by Angel Devlin
“I’m going to get a shower,” he tells me and he leaves me standing against the wall, the evidence of his recent attentions running out of my body.
In punishment of how he stalked off, I pick up his cast-off boxer briefs and wipe myself down with them before walking towards the bed. Looking in Deacon’s bag I find two spare t-shirts, so I steal a black one and strip out of my own clothes. I peel back the covers checking the linen is clean, before climbing inside, the now familiar creaks of the springs filling the room as I get comfortable. When he’s finished his shower I’ll have one myself, but for now, I choose to lie still, the covers pulled up to my chin, pillows slightly raised and I try to gather my thoughts.
What the hell am I doing?
I might tell myself I’m sleeping with him to save my friend from getting hurt, but it’s not the truth is it? I’m just sick of being the good girl all the time. Deacon is bringing out a darker side of me and I’m enjoying it. Maybe the truth is that I’m enjoying being his dirty little secret.
But why did he bring me here of all places? Okay, it took me completely out of my comfort zone and toying with me seems to be Deacon’s new hobby, but as we were walking around the place, Deacon was familiar with it. But he never said, ‘oh we must do this because’ or gave any other indication that this was a place full of happy memories. It was just another part of Deacon I couldn’t work out. I wanted to think he was a jigsaw whose pieces I wanted to figure out and put back together, but I was afraid he was more a ticking time bomb and I would never find the right wire.
Deacon walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet, and I don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome. He barely glances at me as he removes the towel and dries himself down giving me a full-frontal view. I want him all over again. He walks over to his bag and moves his hand inside. It’s then he finally casts his eyes upon me.
“Wearing my top without my permission?”
“Are you an anal virgin?” I mimic his question back at him. “Only I’ve come now, so you can take your requests for my permission or begging and stick them up your own arse.”
He chuckles at that and puts on a fresh pair of boxers and walks over to the bed. He throws the remote control at me. “See if there’s anything on worth watching.”
I channel hop, finally settling on an old thriller starring Marilyn Monroe. Deacon doesn’t seem bothered about my choice, moving under the covers and gazing at the screen.
“Tell me about when you’ve been to Blackpool before.”
His body stiffens. “Why?”
“Conversation. You want me to spend time with you. I want to know you a little better. So tell me something. However small. If not about Blackpool, about something else.”
“And if I do, can I ask you anything too?”
“Why not? I have nothing to hide,” I tell him.
He shuffles up the bed and it creaks once more. “I’m not sure I can put up with this all fucking night,” he complains.
“You weren’t whining earlier when no doubt the whole place could hear it.”
“I was pre-occupied then.” His hand roams between my legs. His fingers find my centre and begin a slow, torturous tease. They continue to play while he finally speaks.
“My father is a complete cunt. He took my brother and myself to Blackpool for the weekend when we were teens.”
“Y- you have a brother?” I can’t imagine two of them. Christ, I can barely cope with one.
“Oh no. My father had two families. At least. We didn’t know the other existed for a very long time. Scott lived in Glasgow whereas I was here in London, and my dad was someone who travelled a lot. We thought he was on business trips. He got my mother and Scott’s mother pregnant at a similar time. He married my mother and refuses to this day to divorce her even though he only returns now for the odd day. She still loves him. I despise her for it; for her own weakness.”
I’m at a loss for what to say. When I’d asked him to confess about Blackpool, I hadn’t expected that response.
“I don’t know what he was thinking. That we’d bond or some shit. He took us to the Pleasure Beach, bought us ice creams, had us stay in a B&B. It was excruciating.”
“I can imagine.”
“You really can’t.” He replies but he’s not saying it as an insult, just as a raw truth. “I hated Scott because he took my father away from my family, and Scott hated me because I had everything as far as he was concerned and he got nothing. He and his mum struggled financially. I only got by because of my mum. She put me through college, not that bastard, but Scott didn’t know that.
“So you don’t get on?”
“We have very little to do with each other, but he has a child now. I have a niece. I want to get to know her, so slowly we’ve been starting to talk a little. Now we’re realising that when we thought our father was with the other one, he wasn’t at all. He dangled both of our mothers on strings like a puppet master but there are long periods of time where his whereabouts are unknown.”
“Do you think he has even more families somewhere?”
“I’m sure he does. Like I said, he’s a cunt. Now that’s enough about me, other than to say that bringing you here, it just seemed right. I can’t explain why.”
I shrug. “Maybe to wipe out some of the bad memories by creating new ones where you could laugh at me being so far out of my comfort zone?”
His hands had stopped tickling and teasing while he’d gotten serious. I move nearer and snuggle into his side. He lets me, his arm moving around me.
“I’m sorry you had a crap father.”
“Shit happens. Tell me about yours,” he demands. So I do.
“My mother was devastated about my real father’s death and the fact I was so young. She’d seen a seedy side to fame though and vowed to live a quieter life away from the media circus. She got someone else in to run the company and bought the house she still lives in now. It’s massive and very private. We were on our own until I was about seven and then she met my stepfather. They fell instantly in love. Mummy said it was meant to be as she rarely went out and yet she’d decided to give an exclusive interview to a journalist and it was him and she just knew, it just clicked, she said.”
