Tainted Love

by Lockhart, Cate

  I nod my head slowly. I feel as if I’m falling under a hypnotic spell. As I take the glass, our fingertips touch and a strange tingling sensation grips my body like a vice. His blue eyes study me intently, as I take a small sip of the pale-coloured liquid. I wince sharply as the bitter taste dances on my tongue. Suddenly the man leans against me and his touch awakens every nerve in my body. The atmosphere is so intoxicating, even the air seems to be holding its breath.

  ‘Do you want to have a drink somewhere more private? I’ve got a room here,’ he asks in a quiet whisper as he strokes the inside of my thigh with the tip of his finger.

  I’m lost in his eyes. I’d agree to anything if it meant being alone with him. Again I nod and the man slips from his seat and heads for the exit. Full of anticipatory adrenaline, I follow him to the lift. The way he walks carries its own kind of excitement. We travel up to the hotel room on the fifth floor in silence, our eyes alive with the anticipation of what we both know is coming.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he instructs me in a deep velvet edged voice, before disappearing into the bathroom.

  I cross the room and take a seat on a plush chair by the window. My hands are trembling and my breathing speeds up as my heart pounds against my rib cage. I know it’s too late to back out now, but I wouldn’t even if I could. This is what I want. What my body needs! To be ravished by this gorgeous, hot man. Why should I deny myself such pleasure?

  The bathroom door opens and he steps out. I am enraptured by him but at the same time, filled with a strange fear. My eyes are riveted on his nakedness. Tall, muscular and graceful – a lethal combination. Fascinated, I watch as he walks towards me and stops in front of me before dropping to his knees.

  I dare to meet his exacting gaze. He reaches up, and his finger slowly trails along my jaw line before moving defiantly to my mouth and slipping in between my lips. I can tell by the challenging gleam in his eyes that he is enjoying the effect he is having on me. I am a lioness being tamed by an expert tamer. His finger caresses my tongue before coming to an abrupt halt. I widen my eyes in surprise. I want to feel him inside me, but I say nothing, because he’s in control. The very thought of being submissive to this man makes my centre ache with such need that it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to reach down between my legs and caress myself right there and then.

  Without saying a word he begins to undress me, tantalisingly slow, brushing his fingers over my erect nipples as he unbuttons my shirt. Next he removes my jeans, pulling them off in one swift movement. The back of his hand rubs firmly against my centre before he removes my underwear. Suddenly I’m naked and exposed but I don’t feel vulnerable – I feel horny and ready for anything and everything he wants to do to me. I wiggle a little as he ducks his head down between my legs – I can feel the heat of his tongue as he blazes a trail towards my throbbing centre. Time has stopped. I have forgotten everything, even what I am doing here. My body quivers with a desire I’ve never felt before. I move my hands down to his head, tugging a handful of thick hair when his tongue makes contact with my pulsating nub. Minutes later, I’m suddenly hit with a sensation that ripples through my body, causing me to arch my back as waves of ecstasy flood through me. He lifts his face to meet mine, a wolfish grin on his lips. I lean forward, anticipating his mouth on mine, desperate to taste him again. Just as I feel his lips….

  ‘Next stop, Camden Town!’

  The loud announcement jolted Abbi out of her fantasy. Coming to her senses, she scrambled to her feet and ran for the closing doors. Too late – the train started moving again. What the …?!!! Oh my God!!! Seriously? Abbi frantically looked around. Well, that’s just great! Arrgghhh. She had missed her stop. How could she have done that?

  Abbi let out a heavy sigh and sat back down. She looked up at the row of seats; the man was nowhere to be seen. A ghost of a smile flickered across her mouth. Now he is definitely worth being late for!

  Chapter Three

  Abbi finally made it to work. She was only about an hour late, which Abbi didn’t think was too bad but Celia, her mother, didn’t seem to share her view.

  ‘Busy morning?’ Celia asked, with a hint of sarcasm as Abbi entered her office.

