “Yeah?” “Mm-hmm.” He squeezed my shoulders then let go. I already missed his touch. “Good, now let me give you a quick tour before I show you your room.” I nodded and followed him into the kitchen, where he pointed out all the essentials, fridge, cooker, microware, cupboards. I was free to eat and use whatever I wanted, he said, but I knew I wouldn’t be touching a thing. He was already giving me too much just by providing a bed. “Down that hall are Sophie and the kids’ rooms,” Liam went on then led me back out into the entrance hallway and up the stairs. When we got to the top he started pointing out rooms. “That one’s Lee and Karla’s,” he said, gesturing to the attic conversion. “That one’s Trevor’s but he’s away working at the moment. He started filming this reality TV show recently. We all can’t wait to see how it turns out.” “Oh,” I said, remembering the few times his brother had visited the restaurant. He’d practically oozed charm and charisma, and I could definitely see him on a reality show. Not that I’d watched many of them in recent years.

“That one’s mine.” For some reason I couldn’t help blushing. Being so close to the place where he slept—potentially naked—caused heat to rush through my veins. “And lastly, this one’s yours,” he finished and pushed open the door. The room was small and sparsely furnished, just a bed and a chest of drawers, magnolia-coloured walls, one window. It was perfect. More than I could ever ask for. Emotion rose to the surface, clogging my throat. I endeavoured to swallow it down, not wanting Liam to know how such genuine kindness was affecting me. “I’ll just go grab you some blankets and clean sheets while you get settled in,” he said and promptly left. Maybe he sensed I needed a moment alone. I took one step into the room, then another. I walked to the window and looked out onto the street. I could see the row of houses on the other side, but it might as well have been a sprawling countryside view. And the small room might as well have been a palace. A trickle of happiness, of safety, seeped into my bones and made me want to cry again. But no, not yet. I’d wait until Liam left me completely to my own devices before I let my emotions out. I sat down awkwardly on the bed just as he returned to the room. The softness underneath me felt strange, foreign. He paused on the threshold, eyeing me closely. “You okay?” I nodded but didn’t speak. I knew the second I breathed a word I was going to burst into tears, so I kept quiet. Liam’s gaze softened but he didn’t push me on the matter. Instead he held out a stack of items. “Here are some clean sheets, a duvet, and some pillows. There’s a towel in there, too, if you want to shower. Bathroom’s at the other end of the hall.” Again, I nodded and swallowed. He paused, like he wanted to say more but thought better of it. Giving me a tight smile, he retreated back to the doorway, “All right, well, I’ll let you get settled. Give a knock on my door if you need anything.” As soon as he was gone I could breathe again. His kindness, his basic human decency, was more than I’d experienced in a very long time. I didn’t feel like I deserved it. I felt like it was too good to be true and soon the other shoe would drop. Maybe Liam and his family would traffic me into prostitution, or try and keep me captive, turn me into a household slave—Josef Fritzl style. It was my vivid imagination running wild, of course, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this couldn’t last. Nothing good ever did for me. “Or maybe you just don’t want to believe there are good people in the world,” said Bowie, coming to sit on the bed next to me. “Because if you admit that, then you might end up getting attached, and all attachments inevitably end in heartache.” I stared at him, at the oversized eighties suit he wore and his mullet hairdo. “I loved Mum and then she died. I loved Becky and she died, too. I couldn’t handle loving someone else and having them die on me, or worse, betray me.” “But what if they don’t? What if, God forbid, you actually find happiness? What

then?” I blew out a breath. “In my experience that’s very unlikely.” Bowie eyed me wanly. “Oh, in the experience of your long twenty years on this earth?” “No need to be so sarcastic.” “Here’s the kicker, my dear Iris. Perhaps yes, in the grand scheme of things, all love ends in heartache, because we’re all going to die one day. But what if there are fifty, sixty, seventy years of happiness in between?” With that he left me and I sat there soaking in the depth of his wisdom. He was right. Of course, he was. He was David frickin’ Bowie. But I was still afraid. Mistrustful. And fear and mistrust were difficult hurdles to overcome. I smelled something funky and realised it was me. Remembering Liam’s mention of the bathroom, I quickly grabbed my things and headed in to shower. It took me a minute to figure out how everything worked, as I’d never used such a fancy contraption. Hot steam filled the room and I made sure the door was locked before I undressed. When I hesitantly stepped under the spray I flinched at the heat and backed out. It took a while for me to summon up the courage to try again. I wary of standing directly under the shower head, but when I did I almost melted with the delicious warmth. I’d never known anything like it. The communal showers at the swimming pool had nothing on this. My sore, aching muscles sang with joy. The cold in my bones finally started to thaw. And then, I wept. I sank to the tiled floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and wept for long minutes, until the water started to go cold. Feeling awful that I’d used up all the hot water, I stood, quickly washed myself down with soap and turned off the shower. I was just finished dressing in a pair of worn black sweatpants and an old grey Tshirt when there was soft knock on the door. I startled then heard Liam ask, “Everything okay in there, Iris?” “Yes, I’m fine,” I managed and unlocked the door. I stepped out of the bathroom, my dirty clothes bundled in my arms and my hair wet. Liam’s nostrils flared when he saw me. His eyes wandered down my form then returned to my face. I thought I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “Good shower?” he asked, his voice oddly husky. “Yes,” I breathed, my skin heating. He didn’t move out of the way and he didn’t stop staring. Before I could ask if there was a problem he spoke. “You look so young.” I frowned. “Pardon?” He cleared his throat and clarified. “Without all the eyeliner, I mean.” “Oh.” I usually coloured in my eyes with a black eyeliner pencil. It was the only makeup I wore, and I mostly only used it because it made my face look meaner. It made me look like someone you didn’t want to mess with, and you needed that when you lived on the streets.

Liam wore a vaguely uncomfortable expression when he finally stepped aside. “Sorry, I’ll, uh, let you get back to your room.” “Okay, see you in the morning.” “Yeah, see you in the morning, Iris.” That night sleep didn’t come as easily as I thought it might. I couldn’t get used to how soft the mattress was, or how clean everything smelled, or the quiet hum of the central heating as it warmed the house. In the end I resorted to pulling the duvet onto the floor and sleeping there. Finally, after staring at the ceiling for a long while, I drifted off. I woke to the smell of bacon, and somehow I knew Lee was cooking breakfast. Maybe it was all those months working with him, but I just seemed to recognise his signature scent. He tended to use tarragon in a lot of his dishes. It must be his favourite herb. I didn’t have a shift until after lunch, but I didn’t intend on hanging around the house. I didn’t want to get under anyone’s feet, so I dressed quickly, put on my coat, and headed downstairs for the front door. “That you, Iris?” Lee called out from the kitchen. I knew it would be rude to just leave, so I reluctantly turned and headed down the hallway. When I entered the kitchen I found Lee by the cooker. His wife, Karla, Liam, Sophie and a little boy and girl who I presumed were her kids sat at the table eating breakfast. Liam was in uniform again. It still gave me that fight or flight reaction combined with keen attraction. “Where are you headed so early, kiddo?” Lee asked. “You’re not due for a shift until one.” “Just have a few things I need to do,” I lied. “Yeah well,” he pointed a spatula at me, “you can sit and eat first. No one leaves this house without a decent breakfast.” I would’ve argued with him if the bacon didn’t smell so good. Instead I shrugged out of my coat and took the seat next to Liam. “Morning, Iris. Lee tells me you’ll be renting Stu’s old room,” said Karla with a kind smile. I’d met Lee’s wife before and liked her. She was a smart, no-nonsense sort of woman. She was also a police sergeant, which made me wonder if she had something to do with Liam joining the force. “Morning,” I replied. “And yes. Lee was very kind to offer it.” “I’m sorry about what Val said last night, by the way,” Sophie cut in. “I love that girl to bits, but she doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut sometimes.” I waved her away. “No worries.” “This is my foster daughter, Billie,” she went on, indicating the young girl. “And my son, Jonathan.” Jonathan gave me a shy smile while Billie grinned widely and pointed at the tattoo of a shooting star peeking out from the end of my top. “That’s pretty.” I tugged on my sleeve, still caught up on the whole ‘foster daughter’ bit. An old, well-worn string tugged on my heart. I would’ve given anything to be taken in by a

