Authors: Tilly Bagshawe
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women
The fight that erupted over the next five minutes was so loud it could be heard on the street below.
“I can’t believe you lied to me about this!” Lucas could be heard yelling at Ben. “All this time Anton’s been crucifying me in court, and you never even mention you’ve been spending the last five fucking months investigating him? I could have used some of that information. I thought we were friends.”
“No one lied to you,” said Sian furiously. “This is my story, and it’s none of your damn business.”
“You keep out of this, you poisonous little shit-stirrer,” Lucas roared at her. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Still trying to get your grubby little hands on Ben’s money?”
“That’s enough,” said Ben, who was still recovering from the shock of Lucas’s presence, never mind his tirade. “Don’t speak to Sian like that.”
“Why the hell not?” Lucas was incandescent with rage. “And you ought to spend less time worrying about this tramp and more time worrying about poor Bianca. I just found her in the kitchen in floods of tears, cleaning up your mess.” He glared in disgust at the half-eaten pizzas and empty beer cans littering the room.
“I would have done it myself later,” mumbled Ben guiltily. “Is she all right now?”
“No,” said Lucas. “She’s not. She’s miserable as hell and she thinks you don’t love her. You should get in there and sort it out.”
Ben headed for the kitchen, then looked at Sian and hesitated. “You all right?”
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” said Sian, looking daggers at Lucas. “I can handle this prick. Go do what you’ve got to do.”
Ben left the room, and for a few seconds the pair of them stared silently at each other, basking in mutual loathing. Then the fighting began in earnest.
“I’ll give you this, you’re a tenacious little cow,” said Lucas. “Just when did you get your claws back into him exactly?”
“No one got their claws into anyone,” she shot back indignantly. “Ben’s a friend. The only money he’s given me has been to fund my research into Anton, a guy who, believe it or not, turns out to be an even nastier piece of work than you are.”
“At last, something we agree on,” said Lucas sarcastically. “So Ben was the only person in the world you could have gone to for help, was he? It had nothing to do with you still holding a torch
for him or wanting to come between him and the only woman he’s ever really loved?”
Sian tried to hide how stung she was. Had Ben said that to Lucas? That Bianca was the only woman he’d ever loved?
“He wasn’t the only person, but he was the person with the most to gain from seeing Anton brought down. Apart from you, of course. But frankly I’d rather have taken money off Ted Bundy than let you back into my life, on any level.”
“Something else we agree on,” said Lucas bitterly, though inside he was impressed by her poise and thinking how much she’d matured since her days as a summer maid at Palmers. He still didn’t trust her an inch, especially not where Ben was concerned. But it took a tough cookie to take on the likes of Anton. She must have known that digging into his affairs would be dangerous and difficult, but if the thick slab of a file spilling its contents all over Ben’s coffee table was anything to go by, she’d already gotten a lot to show for the risks she’d taken.
“So,” he said, idly flicking open the file and pulling out a couple of documents, “what sort of a return have you shown him on his investment? Other than a weeping fiancée.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Sian was across the room in a flash. Whipping the papers out of his hand, she shoved them back into the file and, not knowing quite what else to do, sat on it. “You think I’d trust you with my story? You can read it when it’s finished like everyone else.”
“Right,” said Lucas, languorously stretching out his long legs as he sat down on Ben’s leather Chesterfield sofa. “And when will that be? The twelfth of never, evening edition?”
“Actually, I hope to be ready to run with it next month.” Despite his needling, Sian couldn’t entirely hide her excitement. “That’s why I came to see Ben tonight, before we were so rudely interrupted. I just got back from Azerbaijan. Let’s just say that in the last forty-eight hours things have taken a quantum leap forward.”
Ben came back in looking tired and shut the door behind him. Lucas noticed for the first time how gray and drawn his complexion had become and how much weight he’d lost. Bianca obviously wasn’t the only one with prewedding nerves.
“How is she?” asked Sian, earning herself a withering look from Lucas.
