by Annie Dyer
I thought of the previous night and how I'd had her tied up and blindfolded, taking her to the edge of orgasm and not allowing her over. Eventually, I had, and she'd come so hard she'd cried. Nowhere near as kinky as it could be, but certainly not vanilla. "Girlfriend then. I think that covers it."
"I'll take that," she said, moving her feet down and running one shoe up and down my leg. "And I'll take the rest of your cake too."
I passed it to her, knowing at that moment I was well and truly owned.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chapter Seventeen
Vanessa
The restaurant was busy enough to make the table where I was sitting private; no one would be interested in looking over or trying to listen to the conversation that could become heated. No one knew I was here, apart from Simone, no one knew I had agreed to meet him, because no one would've supported my decision to do this. But I needed to. I needed closure. I'd spent most nights with Jackson, my clothes and toiletries making their way over to his house and it was time, it seemed, to close the door on the past and move solidly forward. This was the only way to do it.
Simone brought a mini tasting menu over, smiling gently. She was aware I was meeting Richard and hadn't tried to talk me out of it. I now knew something of her past: a husband who was serving time in prison for attempted murder and a second failed marriage that ended on bad terms initially, but he'd since become a sleeping partner, showing support after the fact and conducting business through his lawyer. I didn't have such hopes for Richard, in fact, my hope was that after this I wouldn't hear from him again.
The food tasted delicious, when I thought about what I was eating. Simone outdid herself continually, although I was biased. The reviews she'd had from the critics had been phenomenal, good enough for her to be pleased with them, and good enough for the restaurant to be fully booked through until October. If I didn't concentrate on the small mouthfuls I took, it tasted like cardboard. I was preoccupied with my past and I need to bang the door shut and bolt it.
We'd agreed on a price for Cole Henderson. Seph had told me that Richard's father had been instrumental in ensuring Richard sold to me and didn't play games by suggesting that he buy me out instead. I was pretty sure that Richard didn't have the available cash to buy me out, as his father had always controlled his trust fund, although, in the past, he'd been free and easy with it, not thinking much about affording a new car or expensive golfing holiday with his old school chums. I'd occasionally benefited from some of Richard's wealth: jewelry, a couple of holidays abroad, meals out. But I'd generally paid my own way and when I'd left, all the jewellery he'd bought me remained in the apartment. I didn't want it to be used as golden mud to fling at me.
I was on my second large glass of wine and was nibbling at a tiny morsel of cake when Richard arrived, predictably late, although only by a few minutes. He'd always liked to make a grand entrance and have all eyes on him. A bit like a prom queen.
Instead of standing, I gestured to the chair opposite. The manners of well-to-do-society that I had learned quickly from mixing with Richard's parents and peers were used when it was advantageous for me to do so, but right now he could speak to me on my level, a level he detested stooping to. "Hi," I said, knowing if I told him that it was good to see him, I'd be lying.
"Vanessa," he said, sitting down. "I don't have long. I'm meeting my father at the club at nine."
I nodded. That was good. He looked tired, slightly overweight and his complexion was becoming ruddy, probably with the alcohol he drank. I was appalled for having a relationship with this man, but I tried to be kind to myself. There was a multitude of reasons I slept with him and became his partner and I had learned a lot with the benefit of being able to run the business with the safety net of his father's deep pockets, not that I'd needed it. "That's fine. I wanted to meet one last time just to clear the air between us."
He nodded. "You were never one to part on bad terms. I remember that horrific New Year's Eve ball at Montgomery's where his cousin or someone was so spiteful to you and were so pleasant to her later when she was spewing up in the bathroom. Anyone else would've let her choke on her own vomit."
Surprise that he remembered hit me, but he hadn't always been Richard the dick: not at first. "How are you?" I asked. "Really?"
He laughed, a note of bitterness hanging in the air. "Honestly? You care?"
"We spent six years living together. I'd be a complete bitch if I didn't."
