by Rosie Miller
“Maybe I should let her know somehow—so Alistair doesn’t know it’s me who told her.” Bethany looked thoughtful.
“I think she knows he sleeps around. You just have to make it so it’s more embarrassing for her to let it carry on than to ignore it. You have to make her angry enough to step in.”
“How do I do that?”
Justine gave her a pointed look. “I seemed to find a way.” She remembered how it had felt when the door opened and she looked up from Alistair’s cock into the face of his wife and her friends. He’d deflated like a burst balloon.
“No way. I’m not doing that – what a nightmare.”
“Yes, it was rather,” Justine agreed. But at least it had meant she’d met Jackson. A few days ago, she might have thought that was a worthwhile trade-off – losing her job, her reputation, her status—but gaining Jackson. But now he’d dumped her, there wasn’t even a silver lining.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just … well we can’t both lose our jobs, otherwise who would buy you shoes?” Bethany pushed a bag towards her. It was the ridiculous red shoes.
“Really? Hey – thanks! You didn’t have to.”
“Just a little cheer-up gift. Anyway, I can afford it. You should see the tips I get from my dancing!” She flashed a cheeky grin at Justine, and they left the shop.
Chapter Twelve
It was Monday morning. Colin pounced on her as soon as she walked in to work.
“The traveler returns.” He announced. “Did you enjoy your extra night—with Jackson?” He leered at her and stuck out his tongue and wiggled it at her.
God, that night felt like years ago – and she really wasn’t in the mood for this. She picked up a pair of scissors. “If you ever poke your tongue out at me again like that—I’ll cut it off.”
He looked at her as if he expected her to smile—to say she was joking. She glared at him and waved the scissors.
“Okay, okay, wow! I guess you didn’t have a good night then.” He sniggered to himself. “So what was the urgent thing you had to stay behind for?”
She could see it was only the threat of the scissors that had stopped him making speech marks around ‘urgent thing.’ It must have cost him. She held on to the scissors, casually playing with them. “I’ll put it all in my report. Don’t worry.” She sat down at her desk. Would he press the matter? He didn’t. He was learning. She smiled in satisfaction. She couldn’t control Jackson—but she was damned if Colin was going to get the better of her.
“Don’t you want to hear our news?”
“No,” she said shortly.
He laughed like she’d been joking. “It’s about the big bad wolf…”
She sat still. The wolf? Her wolf?
“There is something weird out there. I know Jackson said not to pursue it—but hey—Ellie’s a scientist. She can’t turn it off and on. When you’ve got a mind like hers, you can’t just go—well here’s a scientific curiosity but I won’t look into any further because some guy said he’d rather I didn’t—not when you’re a scientist.”
Was he ever going to get to the point? Would it help if she threw something at him—something large and heavy and painful? “Yes. So?”
“So …” he was drawing it out, knowing he had her attention.
She picked up her stapler and threw it at him anyway. It might not help him get to the point—but it certainly made her feel better.
“Ouch,” he looked down at his arm, where the stapler had caught him a glancing blow. “What was that for?”
“Oh, I thought you said you wanted it. Sorry. My mistake.” Sometimes brazen lies were the best way to go. “Now, tell me what Ellie found out, because I am very busy and I can’t waste my time chit-chatting.”
“People skills, Justy, come on,” he chastised her.
She picked the hole-puncher and weighed it in her hand, wondering where to aim it. She’d not slept properly since that night with Jackson, and it was making her short-tempered and twitchy.
He watched her hands warily. “She thinks it’s a new kind of wolf—a new species.”
“New? How?”
“Different to anything that’s been known before. Like they’ve evolved or something.”
“Has she got any proof?”
“The proof will be in the poo. She’s getting the DNA run—and she’s pretty sure it won’t match anything on record.” He grinned at her. “So there will be no way they can flood that valley. They’re safe.”
“But Jackson said he wanted the wolf angle played down—not made front page news.”
Colin shrugged. “But this will be big news for everyone.”
“So what will happen—if she’s right?”
“They will want to re-confirm the results. They’ll be independently checked by another lab. Then Ellie will publish a paper. It’ll go in one of the big journals. Much-o prestige-o.”
“How long will that take?”
“Couple of months—may be longer. You can’t hurry science, my friend. So we’ll just use stalling tactics on the development, until Ellie makes her big announcement. Then we’ve got them. There’s nothing they can do. Ellie will be a real big name. And it’ll be great publicity for us.” He rubbed his hands together. “This is big, Justy—real big.”
“Sure is,” she replied, feeling relieved. A few months—that gave her time to do something.
But why should she? In a couple of months, she’d be out of here, away from Colin and Ellie—and Jackson. She wouldn’t care. She didn’t care now.
“Then that place will be crawling with scientists—probably led by our very own Ellie.” Colin was still talking.
She knew how much Jackson would hate that. But it was his problem, not hers. What happened to him a few months down the line wouldn’t concern her. Their relationship was over. He had been a distraction for a few weeks and nothing more.
