For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy

by Clodagh Murphy

  She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there like that when her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it as it vibrated on the bed. It was Peter. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to pick it up. She just sat staring at it numbly until it rang off.

  She had let it ring out three times when there was a rapping at the door.

  ‘Stella?’ She jumped as Rafe called her name. She gulped hard, trying to stem the tears that kept on coming. ‘Just a minute,’ she called, swiping at her eyes. Her voice sounded thick and croaky. She grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it on, desperately trying to pull herself together. But it was no use.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rafe called through the door. She opened it a crack and peered around it.

  ‘Sorry, I was just—’

  ‘Christ!’ She saw the shock on his face, his eyes wide with alarm, and she stared at him helplessly as the tears continued to flow. She was powerless to resist as he pushed the door open fully and strode into the room, not caring that she was only half dressed as he gathered her into his arms. He manoeuvred them over to a chair by the window and sat, pulling her into his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair while she sobbed, clutching onto him fiercely, her head buried in his shoulder.

  Finally she was all cried out, and her sobs subsided. She lifted her head, swiping at her eyes.

  ‘Dad said he was ringing and you weren’t answering,’ Rafe said. ‘He was worried.’

  ‘I should call him,’ she said, looking at her phone where it lay on the bed, but still not stirring.

  ‘I think we should stay here tonight,’ Rafe said. ‘You can have a bath, get room service.’

  Stella nodded. ‘That sounds good.’ She felt limp and washed out, completely drained after her emotional meltdown.

  ‘I’ll talk to Dad if you don’t feel up to it.’

  ‘Thanks. What did you tell him ... about today?’

  ‘Not much, just that you’d had an upsetting day. I didn’t tell him what happened at the church or about your family. And I won’t, if you don’t want me to.’

  ‘It’s okay. Peter knows about them. He knows they’re not part of my life.’

  ‘Well, why don’t I call him, and you go have that bath?’ Rafe said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  Stella nodded and stirred. A bath sounded good, but really she just wanted to stay right where she was, in Rafe’s lap with his arms around her. Reluctantly she pushed herself up, a little shiver running through her as his hand brushed against her bare leg. Their eyes met and held, and Stella stood mesmerised as he held the phone to his ear, the air suddenly feeling charged with electricity.

  ‘Dad,’ Rafe said, his eyes flicking away, and the spell was broken. She grabbed her pyjamas from the bed and made a dive for the bathroom, suddenly filled with adrenaline. She heard Rafe murmuring in the other room as she closed the door behind her and got undressed.

  Shit! What the hell had happened out there? She couldn’t think about Rafe like that. She was marrying his father, for God’s sake!

  A long hot soak in the bath soothed and calmed her, and she felt infinitely better as she got out and towelled herself dry.

  ‘Better?’ Rafe asked when she rejoined him, dressed in her pyjamas. She was glad she’d brought them because she really didn’t fancy getting dressed again. They were light and comfortable, and respectable enough. Rafe was still sitting in the chair by the window, a glass of whiskey on the table beside him.

  ‘Much, thanks. Sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Your father’s funeral maybe, your uncles chasing you out of the church ... take your pick.’

  She smiled, grateful for his understanding. ‘Yeah, I guess it was a long time coming.’ She hadn’t cried at the funeral or when Dan told her their father was dead. She hadn’t cried when her parents threw her out at sixteen. She’d known crying would only have made things worse when the other kids at school had bullied her. Even when she’d split her ear open on the ice, she’d managed to choke down her tears. Her father didn’t like cry-babies. ‘Did you talk to Peter?’

  ‘Yes. He sends his love. Do you want something from the minibar?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’ll have one of those,’ she said, nodding to his drink.

  Rafe poured her a whiskey with ginger ale and handed her the room service menu.

  ‘I’m too tired to be dealing with knives and forks,’ Stella said, looking at it. ‘Fancy sharing a pizza?’

  They ordered pizza and a bottle of red wine, and, when it came, they ate on the floor, leaning against the bed, the pizza between them.