“And you all lived happily ever after,” Deacon snarks.
“Mostly. Sorry, I know that sucks with your own history, but I won’t lie. My stepfather struggles sometimes though with my mum’s introverted, almost reclusive behaviour, so he goes off on small trips from time to time, which raises her insecurities. But they’ve been together for years now and are still as in love as ever.”
“They’ve never married though?”
“No. My mum was adamant that I’m to inherit all my father’s estate.”
“Which I understand but must make him feel like a gold-digger?”
“My mother is very generous. My father’s estate makes more money than you can imagine. She can spoil Giles completely and it not make a dent. There’s no problem on either side, and I’m happy that my mum’s happy. Plus, like I said, the man has raised me as if I’m his own. He’s been there for me through my entire childhood. Where my own dad was unable to be around, he’s been there. I love him as if he’s my own flesh and blood.”
I realise that Deacon is beside me resembling a frozen ice sculpture as I walk down memory line. “God, I’m sorry. How insensitive. There you are with a total bastard of a father and I’m going on about my stepdad.”
He takes a deep breath and strokes a hand up my arm. “Don’t be. You never know, maybe I’ll meet him sometime. See your amazing father for myself.”
His words shock me, hinting at something potentially more serious between us, but I don’t push. I turn towards the TV and eventually I fall asleep in his arms.
Chapter Seventeen
Deacon
“Her name is Liberty Parker,” I say into the phone in my empty office the morning after we return from Blackpool.
“Parker? Noe
l Parker’s daughter?”
“It is.”
“How has this been kept out of the spotlight?”
“Fuck knows, but probably because the Cherrington’s wouldn’t want their precious heir as a front-page scandal and no doubt paid her off. Look, do you want it, or shall I go sell it to some trashy mag?” I ask Tara, the producer of Park Lane Princesses.
“No, no,” she argues. “I want it. It’s going to be fucking gold. If she says yes.”
“She’ll say yes.”
“What have you done?” she asks hesitantly.
“Nothing you need to be aware of. Ring her, she’ll be there in a flash.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. I’m just about to hang up thinking she’s finished with me when she speaks. “What do you want out of this, King?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?” She’s understandably sceptical. I don’t do anything out of the kindness of my heart and she knows it.
“Really. I’m not expecting anything from you in return. You’re already helping me out.”
“I’m going to accept what you’re saying because it’s going to be fucking incredible for the show, but if this comes back to bite me then I’m coming after you, King.”
“It won’t. I’m getting what I need out of this without needing anything from you.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. It’s been a pleasure, as always.”
The phone beeps signalling that she’s hung up. Usually it would piss me off, but today I don’t care. My head is still back in that B&B room. The only thing I can think about are the kind and loving words Mia had to say about my cunt of a father. Listening to her explain how important he’d been in her life, how much she meant to him, it stirred something inside of me she’s going to wish she wasn’t on the receiving end of.
Anger stirs in my belly, my muscles pulling impossibly tight with the tension. The second someone makes a wrong move today I swear one of them’s going to fucking snap.
In my need to put her words aside, I’d spread her thighs as wide as they’d go and feasted on her until she screamed my name so fucking loud I was confident every single person inside that building would know it. My mission was proved successful as we walked into the breakfast room the next morning to find every single set of eyes turned our way.
“It’s a good job you’re not already famous. This lot would be selling recordings for thousands this morning otherwise,” I said to her as she turned her flushed red face into my chest. “Keep your head high. You know they’re all just jealous.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want everyone knowing what we were doing.”
“You didn’t seem to care while you were screaming my name.” She swatted me on the shoulder before practically running toward the table in the corner to hide from prying eyes. I, on the other hand, puffed my chest out and followed behind her with a satisfied smile playing on my lips. I didn’t have a problem with the women looking at me with longing in their eyes. I did, however, have an issue with the way the men were looking at Mia, undressing her with their eyes. That shit needed to end. She was mine to do with as I wished, not any other motherfucker’s.
I shake the thoughts from my head. The anger burning through my veins is bad enough, I don’t need my cock swelling with the thoughts of my revenge to add to the inferno.
I expected my time with Mia to be tedious at best, and to start with it was. Watching her turn her nose up at everyone and everything was fucking irritating, but as I began to reveal the normal girl hiding beneath the designer clothes and fancy make-up, I found I almost liked the woman I discovered. Don’t be mistaken to think that’s going to interfere with my mission, though. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will stop me from crushing the man who ruined my life, and if Mia is collateral then so be it. She’s nothing to me. A means to an end.
Something uncomfortable twists in my chest as I think about the outcome of all of this, but I refuse to allow it to fester. She’s a pawn in my game and nothing more.
Thankfully, knocking at my office door distracts me.
“D, you decent?” Jack calls.