And if everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t even be working here anymore. She’d be back in her own natural habitat of high earners and ruthless corporations, who could flood a valley without a second thought if it pushed up their share prices. They were her kind of people.
“Top secret right now though. Don’t tell anyone. Ellie wants it under wraps until she’s sure. She can’t risk anyone else getting in on it ahead of her and claiming the credit.”
“But Jackson has to know.”
He shook his head. “Much-o secret-o.” He tapped his nose.
I’ll punch-o him on the nose-o if he keeps talking like that. “Jackson has a right to know,” she stated flatly.”
“No way. If he knows he might spill the beans or try to shut it down. Ellie loses her big discovery—we lose our much-o prestige-o.”
“I think saying that is rather derogatory to people’s whose languages end in vowels. I hope you aren’t mocking them Colin.” She spoke sternly and watched his face fall. It was quite entertaining quoting his own ideas back to him now and again. “And I’m not sure with-holding information from the account holder is ethical.” She frowned again.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about the lingo – oh, lingo—I can say that, right?” he checked anxiously.
She considered for a moment before pronouncing, “It’s acceptable.” She resisted the temptation to declare everything he said an insult to someone or something in the hope he might never talk again.
“But I can’t move on Jackson. He is not to know anything about this. I’m trusting you Justine.”
“Right, right,” she said, not exactly agreeing.
So if she told Jackson and he stopped it, Colin and Ellie would be furious with her. Could she risk losing this job too? If she was fired from here—where else could she go? If people thought she couldn’t even hold a job at a low-paid charity, who would employ her? She’d be a pariah in every circle. She’d have to move to Outer Mongolia if she ever wanted another job.
But—but—but… She sighed. She still liked the man. She knew how much he’d hat
e his precious land becoming front page news—even if it was just in a scientific journal. He had a right to know what was happening. And surely it was his decision whether the flooding was prevented only for the land to be over-run with scientists. There had to be a better way.
She cursed softly. Something—whether it was spending too long in this office and with Colin, or being with Jackson and feeling how much he loved the land—something was making her develop a conscience. She actually cared what happened to that god-forsaken patch of dirt.
She couldn’t sit on this. He had to know. Even if it meant calling up the guy who’d dumped her—and risk losing a job that she hated—she would do the right thing.
She texted him—‘Interesting news on the land. Can you meet me after work?’
But he didn’t reply. Every time her phone beeped, her heart lifted, hoping it was him. But it wasn’t. She’d had no contact with him since last week—when she’d said a miserable, brief goodbye at the airport. He’d driven off without a word. And that was fine. That was how it had to be. But he could at least respond about this. She was still running his campaign. Unless he wanted her off that too. Well—even if he was being petty about it, he was going to hear her out—and then he could go hang for all she cared. Her conscience would be clear and he could do what he wanted with the information. As long as he didn’t tell Colin or Ellie that she’d passed on the news, she’d be fine.
He still hadn’t replied by the time she left the office. She headed home, dispirited. On the street, she looked behind her. Was someone there? She shook herself. Of course there was. It was a big busy city. There was always someone there. But why did she feel like she was being watched? Or followed? She looked round again—but it was just the same sea of bland commuters—their faces registering nothing and no one. She hurried on—her head bent against the rain.
She just needed a good night’s sleep and she’d be back to normal again.
Back at her building she let herself in through the main doors and climbed the first flight to her landing. She put the key in the door. Then she saw the figure – right behind her. She screamed.
“It’s okay. It’s me.”
Heart pounding—she turned and saw him properly. It was Jackson.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing—creeping up on me like that?”
She was furious with him. He had terrified her.
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d seen me. I thought you were ignoring me.”
“If I’d seen you I would have done. But I didn’t. And you scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“What on earth did you think you were doing? Why show up at my place? Why couldn’t you just message me—like any normal person.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, a flicker of a smile on his face.
She wrestled with the door. Why wouldn’t the stupid key go in? She kicked it angrily—wishing she was kicking Jackson instead. He’d really scared her. But she knew she was angry with him for more than just that. She was angry about everything—for the way he’d got through her defenses and made her care for him —for the way he’d made her want him—and most of all for the fact that he’d made love to her and then dumped her.
Showing up here without warning and scaring her felt like the final straw. She’d not even done her hair and she had virtually no make-up on. She kicked the door again. Why wouldn’t the stupid thing open?
“Hey—let me.” He took the key from her hand and opened the door easily, gesturing to let her go in front.
She marched inside and threw her bag down. He was still lingering at the door.
“Are you coming in or what?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “Can I?”
She shrugged back. She didn’t care.
Then she saw him tense. He sniffed the air carefully and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s been here?” he demanded. He strode towards her, looking around.
She glared at him. First he dumped her—then he terrified her—now he was interrogating her.
She threw off her coat and went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine. It was early, but she needed it. She’d had a shock.
