There’d been warning signs. I should have noticed. They were both silent as I peeled back the cover. I don’t know what I was expecting but if blood could run cold, mine froze solid and my veins squealed with the sudden pressure.
Staring back at me was my Ladarna profile picture: a very wanton Charlotte clad in just five black scarves.
This was worse than the night I’d found Joseph and Matt posing as clients. So much worse.
I gripped the table in a fist of cloth.
“What do you think?” Isobel asked softly.
“I don’t know what this is,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice was calm and measured, but spite rose from its lowest tone. “We all know that’s you, Leila.”
I traced a finger over the scarf blindfold on the photo. “Even if it was, there’s no way of proving it.” I pulled my trembling hand back and hid it in my lap.
“But you see, that’s where Matt was extra helpful.” Poppy smirked now. Couldn’t contain her glee. “Look what he named that file.”
I glanced hurriedly at the tag at the top of the paper: Leila1.jpg.
It was just a file name. It meant nothing, proved nothing.
Oh, fucking hell.
“Did he give you this?” I managed.
Poppy nodded, her smirk twitching as she watched me crumble. “He did.”
I took a deep breath that made me splutter.
“You know, it’s funny,” Isobel went on. “That Ladarna logo. If you Google the name, it finds an escort agency.”
“Do you know what an escort is, Leila?” Poppy asked.
They teased me, now. Closed in like hyenas.
“It’s a woman who sells herself. She fucks people for money.” Isobel practically spat the words. “She does it because she’s got no self-respect and she doesn’t care how many lives she chews up. She’s a whore.” She sought my eyes. “And we both know how Joseph is fond of whores.”
The maître d’ approached and I slammed the file closed. “Are you–?”
“Not yet, thank you.” Poppy smiled brightly. “A few more minutes.”
“Of course, madam.” He strode off and I wrenched my gaze from the tablecloth.
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.
Poppy tutted. “It’s your gift, Leila. Your gift is that you don’t have to worry. We won’t be showing this to Solomon or Algie.”
“That’d be awful, of course,” said Isobel. “You’d be fired and you’d never get a decent reference. Probably blacklisted,” she added blithely. “So of course, we won’t do anything like that.”
“You want to blackmail me.” Blood swilled in my ears as my pulse gained pace for battle.
Poppy cocked her head, her earrings swaying. “Pretty much.”
Oh, this was so much worse.
I reached for the wine and took a long, cool gulp, though it served to do nothing but curdle in my stomach. Then I made myself ask. “What do you want?”
“It’s very simple,” said Poppy. “We want you to leave Bach and Dagier. Immediately.”
“What?” I choked. “But I have to give–” Three months’ notice. Except that I didn’t, because I hadn’t signed my contract yet.
God.
“I don’t care how you do it, you just leave. Tomorrow,” she said coldly.
“I won’t finish my training,” I mumbled.
“I don’t give a crap.”
“And Joseph,” Isobel said. “You leave him too.”
Poppy leaned in to whisper. “If we get any inkling that you’re seeing him–or that you’ve told anyone about this–we go straight to the partners. You’ll never work in law again. Is that clear?” She snatched the file back and my centre of gravity followed. I was painfully dizzy, everything spun.
“She said, is that clear?” Isobel hissed.
I nodded, and I prayed the motion wouldn’t spill the tears that swarmed at my eyeballs. They were desperate to charge.
“Good. Because it was disgusting that you were even going to get away with it.” Poppy sat back and refilled her glass. “Everyone knew you were fucking him, Leila. Nobody thought he’d be stupid enough to hire you because of it…let alone pay you.”
“I never said that he–”
“Oh, shut up!” Isobel’s fist closed around a fork. “Of course he was paying you. He likes to pay. He takes great pleasure in making that clear.” She was spurned and angry. “You deserve each other, really, but you’ve done nothing to earn that job.”
I glared at her. “I got the best results out of everyone there.”
“I went to Oxford,” Poppy snapped. “I went to Oxford. I worked my arse off. You went to fucking UCL and you were shagging your way around the office. It wasn’t fair.”
“Except now, it is.” Isobel straightened, the flush falling from her cheeks. “Everyone gets what they deserve.”
Poppy folded her arms. “Look at her, Isobel. Would you pay for that?”
“No.” She regarded me the same way as she had across the ballroom–a tight, vicious simmer of a stare. Then she laughed. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“I’ll bet Matt was paying her too. Was he, Leila? Or did he find out when he found that picture?”
I wasn’t going to answer that.
I tugged my bag up, wincing as my dress rubbed over my back again. “If it’s all the same, I won’t stay for dinner.” I was surprised I could get the words out, let alone stand.
“Good.” Isobel smiled. “Because you’re not welcome.”
I kept myself upright until I got out of the restaurant and then fell against the back of the bus stop, taking deep, wheezing breaths. They threatened to turn to sobs every few seconds but I wouldn’t break like that, couldn’t, had so little left. I had to hold on to something.
I had no voice to hail a cab, so I walked the three miles home. The fresh air helped me stay glued together and after the first delirious blocks, I began to reason my way through the problem. It drew the emotion away, numbed me.
