Breaking Leila (28 page)

“What, just
turned up on your doorstep and demanded that you shag him?”

Well–

“He’s…been propositioning me for a while.” It
was
 
sort
of
 
true.

“Like, coming
on to you? What does he want?” she said.

“I don’t know,
exactly.” I broke flapjack into crumbs in my fist. “He says he
likes me. I think he’s a bit jealous of Matt.”

“You know what? I’m going to just sit here and drink, and you
can explain this in some sort of logical fashion.” She cleared her
throat. “If there
 
is
 
one.”

I took a rather
large gulp of wine. “I’m not sure there’s more to say, Clem.”

“Waah, don’t
make me pull it out of you! Why are you sleeping with this guy when
you’re telling me you like Matt?”

“Because…”
 
Because he’s paying me. Because he has me by the balls if I
had them, anyway
.
 
Because,
 
“I like him, too.”

I watched
Clemmie’s eyes slide skyward with a sinking feeling.

“You can’t just
like two men and indulge as you please. It doesn’t work in the end.
You know that already,” she scolded.

“I know,” I
said meekly. “It’s complicated.”

“Then make it
less complicated. Who do you like more?”

“It’s not as
easy as that. I don’t even know if my boss wants more than the
obvious.”

“What makes you
say that?”

“He had a
girlfriend. Until today, anyway,” I added.

“Is monogamy
utterly dead?” she ranted. “Ugh. Did she find out about you?”

I was beginning
to feel horribly responsible for Isobel and Niamh. It had been a
lot easier when I never knew who these men were betraying, when I
closed the door on them at the end of the night. “I don’t know why
they broke up,” I said. “He’s not the most approachable sort and it
doesn’t feel like any of my business.”

“But you’re
holding out for him.”

“No. I do want
things to work with Matt, I just…I hate how things keep going wrong
with him. I feel like I have to fight for it all the time.”

“That’s what
relationships are like, Leila,” she said.

“But this one
is only a few days long. We should be in this happy little
honeymoon flush, no? Not already wondering if it’s worth it.”

“I think you
have a problem, then,” she said quietly.

My empty glass
joined hers on the floor. “What do I do, Clem?”

“Give Matt to
me.” Her face stayed perfectly straight. “I’ll run away with him
and you can carry on enjoying the drama with your boss.”

I grinned at
her, relieved to hear something other than disapproval. “I don’t
enjoy the drama. I just like being chased, that’s all.”

She eyed me
over a slice of flapjack. “And that’s all Charlie ever did–chase
you.”

“I let him
catch me sometimes,” I said coyly.

“They all give
up eventually. Or die. Or decide they’re gay.”

“I know, I
know.” I found myself smiling. “Pretty sure these two aren’t gay,
though.” Though if they were…oh my. There was an image to take to
bed.

“You need to talk to Charlie,” she went on, “and I
mean
 
talk
 
to him–not shag him–okay? Find out what his wife knows and
then if everything’s hunky dory, I suppose you’ll know if you want
to stay with Matt.”

“What if it
isn’t hunky?”

She swallowed.
“Then it’s too big a knot for the likes of me.”

* * * *

My period
greeted me on Tuesday morning and another run helped to ease the
cramps–while simultaneously creating new ones. I fell into work
early again and sat at my computer, an open email to Charlie
blinking at me on the screen.

What should I say?
 
Charlie, darling. Left
something out last week, didn’t you?
 
Was it better to ask him to
meet? Contrary to Clemmie’s little pre-requisite, I
didn’t
 
think
 
I’d fall into bed with him.

“Who’s Charles
Flemming?”

A pair of clear
green eyes blinked down at me.

“Jesus! Don’t
sneak up on me like that.”

“Don’t send
personal emails on office time, then,” Joseph said.

“It’s eight AM. I’m not technically
 
at work
,” I retorted.

“Who is
he?”

“A friend from
uni,” I lied.

“Then why does
he have a law firm address?” He perched himself on my desk and I
eased back to make room for him.

