Obsession (The Talisman series) (2 page)

“Oh…” One hand covered her mouth in an instant of mortification, then she seemed to pull her wits together and grabbed a stack of paper napkins from the counter. “I’m so sorry, let me help you clean up. You’re not scalded are you?” Before I could reply, she’d turned to the horrified-looking barista. “Vanya, can I have some ice please?” Then back to me, pressing the napkins lightly against my shirt. “Are you okay?” Her brown eyes radiated concern and I smiled back, enjoying the moment.

“
It’s fine, really.” A tea towel filled with ice cubes appeared from behind the counter, Suki was juggling this with the napkins and her own drink, when her phone rang again. While I politely refused the ice—the froth hadn’t been enough to scald me—she muttered into her phone. “Hiya. Yes, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes. I just, ah...got held up. Got to go, see you soon.”

I don’t want to go home.

“
That bad, huh?”

Too late, I realised she hadn’t actually said it out loud. I’d picked up on her thought as clearly as if she’d spoken the words. Trying to cover for my mistake, I explained,
“I thought you said something, maybe I misheard.”

Worry flickered in her eyes.
“Are you
sure
you don’t need that ice?” I reached for the cloth, and before she could pull away, I took hold of her wrist, holding the cold pack against the back of her hand.

As soon as I touched her, I could get a better read on her. Her emotions were swirling in a wild torrent:
 embarrassment, anxiety, alarm, wariness—a flash of guilt—and just a fleeting glimpse of excitement, quickly squashed. I automatically looked to her ring finger and saw an enormous diamond and ornate bi-coloured wedding ring. They were surprisingly ostentatious for such slender fingers; I wondered if her husband had selected them.

Her hand still resting in mine, she shrugged and gave me an awkward smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Excuse me, I’m late for something. Can I pay for your cleaning bill? I really am sorry for messing up your shirt.”
I don’t want anyone to see this.

I released her, smiled politely as she stepped around me, heading for the exit.
“It’s no problem, don’t worry about it.”

A flash of a real smile, and then she disappeared onto the street.

* * * *

Alan Houghton was a lawyer. I guess he had a better idea than most about the legal side of divorce, but it didn’t make our meeting any more comfortable. He maintained a calm facade as he watched the video evidence, unable to avoid wincing when Savannah muttered about her other lovers.

Rolling a fountain pen back and forth between his fingers, he gave me a blank-eyed stare. “You provide me with the original data when I pay your bill?”

I nodded.

He sighed and I felt another pang of sympathy for him. As I watched, he wrote out my cheque and slid it across the desk towards me. In return, I gave him all the digital files, along with the hotel bill and other paperwork. Our transaction was complete. A grubby business perhaps, but lucrative.

He stood up as I tucked the cheque inside my wallet.
“I was just about to finish. Do you have time for a drink before you go?” I had a couple more assignments bubbling under, but nothing that couldn’t wait.

“
Sure. I don’t know the area; where do you suggest?”

“
There’s a quiet wine bar up the street. What do you know about Wilmslow?”

I thought about it.
“Not much. Don’t lots of premier division footballers live here?”

He laughed briefly.
“That’s it. Wilmslow and Alderley Edge are reputed to have one of the highest concentrations of top earners in the country, and plenty of footballers.” We strolled along the street in no particular hurry. “And footballers have a certain reputation, as I’m sure you can guess.” He paused, glanced across at me. “I fail to understand why, but while it seems perfectly acceptable for them to have multiple women on the go at once, they get particularly distressed when their wives, uh, play away.”

I shrugged.
“Maybe it’s a result of living in the public eye. In my experience, they usually appear as often in the gossip columns as the sports pages.”

“
True.” Alan waited until we were settled with our drinks before he continued. “I’m curious as to how you started doing this?”

“
Honey traps?” He nodded. “I’m a writer by profession. This started as a sideline, a favour for a friend.” Another of my usual lies.

“
Uh-huh.” I got the sense he had something on his mind. We made some more small talk about the town, and his plans for the coming weekend. Then he leapt in. “I handle a lot of high profile divorce settlements. Having evidence of the sort you provide could be very beneficial to my clients. I’d like to propose a referral charge if I recommend those clients to you.”

I smiled broadly.
“I think I can accommodate that.”

1.4 Gabe

“
She’ll be here.” I tried to placate the anxious stylist, who in turn, tried to soothe the frustrated photographer. “I just spoke to Suki and she’s on her way. She probably got held up.”

I glanced at my watch as I spoke. Where the hell was she? She knew how important this was to me. The photographer had said they needed to bring some interior shots forward to earlier this afternoon. We’d have to take them as soon as Suki came in.

Some stressful ten minutes later, I heard her car crunching on the gravel and went to meet her. “Hey there. Did you forget they’d changed the shooting schedule? They want to do some interiors now.” I gazed at her climbing out of the car, pink faced and with not a scrap of makeup on. “Where have you been?”

Her cheeks flushed even darker.
“Spin class at the gym. I
did
tell you.”

Christ. Was she
trying
to be difficult? “I told you we’d be shooting this afternoon. I’ve been trying to keep them occupied without you.” I scanned her appearance and sighed, frustrated. “Your hair looks a mess. You’d better go and do something with it—and put some lipstick on.”

“
We’re doing them now?” Suki looked at me, her mouth dropping open. “Shit. Can you give me five minutes?”

“
You’re
supposed
to be ready.”

“
They’re
not supposed to be shooting now.”