“I said, who has been here?”
“I don’t think that is any of your business, is it?” she asked, coldly.
“Don’t play games. Just tell me.”
“Ha.” The thought of her playing games was just laughable. She’d been open, honest, up-front—he’d been cagey, withholding and unable to commit to even the most casual of relationships.
He stalked around the room, still smelling the air. He opened the door to her bedroom. “He’s been in here. I know it. Justine—what have you done?”
“He? Who? Anyway—it’s absolutely none of your business. I can tell you that no one has been in my apartment for weeks. Except for you. If you’re implying I’ve been seeing someone else—well, I might have been—and so what? That’s hardly any of your business, is it? But no one has been here. So you just drop this whole Sherlock Holmes act, okay?”
“You’ve been seeing someone?”
He looked so miserable she almost felt sorry for him. “I’ve been seeing this guy. He seemed alright at first—but he turned out to be a total dick in the end. He did all this bullshit ‘I’m so mysterious’ stuff and all that ‘It’s not you it’s me’ crap. What an idiot!”
He grinned suddenly. “Me, right?”
“Yes you!”
“And no one else?”
She shook her head.
He was serious again. “So my brother hasn’t been here, to your knowledge?”
“No—and I think I’d kind of know.”
“Maybe not. Not if he came in when you weren’t here.”
She shivered. What kind of psycho was he? “Why would your brother break into my apartment when I wasn’t here?” She spoke slowly, needing to know the answer.
“I don’t know. But I do know he’s dangerous. And he always wants what I want. When we were kids—he only ever wanted to play with what I had. And the more I was attached to something—the more he wanted it. But then when he’d got it, he’d usually break it. He’d always destroy it somehow. I got used to hiding the things I cared about—or not letting myself care at all.”
She shivered, not wanting to think about the implications of this.
“So how do you know he’s been here?”
“I can smell him.”
“Is that what that smell is? I’ve been cleaning for days. I’ve washed everything. I was going to call the super up to check the drains, but it didn’t smell like that. How has he made my apartment smell?”
He didn’t answer her, but said, “Look, I’m not sure you should stay here—not now—not on your own. Is there anywhere else you can go? Just for a few weeks?”
“Weeks?” Days maybe—a few nights at Bethany’s, a few at other friends—but weeks?
“He’ll get tired of this soon. He always does. He’ll move on to something else.”
“Because you have done.” She gazed steadily at him.
He gazed back. The distance between them seemed to shrink.
She took in his stubble, his hair, his eyes and knew she wanted him all over again.
“Because I’ve had to. I didn’t want to. But you see what happens. And this is just the start of it. It won’t end well for you.”
“Isn’t my decision? Whether I want to take that risk?” she demanded.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know the risks. And once you’re in—there’s no going back. You know that thing they say ‘til death do us do part’ it’s like that—but for real. You make a commitment to me and that’s it—it’s forever. And I can’t ask you to do that. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”
“You could ask me. I might say yes.” She didn’t know where she was going with this—or if she even meant it—but she couldn’t let this be the end of everything.
“No, I won’t le
t you.” He closed the space between them with a single stride and gripped her shoulders tightly, his voice a growl now. “Because you don’t know what in hell you’re committing to. You think this is me?” He gestured at his smart suit. “This isn’t anything. You don’t know me.” He glared at her.
She glared back at him. He was right. But whose fault was that?
“You don’t want to know me—not really. You’d be gone—vanished as soon as you could and then…” He swallowed hard. “Then I’d have no choice. I’d have to find you, hunt you down, and…” He hesitated again.
“And?”
“And that would be it. The end.”
“So it’s I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you?” She smiled, trying to lighten things up a bit.
But he just stared back at her, not a flicker of amusement on his face, his eyes hard. “Yes. It’s exactly like that.”
She stared back at him, feeling almost like he had actually hit her with the force of his words. It was clear he meant it and she had no doubt that he would do it. If she committed to him, it would be forever.
“So, that’s it? You won’t let me in on any of this because if you did—and I wanted out—then you’d have to kill me?” When she said it out loud—it sounded ridiculous. What could be so awful, or so private that you had to kill people over it? It didn’t make sense.
“Yes. And I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. But we have no other choice.”
“We? There’s no ‘we.’ This is just you, deciding what I can know and what I can’t. It’s you choosing to end this – whatever it was.” She didn’t want to call it a relationship. Had they ever even been together properly?
“It’s for your own good.”
“Is it? Or is it for yours? So you fuck whoever you like and then disappear saying you can’t possibly have an actual relationship because you’re too special, or too dangerous, or some nonsense?” She glared at him.
“No. It’s not like that. It hasn’t been like that.” He shook his head, angry.
“It’s exactly like that,” she snapped back. She knew she was pushing him. But what did she have to lose? He’d fucked her that night in the hunting lodge, and now he was saying he couldn’t get involved. That made him a schmuck, in her book.