He looked away, not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry I was such a cunt the other night here," he said. "I had no right to sabotage what you've done with the business. I was jealous because you were so good at all the marketing crap and I was pretty much a sleeping partner."
I sat back, unable to believe his words. "I'm not arguing with you, Richard. It did feel as if it was all me."
"You know I didn't pass the masters course we were on?"
"What?" I said, dumbstruck. "You said you had; your father had that family dinner for you..."
He shrugged. "He knows now. He found out that you'd been running the business and then, shit, I fucked up. You probably don't want to know."
He was right, I probably didn't, but I'd also probably find out anyway. "Tell me. Because if you don't, someone else will and it won't be anything like the truth," I said, wishing I hadn't started the second glass of wine because it was highly likely to see air again.
"Before I tell you, it's going to make you feel even crappier than you did when you found out I was seeing someone else," he said. He looked like shit, a guilty piece of shit and I braced myself, half knowing what he was going to say.
"We're over, Richard. We've formally agreed on terms on the apartment and business. What you've done is in the past. I'm not going to go postal on you now for something else that you did. Just let me have that painting I really liked that's in the spare bedroom." I didn't actually want it, but Sophie did. She had a thing for collecting an object from each of her exes and had spied that picture when she stayed over once.
"I was seeing someone before we broke up. She told me she was pregnant but I didn't believe her, I thought she was just after money. A few months after you left, she came back with the baby and asked for a DNA test. I refused, so she went to my father. You can imagine the rest," he said, pulling at the skin around his nails.
"Was it yours?" I found I truly didn't care. I'd never contemplated kids with Richard, it had been all about the business. Now, with more responsibility than ever before, I'd found myself wanting more than just my job: I loved being with Jackson and his family, I was spending quality time with Sophie, usually based around champagne, shopping, and manicures and I was socialising with my future business partners and team, making us feel like a unit. And I kept thinking about Jackson picking up Tommy's children and how good he'd looked and how loudly my ovaries had started singing. I hadn't been with the right man; I hadn't loved him; he'd just been a way forward. I hadn't loved Richard. Did that mean I loved Jackson? The thought caught my breath like a butterfly in a net.
Richard shook his head. "No. It could've been and my father knew that. Life went to shit a bit after that."
"Do you want a glass of wine?" I asked, not sure quite what else to say. I wasn't sorry, because he'd brought it on himself.
"No. I'm officially sober." He pushed his chair backward, away from me. "You're happy with how the agreement's turned out?"
"Yes," I said. "You know Alice, Sally, and Josh are buying in?" He'd find out sooner or later, so again, it was best he heard it from the horse's mouth.
"No, but it makes sense. You've built a good team. Really, I'm proud of you. You deserve it and I would've been a bigger bastard than I've been already if I'd fought you for it. Is there anything besides the picture you want from the apartment? You furnished it, I seem to remember."
I sipped the wine, now needing it to stop myself from fainting in shock. Richard was proud of me? "Why don't you see what you don't want to keep. I'm sure you need to ref
urnish it yourself for a new start. You don't want to be reminded of me when you look round and I'm sure your new girlfriend would rather have it her way."
His eyes said it all, shifting away from me, unable to meet mine. "I'll text you the photos of the things I don't want. Yes, she would like to get an interior decorator in soon. She's glad I'm buying you out of the apartment. Have a think. Anything you want, let me know. I've been enough of an idiot. I want to blame it on the drink as it's become a bit of a problem, but there might be more to it than that." He stood up, clearly intending to leave. This had been as painful for him as it had been for me. "Is there anything else you want, Vanessa."
I shook my head, standing too. "I wish you all the best, Richard and I hope you find what you really want."
The smile he conjured was weak and regretful. "You know what was the saddest? I wish the baby had been mine. At least something they would have belonged to me."
