The Billionaire Banker

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘Mmnn.’

  ‘Are you guys having lunch?’

  ‘Yup.’

  She looks lingeringly at the empty chair next to Lana, but Lana doesn’t invite her to join them. She knows Jack will be irritated and besides, she needs to talk to Jack and explain.

  Jack has arrived and is standing beside the table with her drink and two packets of salt and vinegar crisps—their favorite flavor.

  ‘Hi, Jack,’ Julia simpers up at him, fluttering her eyelids like a black and white movie star.

  Jack smiles tightly. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Lana was just telling me that you are about to have lunch. Mind if I join you?’ She smiles invitingly.

  ‘Not this time, Jules… We have private things to discuss.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Maybe next time then,’ she says, and, flashing a hurt smile, flounces off.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lana says, and takes the drink off Jack.

  Jack smiles at Lana and sits down. He takes a sip of his pint. ‘Well, then,’ he probes. ‘How’s it going?’

  Lana can tell that he is in a bad mood. Perhaps he is even angry. ‘Great. No problems,’ she says.

  His eyes narrow on her face, flash down to her clenched hands, then he focuses on trying to read her eyes. ‘Don’t lie to me, Lana. I know you better than that.’ His voice becomes hard. ‘Has he hurt you?’

  ‘No, course not.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ he prompts.

  ‘I’m just confused, I guess. This is not how I thought my life would be.’

  ‘Your life? I thought it was only for a month.’

  Lana sighs. ‘It was three months or no deal.’

  Jack draws his breath sharply. ‘I wish you hadn’t done it, Lana. You never even told me.’

  ‘I knew what you’d say. It was a spur of the moment decision.’

  ‘But to sell yourself.’ Jack looks openly angry.

  ‘I’d do it all again, Jack.’

  ‘Yeah, but this treatment you’re paying for, it’s not even properly recognized. I’ve looked up this Burzynski character on the net, and he seems well meaning enough, but it’s not proper medicine, Lana. All his results are anecdotal. Some of his critics are even accusing him of selling hope.’

  Lana leans forward. ‘Do you really think after all these years that the FDA wouldn’t have locked him up and thrown away the key if he was just selling hope? Hundreds perhaps thousands of people have been cured by him,’

  Lana insists passionately. ‘Some people are even calling his method the greatest find of the century. They’ve already warned me that Mum’s chances are slim at best, but maybe she’ll be one of the lucky ones. Even if she has only got a one percent chance of recovery, I’m going to take it. I’ve got nothing to lose. Everything else has failed.’

  Jack drops his eyes to the scratched wooden table.

  ‘Remember that time when you were six years old, and I left you outside the newsagent to go in and get some sweets, and when I came out a pervert in a car was trying to persuade you to accept a lift?’

  Lana nods. ‘Yeah, I remember it as if it was yesterday.

  Your face, as you came rushing out, and punched the guy through the window. He hit the gas pedal, swerved, nearly hit an oncoming car, and screeched up the road. How old were you then? Sixteen?’

  ‘Yeah. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I leave you for one minute to buy some sweets, and you are almost snatched by a pedophile.’

  ‘We didn’t tell my mum, did we?’

  ‘No, we didn’t. You know what, Lana? It feels like I’ve just gone into the sweetshop for some sweets and I’ve come out and a pervert has driven off with you. It feels like I’ve failed you. I thought I was going to study medicine, get a good job, and be a proper brother to you and your mum. And now it turns out you’re out there selling your body.’

  ‘Please don’t be angry with me, Jack. I can’t bear it when you are.’ Her eyes well with tears. She blinks them away.

  His face softens. There is sadness in his voice when he speaks. ‘And I can’t bear it when you cry. I’m not angry with you, Lana. I’m angry with myself for failing you.’

  ‘You haven’t failed me, Jack. I’m so proud of you. Of everyone we know, you’re the only one who has made it out of this vortex of poverty and hopelessness. I’m not your responsibility. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.’

  Jack nodded. ‘I know. I just wanted better for you.’

  ‘It’s not so bad. It’s just sex, Jack.’

