A Man Without Mercy

by Miranda Lee

  Vivienne knew she should have been exhausted today. Instead, she felt more alive than she ever had before. She could hardly wait to see Jack again tonight.

  ‘I have to go get ready for work,’ Marion said, breaking into Vivienne’s thoughts. ‘Now, forget all about dastardly Daryl. He’s not worth thinking about. See you tomorrow, love.’

  Marion’s advice reminded Vivienne of her decision to go to Daryl’s engagement party. Once again, she no longer felt as strongly about doing so. If truth be told, Daryl was fading from her mind. Yes, it still stung, what he’d done. And yes, he didn’t deserve to get away with it scot free. But would she really have the gall to confront him at his engagement party? It would take courage; she could see that now. Jack hadn’t wanted her to go at first, then he’d said he did. Something about closure—he was probably right. She supposed she could do it, with him by her side. He wouldn’t let anything horrible happen to her. Of that Vivienne felt confident. He was a man who could be relied upon.

  Vivienne reached out to pull the bathroom door shut, pleased that it didn’t stick the way the other one had. She smiled. Oh, yes, Jack could be relied on. She wondered if she should text him, tell him that the door man had come and done a splendid job. Yes, of course she could. He wouldn’t mind. But she wouldn’t ring. He’d told her he didn’t like to be rung when he was at work, not unless there was an emergency. Which there wasn’t. But she did so want to contact him. It would be like touching him. She did so like touching him. With a shiver of remembered pleasure, she hurried out to the kitchen where she’d left her phone.

  * * *

  ‘Marion says I’m to make sure I get a proper contract with you,’ Vivienne told Jack later that night. They were in his very nice bed in his very nice apartment, lying in each other’s arms in a state of post-coital bliss. ‘She says I’m not to let you take advantage of me, and then she warned me that you must be ruthless to become as successful in business as you have.’

  Jack’s eyebrows lifted. ‘And do you agree with her? About my being ruthless?’

  ‘Not really. No, I don’t think you’re ruthless. You are a tough man to deal with on a professional basis, but fair. And I told her so. You’ll be glad to know, however, that I didn’t inform her that on the personal side you’re a bit of a softie.’

  Jack laughed. ‘That’s not what you said a few minutes ago. You said I was hard as a rock.’

  She gave him a playful slap on his magnificent chest. ‘Don’t be silly. You know what I mean. I was talking about the way you love your family, especially your mother. A man who loves his mother couldn’t be bad.’

  ‘Really? I seem to recall reading somewhere that Hitler loved his mother.’

  She glowered up at him. ‘You just made that up.’

  He faked a shocked expression. ‘You don’t think I read?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I read all the time. Only yesterday I picked up a copy of Playboy at a building site and read it from cover to cover. Very interesting articles in that magazine.’

  Now it was Vivienne’s turn to laugh. ‘I’ll bet. No seriously, do you like to read? Because I do. Very much.’

  ‘Can’t say it’s my favourite pastime,’ he admitted.

  ‘I couldn’t be without a book. I read every night before I go to sleep. Or I used to,’ she added, thinking she hadn’t read a word since she’d started her relationship with Jack. He left her exhausted naturally after their passionate nights together.

  ‘If that’s the case, how come you don’t have bookshelves crammed with books in your place? Or do you keep them all under your bed? I haven’t been in there yet.’

  And neither will you, Vivienne thought with a spurt of panic. She didn’t want to be with him in the same bed she’d shared with Daryl. A small part of her was still afraid that if she did that she might revert to being the same pathetic bed partner she’d been with him, something which still occasionally bothered and confused her. If she’d loved Daryl—truly loved him—why hadn’t she been more passionate with him? Why hadn’t she enjoyed sex with him the way she did with Jack? There was no making sense of it. Really, there wasn’t.