“Because he
studied law, like me. I’m not being poached, if that’s what you’re
implying.”

“Leila. You’re
not going anywhere else.” A smile played on his lips as he toyed
with my loose hair.

“Then sort out
my contract.”

“You know I
can’t do that until the deadline has passed. I’m not supposed to
have told you as it is,” he reminded me. “You’re a little on edge
today, aren’t you?” He squeezed my shoulder and I shivered.
“Tense.”

“I’ve got a lot
on my mind,” I muttered.

“Is that why
you don’t reply to my messages?”

“You know why.”
I tried to shrug his hand away, but it stayed firmly put.

“Too busy
playing house with Gordon, huh?” Now it was back to stroking my
hair. “I bet I’ve got better toys,” he added, grinning.

I grew wet
beneath his touch and today, I hated myself for it. “Don’t be so
patronizing.”

He pouted; his mouth looked so full and ripe like that.
He
 
knew
 
he teased me.

“Less of the
attitude then, madam. Thought you might want a look at my be-gimped
Sylvanians.” He pulled my hair gently. “I broke up with
Isobel.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

Ah, crap. I
really hadn’t meant to tell him. “I bumped into her yesterday. In
the toilets. Crying.”

He didn’t even
blink. “Long story. I’ll tell you about it on our little trip,
maybe.”

“Where are we
going?”

“I’ll explain
in the meeting.”

There was a
moment of awkward silence while I pretended to stare at the
computer, avoiding his eyes.

“Aren’t you
looking forward to it?” he said finally.

“Working
twenty-four hours a day instead of the usual? Oh, absolutely.”

He traced a
finger along my cheek. “A whole week of...us.” He paused, watched
my face for any flicker of emotion. “Bed, shower, floor. Doesn’t
make a difference really, does it?”

Paranoia shook
a fist at me and I glanced about…no. The office was still
empty.

“What do you
mean, a whole week?” I hissed.

“A job lasts as
long as the client says it does.”

“Somebody will
notice if we’re together for all that time,” I said weakly.

“So what?”

The door handle
squealed in the far corner, and he sprang up. “I’ll see you in the
meeting,” he said, nodding at Poppy as she strode in.

“What was that
about?” she asked, peeling off her coat.

“You were
right. We’re going on a trip.”

She clapped her
hands in delight. “I told you. Oh my God! Did he say where?”

“He’s going to
tell us in a bit.” I shut down the email to Charlie and attempted a
smile. “Let’s hope it’s somewhere with good shopping.”

A whole week. A fucking
 
week
.
One more bombshell for Matt to swallow that’d explode later and
hurt us both.

Charlotte drummed inside my skull.
 
Tick tock
.

* * * *

The email
refused to write itself by lunch time, so I stole out to the foyer
and dialled Charlie’s office on my mobile.

“Flemming and
Associates,” said the receptionist.

“Oh, hi. Is it
possible to speak to Mr Flemming, please?”

“I’m afraid
he’s busy. Can I take a message?”

I winced. “Can
you tell him it’s Leila Vaughn? I really do need to speak to
him.”

There was a
pause. “Hold please.” She sighed.

Tinkly music
played in the background. “Leila?” Pleasure peaked in Charlie’s
voice–thank God. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m really
sorry to call your office, but it’s…it’s just–”

“It’s about
Matt, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I took a
deep breath. “You should have told me, Charlie.”

“You said you
weren’t involved with him,” he complained.

“You still
should have told me!”

“I’m sorry,
angel.”

“Would you–I
mean–could we meet up and talk about it? I have to get back to work
and there’s so much I need to ask you.”

“I could
probably fit you in, heh. How’s Thursday?”

“Great.
Thursday’s great.”

“I can’t stay
for long, though. I’m a busy man these days.”

“So I’ve just
been told.” I caught sight of Matt approaching with lunch. “I’ve
got to go.”

“I’ll text you
the details. We’ll sort it out, okay?”

“Okay. Thank
you.” I hung up as Matt reached me.

“Anyone
interesting?” he asked.