  ‘How’s your mum, anyway?’

  ‘She’s bad, Jack. Real bad. The good days are less and less. You do see that I had to do this, don’t you?’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t like it, though.’

  ‘Since we are openly discussing my sex life…are you gay?’‘What?’

  ‘Are you gay?’

  Jack laughs. ‘That’ll be a surprise to my girlfriend.’

  Lana gasps. ‘You have a girlfriend?’

  ‘Mmnnn.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘About a week ago. I was always so focused on getting out of the estate I didn’t allow myself to get distracted.

  But my goal is in sight now and she’s a great girl.’

  ‘And just when were you going to tell me, Jack Irish?’

  ‘Well, how could I with you springing your big news on me?’‘Tell me more about her.’

  Before he can answer, her phone rings. It is Blake. ‘Hi,’

  she says, looking at Jack.

  ‘Are you at the apartment?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you get there in thirty minutes?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘See you in thirty minutes.’

  ‘That was him?’ Jack asks.

  She nods. ‘I’ve got to go. I’l take a rain check on lunch with you, but I’m buying and we’re going somewhere nice.’

  ‘With his money?’

  She doesn’t say anything. Of course it’s his money.

  Her credit cards were maxed out before him.

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I understand why you’re doing what you’re doing, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to help spend his money. As far as I’m concerned it’s blood money—your blood. I’m not going to drink from it.’ She looks at him helplessly. ‘It’s not that bad. Don’t let it come between us, please,’ she begs.

  ‘Nothing will come between us. I’ll always be here for you and will be long after he is gone. I’m your brother.

  No matter what happens, I want you to know I’m always here, a phone call away. You can always come to me.’

  Tears spring into her eyes. She blinks them away.

  ‘What’s the name of that girlfriend of yours?’

  ‘Alison.’

  ‘Jesus, she’s lucky.’

  He smiles. ‘You must tell her.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘You’ll see at Tom’s birthday party. I’m bringing her.’

  She bites her lip. ‘If I am allowed to be there, I would love to meet her.’

  His eyes narrow dangerously. ‘Are you some kind of sexual slave to him, Lana?’

  Lana feels the hot color run up her neck. ‘No, but it’s the arrangement—I have to be there whenever he wants me.’Jack draws a sharp breath. ‘That is just sick,’ he fumes.

  Lana covers her cheeks with her palms. ‘Please, Jack, leave it.’

  ‘You’re such a fucking innocent. Does your mother know about this pact of abuse you have signed up for?’

  ‘Of course she doesn’t, but it’s not abuse, Jack. It’s not exactly a hardship to sleep with the man that Hello!

  magazine has called the most eligible bachelor in the world.’

  ‘So what does your mother think?’

  Lana bites her lip. ‘She thinks I’ve got myself a rich boyfriend.’ She pauses. ‘You know I don’t believe in God.

  All my life I’ve thought it’s a cruel god up there, if there is one at all, but y
ou do, and your god is kind and forgiving.

  Will you pray to your god to save my mother?’

  ‘I pray every day for your mum, Lana.’

  The tears spill down her cheeks.

  Sadly, he reaches out a hand and wipes them. ‘Don’t cry, little one. Maybe this treatment will work. Maybe she will get better.’

  She smiles. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jack. Sometimes when I am really sad I think of you studying in your dorm, and it makes me feel happy. “Dr Jack Irish, your next patient has arrived.”’

  Jack smiles, but it is a sad smile.

  ‘I did what I had to do.’

  Jack puts his hand on his forehead; his eyes are unexpectedly gentle. ‘All right, Lana. We’ll play it your way. Be safe and remember I’m here for you. Always. If ever it gets…strange or dangerous, call me immediately. I swear if he ever hurts you, I don’t care if I end up in prison, I’m going to punch his lights out.’

  She nods. ‘I’ll be all right. It’s just sex,’ she says and he winces.

  ‘Please don’t say that again, Lana. It hurts my ears.’

  ‘I’ve not suddenly become Fat Mary, you know.’

