by Geneva Lee
“Belle,” he began, but I held a hand up.
“There’s really nothing left for us to say to one another. I have errands to run.” I walked away, ready to leave Philip behind—and all the baggage that came with him.
“I heard about your new job working for Smith Price,” he called, stopping me in my tracks.
“It’s going well.” I shrugged as I turned back. So this was what we were reduced to—small talk about jobs. What was next? The weather? For the first time, I realized just how little we’d had to say to each other over the years. Maybe it was meeting Smith, but now I saw Philip for the bore he was. I’d spent the last few months believing he deserved a bitch like Pepper Lockwood. Now I realized she was getting hers as well. She had to put up with him for eternity.
“He represents a lot of bad people,” Philip warned me.
Philip hated Alexander as well. In fact, he condescended to most people he knew, including me. But coming out of the woodwork to lecture me about my boss was the final straw.
“Don’t you dare!” I exploded. “Don’t come around here and pretend like you have something of value to add to my life. Your opinion no longer matters. It never should have in the first place.”
Philip took a step closer to me, and the knot in my stomach tightened. “I care about you, Belle. I still love you. When I heard you were working for him, I had to say something.”
“You lost the right to say anything when you cheated on me. And don’t talk about loving me. You don’t lie to the people you love.” It wasn’t an accusation. It was the truth, and we both knew it.
“Do you think he’s being honest with you?” he probed. “Has he told you the crimes his clients commit? Who he’s in bed with?”
I blushed scarlet at his choice of words, and Philip fell silent.
“I see,” he said after a long moment. “You’re in bed with him.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“He helps murderers go free, Belle. His father was involved in organized crime. I’m sure he hasn’t told you what happened to him.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. His father was dead. I hadn’t asked for details. Maybe I should have. “He isn’t the only person with a dead father. That doesn’t make him a criminal.”
“Some people can have terrible fathers and come out unscathed. Smith Price isn’t one of those people.” His voice was low with warning, but all I could hear was the word terrible.
“My father wasn’t a bad man.” My lip began to quiver. Despite everything Philip had put me through, he had never once intuited that he judged my dad. Now I knew otherwise. “No wonder you decided to trade up. I guess you do care about who you’re linked to. I would have thought you had better taste than Pepper.”
“It’s more complicated than that, Belle. I was trying to end things with Pepper. You were the one I wanted to be with, and I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you.”
The excuses began to flow. I’d unleashed a flood of apologies that I didn’t need or want.
“And now you’re engaged to her,” I reminded him.
“She told me she was pregnant,” he said flatly.
“Then I guess more congratulations are in order.” Acid rose in my throat, and I fought the overwhelming urge to vomit. At least he was close enough I could do it on him.
“She’s not,” he continued. “She’s trying to trap me.”
“Oh c’mon, Pip.” I purposefully used the childhood nickname he hated, savoring how it felt on my tongue. “One blonde or the other. What’s it to you as long as someone’s willing to hang off your arm and pretend you’re interesting?”
“I deserve that. But I know which blonde I want on my arm. I meant it when I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me. I don’t care about your father or what happened in the past. We can get through anything now.” He moved so close to me that I could smell the familiar scent of his aftershave.
“Why are you here? Because if you think I’m going to fall into your arms, I’d suggest you walk away before I cut off your balls.”
“You weren’t innocent either. I knew about Jonathan, and I didn’t say anything. It really doesn’t matter to me,” he added quickly.
“It matters to me!” I cried. “I don’t want a husband who’s always looking for someone more spectacular.”
“There’s no one more spectacular than you,” he said in a solemn tone, and then before I could process what was happening, I was in his arms. His lips sought mine, making contact. For a split second I melted into his familiar embrace. But almost instantly, my body rebelled, rejecting his touch. I realized I didn’t belong to him anymore before I managed to push him away.
“When I said it was over. I meant it. I’ve never done second chances.” I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth, smearing lipstick across it.
“That’s no way to live life,” he advised. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to give someone a second chance.”
“Later then, because that second chance will never be wasted on you.” I spat the words. “I could have wasted my life with you in a loveless marriage in exchange for money and mediocre orgasms. You know what I realized since we’ve been apart? I never loved you. I loved the idea of a husband. I’ll never make that mistake again. Life is too short to waste it on people who don’t even know you.”
“I know you,” he pressed. “I know you like milk and two sugars in your tea. I know you prefer Kate-style Louboutins and that you secretly wanted to major in fashion but your mother wouldn’t let you.”
“That’s not knowing me. When I have a nightmare, what is it about? What song instantly makes me happy? If I could have dinner with one person, who would it be? Answer those questions,” I challenged him. When he didn’t respond, I continued, “You can’t because you don’t know me at all. You want someone that never existed. That girl—that façade—is gone.”
“You were never a façade with me.”
“That you didn’t even realize it proves my point.” I shouldered my purse, shaking my head. “Have a nice life, Philip.”
“Who was it?” he asked before I could go. “The person you would have dinner with. Do you even know?”