“Coast is clear,” I call back with a chuckle.
Jack’s head pops around the door followed by Tyler’s, Oliver’s, and Anthony’s. They all look around like they’re expecting to find a harem of women littering my office.
“It’s Monday fucking morning, I do actually take my job seriously, you know.”
Jack shrugs, falling down onto one of my sofas while Tyler laughs.
“You seen your emails?” Oliver asks.
“Not yet. Been dealing with a few urgent issues. Why?”
“We won.” He beams.
“Won what?”
“The Glossy of the Year award.”
“You shitting me?” A smile twitches at my lips. I’ve wanted that fucking award since before B.A.D. existed, but since the day we published our first copy Fully Loaded has stolen it from under our feet. We’re better than Fully Loaded. A million miles fucking better, but every year they take it from us after stealing our ideas and clients.
“Nope. B.A.D. is officially 2020’s must read magazine.”
“Fucking right!” Pushing from my chair, I walk over to my cabinet and pull out the bottle of twenty-five-year-old sherry oak Macallan I’ve had sitting there waiting for this day. A two fucking grand bottle of scotch. I pour shots into five glasses and hand them out. “World fucking domination here we come, motherfuckers!” I don’t wait for them to respond before lifting the glass to my lips and tipping the golden liquid down my throat. It burns but it’s exactly what I need this morning.
I place the glass back and turn to the guys.
“What?” The concerned looks on their faces don’t match how I’m feeling right now. “You just told me we won the award I’ve wanted since the day I learned it existed. What the fuck can possibly be wrong?”
“De Loughrey is pissed.”
“Rightly so,” I say, thinking of the boss of Fully Loaded. He seems to think he owns this award.
“He’s going to come at us for this.”
“Let him. What can he do? We’ve proved our place. Let him do his worst. We’re fucking unstoppable.” They still don't seem to share my excitement but they down their morning drink nonetheless.
“We need something fucking massive to follow up this win with. What have we got?”
Tyler’s face lights up. “You’re not going to believe who my new assistant knows.”
“I’m listening.”
“Nicole fucking Weston.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m deadly serious. They went to school together or some shit,” he says, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
Nicole Weston is hot property right now seeing as she’s just been announced as the lead in a movie that’s tipped to be the next box office smash. She’s not given an interview in years. Fuck, she’s hardly even been photographed since her very high profile split from her musician husband and the scandal surrounding it that sent her into hiding.
“You spoken to her?”
“Not yet but Anna has. She said she’s happy to give us an exclusive.”
“Get me her number and do whatever it takes to ensure she doesn’t breathe a word of this. We can’t afford for FL to know this is even a possibility. They’ve taken our leads from under our feet one too many times. It can’t happen again.”
Everyone agrees before we move onto other issues.
It’s long after lunch when they all leave my office. After another round of whiskey we sent my assistant, Tiffany, out for coffee and lunch to sober us up.
I spend the afternoon chasing a few leads but mostly getting nowhere. With this win under our belt we really need to turn the quality of our content up a notch. That means more interesting interviewees and most importantly, hotter and more desirable women to grace our pages.
As the afternoon rolls on, my mind starts to wander back to Mia. I wonder if Tara actually took me u
p on my offer and called Liberty. She fucking better had after the amount I’ve arranged to have transferred into her account to appear on that show, no questions asked. Seeing as she’s been disowned by her parents for bringing shame down on them with her antics, she almost snapped my hand off at the mention of money.
It’s not until the sun is beginning to set, turning the skyline and my office a warm orange hue that I start to think I’ve got my answer.
My phone lights up with Mia’s name on my desk. Refusing to bend to her requests, I ignore it.
It rings again.
And again.
It must be the sixth time when I eventually give in.
“King.”
“Don’t be a twat. I know you know it’s me,” Mia fumes, much to my delight.
“I’ve got a job, Mia. I’m busy. What do you want?”
“I… I… Uh…”
“What?” I bark, putting as much frustration into my voice as possible. “You need me to come and fuck you again already?”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds but the hitch in her breathing tells me everything I need to know for the answer to that question.
“No,” she lies. “I… I just needed to vent to someone, and… fuck. I’m sorry, I’ll stop bothering you, I just thought… I’ll leave you to your work.”
A smile curls my lips. I might have been a cunt to her, but she’s fallen right into my hands. Her calling me because she’s had a bad day is exactly what I need.
“It’s fine. I’m pretty much finished,” I lie. “Go on, what’s wrong?”
“You’re… Uh… finished?”
“Yeah. You want me to come and get you?”
“I’m filming until nine. Do you fancy getting some dinner after? I need to get out of here for a few hours.”
“Sure. I’ll finish up here and come pick you up.”
With her words from the B&B still fresh in my mind like she said them to me only hours ago, I shut down my computer and make my way from the office. I could go and meet her dressed as I am now, but if I’m correct about how her day’s gone then I want her to relax. I really don’t need to be reminding her that I’m a journalist and that I’m capable of ruining soon to be fame with one cleverly written article.