family like this when younger. Suddenly, I saw Sophie in a whole new light. “Oh, thanks.” “Do you have any more?” Billie asked, no reticence about her. She had a precocious streak. “Yeah, lots,” I answered, a little uncomfortable to be the object of everybody’s attention. “Can I see?” “Maybe some other time, Bills,” Liam cut in, saving me from further scrutiny. At the same time, Lee set a heaving plate of food in front of me—scrambled eggs, bacon, and a mountain of toast. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to eat it all even though I suffered from perennial hunger. I dug in quietly, letting the conversation wash over me. The last time I’d experienced a family breakfast like this was at Maude’s, but that had been different. We were a rag-tag bunch of mistrustful teenagers. This here was a real family. My heart panged with loneliness, with a want so deep and engrained I couldn’t decipher it at first. Then I understood. With everything inside me I wanted to belong to a family just like Liam’s.

FIVE

Drive In Saturday back at the house at about eight that evening with every intention of I arrived going straight to my bedroom. I was a little forlorn that Mr Hector hadn’t

shown up at the restaurant looking for me. I knew he wasn’t even technically my cat. He was an independent feline. But it still made me sad to think he’d gone his own way. I had one foot on the stairs when Sophie peeked her head out of the living room. “Oh, you’re back,” she exclaimed. “We weren’t sure if you’d want to join us.” “Join you?” At this Liam emerged, wearing lounge pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He looked gorgeous and handsome like always, but I obviously tried to ignore that. “We’re ordering pizza and watching a movie. You in?” he asked, blue eyes looking me up and down in a way that was surprisingly tender. “He likes you,” Bowie whispered in my ear. “Shut it, you,” I subconsciously whispered back. He faded away, though not without shooting me a knowing grin beforehand. I had to admit, the idea of spending an evening eating pizza and watching a film with Liam and the others sounded lovely. Truly. I wanted to hang out with them, so I let myself have something nice for once. “Okay, just let me go change first.” I hurried up to my room and put on the same lounge pants and T-shirt I wore after my shower last night, since it seemed everyone was going casual. It wasn’t like I owned anything fancy anyway. I headed downstairs, and to my dismay found Valerie in the living room. Sophie, Lee, and Karla sat on one couch, while Valerie and Liam sat on the other. A faint feeling of jealousy stirred within me but I pushed it aside. There was enough space between them to show they weren’t an item or anything. Although, after how she reacted to me yesterday, I had a sneaking suspicion Valerie held a candle for Liam. I wondered if he was aware of it.

Unlike everyone else, she wore skinny jeans and a tight top that showcased her admittedly large boobs. My smallish C-cups never felt so intimidated. So yeah, aside from her cruel lips, Valerie was reasonably attractive. Whatever. I was just happy to be there, doing something as ordinary as watching a movie with a bunch of people I lived with. Liam’s gaze fell on me as he patted the space next to him. “Over here, Iris.” Valerie cut me a scathing look. Yep, she definitely fancied him. I sat down just as Lee suggested True Lies as a movie choice. “Oh no, I can’t stand Schwarzenegger for more than twenty minutes,” said Karla. “Such a specific length of time,” Lee chuckled. “What about Gone Girl?” “I haven’t seen that one yet. It’s supposed to be good,” said Sophie. “Okay, are we all okay with Gone Girl, then?” Lee asked the room. Everybody voiced their agreement while I nodded, trying not to be too affected by Liam’s closeness. He always wore the same cologne and the scent had become a comfort to me. Something I looked forward to. I yawned and he turned his head a little. “Tired?” “Yeah. Long day.” “The restaurant was a bastard this evening,” Lee affirmed. “Non-stop, wasn’t it, kiddo?” “Pretty much.” “It’s good business is booming though,” said Karla. I heard Valerie let out a small huff but I didn’t think anyone else noticed. What was her problem? Okay, so maybe I knew what her problem was. For one, Liam was looking at me like I lit the moon and stars, which by the way, I didn’t understand. I wasn’t oblivious. It was clear he was attracted to me. The feeling was reciprocated, obviously, but I was just so bad with men in general. I didn’t know how to flirt, didn’t know how to master that come-hither look that told them the attraction was mutual. I’d always been too much of a tomboy for that. The first time I had sex was at fifteen with a boy living in the same foster home as I was. He was sweet and shy. The sex was fumbling and awkward. The second time I had sex was at eighteen, with a bloke named Steven. I met him through Becky. He was a tattoo artist, as well, and he smoked fancy French cigarettes. They were at odds with his rough and ready appearance. The sex was good. Very good. But Steven was an unparalleled arsehole. He barely spoke to me, just offered me a joint, and then started kissing me. One thing led to another. And that was the sum total of my experience with men. You’d think I’d have more, but I’ve always kept to myself, always been wary of new people. Until Liam. I still hardly knew him, but it felt like he’d been in my life longer. Maybe it was because of all the time he’d spent watching me—the time we’d spent watching each other. Whenever our eyes connected at work, it was like we were learning one another without exchanging words. Studying the other’s mannerisms and habits.

You could tell so much about a person without having a conversation, especially when you were drawn to them like I was drawn to Liam. I’d been lost in my thoughts for a while when the doorbell rang. Lee shot up to answer it. Karla and Sophie were talking about going shopping for new clothes for Billie and Jonathan on the weekend. Liam, Valerie and I were silent. Well, that was until Valerie decided to open her mouth. “So, Iris, you work at The Grub Hut?” I glanced at her warily and Liam stiffened. “I do.” “What do you do there?” By the evil gleam in her eyes, I suspected she already knew. I stuck my chin out and answered, “I clean.” “Oh, like washing dishes and all that?” “Yep.” She let out a laugh. “Have you ever seen that Bruce Lee biopic, where the Chinese woman says that line about needing a dish washer? Always cracks me up.” “I haven’t seen that one,” I told her quietly. And I hadn’t. But I was sure whatever she was referring to was offensive in some way. “How is everything at the crèche?” Liam cut in. “You ever get sick of changing dirty nappies all day?” This woman worked at a crèche? Wow. I couldn’t believe people actually trusted her to take care of their children. But okay, maybe I was biased. The only reason she had it in for me was because of Liam. Maybe she was perfectly lovely to everyone else. “It’s all right. I’m thinking of a career change, actually. There’s this beauty course I’m interested in.” “No way should anyone let you do their makeup,” Sophie cut in, overhearing the topic. “Remember that time I let you do mine for Lee’s birthday? I ended up looking like a drag queen.” Valerie’s eyes flashed bloody murder at Sophie. “I was considering massage therapy, if you must know.” “Oh, well, in that case go for it,” said Sophie, looking sheepish. “I think I will. Liam, would you let me practice on you?” she asked, casting him a flirtatious look. Oh, man. This was getting way too corny for my taste. He’d been grinning at what Sophie said but his features quickly sobered. “Eh, not so keen on massage, Val.” Good answer. Before Valerie could say more, Lee came in carrying a stack of pizza boxes. The smell of melted cheese hit me immediately and my mouth started to water. “I ordered a selection, so there should be something to suit everyone.” We all dug in. Liam eyed me. “Let me guess, ham and pineapple?” I smiled. “That’s spooky. How did you know?” “Got a sixth sense for these things.” He pulled out a slice and placed it on a paper napkin before handing it to me. I