His words knifed me. I felt a wrench of sadness for him and an avalanche of guilt as I had never been able to give him what he needed: an identity as something other than his father's son. Logic told me that there was no guilt needed; we weren't right together and both of us took something that we needed from it during the course of those years, then found the rest in other things. "Maybe you'll get that from your current relationship," I offered, knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear, knowing that some part of him probably still wanted me to offer myself to him on a platter.
"Maybe. I hope you'll be happy with the business and whatever apartment you get yourself, Nessa. I'll keep watching for how you're doing and I'll take some pride in knowing that at least I got you started and up the first few rungs of the ladder. Remember – it's who you know that keeps doors open." He leaned across and patted my cheek with his fingertips, a gesture I had once found affectionate but now found it patronizing, just like his comments.
I nodded and watched him leave, sipping on the rest of my wine.
"Here, have another," Simone snuck up behind me, holding two glasses. She took Richard's seat. "That went better than I expected..." Then she stopped talking as my tears started. "What the fuck, Van? What did he say? Do I need to call the police? Jackson?"
I shook my head, covering my face with my hands. "No. I'm just. Just..." I didn't know, there were no words.
"Relieved you can finish grieving? Feeling guilty because on some level you failed? Analysing what he did do for you and wondering if you used him? Been there with all of that and have it tattooed on me somewhere, never mind the fucking t-shirt," she said, then took a long mouthful of wine.
I rubbed at my eyes, seeing mascara streaking my hands. I knew I looked a wet mess of tears and make-up. "All of that. He was nice, I felt sorry for him..."
"Don't." Her eyes blazed. "Don't feel sorry for him. He can more than do that for himself. It's over. He's out of your life and you've just said a final goodbye. That's why you're sad and you'll be a bit scared because you've got nothing holding you back now, which can feel like diving off a cliff with a parachute you haven't checked."
"I'll be checking it. At least twice. Then Alice will give it the once over too." The beautifully pressed cotton napkin was now being used to wipe my face. All the airs and polite manners that spending years in Richard's circle were now wiped out. "He said he helped get me up the first few rungs of the ladder – that he opened doors for me." This was what hurt the most, the notion that maybe I did owe him that. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be about to become the majority shareholder in my own firm.
She shook her head. "You got there yourself. Yes, you had a bit of luck because an opportunity was presented to you, but you took it and made it work and that wasn't luck – it was talent and hard fucking work. I couldn't have opened my first restaurant without the sleeping partner, but he would've had nothing to invest in if it wasn't for my vision and skill. Fuck him, Van. Celebrate what you've achieved for once."
I grabbed her hand across the table and squeezed. "Thank you, Simone. You've been a rock. Even though it was you hiring me."
Simone tapped my fingers. "It's all been a pleasure, and like I've said, there's always a table for you and that rather delicious man you're keeping company with. Where is he tonight?"
"Poker night with his brothers. I'm staying at Sophie's tonight. We're being beautified at one of her spas on Thursday evening. If you can grab an hour or two away, you should join us."
"Pending no one calling in sick or my chef throwing a strop, I'll take you up on that. Text me the details and I'll let you know tomorrow lunchtime." She picked up her glass and held it out to toast me. "Kitchen calls, but here's to the next phase in your life, ma Cherie Vanessa. Now, why don't you surprise your man? I'm sure he won't mind you lying naked in his bed while he tries to concentrate on poker."
"I might just do that." And all of a sudden, like being hit by a sudden virus, I wanted Jackson, craved the feeling of him being near me, next to me. I wanted the comfort he could give me and the way he made me fly.
Simone headed off into chef-land and I took my phone from my bag.
Me: How's poker?
I didn't expect him to reply quickly, especially if he was in the middle of a game, but the dots appeared on my screen, indicating a response was being written.
Jackson: I'm out. Seph and Killian are battling it out and it's getting sweary. I think Seph will be in late tomorrow given how much whiskey he's put away.
Me: Is he okay though?
