“Of course I do.”
“No question?”
“No question. He had to be in love with her, he just confused it with the animosity she brought out in him, because she was changing him and he didn’t like it.”
“Well, he suddenly stopped his nightly threesomes.”
Shaking my head, I blew out a deep breath, no longer having the fight to crack the rest of the pecan pie. Pushing it away from me, I caught the waitress’s eye and she headed for the bar to get our coffees.
“He never told me about any of that.”
“He slept with over 500 women at least.”
It really hurt to hear that and I bit my lip to stop my chin wobbling.
“I’m sorry, Ciara.”
“It’s not the number, it’s that he told me nothing. I know nothing about him and he knows nothing about me.”
“He knew one thing about you,” Edward said, assured, “he knew you were headstrong and clever and could look after yourself.”
“So why did he box me in?”
“Because of his anxiety,” Edward explained, “because while you were caged, you were one less thing for him to worry about slipping through his fingers. The job he did was extraordinary. I’ve heard tales from third parties, you know? Tales of breaking news stories being replaced at the last minute and whole print runs being burnt because he brought it all crashing down, single-handedly. His mind works in a way many people can’t understand. He needs a constant flow of information going in and out of him, to block out his own feelings. He can’t deal like other people can deal.”
“So what do you think he is? A sociopath? A psycho? A… what? What do you think?”
“I think he’s undiagnosed autistic, Ciara. Daltrey used to be the only one who knew how to calm him down. Daltrey’d known him his entire life, so maybe it just seemed like Dante being Dante, and he got used to how to deal with Dante. He got kicked out for his behaviour, one school after another. But then he still got amazing marks in exams. They just weren’t teaching him in a way he responded to so Daltrey taught him at home in a calmer environment. I don’t think you realise just how close they were. Daltrey understood his brother in a way none of us ever will. Daltrey was always there for him, from the day he was born.”
“But aren’t we all a little bit autistic, or so I read?”
Our coffee arrived and I was eager to sip it, so I could understand everything Edward was trying to tell me.
“Obsessive behaviours, check?”
“Yes.”
“A desperate need for order, check?”
“Yes. Oh yes.”
“Zoning out, into his own head?”
“I suppose. A lot of the time it was just him, being quiet.”
“See. And what about… lack of empathy. Violence. Frustration.”
“Like Asperger’s?”
“High-functioning autism, perhaps. I don’t know. I only know his mother was always high and his father always in someone other than his wife. Maybe they never noticed he was different. It would explain his anxiety anyway.”
“How do you know all this?”
“In my work, I’ve read studies on the correlation between high-functioning autism and criminality. Some of my colleagues have argued cases based on a diagnosis.”
“Have you ever said anything to him?”
“Well, we were out of touch for ten years until recently Ciara. I wouldn’t have thought of this if I hadn’t heard about it from colleagues in recent years… but it seems to sort of explain him, right? To some extent anyway.”
“He never seemed to understand that the way he kept me locked up was bad for me, and he still doesn’t see that everything he is, isn’t normal. To him it’s all perfectly sensible, living the way he does.”
“Lack of empathy, switching off his ears to your cries for help.”
“He didn’t even make sexual advances on me! I was the one, you know… we didn’t have sex for the first six years.”
He squinted. “Six years? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Low serotonin levels, Ciara. Low sex drive.”
“But he came? He came loads of times?”
“But did he? Or did he mimic the orgasm?”
“I’m sure he made it and I’m also sure that when we were in Paris, he was more normal. Like in London he was this creature, but there – in a different place – he could be someone else.”
“He employed you as his domme so you would give him pain and create endorphins, giving him a high replacing other things he used to have. Like sex, like drink and drugs.”
I hated the word… but I couldn’t help feeling used. Why? Because I got very little out of the exchange for myself.
“I’m frightened for him,” I said, trying to hide my sadness.
“Me too, but I am afraid if we push him, he will snap. Maybe he just needs time.”
“No,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I’m frightened he might hurt himself one day. I don’t know.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on how much pain he asked of me.”
“How much?” His expression became serious.
“Almost everyday for six years, he asked me to spank him, sometimes over old marks. He asked for blood eventually.”
“Ciara…”
I heard him saying words, but I didn’t hear any meaning. I switched off, focusing on my breathing – on not crying.
Edward paid the bill even though I’d wanted to and then I was suddenly outside, being directed back to his Lexus.
Inside his car, I whispered, “I hate myself.”
“You shouldn’t; you are the only thing that kept him alive.”
“I am so tired of hurting. So tired.”
“Let’s get you home.”
As he drove me back, all I could think was that science might have had an explanation for Dante’s behaviour, perhaps, but for everything I was feeling – there would never be a cure. It was Hell loving him. Even now.
He pulled up outside the doors of Pernox, the lights almost nearly all out, everyone in bed. He turned off the engine and we sat in silence for a minute or two.