We sniped at each other as we hurried indoors, Suki running up the stairs. I heard doors banging and sighed. I couldn’t believe her sometimes, she had zero sense of urgency. You’d think working in TV she’d have a good grasp of timing.

Suki emerged a few minutes later, her hair twisted back from her face and wearing a floaty top with her jeans.
She looks like a fucking hippy
. My blood pressure crept higher and I blew out a breath. We had no time for any more wardrobe changes; she’d have to do. As we posed for the first pictures, I slipped my arm around her waist, inviting her to look up at me adoringly.

“
Lovely,” called Maxim, mincing towards us. “Hold that right there.”

“
You do realise that blouse is see-through, don’t you?” I hissed in her ear.

Suki coloured, then seeing Maxim’s rapt expression, quickly blew me a kiss.
“It’s the first thing I picked up. Nobody will notice.”
Yeah, right. Her bra is completely visible. I bet she picked it on purpose.

The next half hour was spent in various staged poses around the house, happy, beaming smiles on our faces, and smiling gooey-eyed at each other in front of the tree. Jon Craigowan’s piece had featured seven photographs of him. I wanted at least ten.

We were on the final set, Suki hanging decorations on the tree while I passed them to her from suitably antique looking chest. As I held out a glittering angel, I caught Suki’s fingers in my own, pressing my lips to the back of her hand and smiling as she rolled her eyes.

“
What’s this mark on your hand? It looks like a burn.” I kept my voice low.  Maxim would no doubt think I was whispering sweet nothings.

“
Oh, that. I’ve no idea.” Her eyes slid away to the tree, before flicking back to me. “Where should I hang this one?” We’d been married for ten years; I knew by now when she was lying to me.

“
How about a nice kiss under the mistletoe to finish for today?” Pamela, the stylist, smiled encouragingly as she held out a sprig towards me.

“
Sure.” We obliged with a lengthy clinch. Suki’s breath smelled fresh and minty—had she just brushed her teeth? That was odd. Not enough time to find something decent to wear, but long enough to freshen her breath? Or to hide something.

I pressed the pink mark on her hand and saw her flinch slightly.
“Oops, sorry. Where did you say you got this?”

“
I didn’t. Is it important?”

I smiled at my wife.
“I don’t know, darling. You tell me.” Her anxious flush spoke volumes. I knew she was hiding something. It was just a matter of time until I found out what.

“
Lovely, love-ely,” cooed Maxim as he pranced around our lounge. “Suki, sweetie, do you think you could look just a tad more enthusiastic?”

I held back a snort.
That
would be a first.

1.5 Josh

I spent the afternoon gathering information on two more potential clients, eventually drifting back to my London apartment at 8:00 p.m. I was tired from dealing with traffic, hungry, and in need of company. Undemanding
female
company.

Danielle seemed like my best bet. She lived in the apartment directly beneath me, and if I used the stairs, I had to walk past her door. We’d been fuck buddies for the better part of a year, popping in and out of each other’s beds every month or so. Maybe it was time to move it to the next level? I paused as the thought popped in. Where had that come from? I needed a relationship like I needed a hole in the head.
 I hadn’t been laid for a few weeks; I just needed a no-strings shag. All the same, I flicked her a quick text as I parked in the basement.

Hey there. U busy? Not eaten yet if u fancy a takeout? I can be there in 5 mins.

She replied almost instantly.

Hey you. I’ll ring out for pizza. C u soon.

Danielle worked for some fancy advertising agency in the city and her hours tended to be as erratic as mine, but she rarely refused my company. Petite and dark-haired, she looked like the stereotypical Parisian that she was, right down to her exotic Lejaby lingerie. My smile broadened a fraction as I contemplated whether she might be wearing the ultra sexy red lace set tonight. Hopefully I’d find out soon enough.

She opened the door as soon as I knocked, hugging me and kissing both cheeks.
“
Mon chéri
. I’m glad you called tonight, there’s something I want to tell you.” I knew right away it was something big. No, something huge.

“
Did you win that big contract at work?” I racked my brains trying to think of what it was she actually did, covering up pretty well. Or so I thought. Danielle handed me a glass of red wine and rolled her eyes, doing one of her very Gallic shrugs. I sat down, amused. “Not that then…”

“
No.” Danielle sat carefully in the armchair opposite. Normally we’d cuddle together on the sofa. I felt a flicker of alarm. Surely not pregnant…

No. We always used condoms.

Sipping the wine—resisting the urge to slug it back in one go—I gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on then. You’ve won the lottery?”

“
No.” Damn, this was awkward. I hated playing guessing games and found Danielle particularly hard to read unless I was actually touching her.

I patted the sofa beside me.
“C’mon over here. I’ve missed you Dani, not seen you for ages.”

Uh oh
. Danielle coloured, her cheeks blooming in a very pretty fashion as she shook her head. “I’m getting married, Josh.” She pronounced it the French way, Zh-osh.

I immediately made a joke.
“Wow, when did I propose? How long have we been engaged?”

Her teasing little smile appeared, accompanied by a wagging finger.
“Naughty. It’s Dev.” I must have looked blank, for she elaborated. “Devereaux. My ex from Paris.”

“
Oh,
that
Dev.”
Who the hell was Dev?
Had she mentioned him before?

“
Yes
chéri
,
that
Dev. I’ve known him since I was a child. I think he always knew I’d go back to him.”

I leaned forward, curious.
“So why are you?” Dani passed me the wine bottle. Absently, I topped up my glass.