  ‘I don’t keep the books I read,’ she told Jack in answer to his question. ‘I buy a couple at a time from a local second-hand bookshop and when I finish reading them I return them and get two more. No point in keeping them after I’ve read them, is there?’ she said, and glanced up at him.

  Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You could always lend them to friends. Doesn’t Marion read?’

  ‘Yes, but not the kind of books I read. She likes romance and I like crime.’

  ‘I see,’ Jack said. ‘I like watching crime shows on TV,’ he ventured.

  ‘I do, too. Which ones are your favourite?’ she asked, and they talked at some length about their favourite programmes, Jack discovering that Vivienne liked shows which mixed crime with relationships, not just crime itself.

  ‘So you do like some romance in your stories,’ he said at last. ‘Just so long as it’s not all romance.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true.’

  ‘Now, you told me earlier that you were driving Marion to the airport on Saturday, is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Around one. Her plane goes just after three.’

  ‘And will you stay with her till the plane leaves?’

  ‘Yes, I thought I would. I couldn’t let her go off alone.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m not complaining. I’m just trying to work out the weekend. I was originally going to suggest we drive up to Francesco’s Folly on Saturday and stay the night but that’s not very practical when you probably won’t be back from the airport till after four. I’ll go visit Mum instead on Saturday whilst you’re busy. Then I’ll take you out somewhere special for dinner that night. If you want to go, of course,’ he added, adhering to her rule that he asked her first. ‘Then, if you like, you could stay the night here and we could head north first thing Sunday morning for the day. What do you say to that?’

  ‘Sounds wonderful,’ she agreed whilst privately worrying that it sounded like she was becoming more like a girlfriend than a mistress. Dinner out somewhere special. Sleeping over afterwards—not that that was new—and then all day Sunday together. Still, as long as they kept their relationship secret then she supposed it didn’t matter how much time they spent together. It was important to Vivienne, keeping their sexual relationship a secret. She didn’t want people to think she was a fool, jumping from the frying pan into the fire. After all, Jack was never going to marry her. He’d made that clear up front. Still, if she didn’t do something silly like fall in love—again—then there was no reason to worry that she might get burnt by him.

  ‘Good,’ Jack said in a satisfied tone. ‘Now, I think it’s time for seconds...’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘IT’S NOT LIKE you to visit on a Saturday,’ Jack’s mother said over lunch the following Saturday. He’d rung her the previous night, saying he’d drop in around noon, and she’d told him to stay for lunch.

  Jack forked one of the baby beets into his mouth before answering. God, but he did love salads, though he hated making them himself; hated cooking all round. He wondered briefly if Vivienne was a good cook. He imagined she would be. She was good at most things, that girl. Maybe he would ask her to cook him a meal one night, though not in that antiseptic kitchen of hers. Damn, but he wished he could find out why she was so clinical when it came to her own flat’s décor.

  ‘Couldn’t make it tomorrow,’ he explained. ‘I’m driving up to Francesco’s Folly to see the place again.’ He’d told her all about the place during his previous night’s phone call. As had become her habit lately, his mother wasn’t as surprised as he thought she’d be. In fact,
she seemed suspiciously pleased, though that could have been because he’d said she and Jim could go there for romantic weekends once it was finished.

  ‘You’ll have to take me up there one day soon,’ she suggested.

  ‘I’d rather not till it’s refurbished. Actually, I’m not going alone tomorrow. I’m taking up the designer I’ve hired to do the interior decorating. She’s a girl who’s worked for me often, doing my show homes and villas.’

  ‘What’s she like, this designer you’ve hired?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Eleanor did her best to adopt an ingenuous expression. She knew from past experience that Jack didn’t like her questioning him about the women in his life. Something told her—some feminine instinct, or possibly motherly instinct—that this girl might be different. ‘Well...er...is she young? Old? Plain? Pretty? The usual questions.’

  ‘I’m not sure how old Vivienne is. Late twenties, I guess. And I’d call her attractive rather than pretty. She does have lovely green eyes, though. And a great figure.’