“Will you help me sell the house, then?”
“Of course. I know a good estate agent.”
“Good. There’s only one thing. I don’t want to have to go back there. I can’t.”
“If you give me a key, I’ll organise it all for you.”
I dug in my pocket, pulling out a key for that house. “This one for the front, the other for the back,” I said, showing him the difference between the two.
“No problem.”
I put my hand on the door handle, ready to leave, when something compelled me to turn back to him.
I put my arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Stay in touch. You’re welcome to visit anytime. You don’t have to book.”
He tightened his arms around me. “I’ll see you soon then.”
I left the car and tried not to skip towards the house. I dared not allow myself to believe that such ease could exist between two people.
Thirty
AUGUST ARRIVED AND WITH IT, news the house had sold. It went through extraordinarily quick, given the buyer didn’t need a mortgage and nor was there a mortgage at my end. Plus no chain. With the sale of the Knightsbridge property, I was now a millionaire and also, the paperwork had finally been completed to put Pernox in my possession.
Edward sat smiling at me from the other side of the desk as I signed papers to release the house to its new owners.
“There’s another favour I need to ask you,” I said, with my head down.
“Name it.”
“I still want that horse which means a trip to Ireland.”
“I can help you find one here?”
I looked up at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He chuckled. “Is there some other reason?”
I readily admitted, “Though my mother’s death makes no difference to my current existence
or my emotional health or anything of the sort, I feel I need to go and just be with my sister for a couple of days, just to check she’s okay, you know? It’s been bothering me and I don’t think I can concentrate on anything properly until I do what’s right.”
“You didn’t know, did you? Until recently.”
“No, he was insistent I kept in touch with no-one from my former life. She’s been dead all this time and I didn’t know.”
He almost started shaking his head. “Why do you need me?”
“Security. Don’t ask me why, but I still don’t feel safe. I don’t know who saw me with Dante, you know? I just… it sounds crazy, but I don’t know who he might have crossed over the years. If he still has enemies, I could be a target. Someone might spot me at the airport. I don’t know. They might think they can still get to him through me. I’d merely feel safer if you were with me.”
“Where would we stay?”
“Oh, my sister has holiday lets. We used to have stables until… well, I think Dad got too old. Like I say, I just need to go and get the facts and make sure they’re all okay.”
He nodded. “I’ll come. Do you think they’ll have WiFi?”
“Nope, probably not.”
He shrugged. “Might be for the best.”
“So how about this weekend? Fly Friday evening?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Might mean some begging.”
“You’ll come?”
“Yes, why not.”
I couldn’t read him at all. Was he pleased? Or was he doing the gentlemanly thing, accompanying me? Everything seemed to have changed since we first met at Pernox. He was no longer cocky and I was no longer angry. The roles we had inside of the dungeon were so different to those we had in real life. I was an escapee and he was a man of the law.
I finished signing all the papers and passed him the pile back, all neat and tidy again.
“Edward, do you mind me saying something?”
“Say whatever you want. I’m a grown man, I can take it.”
“You should fight for your family. Don’t give up.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his throat. “There’s a few things about my marriage you don’t know, Ciara.”
“I’ll listen, if you want.”
“Faith and I were friends at university, which was a time of our lives when there were no rules and everyone shagged everyone, you know?”
“You were casual?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “and we stayed friends after we left education and went out into the world. We were always good friends. Over the years, there was the odd meet-up, until we both turned thirty and I told her I needed to get married. I didn’t have the money to buy my own house until I married and got my inheritance.”
“You married for convenience?”
“I told her about Shay. She knew all along. I didn’t spare her the details even though I maybe should’ve done.”
I stared, disapproving.
“Faith wanted to have kids and settle down. She knew she could trust me to be honest.”
“But not always faithful?”
“That’s not… you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He glared, daring me to judge him. “She got the children she wanted, then she no longer wanted me.”
“But you’re gorgeous,” I blurted.
“Ha!” He smarted, shaking his head. “Tell that to the fucker she’s divorcing me to be with.”
I read something in his eyes and said, “I’ve been around stud horses, you know? They always look like they know, like… in their eyes, they know stuff is being stolen and their balls almost recede. It’s… quite sad. That she just used you to get herself a couple of kids?”
He shrugged, trying to pass it off.
“I reckon you’d stay and try to make it work, if she’d let you?”
“I would,” he replied, “but I guess I never gave myself much value, not when the woman I was obsessed with only seemed interested in my best mate.”
“I feel sorry for you, especially now you know you and she never would have worked out.”
“No pity needed. I already pity myself enough.”
What a mess we were.
“You’ll make someone else very happy,” I told him.
“Love doesn’t exist, it can’t do,” he said, sounding slightly angry.
“It does, I know it. The problem is, life often gets in the way. Life and… convention, expectation… getting caught up in what we think people expect of us.”