Matt had given them the photo. In the humid dark of his bedroom, he had confessed to keeping it, and this was his revenge. I’d thought we were friends, he said that he loved me…but evidently, not enough.
I couldn’t go to Joseph about this because he would sack Poppy. In fact, I couldn’t go to him at all because they’d stipulated that I had to finish with him. That part was just vicious.
How was I meant to do it, what reason would I have? How did I explain leaving the company at such short notice and refusing the job they offered me? It would look horribly suspicious. And Elise…Elise had showed me the Redfish deal. I knew things I shouldn’t. Did she do that on purpose? Was she in on it too?
The reasoning wasn’t working, the tears weren’t holding and it all got messier by the second.
Would I count as qualified if I didn’t finish these next few weeks? What the hell was I meant to do otherwise? I’d just re-signed my lease, I had to pay…some dogsbody paralegal job would barely cover the rent, let alone anything else. And if Joseph wouldn’t give me a reference…
Oh God, oh God.
Maybe I was fucked anyway. I should call their bluff. It was just a photo and if the partners fired me, at least I’d still have Joseph. I should pretend this never happened–Charlotte bounced at this as if she’d forgotten her Ritalin.
But maybe Joseph would feel differently if everyone knew that his girlfriend had been a prostitute. Could I bear to humiliate him like that, to implicate him, and would he still want me? My secrets belonged in the dark, where he made love to them. The last time I’d kissed him–just a quick brush of the lips before I fell into the cab earlier–played over and over like a macabre little hologram. It was the last time I would ever kiss him and the last time he’d look at me with anything other than scorn.
My feet were killing me by the time I got home. I staggered up the stairs, turned my key in the door and crumpled onto the sofa. I should never have sold myself. I should have waited unt
il I was a fee earner and then offered to help my parents. In the meantime, they might have found another way.
What was I going to tell them? I’d never seen them so proud, and now it all seemed such a big lie. If I tried to bluff my way out of this, would they hear about it eventually? I couldn’t risk that. No, no.
When the tears came, they were sharp and salty, and the sobs were jagged in my throat. I had been hurt before, confused, felt isolated. This was so very much worse. And it was all Charlotte’s fault. Now I had to dump the man I’d fallen arse-over-tits for, my big City career had collapsed underneath me, and I was just a girl who’d been with too many men. Used goods, sloppy seconds. The apple was bad after all.
As much as Charlotte had cost, I had always said the whore was a part of me. Stitched into my flesh. Undeniable. But as I wept and imploded, I wished that she was somebody else so I could hang, draw and quarter her. Could slaughter the beast.
Too late for that now. Victory was not hers.
It belonged to a pair of young women in a fancy restaurant, toasting Leila’s losses and their slippery gains. They’d pulled out the big guns.
In my lonely little flat, I bled.
Chapter 12
For the last year, I’d spent so long on the other side of the looking glass that I never quite caught sight of myself. Still, I’d always assumed that I knew who I was.
I was wrong.
One Sunday evening, the world collapsed beneath my fingertips and when I tried to cling on, I found it was made of dust. I’d managed to stay my ground for a time, but now it melted and slipped away.
When a girl falls down a rabbit hole, she has two options: to languish at the bottom and pick the dirt from her nails, lamenting the inevitable–and when the fight has been knocked out of her, there’s no telling how tempting that is. Or she could drink the potions, pop the pills and claw her way out of there, one handful of muck at a time. The problem was this: the mud became war paint, it didn’t always wash off…and it turned out, she was dirty in the first place.
Then she had to wonder, was it still worth coming out on the other side?
* * * *
Sunday night would. Not. End.
I stared blankly at the television for about ten minutes before I realized that the aerial was playing up and the screen buzzed with silver static.
Joseph phoned me three times. I ignored the first two. It wasn’t in me to feign happiness and I didn’t want to lie about failing to meet him at the club.
But the man was nothing if not persistent, and on the last call, I picked up.
“Where are you, baby?” he shouted over the buzz of the crowd.
“At home. I…” I’ve been blackmailed by Poppy and your ex, and I’m fucked. Please help me. Go on, you moron. Say it! “I, uh.”
“You’ll have to speak up, Leila. It’s carnage in here.”
“I…” My voice cracked. “I love you.”
“Sorry?”
Oh God. Why did I even say that? A miserable quiver clawed at my lower lip. “I’m not well, Joe. I’m going to bed.”
“You–oh.” He muttered something in another direction. “It’s not your back, is it?”
“No.” No, no, no.
“Good. Well, feel better, sweetheart. Call me if you need anything.”
Ha.
I writhed in bed for an hour before I gave up on sleep, and then propped myself up on my laptop to write my resignation letter. The keys stuck to my fingers with prickly ice. Was I really going to do this? Was there any hope of sorting out such a mess?
If it existed, it wouldn’t come, and the words poured down through my digits to glare back off the screen. Maybe it would be cathartic to get it over with. Maybe I thought it would all go away if I threw it into pixels and LEDs.