  ‘You have no idea,’ Abbi said. She wasn’t really comfortable just outright lying to her mother, but she was ok with keeping it generic. Really, what was she supposed to say? Well, what happened was, I almost missed the train. But I didn’t. I made it by jumping into the arms of the most gorgeous man on the planet. I then spent the rest of the journey fantasising about all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I hoped he would do to me. So I missed my stop. My bad. Abbi laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Celia asked, looking up from her desk. She was a petite woman with blonde hair that was always stylishly cut short.

  ‘Nothing. I was just thinking about something Ben said this morning.’

  ‘Actually, speaking of Ben, why don’t you both come to dinner on Sunday? We haven’t seen him in ages. You can stay the weekend if you like.’

  ‘That would be great. I don’t know if Ben can get away for a weekend, but count us in for dinner though. Where’s Dad?’ asked Abbi looking around.

  ‘He stopped by to see Grandma on the way in. He should be here shortly.’

  ‘Is she alright?’ Abbi loved her grandmother dearly, and it seemed like every time she saw her lately, the poor heartbroken lady seemed older and slower.

  ‘Yes. Well, the same anyway. Your dad was getting her medication refilled and probably stayed to play Scrabble with her.’

  Abbi’s family were game players, and Scrabble was right up there with Monopoly. As much as it embarrassed her, her grandmother could still whip her in Scrabble. But Abbi always won at Monopoly. Mostly because she was always the banker, and well, grandma didn’t always pay attention to her change.

  ‘I guess I’d better get on with some work,’ Abbi said.

  She headed towards the back of the building where her little office was. Their antique shop consisted of two large rooms with a little office in the far back. There was the show room which had the floor displays, some ‘before and after’ examples, and also some pieces for sale. The adjoining room that was just partitioned off by a half wall was the back workroom. There was a desk and file cabinet for the paperwork and a table and chairs for eating lunch. The rest of the space was taken up with the tools, machines, work tables and other equipment needed to keep ‘Parsons’s Antique Restoration and Repair’ up and running. Off this back workroom was another small room that was Abbi’s office. She had a little bed and water bowl in there as well and called the space under the window, ‘Buddy’s Corner.’ Seeing the empty bed with his favourite stuffed animal, a chewed up floppy-eared rabbit, made her feel a little guilty for leaving him at home alone, but it was only the odd day or two she left him behind to go shopping. Her next door neighbour, who worked from home normally checked on Buddy and took him out for a walk. Abbi had tried once leaving him tied up outside the supermarket whilst she shopped but Buddy had become so distressed she swore blind she would never do it again.

  Abbi put her jacket on the back of the chair and checked the phone messages her mother had left on her desk. Flipping through them, she saw that they were mostly from customers wanting estimates on various pieces they had or checking in on the status of current projects that Parsons’s was working on for them. Pretty much that was the part of the business that Abbi handled, the mundane customer relation side. As much as she would have enjoyed more hands on work, she was still learning, so as time allowed she would watch and work with her mother and father on that side of the job. She really did think her parents were enormously talented. She would see the broken down pieces of junk that people would bring in and weeks later leave with a piece that any fine home would be proud to have on display.

  As she thought about this, she started to feel a little guilty about her morning on the train. She was a little surprised at herself as well. Why had she thought about anoth
er man in such an intimate way? Did everyone fantasise about having sex with someone other than their partner or was it just her? Abbi knew in the grand scheme of things she was a very lucky woman and shouldn’t be lacking in any area of her life. She had a wonderful loving family, a smart, hard-working fiancé who adored her, stability, and a dog who was probably right now trying to figure out how to get into the rubbish bag she forgot to put up on the worktop. Damn it! She already knew she was going home to a kitchen disaster. Oh well. If that was the worst thing that happened today, then it really was going to be okay. She heard the chime to the front door ring as someone entered the shop.

  ‘I’ve got it, Abbi,’ her mother called out.

  Good. Abbi liked to have a few minutes to herself before having to settle down to work. She poured herself a large cup of coffee from the coffee maker that she kept in her office, and decided to start the day by responding to some of the phone messages. The first customer she called didn’t answer so she left a message and was about to move on to the next one when her office door opened.