  ‘So, what was that all about at the funeral today? Why are you estranged from your family?’

  ‘So many questions.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But I know so little about you. You’re an enigma.’

  ‘You know more about me now than most people.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘You know my mother’s still alive. You know I have a brother.’

  ‘Tell me something else that most people don’t know.’

  She arched an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t we a bit old for games of truth or dare?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t remember offering you the choice. But if you like.’

  ‘Dare, then.’

  ‘Okay. I dare you to tell me something true.’ He grinned, and she smiled back at him.

  ‘Okay, but no questions. I’ll choose.’ She ran her fingers over her glass, toying with the idea of telling him something completely banal – like that she stole money once from a church collection when she was a kid. That was true, and not many people knew. But instead she took the dare in the spirit it was offered – as a challenge to share something more personal. ‘I was bullied at school,’ she heard herself saying. She took a gulp of her wine. ‘Obviously lots of people knew at the time. But no one who knows me now. I never talk about it anymore.’

  ‘What age were you?’

  ‘Ten, eleven,’ she said. ‘Twelve. Thirteen. It went on for a while. It was worst when I was a teenager.’

  ‘I guess girls that age can be pretty vicious. It was probably jealousy.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘It wasn’t girls, though.’ She grabbed another slice of pizza.

  Rafe raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘You were bullied by boys?’

  She took a bite and nodded.

  ‘As a former teenage boy, I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Well, it’s true.’

  ‘Did this bullying take the form of sexual harassment?’

  ‘No. Just straight-up old-fashioned bullying. Teasing me. Being cruel. Generally making my life a misery. Believe me, it wasn’t about wanting to get with me,’ she said with a bitter laugh.

  ‘Teasing you about what?’

  ‘The clothes I wore. The way I looked. The things I liked to do.’ She shrugged. ‘Everything really. My hair. My face. My body.’

  Rafe threw her a sceptical look.

  ‘I didn’t always look like this, you know. I’ve had some work done.’

  It was fleeting, but she saw Rafe’s eyes flicker over her breasts.

  ‘My teeth were terrible,’ she said and he laughed. That was true, but it was still an evasion. It seemed her confessional moment was over, the juiciest revelations still left unspoken.

  ‘But I saw that picture of you. You were really pretty.’

  ‘Still not pretty enough. And only after an awful lot of effort. My make-up was trowelled on in that photo.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rafe said quietly. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said. But she had to blink back tears, touched by his concern.

  ‘Tell me something else.’

  She swallowed her last bite of pizza and lay her head back against the bed, thinking. ‘How about I show you something?’ She pulled her pyjama top and bottoms apart a little, revealing the small silver sca
r low on her stomach.

  Rafe frowned, reaching out a finger as if he was going to touch it. But he didn’t. ‘What happened?’ he asked, his hand hovering over the scar, tracing it in the air.

  ‘My ex-boyfriend stabbed me,’ she said, dropping her hands so it was covered again.

  ‘Jesus!’ Rafe reared back, eyes wide with shock.

  ‘Well, he tried to.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘He didn’t do a very good job of it. It’s kind of a funny story, actually.’

  ‘Sounds hilarious,’ Rafe said dryly.

  ‘He barely cut me really. Turned out he wasn’t suited to a life of knife crime.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Rafe breathed.

  ‘I’d just broken up with him, and he was very angry about it.’ She frowned, remembering. ‘Turned out he thought all along he was doing me a favour and I was really lucky he could be with a freak like me. He didn’t think I’d ever leave him, because who else would have me. So he was furious when I broke up with him. He felt ... humiliated, I guess, that he’d ever been with me.’

  She felt Rafe’s eyes on her and wondered what sort of grotesque deformities he must be imagining.

  ‘Anyway, lucky for me it turned out he was squeamish about blood. He barely nicked me, and he already looked kind of shocked at what he’d done, like he hadn’t expected the knife to actually go in. The minute he saw the blood, he went white as a sheet, and then he just ... keeled over.’