  ‘Perish the thought,’ Jack says, the ghost of a smile flickering into his face.

  ‘I have to go now.’

  He stands. ‘I’ll pop by and see your mum later.’

  ‘Thanks Jack. She’ll like that. She likes you. Do you know she thought you and I would get together?’

  He makes a face. ‘Oh dear.’

  She laughs. ‘I know. Goodbye, Jack.’

  She moves forward, kisses him on his cheek and walks towards the entrance. As she crosses it her phone flashes with an incoming text.

  Wear nothing.

  She looks at the screen again. Wear nothing. And feels a stirring of excitement deep within her belly.

  Eighteen

  n the bathroom her eyes are smoky in the mirror. She Iundresses quickly and pulls on the bathrobe hanging behind the door. She still hasn’t got used to her hairless body. It seems too girlish, somehow, but she knows why he wants it so. Everything in his life is neat and tidy. Not a pubic hair out of place.

  When she hears him in the corridor she freezes.

  Wear nothing.

  She takes the bathrobe off, slips into the bedroom and stands inside the door. He is already there. He is dressed in grey trousers. His tie is loosened and his shirtsleeves have been haphazardly folded up his arms. His watch glints on his strong wrist. He goes to her and leads her to the big black armchair by the large mirror. She sees herself in the mirror. Nude.

  ‘Porcelain skin and fuck me now, blue eyes. How beautiful you are,’ he says, watching her through the mirror. His eyes are heavy-lidded and cloudy with desire.

  Fully clothed he stands behind her. Gently, he hooks his handmade leather shoe underneath her right foot and lifts it. The leather is cool and smooth and the laces rub erotically against the soft sole of her foot. His shoe deposits her foot on the padded seat of the big black chair.

  The position has exposed her sex in the most indecent way. She doesn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She looks wanton and shameless. Now she knows why she is bald. There is nothing to hide behind. It is so shameful it is exciting. She looks away.

  ‘I want you to see what I am doing to you.’

  She meets his eyes in the mirror. He kisses her neck and she moans and tries to turn towards him.

  ‘No, watch.’ She looks at the mirror. She is throbbing with excitement. She has willingly spread open her sex and allowed him access into her most intimate parts. She feels his fully clothed body brush against her. Vaguely: buttons pressing into her back…soft wool against her buttocks and thighs. Then his hand is moving towards her navel.

  ‘I love your skin. It is like the finest silk.’ His hand moves downwards without any resistance. All the while he is watching her watching herself.

  His palm comes to press on her pubic bone. She watches the palm make circles. The circles become tighter and tighter until they are moving the flesh over her clitoris.

  Suddenly his index finger taps at her clit. She shivers with helpless wanting.

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispers. ‘I will decide when you come.’

  Then his fingers move quickly in a sweeping motion along her crack, gathering juice. There is enough there.

  The lubricated finger circles the swollen, throbbing bud.

  Watching him pleasure her is the most unexpectedly erotic thing she has experienced.

  She gasps and longs for the feeling of being full. That feeling of having him inside her, but he does not give that to her. Instead he rubs around her sex, his fingers are cunningly methodical. The same movement again and again.

  In minutes she feels the waves coming, but as she pushes eagerly towards them, towards release, his fingers stop, and even though she pushes her hips towards them, they stubbornly refuse to move, until the waves dissipate.

  She sags against him, frustrated, and he slowly pushes his finger into her.

  ‘Wet, hot and tight,’ he says. She looks at his large hand; the thick, masculine wrist peppered with silky hair.

  Again that longing to be filled, not with one finger, but with the magnificently thick, long shaft inside his trousers.

  She bites her lip to stop herself from crying out, ‘Fuck me.’

  ‘Kiss me,’ he orders.

  She twists her neck around and gives him her mouth.

  His tongue enters it. She sucks greedily. A finger becomes two and increases speed. Just as she is beginning to enjoy the rhythm the fingers are withdrawing, slipping and sliding around the lips. He takes his mouth away. His other hand leaves her waist and cups her chin and makes it face the mirror. She stares at herself in shock. At his big hands moving and the glistening redness of her engorged sex—it is as if it is alive. A shameless greedy creature. And suddenly she is coming. Hard. She feels herself losing balance and his hand like a vice around her waist. She leans her head back against his chest for a moment.