shot him a look of thanks. Lee started the film and we all settled in to watch. Over the course of the movie it felt like Liam’s and my bodies gravitated towards one another. I was thoroughly engrossed in the story before I realised my entire side was touching his. Our bare forearms brushed against each other, as well as our thighs. It was . . . nice. More than nice. Being close to a boy I liked in such an ordinary setting was extraordinary to me. I never got to do stuff like this. I’d eaten so much pizza I could already feel a new and welcome layer of fat forming around my ribs. Liam reached up to rest his arm along the back of the couch. He felt even closer now. It would be so easy to just rest my head against him, feel his warmth. I wanted it so bad I ached, yearning for more contact. Feeling brave, I shifted closer, my head touching the top part of his chest. He sucked in a quick breath at the action, tensed momentarily, then relaxed. He wasn’t stopping me. For some reason it felt exciting, thrilling. Everybody else was too concentrated on the film to notice the subtle interaction between us. From the outside it might’ve looked like nothing, but to me every second that passed felt monumental. I heard him make a gruff sound in the back of his throat before he lowered his arm around my shoulders. My eyes widened as I stared dead ahead, my heart beating a frantic rhythm. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe Liam Cross just put his arm around me. I felt heavy and light all at once. Several minutes passed before I summoned the courage to look at him. He sensed my attention and glanced down. Our gazes locked and my cheeks heated. I couldn’t look away. His fingers moved where they rested just below my arm pit. I sucked in a harsh breath when his thumb started to brush back and forth over the underside of my breast. He was being so brazen, especially considering we had company. I loved it. I was captivated, couldn’t wait to see what he might to do next. I was also more turned on than I’d ever been in my whole entire life. My nipples hardened. I clenched my thighs together. The spot between them ached for something, anything. All the while we never broke eye contact. I’d heard of the term eye-fucking before, but I’d never actually experienced it until now. I felt warm and tingly all over. I felt like if he so much as leaned in and blew on me I’d come. I didn’t even realise that the movie had ended until Karla exclaimed, “Well, that was a headfuck.” Lee chuckled and bent over to plant a peck on her lips. I turned back to Liam and his eyes were still on me, still dark with need. I had goosebumps over every inch of my skin. I heard Valerie huff out an irritated sigh that put an end to the moment. Liam shifted away from me, while she rose from the couch and sniped, “Well, I’d better

be getting home. Liam, could you give me a lift?” Everybody looked at her. “You live just around the corner, Val,” said Sophie, giving her friend a look that said why are you being weird? “It’s late. Who knows what sort of freaks could be hanging around,” said Valerie, her mouth forming an annoyed slant. “I’ll give you a lift if you want,” Karla offered to which Valerie glared. “I asked Liam.” “Liam’s got an early start in the morning,” Karla went on. “Come on, I’ll have you home in no time.” Valerie let out another huff as Karla got up and grabbed her keys off the mantelpiece. Everybody started going their separate ways while Liam and I cleared away the empty pizza boxes. We didn’t say a word as we worked in unison, but the tension still lingered between us. Sophie said goodnight and went to her room, while Lee came into the kitchen. His attention went from me to Liam and a small smirk shaped his mouth. “I suppose we better sit and talk about rent,” he said, eyeing me. Liam shot his brother a disgruntled look but didn’t say anything. “Oh, sure,” I said. “How much were you thinking? I have a little saved up if you need a deposit.” “Nah, you keep that. I wanted to suggest I take it out of your pay check. How does thirty quid a week sound?” I frowned. “It sounds like far too little.” “It’s just a room, Iris.” Lee smiled. “And we’re all happy to have another pretty face around the house. Aren’t we, Liam?” he asked, eyeing his brother with mischief. When I looked at Liam his cheeks reddened ever so slightly. I couldn’t believe it. It always surprised me when he got shy like that. “Mmm,” he grunted. I looked back at Lee. “Well, if you’re sure. I’ll buy all my own food and clean up after myself. And I won’t hang around all day getting under your feet. You’ll barely even know I’m here.” “You can eat as much food and hang out as much as you want,” said Lee. “Just help with the dishes and sweep up every once in a while, and we’re good.” “Okay. I can do that,” I said, nodding my head. A foreign sensation spread through me. It took me a second to identify it. Happiness. Lee gave me a warm smile and stood. “It’s sorted then. Welcome to your new gaf, Missy.” He came forward and gave me a friendly hug before heading for the door. “I’m off to bed. You two don’t stay up too late.” With that he was gone and we were alone again. I glanced at Liam to find him already staring at me. “What?”

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted. Warmth suffused my chest and my pulse sped up. I picked at the edge of my fingernail. “You’ve got an unusual definition of beauty.” He shook his head confidently. “No, I don’t.” I didn’t know what to say then, fumbling for words but finding none. He smiled. So bloody handsome. I blushed even more. I was probably a tomato at this point. I broke the silence when I said, “Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” “How long have you known I was homeless?” Liam’s eyes flashed, turmoil in their bright blue depths, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake asking that. I just needed to know how quickly he saw through me. I’d always prided myself on being unnoticeable. Inconspicuous. It was a survival mechanism. Homeless girls never attracted the right kind of attention. The fact that I’d failed niggled at me, even though I wouldn’t be here in this house if I hadn’t. Liam raked a hand through his hair and sat down on a stool. He gestured to the one beside it and I took a few steps across the room to sit. “I saw you the first time you came in looking for work,” he said, surprising me. “I overheard your conversation with Lee. Then I saw you and I don’t know why, but I was drawn to you. There was something in your eyes that spoke to me. You just seemed so . . . lonely.” I felt vulnerable hearing this. On display. I couldn’t believe he’d noticed me before I ever noticed him. “After that I started watching you. You never acted how I expected. You rarely spoke to the other staff. I knew next to nothing about you other than your name and that you didn’t want to give my brother your address.” I stared at the floor and scratched my arm. “That’s because I didn’t have one.” “Yeah, fucks my head up that I didn’t realise sooner.” I twisted my lips self-consciously. “It’s not like it was your fault.” The look he gave me said otherwise, which was ridiculous. I let out an aggrieved sigh. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those bleeding hearts who thinks the world’s problems are his own.” He still didn’t say anything. Only stared at me so intensely I had to look away. “You never smelled bad,” he said randomly. “Your clothes and hair were always clean, too. I figured you must’ve been living somewhere. I feel like shit that it took me so long to see the truth.” His words struck a chord. I was always so worried about stuff like that. Looking dirty and dishevelled, or offending people with my odour. “I use the public swimming pool a few times a week. I don’t swim, I just go to the showers,” I whispered. Tension radiated off him, and I knew this must’ve been hard to hear. It was hard to say. He reached out and took my hands in his. “Christ, Iris, I’m sorry I didn’t try talking to you before now. You were just always so closed off. Believe it or not, I was