  ‘He fainted?’

  ‘Yep. Went down like a tree. I made a run for it while he was still unconscious. That was the last I ever saw of him.’

  ‘Did you report it? Have him arrested?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I just wanted to get as far away from him as possible and never have to deal with him again.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘It didn’t quite work out that way, though,’ she said bitterly. ‘He had worse up his sleeve.’

  ‘Worse than stabbing you?’

  ‘Well, much more effective at messing my life up anyway,’ she said. ‘But that’s a story for another day. Maybe.’ She drained her glass and put it down. ‘Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?’

  ‘Truth,’ he said. ‘It seems only fair.’

  ‘Okay, then. Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.’

  He looked down at his glass, frowning broodily. ‘I don’t want you to marry Dad,’ he said finally, looking up.

  Despite herself, Stella flinched. She recovered quickly, anger pushing aside the hurt. She’d thought they’d got closer, that they were on their way to being friends. In the past few weeks, she’d felt that Rafe liked her and cared about her. And then he had to say something nasty like that. ‘You haven’t made any secret of that,’ she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

  ‘No, I guess not. But the reason – that’s something no one else knows. At least, I don’t think they do.’

  ‘Oh, I think we all know why. Because you think I’m a heartless mercenary, right?’ she said, her tone brittle.

  He shook his head. ‘Wrong. Maybe I did think that at first. But that was before I knew you.’

  He turned to face her, and suddenly everything seemed very still, the air in the room charged. Stella hardly dared to breathe.

  Rafe sighed, looking down at his glass again. ‘Okay, here’s the truth. People think I’m like Dad, because I’ve dated a lot of women and I’ve never settled down.’

  Stella gave a little derisive laugh. ‘Like father, like son.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what they say. But the truth is I’m not like him at all. I’ve never cheated on any of the women I’ve been with. But I don’t think I was in love with any of them either. Dad falls in love every five minutes. Whereas I – I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love.’

  Stella could hardly breathe. She suddenly had an awful feeling she knew where this was going. Rafe was going to say something dreadful, something monstrous that would ruin everything and could never be unsaid. ‘Until’, ‘before’ – the words that would bring everything crashing down around them hung in the air. She had to stop him before he said them out loud.

  ‘Not completely,’ he was saying. ‘Not—’

  ‘Well,’ she said, cutting him off and standing abruptly, ‘I’m sure it’ll happen for you eventually.’ She brushed pizza crumbs off her pyjama top.

  There was a brief flicker of anger in Rafe’s eyes as he looked up at her. ‘Yeah, maybe one day if I’m lucky I can have what you and Dad have,’ he said sourly, frank challenge in his eyes.

  Stella recoiled a little at his bitterness.

  He sighed, his anger quickly extinguished, replaced by a look of resignation. ‘Sorry.’ He smiled ruefully, as if acknowledging that she was right and some things were better left unsaid.

  ‘I don’t fall in love easily either, Rafe,’ Stella said gently. ‘Does that mean I shouldn’t want what other people have? Does it mean I can’t have a happy marriage, a family life? Do you think I should shut myself off from all that because I don’t feel what I’m supposed to feel? It doesn’t make me a bad person. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about anyone.’

  He looked at her in silence for a long time. ‘No,’ he said eventually, his expression softening. ‘I know it doesn’t. You’re a good person, Stella. I see how you look after Dad, and I know you ... care for him.’

  She nodded stiffly in acknowledgement.

  ‘You deserve to be happy. I hope you get everything you want.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, hardly able to see through the mist of tears. ‘Well, it’s getting late. I think we should get to bed.’

  He nodded, standing up.

  ‘Thank you for today, Rafe,’ she said as he walked to the door. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Stella. See you in the morning.’

  43

  ‘Revenge porn?’ Al repeated, frowning when Lesley told him what she’d found. She’d summoned him for a case conference, and they were seated at her kitchen table with mugs of coffee, the afternoon sun streaming in the window.

