“Good idea,” she replied, as I carted the takeaway boxes to the kitchen.
“What about this one?” she asked when I returned. “It’s about a kid who goes missing in the 1980s. His friends set out to find him and uncover secret government experiments and supernatural forces along the way.”
“Are there any princesses or other members of the royal family in it?”
“Doubtful.” She snorted.
“Then I’m game.”
We were hooked. It turned out that the show wasn’t just good, it was fucking compulsive viewing. One episode turned into four, and while I was trained to handle serious sleep deprivation, Sar was out cold. Her little body curled into my warmth until her pillow wasn’t doing it for her, and then she half climbed my chest in any effort to get comfortable. My arm had gone dead around half an hour ago, but I didn’t care. Watching her sleep brought me peace, but having her in my arms was a special kind of torture. At some point during episode three, she’d thrown a leg over my thigh, and her knee was now pressed firmly against my cock. When she breathed, she moved up and down slightly, rubbing against me. Now I was as hard as a tent peg. But I had willpower like you’d never seen. Willpower, tenacity, and a single-minded determination to play the long game.
Aside from the fact that we were being overheard, I wouldn’t have wanted our first time together to be there. There were too many ghosts for Sarah. She needed new memories. Happy ones. And I wanted to be the man to deliver them to her. Flicking off the television with the remote, I reached across for a fleece throw blanket and tucked it in around us both, cocooning us in its warmth. Never had I shared a bed with a woman I wasn’t having sex with. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’d never actually slept with a woman. For me, there was sex and there was sleeping. The fact that both activities occupied the same real estate made no difference as far as I was concerned. For me, it was one or the other but not both together.
Until now.
Because, as I lay in the darkness, the scent of Sarah’s perfume filling my lungs and her tiny hand resting over my heart, I knew that there was no other way I’d want to fall asleep again.
Sarah
Mark Devaney was completely ordinary in every way. His sandy brown hair was parted to the side and just long enough that it looked like he needed a good trim. He wore plain, oversized, black-framed glasses and carried a battered leather briefcase that would look just as at home on the desk of some antiquated literary professor. His suit was appropriate office wear, but off the peg and ever so slightly dishevelled. New accountants were conspicuous in their neatness. Pressed suits, smartly trimmed hair, and shiny shoes. They strode in and out of the building with a palpable aura of eagerness and ambition. Mark fell into the mid-level category. Those men and women often struggling to balance young families with a demanding career, and with enough experience to know that they were probably years away from the major promotion that would take them into the next income bracket. All in all, he was a man you would say hello to as you walked past, maybe share a word or two with as you were riding the lift, but the minute those doors closed, he would be instantly forgettable.
At five minutes past nine on that Monday morning, he followed Victoria into my office. He strode confidently, as though he knew exactly where he was going but was in no hurry to get there.
“Good morning, Miss Tatem,” he said. “Thank you for seeing me today.” I looked at Tom in confusion before turning back. For the white-collar puppet of an international criminal, he was exceedingly polite.
“Um, no problem,” I replied, unsure of the right way to go about all of this. After all, his boss was rather partial to strangulation when presented with a similar situation.
“Was there something you needed me to sign?” I asked, taking out Dad’s marbled green Waterman Patrician fountain pen. It was a beautiful old piece of stationery, probably suited more to Dad’s style of writing rather than my own. But I treasured it. Not for its monetary value, but because of its value to me. It had been a Christmas gift from Mum the year she died, and I’d never seen him without it.
Never.
Today I would begin to sign my name. Not once, but over and over again, knowing that each stroke, each brush of ink could send someone to their death. I wasn’t a religious person, but I prayed. To God. To the fates. To anybody. I prayed that I’d made the right decision. That my actions would save lives. And I prayed for forgiveness. Because deep down inside, where the voice of conscience and reason that we so often ignore resides, I knew that I lacked the luxury of naivety. Despite the man-hours and the hard work of every government employee who would be scouring these manifests, somebody would slip the net. Maybe it would be a child, shot with a weapon my company had shipped, or a woman trafficked to a place of slavery. I might never know, but the possibility was real. Whatever my reasons, however I justified my decision and however many lives I saved, it was a stain that would forever mark my soul.
“Of course,” he said, shuffling through his briefcase. “All of these amendments will need to be implemented in a very short timeframe. But making them all on one day will arouse too much suspicion. We’ve decided therefore to spread them over a two-week period. Adverse weather conditions along with various other reasons will go some way towards explaining the changes,” he explained, pulling out a number of neatly printed sheets. “You’ll need to sign the bottom of each page where I have indicated,” he said, handing them over.
I nodded, the lump in my throat making me completely incapable of formulating a reply. Remembering everything we’d practised, I took the first sheet and placed it directly under the lamp, moving my hand slightly to the right as unobtrusively as I could so MI5 could get a clear shot. If anything went wrong, if they didn’t get a copy of the sheet, they’d have to go through thousands of manifests and try and compare it to the ones we’d downloaded. If the date on the document in front of me was anything to go by, they’d never do it in time. One of the ships listed was due to depart dock in two days.