actually a little intimidated by you.” I scoffed but felt warmth trickle over me at the same time. “Yeah right.” “It’s true. You’ve got that whole don’t mess with me vibe going on.” This made me laugh a little. “Shut up.” Liam laughed, too. When it tapered off he said, “At first I thought maybe you were on the run from someone, and that’s why you wouldn’t give an address. You didn’t want anybody to find you if they came looking.” “Makes sense.” “So I looked you up,” he confessed. My eyes widened and I pulled my hands from his. “What?” His expression showed his regret. “I thought if you had a record I could find out where you came from, but you didn’t have one.” “You checked to see if I was in the system?” All of a sudden, I felt unsettled. “I know it was wrong but I was worried about you. It just seemed like you didn’t have anyone, like you weren’t safe.” “I didn’t have anyone and I wasn’t safe, but that didn’t mean you had the right to do that,” I said, shifting away from him and standing. I knew deep down that he’d looked me up out of concern, but it still felt like a violation. “I’m sorry, Iris, I—” “No, you don’t need to be sorry. You . . . shouldn’t have done it but I’m glad you did. I’m glad you saw me. Very few people ever do.” I tried to convey my gratefulness with my eyes even though my gut twisted. I was torn. I appreciated his help but was bothered, too. I’d always felt powerless when it came to authority. People in government jobs had moved me from pillar to post until I was old enough for them to discard me. Liam had used his position to try and find private information and he had no right. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed,” I said, heading for the door. “Iris, don’t be like that,” Liam pleaded. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just need some time to . . . absorb things.” Liam’s handsome face studied me. “Promise?” I gave him the sincerest look I could muster. “Cross my heart.”

SIX

Rebel Rebel sleeping on the floor. I wasItstill had been a week and I still couldn’t get used to the bed, found it hard to

sleep in a clean, normal environment. There had to be something wrong with me. Maybe I was institutionalised by too many nights on the streets. Maybe I’d always feel ill at ease with comfort. But no, I didn’t believe that. Couldn’t. And anyway, it wasn’t like I hadn’t become fast friends with the shower. I could spend hours in there just soaking under the water, feeling clean for the first time in years. Liam and I had gone back to watching each other. I wasn’t holding what he did against him, because I knew his heart was in the right place, but the whole conversation had created an awkwardness between us. I really wanted to talk to him. I felt like I was going to burst with it. I wanted to go back to that moment on the couch, where we couldn’t tear our eyes off one another. I was carrying the rubbish out the back of the restaurant at the end of my shift when I caught sight of a familiar coat of ginger fur. “Mr Hector! I thought you’d abandoned me.” He let out a loud, cranky meow and I threw the bag in the bin before going over to pet him. “Hey, you. Long time no see.” He meowed again, like he was complaining about my disloyalty, but he didn’t look like he’d been going hungry. In fact, he looked a little too well fed. I was willing to bet he’d made friends with the bloke who ran the butcher shop down the street. Opportunistic scamp was probably eating sausages every day. “You really are pretty, aren’t you?” I said, running my hand along his silky fur. “Who are you talking to?” came a familiar voice. I glanced up and saw Liam standing by the gate. There was a police car parked outside and he was in uniform. “My cat,” I answered and lifted the ginger fluff ball. He twisted in my hold. He didn’t like being held, always had to be the one to initiate contact. “His name is Mr

Hector.” Liam eyed me with a funny expression. “Are you sure you didn’t steal him? He looks like he hates you. Also, he is a she.” I gaped at him. “What?” He grinned now. “Your cat is a girl, Iris. Haven’t you checked out her . . . bits?” I shot him an appalled look. “I’m not in the habit at looking at cat genitals, if you must know.” Liam laughed, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Oh, man. You’re something else.” I glanced at the cat in my arms. “Are you really a girl, Mr Hector?” I shit you not, he/she shot me a look that was all, I’ve been trying to tell you for months! “He’s, I mean, she’s just so big. She really looks like a Tom.” “You’re too fucking cute,” said Liam as he came forward to pet Mr Hector on the head. I wasn’t changing her name. She’d just had to live with Mr Hector. I inwardly flushed at Liam’s softly spoken compliment and said, “She’s not really my cat. She’s a stray but she used to sleep with me at the squat sometimes. She was my buddy. I’d ask if I could keep her at the house but I have a feeling she’s far too wild to ever be domesticated.” Just like me, sleeping on the floor like a weirdo. Something pained passed over Liam’s expression at my mention of the squat, but it quickly passed. He eyed my apron. “You got much longer left of your shift?” “I’m just finished, actually.” Liam eyed me, considering. “Want to go get drive-through at McDonald’s? I’m on a break and I was going to get something here but I’m in the mood for some junk food.” My heart leapt. He was asking me to hang out. I tried not to let my excitement show too much. “Sure, just let me go clean up and I’ll be right back.” Liam nodded. “I’ll wait in the car.” When I emerged and came to join Liam I felt weird. I’d never been in a police car before. Believe it or not, I’d managed to evade being arrested for squatting during my two years of homelessness. I’d also been a regular shoplifter before I started working for Lee and could afford my own food. Luckily, I’d been too good at it to get caught. “It’s so bizarre that I’m friends with a copper,” I said, looking all around. It wasn’t like a normal car. There was all sorts equipment attached to the dashboard. “It’s more bizarre that I’m a PC, considering my history,” said Liam. I glanced at him, chewing on my lip. I’d almost forgotten about that. “You used to steal cars?” “Yep. Got away with it for a long time, too. Until I didn’t.” “What happened?” He let out a wry chuckle. “Karla happened.” “Lee’s Karla?” “Yeah. They started seeing each other. On the down-low, of course. Karla’s bestie used to go out with my oldest brother, Stu, so she and Lee had crossed paths

a few times. When their relationship was still a secret, Karla caught me on the rob. I was a cocky little shit, thought she wouldn’t catch me.” He smiled like it was a fond memory. “And . . . did she?” “Oh yeah. Karla’s got some mad driving skills. She arrested me, brought me back to the station until Lee came to bail me out. That was sort of the catalyst for everything that followed. Us going straight, I mean.” “And joining the police,” I probed. “How did that come about?” Liam exhaled thoughtfully. “I felt a bit aimless after we left all that behind. Had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. The only skills I had were ones that involved stealing. One day I got this idea to flip it on its head. Use what I know to catch thieves instead of thieving myself.” “So you decided to become a copper,” I finished for him. “Pretty much. Karla helped. If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t have had a hope in hell of getting on the force. But her dad’s this big shot superintendent, so she had enough clout to get me in there.” “That’s lucky.” “Yeah, I love it. Though it’s not so fun when you bump into people you used to steal with,” he said with a grimace. “Awkward?” I guessed. He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.” We’d just arrived at the drive-through and Liam rolled down his window. He ordered a large Big Mac meal with Coke and chicken nuggets on the side. I went for the same. He parked a little way down the street and we ate our food in companionable silence. It was nice, just being with him, doing something as simple as eating fast food. A few minutes went by before he spoke. “How long have you been on your own?” I blew out a breath. “That’s kind of a heavy question to ask mid-Big Mac.” “I like to get the heavy stuff out of the way first so we can get to talking about Ryan Gosling’s latest flick,” he joked. “Never pegged you for a Gosling fan.” Liam smiled as he chewed. “He’s just so dreamy.” I laughed. After a minute my expression sobered. “My, um, my mum passed away when I was fourteen. There was no one to take me in so I was put into care. When I turned eighteen the state was no longer responsible for me, so . . .” I stopped speaking and made a gesture with my hands. “Here I am.” Liam’s look was gentle, understanding clear in his eyes. “Here you are.” AFTER WE FINISHED EATING we talked for a while longer and then he drove me home before heading back to work. Again, it was strange to be driven around in a police car. I went to my room and pulled out my copy of Great Expectations. I spread the duvet on the floor with the pillows and settled in for cosy evening of reading.