  ‘It could explain why she changed her name,’ Lesley said. She knew revenge porn could wreak havoc and have devastating consequences for the victims, completely wrecking lives and careers, and tearing families apart.

  ‘It could,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And you really think this Babygirl person is Stella?’

  Lesley shrugged. ‘I can’t be sure, of course, but ... yeah, my gut feeling is that she is. It all adds up.’

  ‘It’d certainly give her a good reason to avoid social media.’

  ‘And to wipe out any trace of her online history.’

  ‘Shit!’ Al grimaced. ‘Poor Stella.’

  ‘I know. No wonder she’s so private and reserved.’

  ‘So, you think this is it? This is what she’s been hiding?’

  Lesley nodded. ‘I’d say it’s case closed.’ She tapped the file in front of her, ‘The Adventure of the Adventuress’ written on the cover in black sharpie. ‘Are you going to tell your family?’

  ‘There’s no need for that, is there?’

  ‘No.’ Lesley was relieved Al saw it that way. ‘She’s been humiliated enough already. It’d be cruel to bring it all back up again.’

  ‘Right. Well,’ Al said, raising his mug in salute, ‘congratulations on a job well done.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lesley bumped her mug against his. ‘I’m going to miss this,’ she said, patting the file affectionately. ‘I guess you never forget your first.’

  Al glanced at his watch. ‘Well, I have to get back to work. But we should celebrate this evening. Would you like to go out? Or shall we stay in and have champagne and sex?’

  ‘Champagne and sex, please.’ Lesley had discovered a newfound love of quiet nights in, and staying home with Al was her new favourite thing. Though they tended not to be very quiet, not with all the moaning and groaning that went on when the two of them got together. ‘Why don’t I call over to your house? Say around seven?’

  ‘Oh! Um ... wh
y don’t I come here?’

  Lesley frowned. That was the third time in the last few days that Al had put her off going to his house. ‘We’re always here. Why can’t we go to yours for a change? I’ve never even been to your house. I’m beginning to suspect you’re hiding something. I hope you don’t have a sex dungeon or a creepy doll collection or something.’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just ... I’m, um ... I’m having work done on my kitchen.’

  ‘Still?’

  ‘What do you mean still?’

  ‘You were having work done on your kitchen the first time I met you. That was ages ago.’

  ‘Yes, well ... it’s a big job. Big kitchen.’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for it,’ she said huffily. ‘Okay, then. You come here.’

  ‘Great!’ he said, standing. ‘See you later.’ He bent to give her a quick kiss on the lips that turned into a long, lingering kiss that threatened to eat up the rest of the afternoon. God, how could she ever have thought he was a bad kisser?

  ‘Mmm, mustn’t start that,’ Al said, breaking away reluctantly. ‘Later.’

  Lesley just sat there smiling dopily for a while after he’d gone. Then she picked up the folder and brought it into her office, filing it away. It had been fun getting to play amateur sleuth and she was very pleased with how the case had turned out, but now she needed to get back to real life and start tackling the backlog of work that had piled up in her absence.

  But first there was one last investigation she needed to carry out on her own behalf. Al didn’t know it, but she’d just given him a test, and he’d failed it. She couldn’t suppress the niggling feeling that he was hiding something. Besides, lust had made her sloppy when it came to Al. She’d neglected to do the basic background checks she’d automatically undertake on a friend’s behalf. She took out a new manila folder and wrote Al’s name on the cover.

  Three days later, she sat in her car across the road from Al’s house. She’d parked a few yards down the street so that hopefully she wouldn’t be spotted. But if she was, at least it would be easy enough to come up with a cover story. She’d watched Al setting off for work early in the morning, looking very handsome and capable with his hard hat in one hand and a bunch of rolled-up plans tucked under his arm. It had been over an hour since he’d driven off, and Lesley figured she could call it a day soon and return later for the evening shift. There was no point in watching an empty house.