He looked at me, his brown eyes furiously blazing. “Dante is such a fuck and yet, you still love him, don’t you? I mean for fuck’s sake, he kept you locked up for six years and you reward him, even now with your talk of love! If he walked through the door, tell me you wouldn’t spread your legs and let him have everything you are without a second thought!”
He was almost shouting by the end and I felt more than a little taken aback. Where did this all suddenly come from?
“Hold on a min–”
“I should act the bastard just like him and I’ll be sure then to get women falling at my feet for being a bastard. Right? Shay and you, both of you, blinded by him! Absolutely blind! If you’d seen him back in the day… the way he had two or three a night, you’d wonder how you’re not riddled with STDs after bedding him!”
Without thinking, I saw my own hand swing out in slow motion and I slapped him from across the other side of the desk. I slapped him so hard, the skin went white before it went red, and a tear of shock, or sadness – I wasn’t sure – rested on his lower eyelashes before I rushed from the room in sheer disgust – at both myself and him.
As I was dashing off, he shouted, “You can’t help who you love, Ciara! And sometimes it isn’t the right person… and sometimes it isn’t the person you marry!”
In my attic bedroom, I locked the door and fumed, the proverbial steam-coming-out-of-my-ears type of fuming.
I paced the room and thought about banning him from Pernox for good – or putting a new lawyer on the case. I didn’t need him. I thought about all sorts of scenarios, but I had to deal with what was happening in my life and I had to pay a trip to Ireland. I needed Edward with me if I was going to feel safe.
After calming myself down, I went back down to the office and found him still there, waiting for me.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, standing behind him, “I have a very bad temper. I can’t even blame it on my mother. I’ve always had a temper and sometimes I can’t control it. Dante always used to say it was fine but it wasn’t and it isn’t really fine. I hate when I get so wound up.”
“It doesn’t matter, let’s forget it.”
“Can I get you some ice?”
“I’m not your sub. I don’t need aftercare.”
I almost bit back, but didn’t. He’d changed his tune all of a sudden and I felt damaged by his harsh tone of voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Ciara. I better go,” he said, clearing away all the papers he was carrying into a briefcase.
He left and got down the corridor, but then came back, finding me at my desk, head in my hands.
“Ciara?”
“Yes.” I looked up at him, still with his slap mark.
“I’ll book the flights. Which airport’s best?”
“Cork or Dublin, whichever. Cork’s closest to where we’re going and we can get a hire car when we get there.” I almost cried for joy.
“No problem.” He eyed me warily. “You okay?”
My lip wobbled and I tried to hide it. “Don’t really know.”
“So much has happened in such a short space of time. I really shouldn’t have said what I did. I don’t know what went on between you and Dante. I shouldn’t judge.”
“Here,” I said, “look at this. I kept it… see?”
I still had a picture of the contract Dante had nailed to the wall. I found it on my Cloud and showed Edward, who came to s
it on the edge of the desk next to me. He tutted, shaking his head.
“The first time I ran, I was twenty-one. I got as far as Leicester Square before he got me back. The second time I cut out the tracker he’d put in my arm. Here.” I pulled up my sleeve and showed him the scar. “I got round the corner and into a dustbin, but he found me and dragged me home. I was drunk that night and made him go down on me. It was the first time and looking back, the only logic I have is that when he thought I fancied Roman Sinclair, I realised he was jealous so I knew he actually did desire me. The next day, we made love. It was the first time we made love. It wasn’t my first time but it may as well have been. It was odd… but it got better. He became warmer, more loving. Two months later, his staff was murdered. When I met him, I was young… I was impressionable, I still am. I’m twenty-five, Edward. I’m only twenty-five. Tell me what to do to make him leave my head! Tell me!”
I burst into tears, covering my face, and he shifted forward to take me in his arms.
“I can’t believe he did this to you but we’re going to make it all right, I promise.”
“Yes, okay,” I said, nodding, and buried my face harder into his shirt as I let it all go. “Thanks for being here. I was wrong about you. I was so wrong. You were right about him. I just couldn’t admit it.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and stroked my hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
I wanted to believe him – so much.
***
“WHOA,” I said, and grabbed his hand roughly, which rested on the armrest between us.
As the plane jiggled its way through turbulence, I looked at him in fear. I really should have worn a sports bra for this flight.
“Never gone through turbulence before?”
“I have, on the descent into Vegas, but it wasn’t as bad as that right then.”
The plane must have just dropped a few hundred feet in a matter of seconds and my heart now felt like it was in my socks.
“Have this,” he said, passing me the remains of his Scotch.
I had vowed not to drink for a while, not until I felt strong enough again.
“No thanks,” I said, “I shouldn’t,” and I pulled out my newly purchased Kalms tablets, popping a couple of them.
“Do those actually work?”
The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2) Page 29