  Aha! So he’d noticed her eyes and her figure. And what a nice name: Vivienne. Classy.

  ‘Single?’

  ‘Yep. Though she was engaged till recently. To some fortune hunter who dumped her for Courtney Ellison. Frank Ellison’s daughter, you know? The mining magnate.’

  ‘Yes, I know who you mean. How awful for her, Jack. She must be devastated.’

  ‘She’s better off without the likes of him.’

  Was that jealousy she heard? Or just dislike? Jack detested men who cheated, and he had a strong sense of responsibility and integrity. He would make some girl a wonderful husband. One day.

  ‘Does Vivienne think that?’ she asked quietly.

  Jack frowned into his plate. Did she finally? One might have thought so when she was panting beneath him. Or when she lay naked in his arms, satiated from another of their nightly sexathons. But, to be brutally honest, Jack still wasn’t sure if Vivienne’s wildly wanton act in bed wasn’t just that. An act. Not that he thought she was faking her orgasms. Hell, no. No one pretended that noisily.

  ‘Possibly not,’ he replied to his mother’s question. ‘But hopefully she will soon.’

  Jack knew as soon as he said ‘hopefully’ that it was a mistake.

  He glanced up to find his mother looking intently at him.

  ‘You like this Vivienne, don’t you?’

  Jack saw no point in denying it. ‘Yep,’ he said succinctly, and stabbed a spear of asparagus.

  ‘And does she like you back?’ his mother persisted.

  ‘Yep,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sleeping with her?’

  Jack put down his fork with a sigh. ‘Mum. Truly. I’m thirty-seven years old. Who I sleep with is none of your business.’

  ‘You’re my son and your relationships will always be my business. It’s not as though I’m going to start nagging you to settle down and get married, am I? Though I would if it would work. For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought you’d make some lucky girl a great husband. And you’d be a great father as well, so there!’

  Jack rolled his eyes, then went back to eating his salad.

  ‘What if she falls in love with you, Jack? She might, you know. On the rebound.’

  Jack scowled. ‘Look, she won’t fall in love with me, our relationship isn’t like that. We’re just having fun, no complications and nothing that serious.’ Jack said the words, knew they were true, but for some reason he suddenly found himself wishing it were otherwise.

  ‘Oh, Jack, physical intimacy often leads to a deepening of feelings for a woman. It’s hard to be intimate with a man and not become emotionally involved. And what if you fall in love with her? Have you thought about that?’

  Jack practically ground his teeth in exasperation. He should never have told his mum about his relationship with Vivienne. Vivienne was so right: it was best to keep this kind of relationship a secret.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mum. I don’t do love.’

  She laughed. ‘You don’t do love, Jack. It just happens.’

  Jack ignored her.

  ‘I’d like to meet this Vivienne.’

  Jack slammed down his fork again. ‘Mum, our relationship is not that serious. You don’t need to meet her and I don’t think she would appreciate it either. Vivienne and I are both completely relaxed about our relationship and there will be no falling in love from either of us!’

  Eleanor sighed. He really could be very difficult. Of course, Jack might proclaim that he wasn’t falling in love with this Vivienne girl, but perhaps he didn’t know that was what was happening to him yet. But it was. She’d heard the jealousy in his voice when he’d been talking about Vivienne’s ex. On top of that, this was the first girl he’d ever actually told her about in years. That had to mean something.

  ‘Okay, I’ll stop bothering you about her,’ she said at last.

  ‘Good,’ Jack snapped. ‘Now, I’d like to finish my meal, if you don’t mind.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘HOW DID THE visit with your mother go yesterday?’ Vivienne asked Jack shortly after they took off for the drive up to Nelson’s Bay the following morning. ‘I forgot to ask you last night.’