“Just my mum,”
I lied. I did a lot of that recently. “What have we got?”

“Fat bagels, as requested.” The change
 
clinked
 
from his hand to mine. “Let’s
get back up–I’m starving.”

* * * *

One of the
better things about leaving the agency was the evening time I’d
gained. No more rushing home to groom like a spoiled kitten, no
constant panic that a wax was overdue or a nail had chipped at
work. I’d paid a lot of money to look good for the night job and
while I didn’t plan to let it all slip, none of it seemed
so…imminent anymore. Once, I’d worried that I’d feel lost and empty
when it all ended. Yet, life blossomed all over the place in the
wake of careless knives.

That said, a
few things needed sorting soon since Matt would be around later,
like the industrial quantity of condoms in my bedroom and various
other tools of the trade. I sent Aidan a text asking if he wanted
the condoms, to which he accepted and dared me to walk across
London with them in a clear bag. I politely declined.

My paddles,
whips and other toys were staying put, though. I imagined how
Matt’s eyes would light up on sight of them, and cursed the period
that had picked the wrong week to descend.

I wasn’t going
to tell him about Joseph tonight. I just wanted peace, calm. Kisses
and cuddles. I tucked Joseph’s boxer shorts away in the back of my
underwear drawer.

Matt arrived on
my doorstep not long after nine, a KFC bucket under his arm.

“Do you ever
stop eating?”

“I just worked
off about half a cow. I can at least eat a chicken.” He stepped in,
sliding off his jacket.

“You showered,”
I grumbled, feigning a pout.

“I didn’t want
to taste like a gorilla’s ballsack.”

“Don’t get hung
up on that.” I stroked the hair from his eyes. “Besides. Appears to
be the wrong time of the month.”

“Oh. Right.” He
kissed me slowly, his tongue lingering in my mouth. “I can wait.
We’ll have a plush New York hotel room for it next week, hmm?”

Shut up shut up
shut up shut up shut up! “Mmm.”

“Sofa?”

“Oh yes.”

I got what I
wanted. I lay against him, my head on his chest and his arm tucked
around my shoulders. This man was, by his own admission, all
mine–we didn’t need toys to play house like this. Luscious.

When Matt
finished eating, I slid onto my knees and unzipped him. He stared
down at me lazily, his hand cupping my face.

“What are you
doing, babe?”

“You’ve been
hard since you got here.” I teased his cock from his clothes and
squeezed. “I’d hate to think I was neglecting you.”

“You don’t have
to.”

“But you look
so yummy.” I peeled his foreskin back and flicked my tongue across
his head. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” He took a
sharp breath as I started to suck, tugging on his balls. “No,
no…”

His bucking
hips told me he didn’t want to be teased, and I was in no mood to
torture him. I pulled my lips over him in long, hard strokes and he
fucked my mouth in moments. I let him hold my head, feel my breasts
through the top of my pyjama camisole, let him do what he wanted.
He came in the back of my throat with a smile and a heavy sigh.

“Sorry,” he
said weakly. “I normally last longer than that...”

I kissed him as
I climbed back up on the sofa. “Lasting wasn’t the point, you
moose.”

“Mmm. Well,
thank you.” He nuzzled at my throat. “My best friend at school used
to say God invented blow jobs for when girls were on their
periods.”

I laughed. “Not
sure any of my old clients would agree with that.” I froze the
moment the words slid from my mouth and braced myself for his
wounded comment.

“Really?” he
said.

I nodded.

“Did you used
to do that a lot for them?”

“You really
want to know?” I said, cautious.

He wrapped his
arm back around my shoulders. “I told you–I want to know what it
was like.”

“In that
case…yeah. It was, erm, a popular request.”

“What
else?”

“All sorts of
stuff. Anal. Dressing up. Watching me with Aidan or another girl,
or by myself. Just eating takeaway and talking about crap on the
TV.” Also some things I would never even write down, let alone tell
him.

His brow
furrowed a little.

“Did you ever
fancy any of them?”