“Everything all right?” Mark asked, his voice layered with a hint of suspicion. When Tom laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, I jumped. Only then did I realise how badly I was shaking. Taking a deep breath, I imagined my mum standing next to Tom behind me.
“I’m proud of you, baby girl. You are so strong. Stronger than I’ll ever be. Things are going to be pretty dark for a while, but it won’t be forever. You can do this, I promise. And when you feel like you can’t, I want you to close your eyes and imagine that I’m there with you, because I always will be, you know. Always.” They were the last words she’d spoken to me before I’d been ushered away to let her sleep. A slumber she never woke from.
Gripping her pen a little tighter, I believed her. She was there with me, and I was strong enough for this. Strong enough to do what was necessary. With a sure and steady hand, I scanned and signed page after page until it was done.
“Thank you, Miss Tatum,” Mark said. “You’ve been most cooperative. You won’t be needed again today, but I’d be grateful if you could ensure that you’re here at the same time tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I replied. He packed the papers into his case.
“One more thing,” he said, pulling a shiny golden box tied with a red ribbon from his briefcase, and setting it down on my desk.
“A gift from Mr Agheenco” he explained, and was gone.
Before Tom could protest, I grabbed the box and ripped off the ribbon, determined to find out what it was and get rid of it as quickly as I could. Out fell a square box filled with handmade, heart shaped chocolates. On top was another note, in the same handwriting as the one that had accompanied the rose.
“What does it say?” Tom asked.
“Just because I’m not there, doesn’t mean I can’t see you. I see everything. I look forward to our next meeting with great anticipation. Love D.”
“Son of a Bitch!” Tom muttered.
Standing on shaky legs, I turned and threw myself into his ar
ms. He held me so tightly, his hand cradling the back of my head, that it felt okay to let go.
“Please, please say I’ve done the right thing,” I said.
“I don’t need to. You know you have, or you wouldn’t have done it,” he replied. “All those weeks ago, you knew you had the power to stop it all, and you used it, regardless of the personal cost to yourself. Don’t lose that faith.”
I didn’t have time to respond before Aunt Elizabeth barged into my office like she owned the place, a harried-looking Victoria following closely on her heels.
“In the office? Really, Sarah, if you insist on fraternising with your little money grabber, at least do it in your own time. The building is fully glazed and anyone at all with a mind to can see you,” she said.
I took a deep breath, knowing I’d need it to deal with the next trial of the day. I expected Tom to move away from me now that we had an audience, but he simply sat against the ledge of my desk, turned me around so that my back was to him, and pulled me back into his arms. My aunt rolled her eyes dramatically at us and took a seat.
“What is it I can do for you today?” I asked her sweetly.
She narrowed her eyes and launched a newspaper at me. “I actually came to congratulate you for doing your job. I also came to berate you for trying to play me like a fool.”
“You’re going to have to explain that one to me,” I replied, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
“Page seven,” she said enigmatically.
I thumbed through the paper until two grainy, smiling photos of myself stared back at me, and I realised what she was talking about. The caption to the story read, “Britain’s Athina Onassis Escapes Near Fatal Accident.”
“What a crock of shit,” I muttered, skimming through the article. “They’re directly comparing my life to Athina’s. Talking about how we lost our parents and how it seemed like my inheritance was cursed, until I walked away from the accident last night.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why they were referring to this as an accident at all when it was clear that a bomb exploded, but the fact that Tom didn’t look at all surprised told me that he was expecting this. It was a conversation that would wait until we were alone.
“Comparing Tatem Shipping to the Onassis Shipping empire is publicity we just can’t buy. Company stock has already gone up two points since the paper was released,” Aunt Elizabeth said.
“I had nothing to do with this. I answered a few questions from a reporter, but I assumed he was a society photographer. I had no idea that he worked for a national newspaper,” I admitted.
“He doesn’t. He’s a free-lance journalist who saw an opportunity to spin a story that would glamorise your involvement in the company, and he took it. It’s what I hoped for when I encouraged you to come into the fold. You did your job as you were supposed to, and Tatum Shipping thrived. Well done,” she said.
I assumed that by “encouraged,” she meant badgered, cajoled, and emotionally blackmailed me into joining the business. Nevertheless, it was, quite possibly, the highest compliment that she’d ever given me.
“I can’t believe they’re reporting on the accident already,” I mused.
“It was probably the angle that turned it from a society page photograph to a national news story. Rather fortuitous timing if you ask me,” she mumbled, and I looked up in horror.
“I can see you’re concerned, given that Sarah was hospitalised less than twenty-four hours ago, but don’t worry, she’s doing much better,” Tom added pointedly.
In return, Aunt Elizabeth simply crossed her legs and raised a disapproving eyebrow. “There was hardly a cause for concern. If Sarah had been seriously injured, I assume I’d have been notified by her personal security,” Aunt Elizabeth said.
“The penny’s dropped I take it?” Tom replied.