  ‘Hey, baby,’ Abbi’s Dad said peeking his head in her office. With a mop of thick dark curly hair, he had to bend his head a little as he was slightly taller than the door frame. It must have been him who came in the door.

  ‘Hi, Dad. How’s Grandma?’

  ‘Oh, she’s just fine. Beat me at Scrabble as usual so I know she’s doing okay despite her complaining.’ He grinned.

  Abbi’s dad was always upbeat and easy-going. Her mother tended to be a little more of the worrier and fretter of the two, but Abbi had never heard her parents have really cross words with one another. They were still affectionate, still went to the cinema, and took walks in the park. They were a comfortable and happy couple.

  Abbi laughed. ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘I can see you’re busy so I’ll let you get on. See you later.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Abbi dialed the next number and was in the middle of a conversation with Mrs. Springer, who wanted confirmation that her ‘priceless Victorian chest’ would be ready for delivery on Thursday, when her mum came in and sat down in front of Abbi’s desk. For the eighth time, Abbi patiently assured Mrs. Springer the piece was ready and being wrapped for delivery. Abbi pretty much had her customer speeches memorised. Her mother was listening to her and laughing at Abbi as she rolled her eyes, and Abbi was doing her best to ignore her mother so she would not start laughing too. Mrs. Springer was one of the original Parsons’s clients, and had spent a good deal of money with them, not to mention her referrals. Abbi certainly did not want to offend her, but she sure did fret over her old furniture. Mrs. Springer was reassured, thanked Abbi again for the tenth time and hung up. Abbi sighed in relief.

  ‘Are you ready to go?’ Celia asked.

  ‘Um…go where?’

  ‘To go see Mr. Worthington?’

  Abbi stared at her mother, desperate to remember what in the world she was talking about.

  ‘Taylor Worthington, the accountant? Remember? We talked about this last week, Abbi.’

  ‘Oh, Yes! I remember!’ exclaimed Abbi. ‘Sorry about that, wow. Maybe Grandma will share some of her memory pills with me.’

  Last week, Abbi’s mother had told Abbi that their accountant, Mr. Roberts, had informed her that there was an anomaly with the books. The invoices and end of month balance statements from three of their franchises had shown discrepancies for three months in a row. He had tried to trace where the money had gone but had no luck.

  Kenneth and Celia Parsons’s were not business people or accountants. They just loved working on old furniture and restoring pieces to their former original state and listening to the old family stories that the owners inevitably had to share. Abbi had taken a look for herself and after poring over the books as best she could, after two weeks and three bottles of aspirin she still couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.

  ‘I don’t want to be wrong, Abbi, and make a false accusation,’ Celia had said when she first told Abbi the news, ‘but if someone is stealing from us, well we can’t have that, can we?’

  Abbi had totally agreed and that’s when she suggested Celia find a forensic accountant who would be able to get to the bottom of it. Abbi also remembered she said she would go with her mum to the accountant and help liaise with him or her over this project. That kind of job fell under Abbi’s job description if she had one anyway.

  ‘Are we going now?’

  ‘Yes, if you’re ready. His office is only ten minutes away so I thought we could walk. Maybe grab some sandwiches for lunch on the way back?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Celia had a folder containing the invoices for Mr. Worthington, and if he ended up taking the job, Tyler, their part-time delivery boy, was going to haul the rest of the boxes of invoices and records over later that afternoon. The sooner this situation was dealt with the better it would be for all parties concerned. Suspecting you had a fraudster working with you was not the best feeling in the world. Who on earth would do such a thing?

  Chapter Four

  It was turning into a beautiful fall day outside. The sun was shining and the air was clean and crisp. The streets were not too crowded as Abbi and her mother casually made their way to the accountant’s office.

  ‘How did you find this guy, Mum?’ asked Abbi.

  ‘He’s Peter’s nephew. You remember Peter, right? The man who owned the writer’s desk that he thought was a Civil War heirloom?’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ Abbi laughed. ‘He was really nice. I liked him.’