I knew exactly who it would be, but Philip didn’t deserve an answer. He didn’t deserve anything from me, especially not my time. I walked away, leaving him with the memory of a girl he used to know and nothing more.
My flat seemed deserted when I finally made it there with a pile of dry cleaning and my mail. Considering how much time I’d spent away from home between Smith and the baby, I’d half-expected to discover Aunt Jane had brought home a new lover. Her soft spot for artists and musicians meant that more often than not we had someone staying on our couch.
Jane stumbled into the kitchen with a sleep mask perched on her forehead. “Look what the cat dragged home!”
“I’ve been at the hospital with Clara and the baby.”
“How is she doing?” Jane asked, her forehead wrinkling in concern.
“She’s well. Alexander is over the moon, even if he’s trying to act like a tough guy. They headed home this morning, so I’m back to work.” I gave Jane a brief squeeze before I headed into my room. Tonight was an important date on two counts. Firstly, I had to find an appropriate dress to wear. Smith was potentially about to piss off one of his biggest clients, simply to prove I’d been wrong about the dynamic between him and Hammond.
“And getting laid,” Jane guessed, following me into my bedroom.
“And that,” I admitted.
Jane dropped onto my bed. “How are things going with your new conquest?”
My aunt had always had a way with words. “Conquest? I thought the woman was the conquest.”
“Not Stuart women,” she said, her mouth twisting into a wry smile. “Girls like us don’t wait around to be caught. We take charge. We write the rules to the game.”
“Maybe so.” I didn’t feel that way about Smith. He was definitely conquering me, but I hadn
’t exactly been easy prey. “To be honest, I’m not really certain who is capturing who anymore.”
“When it comes to love, that’s the best way to play it.” Jane winked.
Sheepishly, I grabbed my leopard weekender and began to toss a few must-haves in it. My favorite face cream, a new toothbrush and razor. I hesitated when I opened my underwear drawer. If Smith had been serious earlier, I ran the risk of him destroying all my frilly, lacy thongs. I threw them in the bag anyway. He could afford to buy me more.
“Going away for the weekend?”
“No, I’ll be here in London.” I zipped the bag shut and shifted my attention to my closet and what to wear this evening. “And I’ll have my mobile on.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your plans.” She laid a hand over my packed bag. “I know you’re pretending to be busy, love. What’s really on your mind?”
I plucked a velvet gown from my closet. “It’s September. Can I wear velvet yet?”
Jane shook her head no, and I hung it back up. I stared at the rack for another five minutes before I realized that the reason that I was seeing no options was because I wasn’t really looking. My head was stuck on Jane’s question. I spun around and pressed myself against the door frame. “Philip came to see me today.”
“I didn’t see that coming,” Jane admitted.
“Neither did I. It wasn’t a welcome visit,” I assured her.
“Good. Don’t be that girl who goes back to a cheater. They never really change.”
“Do you think that’s true?” My thoughts drifted from Philip to what he had said about Smith. I knew he was keeping things from me, but it wasn’t as if he knew my life story yet either. He hadn’t answered my questions about the law he represented or how he had more money than ninety-nine percent of Londoners. I didn’t want to believe what Philip had said, but if it was true, could I live with that? Especially if Jane was right and people didn’t change?
“Oh, people grow up,” she continued thoughtfully, “and where true love is present, there’s always evolution. A good man will grow with you, walk beside you. That’s not to say he’ll be a saint.”
I smiled at that. Sainthood wasn’t one of my requisites for lovers.
“But when a man is out trying on different vaginas, that’s not what happens.”
“Have you ever considered writing a book?” I asked her, sighing as I went back to picking out my evening wear.
“I’m not sure people are interested in what an old woman has to say about love.” She waved off the suggestion. “Particularly one who’s left a string of broken hearts in her wake.”
“I’m interested,” I informed her. “I would be lost without you.”
“In that case, spill. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I just…he’s so…”
“Enough said.” Jane patted me on the shoulder and swept toward the door. “Don’t be scared to give someone a chance because someone’s hurt you before. Just be smart enough to stay away from the ones who have.”
I expected to be a third wheel at dinner, and instead I was a fourth. Hammond smiled coldly as we entered the private dinning room at La Rue. He rose, buttoning his blazer, and waited as Smith pulled out my chair. I took a seat, unfolding my napkin, and pinned a smile to my face. It was harder than expected, given that I was seated across from Georgia Kincaid. She didn’t bother trying to look pleased to see me. Her dark hair was swept to the side, cascading over her shoulder. Her slinky red shift was more revealing than mine. The fitted grey dress I’d chosen revealed only my bare shoulders. It was clear she was a woman who drew power from her sexuality. I wasn’t opposed to using such methods myself, but I had little doubt that my mere presence was statement enough regarding my influence over this situation. Georgia’s eyes flickered to Smith. Their gazes met and something passed between them unspoken. I hadn’t figured out their relationship yet, but I knew I didn’t like it.
“It’s so nice to have you with us, Miss Stuart,” Hammond remarked as he sat back down.