I regret to inform you that I will be unable to take the position offered to me by the company, and it is through unfortunate circumstances that I give notice of my intent to resign as of today…
* * * *
Aidan was not happy that I cancelled the run. He was especially not happy because I hadn’t told him, and when I awoke from two hours of bleak, disturbed slumber, an angry voice mail awaited my sore ears.
I listened to the first three curses and then hung up. I’d explain to him…at some point. Maybe. Just not right now.
I was surprised at how numb I felt as I entered the office. I’d come early to catch Joseph before everyone else arrived, but Sadie informed me that he was on the phone. Matt and Poppy soon filed in.
Poppy watched me. Like a terrorist waiting for her bomb to go off, she braced with the pleasure of its perverse glory.
He said I was a close second.
She expected to be offered my job.
Fucking bitch.
“Morning.” Matt whistled as he thumped into his seat.
“You’re walking a little better.” I avoided his eyes.
“Yeah, I had physio over the weekend with someone from the rugby club.” He pulled open his briefcase and began to tease out empty crisp packets. “How about you? Weren’t you going home or something?”
I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to be so cordial.
“I did.” I busied myself with paperwork to be filed.
“You want to go for lunch today?”
I looked up at him, blinking. “What?”
“Lunch, you know.” He mimed stuffing his face with a very adequate sandwich. “I was thinking around–”
“Leila?” Joseph’s head swung around the door. “Did you want to see me about something?”
My stomach flipped.
I slid the envelope from my bag and followed him into the office. Safely behind the door, he grinned at me and gestured to his lap. I pretended to ignore him and sat in front of the desk instead.
“Are you feeling better, sweetheart?”
I chewed my lip. “Not exactly.”
“Oh?” He always knew when I was nervous. “Is there something wrong?”
My palms were cool with sweat as I handed him my letter. He’d grown uncomfortable in my silence, and he frowned at me as he tore it open. As he read it, I put my face in my hands and it seemed like hours before I heard his voice in the dark.
“What the fuck is this?”
I shrugged, not looking up. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” His tone rose as he smacked the paper down. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I just…I…” Already, it was hard not to sob. I felt so ridiculous. “I changed my mind about going into law.”
He spluttered as he sprang up and started pacing. “You changed your mind? Am I missing something, Leila? Because that seems like a pretty fucking important thing to not tell me when you’re in my bed every night!”
“I was worried about what you’d say,” I said weakly.
He caught my gaze then and the scorn was palpable. It slithered between us and hissed with a forked tongue.
“I don’t believe this.” He ducked, forcing himself into my personal space. “Did you play me? Is that what this is?”
I couldn’t shake my head fast enough. “I–no–what?”
“You’re going to work for him, aren’t you?” He laughed bitterly. “You’ve been going to work for him all along.”
“Who?”
“Charles fucking Flemming.”
Never in a million years, when Charlie first laid his hand on my thigh in that restaurant eight years ago, did I think a little indiscretion would shit on me from such a great height. This man had unwittingly screwed up every relationship I’d ever had.
“You think I’m some sort of spy? How do you even–”
“I Googled him as soon as I caught you sending that email to him before New York,” he spat. “It was pretty obvious that you hadn’t been to uni with him, given that he’s twice your age, but don’t think I didn’t notice that he set up a firm around here in the last few years. And lo and behold, he did your reference, too.”
“
I’m not going to work for him,” I whimpered. I didn’t know what was worse–his misplaced suspicion or the fact that he’d harboured the distrust of me all along. Yet last night, he’d confided in me…had he finally started to thaw? “Why didn’t you just ask–”
“You lied.” He backed away, trying to compose himself. “You lied to me. You interned for him. Why didn’t you just say so?”
I prodded a tear that threatened, rubbing it away. “Because.” Because I’d been involved with Charlie and that was unprofessional. Because it didn’t seem important in the grand scheme of things. Because I didn’t want Joseph to think of something like this, because, because, because. “I’m sorry.”
“He did Matt’s reference too. Are you both in on this?”
“There’s nothing to be in on!” I shouted.
He spread his hands, glaring at me. “So you tell me, then. You tell me what the fuck is going on. You tell me where you’re going or so help me, Leila…”
“I’m not going to work for Charles Flemming,” I repeated, my voice wavering.
“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” He sighed heavily and stomped to the door. “Gordon! Get in here.”
Matt slunk through a moment later. He shot me a quizzical stare and I jerked my head away. “Is everything okay?” Matt asked, sinking into the chair beside mine.
“I want to know what relation you have to Charles Flemming,” Joseph demanded.
“He’s my stepdad. I used to help out in his office sometimes.”
“And can you tell me how Leila knows him? Because she’s hardly being forthcoming.”
Matt gawped at me in horror as his hand flew up to his hair.
Well, would you look at that. Things can get worse.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said hoarsely.
“He did Leila’s reference too,” Joseph said, “and since she now happens to be conveniently departing–”
“How the hell do you know Charlie?” Matt cut in. His breath quickened. This was real shock now, not the petty feigned kind he’d displayed seconds earlier.
“I worked for him when I was at school.” I couldn’t look at either of them now and my cheeks burned with the blood rush.
Breaking Joseph Page 18