“She’s upset,” said Ben. “It’s my fault. I was being a bit of a dick to her yesterday about this wedding planner she’s hired. And then tonight, spending so much time in here with you, I think I might have added insult to injury.”
“But didn’t you tell her what’s happened? What we’ve found?” said Sian, who still found it hard at times to remember that not everyone was as obsessed with bringing Anton Tisch to justice as she was.
“No.” A soft voice came from behind Ben as Bianca opened the door. “He didn’t tell me anything. He never does.”
Having washed off her tears in the bathroom and changed into a clean sleeveless T-shirt and hot-pink cut-off Bermuda shorts, she looked like a darker, more mysterious version of Gisele Bündchen on a really, really good day. Sian, who by contrast looked tired and washed out in a sludge-brown shift dress the same color as her ancient, overwashed panties, felt a stab of envy so violent she actually clutched her chest. Pointedly ignoring Ben, Bianca made a beeline for Lucas, her protector, curling herself up next to him on the sofa. The message was clear: it wasn’t two against one anymore; Lucas had arrived to even the odds. Sian got it in a heartbeat.
“We didn’t think you’d be interested,” said Sian, trying not to sound as hostile as she felt. She knew she had no right to be. “You’re always complaining about how much time we spend working on it.”
“I complain about how much time
Ben
spends on it,” interrupted Bianca. “Frankly, Sian, I couldn’t care less what you do with your time.”
This sudden boldness was completely out of character and took Sian by surprise. Meekly, she shut up.
“But seeing as you’re here, again, monopolizing my home and my boyfriend, again,” Bianca smiled at her rival thinly, “I think I would quite like to know what all the fuss has been about. And I’d like Lucas to know too.”
Sian gave a splutter that was half laugh, half naked outrage. “Yeah, well, sorry, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before we tell that scheming bastard anything. Lucas’s secret-keeping record is right up there with Judas Iscariot’s.”
“OK, OK.” Ben held up his hands like an overwhelmed referee trying to separate rival teams at a football match brawl. “I don’t think any of this is particularly helpful. Bianca does have a right to know what’s been going on.”
“But—” Sian tried to interrupt him, but Ben wouldn’t have it.
“No, come on Siany, she does. She’s put up with a lot.” He looked sorrowfully across at Bianca, whose eyes immediately started welling up again as she tried to smile back. Sian felt winded with jealousy, but said nothing.
“And I also think we should tell Lucas,” Ben went on, “on the understanding that whatever gets said tonight remains between these four walls, and none of us breathes a word of it outside this room.”
“No way!” Leaping back to her feet, Sian sounded properly panicked. “Ben, no, you promised. You promised not to tell anyone. That was our deal!”
“I know,” said Ben. “But that was before we knew what we know now. Before Azerbaijan.” Walking over, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, unconsciously increasing the “them and us” atmosphere of two opposing teams, himself and Sian versus Lucas and Bianca. “I honestly think Lucas can help. He wants to see Anton finished as much as any of us.”
“That’s the second time someone’s mentioned Azerbaijan,” said Lucas, who had calmed down now and whose curiosity was
well and truly piqued. “What’s the connection? I mean, I know Tisch made his fortune from Russian oil.”
“It goes a lot deeper than that,” said Ben.
“First you have to swear,” said Sian. “Swear on…” she tried to think of anything that was important to Lucas other than himself but drew a complete blank. “Swear on your honor,” she finished sarcastically, “that you will keep what we’re about to tell you to yourself, until I tell you you can do otherwise.”
“Fuck off,” snarled Lucas. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“You do on this,” said Ben firmly. “This is Sian’s story, and she’s sweated blood to pull it together. You can either respect her authority or get out.”
It was hard to tell who was more pissed off by this show of support for Sian, Lucas or Bianca. Both of them looked as if he’d just offered them a bite of a dog-shit sandwich. But in the end, Lucas’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Fine,” he said grudgingly. “I swear. Now come on, what’s all this about?”