“Quite,” she replied. “Did it amuse you to concoct an over embellished fantasy to disguise someone who is essentially little more than a security guard? Or did you honestly believe that purporting him to be more than he actually is would make him seem like more of an acceptable catch?” she asked me. Her tone was filled with more than a hint of malice. It fuelled me with indignation far more than the words.
“It didn’t amuse me in the slightest to deceive you. Letting people believe Tom was a lawyer explained his appearance far more easily than the truth would have done. It afforded him a mundane, anonymous persona that allows him to do his job. It was never about deceiving you, it was about protecting me. And as far as I’m concerned, whether he’s lead council to the most affluent shipping company in the world or a security guard is completely immaterial. I’m glad he’s on my side,” I informed her. The hand touching my waist squeezed in a gesture of solidarity and support.
“You will drag this family’s name through the mud before you’re done here. How could you? He’s a leech! A sycophant! An uneducated opportunist, no doubt trying to get to the family money through your knickers if he hasn’t done already.” She was scathing. The hatred and contempt in her voice a palpable thing, as though she really did loathe him for not being privileged and rich.
I took a deep breath before replying. The embarrassment of sharing a bloodline with this woman was acute. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. Having Tom with me saved my life last night. Without him, I wouldn’t be standing here now. We’re not engaged, and he is not after my inheritance. I don’t know what more I can do to prove to you that I have this company’s best interests at heart.”
“You’re a fool, Sarah,” she said, standing. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Believe what you want about him, but I’ve known men like him my whole life. He wants your body and your money. Thinking otherwise is simply delusional.”
“Look, I can see this is a lost cause. Tom will remain here at my request. He will attend public appearances with me, but I will do my best to avoid drawing attention to him or allow us to be photographed together. In the unlikely event that I’m asked, I will explain that we’re work colleagues. I very much doubt that one newspaper article will propel me into the media spotlight, and after two years, I’ll be gone in any event.”
“A lot of damage can be done in two years, Sarah. Just remember that. And don’t lie to me again. I don’t like to be made a fool of,” she warned menacingly.
“How did you find out who he was?” I asked, as she headed for the door.
“Despite what you obviously thought, I’m not stupid. He’s about as far from a lawyer as you can get. His behaviour at the party confirmed it. A private investigator confirmed his military background, so it was a logical jump to assume you’d hire him as security. Though I must say that hiring your own private security does suggest an overinflated sense of self-importance. I mean, we’re hardly the Getty’s, Sarah,” she remarked dismissively and left.
Turning around in Tom’s arms, I allowed my forehead to rest on his shoulder in defeat. Instead of wrapping his arms around me like I hoped, he stood.
“Come on. Let’s blow this joint,” he suggested, grabbing our jackets.
“And go where? Please don’t say home, unless you mean your place,” I replied, making him chuckle.
“Eager to get back into my bed again, huh?” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be back there by Saturday.”
“Not with you,” I complained sulkily. After my last visit, I knew if we went back there again together, I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to jump him the minute the door was closed. Even now, the thought of what I wanted to do had me squirming.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said, holding out my soft, woollen coat, and as I put my arms through and fastened it around me, his warm, soft lips pressed gently to the back of my neck in the lightest of kisses. My Pavlovian reaction to his touch turned my legs to jelly.
“Like you weren’t thinking the same thing,” I replied with a shiver.
“I’m always thinking that when it comes to you.”
I watched him fasten his buttons and put on his gloves, and I wondered how one man could hold such power over me. I was tired and hurting, and ten minutes ago, I was in despair. One kiss was all it took to make me realise that my heart was his. He didn’t steal me away or hide me from the ugly truth of what it was we had to do. He simply made me feel like I was no longer alone. That in the dark, he was there with me.
“So where are we going?” I asked, grabbing hold of the hand he held out for me.
“You’ll see,” he answered with a cheeky wink.
An hour and a half later, I was freezing my arse off in the grounds of Kew Gardens, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt more relaxed. We’d collected drive-through coffee on the way, and I’d opted for a hot chocolate that I’d clutched gratefully on our walk, thankful for the warmth against my icy-cold hands. The humidity in the Palm House had been pretty tolerable, but sat on an open bench as we were, I began to feel the cold seeping into my bones. Still, the weather could be Arctic and I wouldn’t want to leave.
“Why here?” I asked.
“Can you think of anywhere more peaceful in London?”
“But how did you even know this place existed?”
“Nan brought me here once, not long after the adoption,” he explained, and I answered with a ghost of a smile.
“What?” Tom asked as he caught sight of the look on my face.
“I’m just having a hard time picturing it, that’s all. I can’t imagine that, as a teenager, you were any less of a hard-arse. So how’d Nan manage to get you to come to a place like this?”
“Have you met Nan?” he replied sarcastically. “In the beginning, she knew as much about being a parent as I did about being part of a family. I had a homework assignment to write about a family day trip, so she made a list of the top ten places to visit in London and dragged Reg and me around to every one of them.”
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