A few hours passed before Bowie decided to show his face. “Somebody’s been hard to reach lately,” he commented as he took a seat on the bed. “I’ve been busy working.” “And staring dreamily into a certain police constable’s handsome blues,” he added. “Whatever.” “You look happy, Iris.” “Are you going soppy on me?” “Sue me if I like seeing you smile more often. It’s a relief you’re not sleeping in that awful squat anymore, although I don’t entirely get this whole floor situation you’ve got going on.” I glanced at the bed. “The mattress is too soft. I can’t sleep on it.” He eyed my backpack by the door. “You haven’t unpacked either. Looks to me like you’re still ready to run at any moment.” I scrunched up my brow. “Why would I do that? I’ve got a good thing going here.” Bowie stared at me pointedly. “Yes, you do. So unpack your bloody bag and start sleeping on the bed. This is your life now, and it’s only going to get better from here on out.” “You don’t know that,” I sniffed, but like always I knew he was right. I could feel it in my bones. His smile was knowing and infinitely wise. “Oh, but I do.” There was a knock on my door and I startled. “Who is it?” I called. “Liam. Can I come in?” “Uh, yes,” I said before I remembered my duvet and pillows were on the floor. Shit! I scrambled to put them back on the bed, but it was no use. Liam opened the door and stepped inside before I had the chance. He looked around and his brows knit together. “Thought I heard you talking to someone.” Oh God, kill me now. He heard me talking to Bowie. This was too embarrassing to be real. “Oh, um, no. I wasn’t.” He glanced at me then, his expression suspicious. “You sure?” “Uh-huh.” “Well, I just knocked off work so I’m going to take a shower. Call if you need anything.” “Sure, okay.” He was about to leave but then stopped, turning back to take me in. “Iris.” “Yeah?” “Why are you sitting on the floor?” I swear I turned bright red in an instant. I tried to think of a plausible story but came up empty, so I just sighed and told him the truth. “I like it down here.” He arched a brow. “You don’t like it on the bed?”

I shook my head. “I’m not used to mattresses. I can never fall asleep on the bed.” He stared at me for a long moment, so long I felt like I might burst with selfconsciousness. His face was a picture of empathy and my stomach twisted. “Don’t look at me like that,” I blurted, unable to take much more. “Like what?” “Like you feel sorry for me.” His lips dipped in a frown. “Iris.” “I’m fine. I sleep perfectly well on the floor. I’m not harming anyone by it.” He went quiet again, a conflict warring behind his eyes. I thought he might push the matter but instead he nodded soberly and closed the door. I heard him go inside the bathroom and then the sound of running water as he turned the shower on. Huh. That was easier than I thought it would be. I returned my attention to my book, falling into the story again. I didn’t know how much time had passed when my door flew open. I jumped at the intrusion. Liam stood there, his hair wet, and he was only wearing a pair of sleep pants. His chest was completely bare and my skin warmed just looking at him. He had a nice body, a strong, muscular frame. He ran a hand through his wet hair and slammed the door shut. “I want to try something,” he declared and came to tug my book out of my hand. “Stand up.” I was curious what was going on, but I did as he requested. Once I was standing he started putting my duvet and pillows back on the bed. “Liam . . .” “Don’t argue, just humour me,” he said, holding a finger up before going back to work on the bed. I watched the muscles in his back move, oddly mesmerised. It was after eleven and the house was quiet. I imagined everyone else had gone to sleep already. When the bed was made he beckoned me forward. “Get in.” “Um . . .” I bit my lip. “Iris, I said get in.” His tone brooked no argument, so I closed the distance between us and got in the bed. Once situated, Liam surprised the hell out of me by climbing in next to me. My pulse pounded in my ears and I felt way too hot, especially considering he was topless. I wore my usual sleep clothes. There was nothing even remotely sexy about them but Liam’s eyes still shone with heat as he looked at me. “C’mere,” he said as he lay back with arms outstretched, his voice a husky whisper. I lowered myself to lie against him, cheek to chest. His skin felt warm and firm. I wanted to touch him, run my hand over his abdomen, then along the little trail of hair that disappeared inside his bottoms. He lowered one arm to wrap around me, holding me close, then reached over to turn off the lamp. Dark surrounded us. His smell was everywhere. His presence an

aphrodisiac in itself. I lay in his embrace, confused and turned on and excited. My heart felt too full. “What are we doing?” I asked the dark room. “We’re going to sleep,” Liam answered, his soft voice lulling me into a relaxed state. “We are?” “I have a theory,” he went on, ignoring my question. “It came to me when I was in the shower.” I squeezed my eyes closed, because that was too much of a pleasant picture not to visualise. I was such a pervert. “Oh?” “I think maybe you can’t sleep because you feel on edge in the strange environment. I think that if there’s someone sleeping next to you it’ll become easier.” I didn’t speak for a long moment, then whispered, “It’s a possibility.” His hand started to move back and forth over my lower back. I tingled all over, every muscle in my body coiled tight in anticipation of how he might touch me next. I loved every stroke, every light caress. I thought since he was doing it to me, it would be okay to return the favour. I brought my hand to his stomach, my touch light and explorative at first. I dragged it from his abs up towards his pecs and heard his breathing quicken. Before I reached his pecs his hand came to mine, preventing more movement. “I’m not a saint, Iris,” he quietly warned, and each syllable reverberated through me. “You’re touching me.” “That’s different.” “No, it’s no—” “Just . . . talk to me,” he said, an edge to his voice. He really was struggling. Struggling because I was touching him. Wow. I liked that, liked the heady feeling of power. “About what?” I whispered. “Anything,” he replied. “Tell me who you talk to when you’re alone in this room.” I froze, my heart giving a hard, panicked thud. “Um . . .” “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I hear you some nights. It’s actually kind of comforting. I like the sound of your voice.” I went quiet, considering my words. If I could tell anyone about my odd imagination it was Liam. “Do you remember my friend Becky I told you about? The one who died?” “Yes.” I made a weird shape with my mouth in the dark. It felt bizarre confessing this to him. “She and I, we were all each other had. Then she was gone and I felt so alone. After a while I started having these conversations with myself.”