I knew Jackson was worried still about Seph, although he'd been better since Payton had been back. He'd struggled at the funeral for Amelie's father last Friday and had gone home alone, locking himself away for more than a day. I hadn't attended the funeral; I sent Amelie flowers after, pretty peonies and hydrangeas, but it hadn't seemed appropriate given the length of time I'd know her.
Jackson: He's in good spirits, probably because of the good spirit in him. My most expensive Scotch. How are you? I miss your perfume.
Me: I'm okay. It's been a weird evening. Just my perfume?
Jackson: I'm used to it wafting through the house. Why's it been weird?
Vanessa: I met Richard. It was okay, he wasn't a dick, which was weird in itself. It'll be the last time I see him.
I saw the dots for a good couple of minutes, then they stopped. Shit, I should've told him I was meeting Richard and why, but it hadn't felt necessary, we hadn't been seeing each other that long and I was so used to making every damn decision by myself.
Vanessa: Simone was here. We met in her restaurant. I'm sorry I didn't mention it.
My phone rang as I pressed send, Jackson's name flashing up on the screen with a photo of his flexed bicep that he had taken himself and set as his picture. I answered straight away, my stomach in my mouth and tasking of wine again. "Hi."
"What the fuck, Van? Why didn't you tell me? You should've let me be there, hide in Simone's cleaning cupboard or something in case he was a fuckwit like last time? Why didn't you say anything? I would have canceled tonight, or left them to it. I don't get it. Why not tell me? I wouldn't have told you not to do it, if that was what you wanted, but don't lock me out." He was angry. I'd heard him like this before plenty of times, at work when he was frustrated with someone's work or a client or the coffee machine and right now, I got why he was angry with me. I'd hurt him.
Tears flooded my cheeks for the second time that night and I was thankful no one the other diners could see me. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm used to doing things on my own and I didn't want anyone to tell me it was a bad idea. I just needed closure."
Jackson was quiet. I heard a cheer in the background that sounded like Seph. "I get that, Van. I just – fuck. I've made you cry. Now I feel like the biggest fucking shit there is."
I choked a laugh. "You're not the biggest fucking shit, trust me."
"Are you okay? Was he alright with you? Do I need to kill him?" I heard something in his words that I couldn't explain, a need for something maybe.
; "He was pleasant. Apologetic. I could've felt sorry for him but I chose not to. Aside from sending me a few bits from the apartment, I doubt I'll hear from him again." I used the napkin to wipe my eyes again. My eye make-up was well and truly inspiring for a teen's Halloween get up.
"Come over," he said. There was no question, just a command. "I need to see that you're okay."
"I look a mess."
"I don't care. I'll still find you beautiful. This lot will be gone in less than two minutes."
"Jackson, you can't just throw them out because I'm coming over."
He sighed. "You're far nicer than me. I'll keep Seph here as he can't find his ass at the moment, let alone his way home. Max and Killian won't stay long, they've other shit to do. Get a cab. Text Sophie you're staying with me."
"I'll be there in twenty. Thank you."
"What the fuck are you thanking me for?" he said, sounding angry again.
I laughed, less tearful this time. "I don't know. Just let me say it."
He grumbled something unintelligible. "Take a picture of the plate on the cab and text it me before you get in."
We hung up, although something felt distinctively left unsaid at the end of the conversation.
***
I could hear Seph singing when Jackson let me in. Jackson was scowling, his hair mussed from his hand having pulled through it too many times.
"Welcome to the land of drunken Seph," Jackson said, glowering. "What's even more irritating is that tomorrow he'll be up with the birds, in a really good mood and no sign of the hangover he should be suffering."
"Hi, Vanessa!" Seph said, peering down the stairs at me. "Didn't know you were staying tonight? Try and keep it down, won't you? Some of us need our beauty sleep."
"Why don't you go and start that beauty sleep now?" Jackson said. "I'm more than happy to help you by hitting you over the head with something hard."