  In truth, she’d been looking forward to being with him so much by Saturday evening, having not seen him the previous day, that she hadn’t been able to focus on anything but how much she wanted him. Dinner out had been a trial and she could hardly remember what she’d eaten or what they’d talked about. It had taken a lot of control for her not to do outrageous things to him during the taxi ride back to Jack’s place after dinner—he hadn’t taken his car, saying he wanted to have a few drinks—especially after he’d kissed her, slipping a hand up under her skirt at the same time. She’d read about women who went down on men in the back of taxis but had always thought it utterly outrageous. But she’d been tempted. Oh, so tempted.

  She shivered as she recalled how close she’d been to coming as Jack had stroked her through her panties. He’d withdrawn his hand—the knowing devil—before she did, leaving her desperate with wanting. She recalled how annoyed she’d felt at how unaffected he had seemed at the time. But that had just been pretence on his part. He’d shown her within seconds of closing his apartment door that his desire for her had been just as great. He’d taken her up against that door, not bothering to undress properly.

  That he hadn’t used a condom only sunk into them both afterwards, Jack profusely apologetic whilst she’d just been shocked, not worried so much. After all, she was on the pill. Which she confessed when she saw how upset he was. For the rest of the night, Jack hadn’t used protection, assuring her that she was safe from any other kind of health hazard. It had been wonderful not having to bother with protection, not to mention deliciously pleasurable.

  Jack glanced across at Vivienne before replying. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘She made my favourite salad for lunch. By the way, I told her about buying Francesco’s Folly, and that I’d hired you to do the refurbishment. And that I was bringing you up here today to look at the house,’ he added, omitting the fact that his mum had asked to meet her.

  ‘Oh? Didn’t she think that was odd?’

  Jack shot Vivienne a frown. What was it with women that they often jumped to the right conclusions? That mysterious feminine instinct perhaps.

  ‘I don’t see why she should. Like I said, I explained the situation. How you’ve worked for me before. Many times.’

  ‘Maybe so, Jack, but this is Sunday, not a work day.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘She knows I often work twenty-four-seven. It’s nothing new. If you want something to worry about, then how about us going together to that engagement party next Saturday night? The paparazzi are sure to be hanging about and we might get our photos snapped. How are you going to exp
lain that to people if our picture gets in the Sunday gossip columns?’

  Vivienne hadn’t thought of that. But, once she did, she wasn’t overly worried. ‘I doubt that will happen. We’re not celebrities, Jack. You keep a low public profile and I’m a nobody. They won’t be taking pictures of us.’

  ‘Just thought I’d warn you.’

  ‘Fine. I’m warned. Now, can we talk about something else? I don’t want to think about next Saturday night. I’m not keen on going but I am going, and that’s all there is to it. I aim to approach it the same way I do the dentist.’

  ‘What do you mean, the way you approach the dentist?’

  ‘I hate going to the dentist. Silly, really, since the dentist I go to is very gentle. The first time I went to him, though, I hadn’t been to the dentist in over ten years. I was so nervous during the days leading up to my appointment that when I got in the chair I almost threw up.

  ‘Anyway, he gave me some gas and a couple of injections and it didn’t hurt at all. After that, I started going every six months for check-ups but I still used to feel sick for days beforehand. Finally, I got a grip on myself and decided it was a waste of my nervous energy to worry till I was actually sitting in that chair. I trained myself not to think about it during the days leading up to my next appointment. Though I do allow myself a short burst of nerves when I’m actually in the chair. I’ll do the same with that engagement party—I’ll think about it when we’re walking up the steps of Frank Ellison’s mansion.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Jack said in a droll tone. ‘And I’m the Queen of England.’

  Vivienne shrugged. ‘Okay, so I might have to give it some thought beforehand. I have to buy a dress, for starters. No way am I going to show up looking daggy. Did the invitation say black tie?’

  ‘I think so. Yeah.’

  ‘In that case, it’s a tux for you and an evening gown for me. Do you have a tux?’