“You did?” “Well, not with myself, per se. I started having them with David Bowie.” He emitted a surprised breath and I could hear the smile in his voice. “David Bowie?” “Yeah, I’ve always been a little obsessed with him, so I guess it makes sense. He’s, well, he’s my imaginary friend.” Liam didn’t say anything, only continued stroking my back. I was glad he didn’t stop, even though he didn’t want me touching him. Stroking him. I understood why. Laying in bed with a girl caressing your bare stomach could lead to embarrassing repercussions when you were a guy. “It’s weird, right?” I said when he still didn’t speak. “No. I don’t think it’s weird at all,” he said finally. “It’s a coping mechanism. We all have them.” “Yeah but, Liam, he’s real to me. Sane people don’t believe they can talk to the ghosts of dead rock stars, though admittedly, he was still alive when the whole thing started.” “I still don’t think it’s weird. For whatever reason, he’s comforting to you. You probably grew up with him, right?” I nodded into his chest. “Mum used to play his music all the time. She even went to see him in concert in the eighties.” “See? He reminds you of a time before you had to fend for yourself. After our mum passed, me and my brother Trevor used to pretend our real parents were HeMan and She-Ra. We used to make up elaborate scenarios where they’d come and rescue us, whisk us away to live with them so we’d never have a care again.” “That’s adorable,” I said. And heartbreaking. “But you were a child. I’m a twenty-year-old woman.” “A twenty-year-old woman who never had the chance to be young. Not really. You’re allowed your peculiarities, Iris,” he replied tenderly. “I know I have to let him go,” I said in a small voice. “I’ve been trying, I really have. It’s just hard.” “You’ll get there,” he said, his hand giving my hip a small squeeze. I nuzzled my face into his chest and inhaled deeply. “I hope so.” “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything.” He sounded like he really believed it. It was a new and liberating sensation for someone to have so much faith in me. I closed my eyes fully and just enjoyed being held by him. I didn’t think I could fall asleep. I thought that after a while I’d end up crawling out of bed and laying down on the floor. But then Liam’s breathing grew deep and there was a meditative quality to it. For the first time since I moved in here I felt at peace. And as time passed, I slowly fell under, proving his theory correct. I slept. With Liam’s arms around me, I could finally sleep in my own bed.

SEVEN

Sound and Vision no surprise that sleeping together became a habit. I t was Each night when the house grew quiet, Liam snuck into my room and

crawled into bed beside me. I’d lie awake waiting for him and he always came. Sometimes we talked. Other times we just cuddled. I started to wonder if maybe he needed me just as much as I needed him. It was a peace I’d never known. It was also addictive and thrilling and incredibly sexually frustrating. But you know, it worked. I’d never felt so rested in all my life. I opened my eyes to the sliver of morning light that peeked through the curtains and smiled. Liam was spooning me. I was the little spoon. His strong arms and his masculine scent surrounded me. I closed my eyes again, deciding I could afford a few more minutes of rest. I knew Liam was awake when I felt his hand move, coming to rest on my stomach. Butterflies flooded my belly. My T-shirt had ridden up in the night, exposing my bare midriff. Liam’s hand stroked back and forth and a want stirred between my thighs. I clenched them together to dull the ache but it was no use. In my mind I imagined his hand moving lower, dipping inside my underwear and discovering how wet I was. I moved a little and made a shocking discovery. He was hard. In all the nights we’d shared a bed, he’d always been very careful keeping his . . . parts away from me. If he did have an erection, I never felt it, but I could feel it now. Hard and urgent as it pressed against me. God. Liam’s hand moved to my belly, pulling me closer so that his cock was flush with my backside. I wanted to moan. I wanted to wriggle against him and feel it get even harder. Feeling bold, I circled my hips and felt his breath hit the back of my neck. “Iris,” he whispered huskily.

I moved my hips again and he let out the most wonderful and interesting noise. He groaned. Groaned like a man. It was a sexual noise. One I hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing from him before. It turned me on and a tiny whimper escaped me in response. I barely had time to react when he flipped me on my back, nestled himself between my legs, and stared down at me with the sexiest look in his eyes. His hands gripped my hips and squeezed. I arched my back so I could feel his cock press into me more. His lips parted and he closed his eyes, a look of pure desire claiming his features. His torso moved and my breath hitched. He pushed his cock so hard into me I had to bite my lip not to moan. If we were naked right then, we’d be fucking already. I wanted him to kiss me, but he didn’t. Instead he opened his eyes, lowered his body so he was holding himself up on his elbows and cupped my face. I had no idea what was happening, but I’d never felt so entranced. I watched his every move with barely concealed fascination. And then, he started moving his hips slowly in and out. I exhaled shakily at the feel of him, his hard cock pressing against my needy sex. I was so close to coming and he’d barely even touched me. My every nerve ending was on fire. His hands still cupped my face but his thumb moved down to brush across my lower lip. The only sound in the room was our breathing. His thumb dipped inside my mouth and the noise that came out of me surprised us both. I didn’t think I’d ever made a sound quite so feminine before. So sensual. His thumb moved in the same motion of his hips, dipping in and out of my mouth, pressing against my tongue. “You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, do you know that?” he rasped. “Liam.” His name was a soft plea on my lips. “What is it, beautiful?” he replied, his gaze worshipful, taking all of me in. “Kiss me,” I whispered. I’d barely finished saying the words before his thumb slid away from my lips, and was replaced with his mouth. His hot, sexy, gorgeous mouth. He kissed me like he was dying of thirst. He kissed me like it was the last kiss he’d ever have. His lips melded with mine, his tongue sliding inside and coaxing mine to react. I brought my hands to the middle of his bare back then raked them down his firm muscles. He groaned into the kiss, his movements quickening. His cock was hitting just the right spot and my thighs grew weak as pleasure built within me. It felt like there was a firework inside my body, and Liam’s cock had lit the match. I was going to go off any second. We never broke our kiss, and then, I shattered, fell apart in his arms. Liam groaned and swallowed every tremor that passed over me, before a shudder of his own went through him. His mouth left mine and he burrowed his face in the crook of my neck. I held him to me, my breathing fast and choppy. After a while it started to slow down.

Liam had just given me an orgasm without even taking his pants off. Or mine for that matter. Not only that, but I was fairly sure he just came, too. Wow. His lips nibbled at my neck, causing tingles to dance down my spine. “I don’t want to move,” he complained and I laughed softly. “You have to. You’ve got work today. So do I for that matter.” He rose up, holding himself above me as he stared down. His gaze traced my lips, my cheeks, my chin, then came to rest on my eyes. “You look incredible when you come,” he murmured sexily. I flushed deeply but didn’t turn away. The moment was broken when the alarm clock on the window went off, reminding us both that we had to get up. Liam groaned and pressed a soft, tender kiss on my mouth before climbing out of bed. He was smiling at me as he headed for the door. “I’m going to take a shower. See you at breakfast.” And that was another thing I loved about living here. There was a family breakfast every morning, even if everyone was in a hurry they still came in and ate something quickly. I liked the routine of it. It was comforting. Once I was dressed and ready for work I headed downstairs. If Liam’s family were aware of his nightly visits to my room, they’d never commented on it. Lee was by the kitchen counter, chopping some fresh fruit while a large pot of porridge heated on the stove. “Morning, Iris. Want some mango?” he asked and gestured to the fruit. Liam was still up in his room getting dressed. I nodded and picked up a piece, savouring the tangy, sweet taste. We were quiet for a moment as I studied him. “Lee.” “Yeah, hon?” “Do you . . . I mean, feel free to tell me no, but do you think you might let me train to cook at the restaurant sometime?” The edges of his mouth curved in a soft smile. “I was wondering when you’d get sick of doing lackey’s work.” I glanced away shyly. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.” He shot me a considering look. “I’ve actually been thinking of taking on some new workers. You’ve seen first-hand how we’ve been struggling to keep up with demand.” Something warm and hopeful swelled within me. “Really?” I gushed. “Yeah, just give me a week or two to find someone to take over your job, then we can start training you in.” I beamed at him, almost welling up as I choked out a whispered, “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” His gaze was soft. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m saying yes. Everyone in this house knows how it feels to be desperate, Iris. What it’s like to start with nothing. I suppose that’s why Liam’s so smitten. He must see something of himself in you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It embarrassed me to know other people had noticed Liam’s affection for me, even though I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have it. Before I could thank him again, Liam stepped into the room and grabbed a handful of grapes from the selection of fruit. He shot me a heated look then seemed to notice something was different. His eyes moved from me to his brother. “Did I miss something?” I cracked a big smile. “Lee’s agreed to let me start training as a cook at the restaurant.” His lips parted in a smile of his own. “Yeah? That’s great news.” “I know.” I beamed. Liam took the seat beside mine as Lee said, “By the way, we’re having a little get together for Sophie’s birthday at the restaurant tonight after closing. Nothing fancy, just some food and a few drinks. I’ll need you both there by eight at the latest.” I was surprised and flattered to be invited. “Sounds good.” “We’ll be there,” Liam agreed, his hand coming to rest at the small of my back. A simmering heat burned just beneath my skin. Lee turned around to stir the porridge while Liam bent to growl softly in my ear, “I’m gonna be thinking about this morning all fucking day.” Me, too, I thought as the memory of how he’d looked at me ran though my head, like I belonged to him. Me, too.