  ‘Hold onto the chair,’ he says, and bends her over. He puts a hand on her back at waist level and pushes down, so her hips are angled, her sex is more exposed. She hears his zip and the soft sound of his trousers dropping. Putting his palm on either side of her face he turns her head and makes her watch what he is doing to her.

  ‘I want you to watch me fucking you.’

  With wild eyes she looks at the image their bodies make as he grabs her by the hips and his proud cock disappears inside her.

  ‘Now, let me hear your cries. Purr for me, Lana,’ he commands and rams ferociously into her willing, dripping wetness.

  She cries out with the sensations. The fullness, the depths that he has gone into.

  It is surprisingly painful, but such is her need to have him inside that she welcomes the pain and pushes against him to take more of him. So he goes even deeper, until his thick shaft is buried all the way to the root. One hand falls on her back, pushing her into the armchair, while the other grasps her shoulder. The solid armchair rocks with his thrusts. Then the animal in him takes over. With bestial urgency he drives into her. Harder and faster. Grinding her against him. At that moment she is utterly possessed by the man. His to do anything with.

  As he slams into her she realizes that the palm of his hand that is pressed against her pubic bone is bringing forth different sensations. The rubbing is causing her to come again. It is explosive this time, makes her body convulse uncontrollably and lasts, even through his last urgent thrusts and his groan of release.

  She feels his body slacken against hers. With both his arms around her waist he straightens her, and holds her close to him while he is still inside. She looks at him in the mirror and finds his eyes unreadable. He withdraws out of her and goes into the bathroom.

  She looks in the mirror. Without him in the mirror she seems alone and abandoned. On trembling legs she moves to hide her nakedness inside the bathrobe.

  Nineteen

>   ana is so anxious she forgets to warn him of her Lmother’s wasted appearance. It is only when her mother opens the door in her best blue dress, a new blue scarf, and smiling through freshly applied lipstick that she remembers. But when she looks up at Blake he is smiling and suave. He hands her mother the bouquet of flowers he has brought for her and steps through the door into their poor home.

  ‘Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Bloom. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you.’

  ‘Nice to meet you too, Mr. Barrington.’

  ‘Please, you must call me Blake.’

  ‘And you must call me Nys.’

  ‘Nys? Ah…French.’

  ‘Yes, not many people know that. My mother loved the sound of it.’

  ‘I agree with her. A pretty name it is.’

  ‘Come in, come in,’ Lana’s mother says.

  Blake takes Lana’s hand. She is surprised at how casually he does it. As if he has done it many times before.

  Her mother has decorated the table with fresh flowers and candles. The door to the small balcony is open and the sound of children swearing floats up. Her mother closes the door and puts on some music instead.

  ‘Something smells very good,’ Blake says.

  Her mother glows with pleasure. It is obvious she is taken with Blake. ‘Oh, it’s just chicken and rice. A Persian recipe.’

  ‘With fruit.’

  ‘Yes, pomegranates. How did you know?’

  And so the night goes with her mother glowing and charmed and Blake urbane and genteel.

  When the food appears it is delicious, and Blake makes it a point to polish his plate. Occasionally, he looks with adoring eyes at Lana, and other times reaches for her hand, never too obvious, and so real it makes her freeze uncomfortably. Once he even reaches forward and lightly brushes his lips against hers. She blinks. Another time he looks mockingly into her eyes. She turns away in confusion. This Blake she cannot understand or deal with.

  This Blake is dangerous to her well-being. This Blake she will want to keep beyond the three months stipulation.

  Her mother serves a chocolate melt in the middle pudding.

  Again, Blake makes it a point to finish every last drop.

  When her mother offers Blake a strong, Middle Eastern coffee, he immediately accepts.

  There is only one uncomfortable moment in the evening when her mother turns to Blake and asks, ‘Have you ever done anything that you wish you could go back and undo? Something you regret?’