Considering that I’d been present for his phone call with Smith earlier this afternoon, I understood that wasn’t the case. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Hors d’oeuvres arrived along with a selection of white and red wine. I brushed a piece of lint off the linen tablecloth, wondering if the whole evening would consist of us pleasantly lying to each other, or if they’d actually discuss whatever business Hammond wished to speak about with Smith.
A warm hand dropped onto my bare knee. My own found it instinctively. For a brief second, I wondered if that was too much, considering the newness of our relationship. Smith knitted his fingers through mine, our hands clasped under the table. It felt strange and wonderful—and far too promising.
“I assume you’ve had a chance to review the contracts,” Hammond said as he speared escargot onto his fork. He brought the buttery morsel up to his mouth and left it hovering there.
Smith nodded as he set his wineglass down. “I have. It seems things are in order. Are there specifics that concern you?”
“There are, but I suppose they can wait. No reason to mix business and pleasure.” His teeth clicked against the tines of the fork as he sucked the snail off it.
“I was under the impression this was a business dinner,” I said in a soft but unwavering voice. I wasn’t interested in double entendres this evening. He had wanted to see Smith for a reason.
“I would never dream of discussing something so boring in the presence of a lady,” Hammond responded.
My eyes flashed to Georgia, but she seemed nonplussed by his use of the singular. In the few times I had met her, lady hadn’t been a descriptor I’d applied to her. Still, it was another none-too-subtle reminder of my unwanted presence.
“Don’t worry.” I shrugged, tapping my fingers on the stem of my glass. “I’m certain it will go over my head. I’m not a lawyer.”
Just a woman. I kept that thought to myself.
Hammond tilted his head as if to say well-played. He turned his attention back to Smith. “There are certain exclusions I want to see drawn in before I’ll sign the papers. My control over my shares needs to be airtight.”
“Understood,” Smith said.
This was what he needed to talk to Smith about alone? From the way Hammond had spoken on the phone, I’d expected something much worse. Considering his attitude toward my arrival, I’d imagined he needed help covering up a murder.
“There’s also the issue of the nondisclosure clause,” Georgia added.
Apparently she was more than a pretty face. That didn’t surprise me one bit. Everything about her rubbed me the wrong way. I could tell she wasn’t someone to underestimate.
“It’s been dealt with,” Smith said in a clipped tone. “The final documents should be ready by Monday.”
Hammond shook his head slowly. “I want them by tomorrow.”
“That’s simply not possible.” Smith leaned back in his chair, withdrawing his hand from my grasp so that he could cross his arms behind his head. “I won’t be available this weekend.”
“I pay you to be available at all times.” Hammond leaned forward, placing his palms on the tabletop.
“I will be available for emergencies, of course. But I doubt a simple realty deal qualifies as an emergency.”
The atmosphere in the room crackled with testosterone as the two men stared at one another. Neither looked prepared to back down.
“Boys, let’s not be combative,” Georgia suggested in a sugary voice. It was enough to make me nauseous.
But I took a cue from her. “I’ll have Doris pencil in the changes for your review and fax them over. I assume you have no issue sending them to my email if they’re simple contracts.”
Every head at the table swiveled toward me. Georgia’s expression had changed from practised disinterest to decidedly intrigued, whereas Hammond looked constipated. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Smith. There had been a clear line in the sand, and I had
crossed it.
“My job is to make Smith’s life easier. I’m certain we can find a solution that doesn’t infringe on his personal time.” I drew my mobile out of my purse and waited to see if Hammond would call my bluff.
“A lawyer doesn’t have personal time, Miss Stuart.” Hammond laughed as he spoke, but I knew it wasn’t a joke. His dark eyes glittered with unrepressed malice. This was a warning.
“I can place a call to Richard. He should be able to review simple changes over the weekend,” Smith offered. “If you don’t mind someone else executing the contract.”
Hammond’s jaw tensed, and he took a moment before he spoke. “I suppose Monday will be acceptable.”
“Excellent.” Smith shifted in his seat and grabbed his fork. “Did you order the duck?”
Nothing had really been discussed. No important or confidential information exchanged, but still my pulse had rocketed into a frenzy. Pushing back my chair, I excused myself to the powder room. Smith glanced up at me but didn’t move.
“I’ll go with you.” Georgia stood to join me. “Us girls should stick together.”
Somehow having her with me didn’t seem like it would be strength in numbers. I smiled graciously and paused for her to join me. I gripped my clutch tightly as we walked silently to the loo. Inside I ducked into a stall and sank down onto the toilet. I didn’t have to go. I’d only come here to collect myself and sort through what had just happened.
“How long have you worked for Smith?” Georgia called through the door.
“Not long.” Short answers seemed to be the best course. Giving up on my quiet time, I stood and flushed before joining her at the vanity.
“You appear to have a handle on him,” she continued as she reapplied her lipstick in slow, precise strokes.
“Not even a little.” Maybe a little casual girl talk would smooth the path between us. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and began checking my own makeup. “He’s difficult to read.”
“He is,” she allowed. Spinning around, she settled against the marble counter and glared at me. “And how long have you been fucking him?”