EIGHT

Ashes to Ashes much for this one?” I hesitantly asked the shop assistant, holding up the H ow knee-length black dress. It had little sequins stitched in, making it

“

shimmer when it moved. It also had three-quarter-length sleeves and a tightfitting shape. “Twenty-five,” she replied as she glanced up from her phone. “That’ll look great on you, babe.” I gave her a small smile at the compliment. I couldn’t remember the last time I bought clothes for myself, especially new clothes from a stylish boutique like this one. But I couldn’t go to Sophie’s birthday party in either of the two outfits I owned, both consisting of jeans and a T-shirt. I also wanted to look good for Liam. “Okay,” I said bravely. “I’ll take it.” A couple hours later I was back at the house, freshly showered and applying some eyeliner. I back-combed my hair to give it a bit of a tussled appearance and put on my dress. I wore it with some black lacey tights (another new purchase) and my well-worn Doc Marten boots. Standing back to check myself out in the mirror, I decided I looked decent. More than decent. I looked hot. I bought Sophie a pair of earrings as a gift. They weren’t real silver or gold or anything, but I thought they’d suit her. Liam was in kitchen waiting for me when I came down the stairs. He wore a navy shirt and a nice pair of jeans, handsome as always. When he saw me his lips parted slightly as he took me in. “You look . . . gorgeous. Really fucking gorgeous, Iris.” I self-consciously brushed my hands down the dress. “Thanks.” “C’mere.” I went to him and he wrapped his arms around me. “I can’t stop thinking about this morning,” he murmured and bent to give me a light kiss. I responded instantly, my nipples hardening as I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. He made a low rumbly sound in the back of his throat and pulled away.

“If you keep kissing me like that we’ll never make it to the party.” His chest rose and fell with his breathing. I smiled, embarrassed at how hungrily I’d kissed him. “Sorry.” He swiped his thumb over my lip. “Don’t apologise. I love it.” When we arrived at The Grub Hut the place was closed to the public. Liam held my hand as we walked in, as though to communicate to everyone we were together. I felt like I was walking on air. There weren’t too many people there, just the family and a few friends. Unfortunately, Valerie was one of them. She scowled when she saw me with Liam then sauntered off to the bathroom to lick her wounds. I got to meet Liam’s oldest brother, Stu, and his partner, Andrea. They seemed nice but Stu was too good-looking to be real. Not as good-looking as Liam of course, not in my eyes anyway. I gave Sophie her earrings and she hugged me, exclaiming how much she loved them. Then we ate and drank and I felt enveloped in a sense of belonging. I belonged here. The feeling was strong and all-consuming. I might’ve been a little drunk on it. Or maybe that was all the wine. Before I knew it, we were up and dancing. Liam slid his arms around my waist and we swayed to the music. I giggled when he dipped me low then pulled me back up again. “You’re amazing, Iris,” he whispered in my ear as the music got slower. Goosebumps claimed my skin. His hands lowered to cup my backside and tendrils of awareness spread through me. He squeezed and I would’ve been embarrassed if I wasn’t so tipsy. Thankfully, everyone else was too drunk to notice how he was touching me. Our want for each other was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. I was happy, content. Emotion clogged my throat. I couldn’t believe I’d found someone like Liam. Or was it him who found me? Maybe we’d found each other. When the song ended I drew away, shooting him a flirtatious look as I excused myself to go to the bathroom. He gave my hip a playful pinch and urged, “Hurry back.” I nodded and sauntered from the room and down the corridor. When I stepped inside the bathroom I was surprised to find Bowie leaning against one of the stalls. He was Jareth again. I think he knew that of all his guises, this one was my favourite. He wore a fond, tender smile. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you,” he asked, his words full of affection. Emotion stung at my eyes. “I don’t want to.” “I know you don’t.” “But I have to.” “I know that, too.” I choked out a laugh, both happy and sad. “You always know everything.” “He loves you,” Bowie went on and a lump formed in my throat. I wanted it to be true so badly. “Maybe he doesn’t realise it yet, but he does. He loves you like you’ve

always deserved. Your life is just about to begin, Iris.” A tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “I really wish you could stay.” “So do I, my darling, but you know what they say about all great things . . .” “Can you do one last thing for me?” I sniffled. “Before you go.” “Anything.” “Can you say the lines?” His mismatched eyes glinted under the fluorescent lights. “What lines?” I pouted and shot him a playful look. “You know which ones.” A slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth as he took several strides towards me. Then he spoke my favourite lines in the whole wide world and I got chills like always. “I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you.” I smiled so big my face hurt and he smiled right back at me. “Thank you,” I whispered just before he faded away, leaving me alone in the empty bathroom. When I returned to the party I felt different. Lighter. Liam sat at a table drinking a beer while the others danced to the music. His eyes met mine before I reached him and my skin heated. A blooming warmth spread throughout my body. Instead of taking the seat next to him, I climbed onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. I bent and murmured in his ear, “Take me home.” Before I knew it we were back at the house, kissing and grasping for each other in the dark as we ascended the stairs. Instead of leading us to my room, Liam pushed open the door to his and guided me inside. I hadn’t been in here before, but it smelled like him. He flicked on the lamp and I vaguely noted that it was neat and tidy before he was on me. “Let’s get you out of this dress,” he said huskily and reached for my zipper. I stood still, warm shivers encapsulating me as he stripped off my dress. When I stood in only my black knickers and bra, he stepped back and stared at me. He took his time surveying my body and I felt like I might combust with how much attention he paid to every part of me. “Lie down on the bed,” he tenderly commanded. I did as instructed, crawling onto the mattress and lying back. I trembled as I watched him unbutton his shirt and throw it on the floor before starting on his jeans. There was something wickedly sexy about seeing him loosen his belt. I swallowed down a lump of anticipation, my thighs parting when he hovered over me. He pushed my hair out of my face and stared into my eyes. Then he kissed me with all his worth. I moaned and opened for him, drugged by his taste, the faint tang of alcohol on his tongue. His mouth left mine to wander down past my chin, my neck, the tops of my breasts. He lifted me and reached around to unhook my bra, discarding it on the floor with the rest of our clothes. My nipples puckered as