  ‘Me too. Anyway, his mother’s money seemed to be vanishing into thin air so he got his nephew to investigate, turned out he traced it back to Peter’s wife, whose toy boy was some kind of wizard when it came to hacking people’s accounts. But he wasn’t so clever that the Peter’s nephew couldn’t find out what he was doing. So, when I told Peter about our little problem he recommended his nephew, and here we are.’

  ‘Sounds like you really did your homework on this guy.’

  ‘Don’t be smart, Abbi. It’s nice to keep business within business. Besides, he might give us a professional discount since we have been very good to his uncle over the years. If what I show him today confirms what I think, this could be a very expensive undertaking.’

  ‘Well, it will be worth it. If you are being ripped off and have been for a while it could add up to a lot of money. I don’t really like the idea of you and dad travelling around to different shops if we have a criminal working for us.’

  ‘Oh, Abbi, let’s hope I’m wrong. Most of the employees we have, I have known for years. They’re like an extended family. It will be very hurtful to your father and I if there’s a thief amongst them.’

  ‘Well, let’s just wait and see what Mr. Worthington says before you get too upset.’ Abbi gave her mother’s hand a squeeze.

  Abbi and her parents were just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. They weren’t used to drama– maybe that’s why Abbi s life seemed so boring sometimes.

  They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when they saw the sign for Worthington Accounting. It was a nicely done dark brown sign with gold calligraphy writing. The door chimed when they entered and stepped on to a plush royal blue carpet. A very attractive young blonde receptionist looked up from her computer when they walked in.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Celia replied. ‘I’m Mrs. Parsons. I have an appointment with Mr. Worthington at eleven.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you’re the antiques people, aren’t you?’ the receptionist responded as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘I just love your shop. You have such beautiful furniture.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ Celia said, smiling. ‘It’s nice to see young people take an interest in antiques. Was there a piece you liked in particular?’

  The receptionist’s jaw dropped open, as her eyes darted around the room. ‘Um, well … you know … they’re all nice.’

  Ab
bi gave a small shake of her head. She didn’t have the patience for people who feigned interest in antiques like the woman had. She could always detect shallowness in people, and frankly, she found it boring and a drain of her energy to engage with them. I bet Phoebe, as Abbi had seen on the desk nameplate, has never even passed by our shop, let alone come in. Abbi sat down in the waiting area, leaving her mother at the desk, and picked up an old issue of OK magazine.

  Moments later, the phone on the large mahogany desk buzzed and was promptly picked up by Phoebe, who lifted her finger in a ‘just wait a minute’ gesture to Celia. That was another pet hate of Abbi’s. Was it really necessary? As if her mother had no social manners and would keep prattling on whilst the receptionist was talking to someone on the phone.

  Abbi feigned a yawn and went back to reading about rich, good-looking people with too much time on their hands.

  ‘Mr Worthington will see you now. Right this way,’ beamed Phoebe like she was about to take Abbi and her mother to meet the Prime Minister. Abbi rolled her eyes and put the magazine down.

  Celia waited for her, and when Abbi was dutifully beside her, they started towards the door where Phoebe was standing, gesturing ‘this way,’ while still beaming. Abbi laughed quietly to herself. She would definitely last one day if her boss was not her mother. Maybe a half-day. It was the only friggin’ door to go through, for crying out loud!

  ‘This way?’ Abbi asked with an innocent expression on her face as she approached Phoebe. Celia nudged her sharply. Her mother knew her too well, and Abbi smiled at her. When she looked through the open door, her heart practically jumped out of her chest.

  Standing in front of them, shuffling papers behind her desk, was the man–the … man … from … the … train. Abbi stood frozen to the spot. She probably had the same expression as someone who’d recognised a fugitive serial killer.

  Oh my God! This can’t be happening!! Oh, but it was. Her mother walked up to the desk and glanced back at her paralysed daughter. Celia frowned at her and then turned back to Mr. Worthington.