Ten minutes later, in a break from the usual, Lucas was lost for words.
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” said Sian, with more than a touch of pride. “Up until this point, most of the shit I had on him was sexual. And a lot of that was pretty fucking creepy: underage girls, prostitution, the odd sexual assault allegation here and there, although the girls always changed their tune before things got to court. But this shit?” She shook her head, still astonished by the revelations herself. “This puts us in a whole new ball game.”
“I don’t understand,” said Bianca eventually. “He’s committed a serious crime. Surely it’s your absolute duty to go to the police?”
“And lose my exclusive? Are you out of your mind?” snapped Sian. “I haven’t worked my tits off for half a year to lose my scoop at the last hurdle. We finish the story. We print it. Then we get dickhead locked up.”
“Darling?” Bianca turned to Ben, who’d suddenly developed an intense interest in his cuticles. “Surely you don’t agree with that?”
Ben shrugged awkwardly. His instinct was to defend Sian—this was her story, after all—but it was hard to stick up for her when she got so strident and hostile. “It’s not really up to me,” he mumbled lamely.
“Bullshit,” said Lucas. “You’re implicated up to your eyeballs, and so are Bianca and I, now that we know too. Suppressing evidence is a crime.”
“Please,” Sian snarled, fear making her even more aggressive. Lucas and Bianca were threatening to flush her entire story down the toilet, and Ben wasn’t lifting a finger to help her. “Like you’re such a fricking Boy Scout all of a sudden. Tell it to someone who doesn’t know what a scheming little player you are, Ruiz.”
Lucas started hurling abuse back at her, but Sian ignored him.
“In any case, we still don’t have all the bank account numbers we need, for the police or the papers,” she said defiantly. “The worst thing we could do is make a move before this thing is watertight. The slightest weakness and Tisch will pounce on us like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. Not even Lucas could argue with her about that.
“I’m going back to Azerbaijan the day after tomorrow for some more meetings.”
“What? You never mentioned another trip.” Ben, all animation suddenly, looked pained. “What meetings? With whom?”
Sian, who’d sat back down again, now shifted uncomfortably in her seat, tugging at the hem of her shapeless dress like a schoolgirl hauled before the principal.
“With some rebels, OK?” she said, then seeing Ben’s face, added: “I know what I’m doing. I trust these guys.”
“Then you’re a bloody moron,” shouted Ben, so loudly that Bianca and Lucas both turned to stare. “How can you possibly know who to trust? It’s the Wild fucking West out there. They’re terrorists, for God’s sake.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Sian sulkily. “They’re freedom fighters.”
“I don’t care,” said Ben. “Call them what you like, but you are not going back out there. It’s too dangerous. I’m not having you risk your life over this. It’s insanity.” Watching him, Bianca felt her heart lurch. His face was a study in anguish. Obviously the idea of Sian coming to any harm was tearing him up inside, so much so that his usual diplomacy seemed to have deserted him, and he hadn’t even made an effort to hide it.
For her, it was the last straw. Turning on Sian, she sprang across the room in two long-legged bounds and physically yanked her up out of her seat.
“Get out!” she whispered, shaking with rage. “Get the fuck out of our house and don’t come back.”
Sian, who before tonight had never known Bianca to be anything other than painfully polite and accommodating, was too shocked to react. Ben had no such qualms.
“Jesus, B,” he said, pulling the two of them apart. “What the hell are you doing?”
But Bianca was not about to let up “I’m doing what I should have done months ago,” she sobbed, tears of anger and hurt and frustration rolling down her perfectly chiseled cheeks. “I’m getting this bitch out of our lives before she poisons everything. She’s all you fucking care about these days, Ben. She’s all you see!” Wriggling free from his grip, she lashed out at Sian again wildly, landing a painful kick to her shin before covering her face with her hands and fleeing the room in tears.
“I’m so sorry,” stammered a shell-shocked Ben as Sian bent double, rubbing her bruised leg. “She’s never normally…I have no idea what’s gotten into her.”