soon as the air hit them and Liam swore as he soaked in the sight of me. He bent and captured one with his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hard peak as his hand cupped my other breast and massaged it. I felt like I was going to melt into the bed. My clit throbbed as he spent long minutes tonguing my breasts, whispering how beautiful I was, how much he loved how I tasted. He kissed toward my belly then pulled my knickers down my thighs, the last piece of clothing between us bar the boxer shorts he still wore. My legs were then placed over his shoulders. My heart pounded when I saw his intention. He lowered his mouth to the inside of my thigh and softly kissed me. I sucked in a breath. He kissed his way to my sex and then stopped. I felt his breath hit my sensitive skin. “Liam,” I gasped when licked me with his tongue. He licked and licked, swirling his tongue around my clit hungrily. I cried out. He made a low, masculine sound that echoed through me. My hands sank into his hair and he slid a finger inside me, then another. He pumped slowly in and out, agonisingly slow, the tempo matching his licks. He flicked his tongue over my clit again and again and I clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, Iris,” Liam urged as he came up for air. His blue eyes shone with arousal and I arched my spine so he could go deeper. Both his hands went around my hips and lifted me, his tongue never stopping, and I gripped his hair tighter. “Fuck,” I swore and then orgasmed so hard I shook. I closed my eyes, savouring the intensity. Liam growled his approval then kissed his way back up my body. He held himself over me and I opened my eyes. “That was . . .” I breathed, unable to find the right word. He smirked. “Fantastic? Incredible? Mind-blowing?” I huffed out a laugh. “All of the above.” His attention returned to my body as he traced the lines of my tattoos. Each one came with a memory of the day I got it. He seemed particularly taken with the feather that stretched from just above my hip to my ribcage. “Everything about you fascinates me. From the very first time I saw you I couldn’t look away,” he breathed, eyes glowing in the dim light. “The first time I saw you I didn’t think I’d ever seen a sexier man in my life.” I knew he liked that by the way his mouth curved. He continued touching me, his hands worshipful. “Valerie didn’t seem too happy tonight at the party,” I said, unable to help myself. Liam’s expression sobered, the look he gave me deadly serious. “I’ve never been interested in Val, Iris.” I swallowed. “Okay.” Silence fell again. I felt relaxed and melty after my orgasm and every sweep of Liam’s hands lulled me further into a state of lazy arousal. “I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice raw with desire.

I didn’t speak, only stared at him with wide, needy eyes. “I want to be inside you skin to skin,” he went on and my heart gave a hard thump. “Liam,” I whispered, “I’ve never been tested.” “I have,” he replied. “I’m clean. And I trust you.” “That’s not . . . that doesn’t matter. I can’t risk it. I’m not even on the pill.” “When’s the last time you were with someone?” he asked, his mouth at my navel. “Over two years ago.” The answer seemed to please him. “Then I trust you.” “But what about—” “We’ll get you on the pill in the morning. I just want to be with you tonight. Every night we spend together I dream about it. I feel like I’m going mad with wanting you, Iris.” My eyes flickered between his, seeing nothing but kindness, nothing but affection. I trusted him. “Okay,” I said softly. His face transformed. Suddenly his bright eyes turned dark, and the way he moved became predatory. He groaned when he lowered his hand to my sex, feeling me. “You’re still so wet.” He pushed his boxers down to reveal his hard, swelling cock. I stared, wideeyed. He took it in his hand and rubbed it over my clit before lowering it to my entrance. He pushed forward with his hips and I cried out when I felt him enter me. “Look at me,” he rasped. I did. He thrust all the way inside and I bit my lip at how incredible it felt. He filled me so perfectly. He paused when he was in to the hilt, never once breaking eye contact. I felt full. Full of emotion. Full of happiness. Full of love for him. Sex with someone I loved was a new experience entirely. Liam’s mind must’ve been in the exact same place, because his words came out a whispered vow. “I think I’m falling for you, Iris.” I moaned. He moved his torso, his thrusts deliciously slow and deep. His face was etched with arousal. I brought my hand to his jaw and pulled his mouth down so I could kiss him. His movements sped up as I slid my tongue into his mouth. The way he groaned nearly did me in. I broke away long enough to answer, “I’m falling for you, too.” For a moment his body stilled. Then he transformed, no longer so careful. He became wild, pounding into me like there was a hunger inside him he’d never sate. Our sounds filled the room. My hands travelled from his shoulders, down his body to grip his firm, muscular backside. His body was amazing. He withdrew and pushed me onto my side, then filled me again. One of his hands gripped my hair and softly pulled. I gasped at the sensation. He pulled again

then captured my mouth in an intense, drugging kiss. When he came he didn’t stop kissing me. I felt his warm heat fill me, his thrusts slowing until they subsided altogether. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight. My heart was so tender with love for him right then, I almost welled up. We faced each other and I ran my hands softly over his features, memorising every dip and curve. “You’re beautiful,” I declared and he chuckled low. “I thought that was my line.” “Nah, you’re way prettier than me.” He sighed, his fingers dancing along the curve of my spine. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” I pouted, my eyes smiling, and then we just . . . stared at each other. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of gazing into his bottomless blue eyes. His hands moved up and down my back, massaging out all the knots. It was a moment I knew would stay with me always. I wanted to say something to him, something to express how I felt in that very second. And then, the perfect words came to me. Not surprisingly, they weren’t mine. They belonged to the man who’d been my comfort when I had no one else in the world. I stared deep into Liam’s gaze and whispered in the quiet room. “I’m happy. I hope you’re happy, too.” END.

HEARTS ON AIR

Look out for the final book in the Hearts series, Hearts on Air, coming this Spring! 3 weeks. 5 cities. 15 impossible stunts. One reality show. Trevor Cross came into Reya Cabrera’s world with a bang and faded out with a whimper. They vowed to make it work, but life had other plans. After chasing his TV dreams for years, Trev finally became the UK’s next big reality star, but he alienated his family and friends in the process. Now he finally has everything he ever wanted. Women. Money. Fame. But none of it means anything when he doesn’t have the one thing that matters most: love. Money leaves a gaping hole. Fame surrounds him with loneliness. And no woman makes him feel like Reya used to before the whirlwind of success pulled them apart. He has a plan to get her back. However, with a hectic filming schedule looming, the only way to do that is to convince her to come on the road with him. Reya has been stuck in a rut for a while, and the opportunity to travel across Europe and play her music for new audiences seems like heaven. The only catch? She has to do it with the one boy who ever got close enough to break her heart. But he’s not a boy anymore, and as she gets to know him again she can’t deny her respect for the man he’s become. Every time she’s around him her heart feels full of air, like a balloon about to pop. Little does she know, Trev’s feelings are just as tumultuous as hers. One thing’s for sure, these three weeks on the road together will either make them whole again or break them irrevocably. **Hearts on Air is a contemporary romance and book #6 in the Hearts series, however it can also be read as a complete standalone.** ADD TO GOODREADS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. Find L.H. Cosway online! Facebook Twitter Instagram Pinterest Website Newsletter

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