[ Truyện Tiếng Anh] Six Of Hearts

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 31



His only response is a small, knowing smile, and we eat the rest of our lunch in companionable silence. On the way back to the office, Jay gets recognised by a couple of women as they pass us by.

“Disgraceful what he did to that poor man,” one of them tuts, her snooty nose raised high into the air.

“He should have been arrested,” another one adds.

I lace my fingers with his, running my thumb along the inside of his wrist. “Ignore them.”

“I am.”

“Everyone thinks their opinion is the most important, even when they have no clue about a situation.”

“I know.”

As the women go by us, I pull him into an alcove by the shop next to our offices. His eyes are on the retreating women for a minute before he focuses on me, his pupils dilating. I remember him telling Michelle that was a sign of arousal. Hmm, I think I like that.

“Hey,” I whisper.

He runs his fingertips over my collarbone. “Hey, Watson. What’s up?”

“Can I have a kiss before I go back to work?” I ask shyly, licking my lips.

He grins and bends his head to me. “That depends.”

“On?”

“What are you making for dinner?”

I wrack my brains for ideas on what he might find appealing, settling on the most obvious man food. “Steak.”

“Good answer. Okay, you can have a kiss. Just one, though.” His licks a line from my jaw to my earlobe, sending my pulse hammering. Then he grips my chin and sinks his tongue into my mouth. My breathing accelerates as I clutch at his shirt. His tongue moves in and out, and it’s a little lewd for a daytime outdoor kiss, but in the moment I don’t care. I moan, and his other hand grabs hold of my hip. Drawing away too soon, he nips at my mouth, and I whimper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for a kiss.”

“Why not?”

“Because now I’m not going to be able to focus on working, and I have a lot to get done.”

He laughs and slides his arm around my waist, guiding me inside and up the stairs. “You should let go in case Dad’s around,” I say quietly.

“Am I your dirty little secret, Watson?” he whispers deviously in my ear.

I use one of his own comebacks against him. “You love it.”

His response is adamant. “Yeah, I do.”

Inside, I settle back into my desk, and Jay goes to use the bathroom before he leaves. His jacket rests on the edge of my desk, and I only become aware of it because his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. Without thinking, I slide my hand in and retrieve the phone. A text message runs across the screen from an anonymous sender.

Tonight. Nine o’clock. The usual place.

My brain goes into overdrive as I quickly shove the phone back in his pocket and try to make his jacket look like it hasn’t been interfered with. What the hell is that message about? I come to the nauseating conclusion that it sounds a lot like a booty call. A night time meet-up. The usual place. God, is Jay seeing someone as well as me?

Instantly, my heart plummets from the lofty heights to which it had previously been soaring.

A second later he walks back out, grabbing his coat and shrugging into it. Leaning across the table, he gives me a soft, momentary peck on the lips before telling me he’ll see me later for dinner. I don’t even have the capacity to worry about Dad seeing the kiss because I’m still focused on the message.

It takes a couple of deep breaths for me to gather myself and sneak a peek into Dad’s office. He’s furiously typing into his computer, oblivious to the world, so it’s likely he didn’t see the kiss.

For the next few hours I mindlessly complete my work for the day, but the question about the text remains at the forefront of my mind. I need to know what it was about. I need to know it’s entirely innocent and that I have nothing to worry about. So I decide there’s nothing else for it.

I’m going to have to follow him.

Twenty-Three

As soon as I get out of work, I head for the bus and call Michelle. I haven’t spoken to her since Jessie’s party on the weekend.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she croons into the phone.

“Hey, how are you?” I reply, trying to sound chirpy.

“I’m okay. Well, I’m still a little hung over, actually. I ended up spending the entire weekend at Jessie’s place. I’m telling you, that girl knows how to keep a lady occupied. I know I’d had my sights set on the blond guy. Ben, I think his name was. But he vamoosed with his friend Stuart after Jay punched him for dancing with you, so that was a dead end. Anyway, I only left her place this morning and had to go straight to work. One of my colleagues pointed out that I had ‘freshly f**ked’ hair. I was, like, mortified dot com.”

“Michelle.”

“Yes, Matilda?”

“That’s a delightful story, but please don’t use mortified dot com ever again.”

She laughs loudly down the line. “Fine. So, what happened with you and Jay? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I swear to God, if you say ‘nothing,’ I will find a way to teleport through this phone so I can strangle you.”

“Stuff happened, but we’ve agreed to take it slow. I really like him,” I gush, unable to hold back.

“Well, well, well! The girl who doesn’t like any man finally finds a man she likes,” says Michelle, sounding a mixture of smug and pleased.

“I didn’t not like any men. They just didn’t like me.”

“Oh, shush. None of that matters. Now you’ve got the bad-boy hunk to end all bad-boy hunks, so who cares about past failures? I have to say, I’m feeling a touch of the green-eyed monster coming on.”

“I thought you were all loved up with Jessie?”

“Loved up? Please. It’s just *** with the two of us. She knows it. I know it. We’re both fine and dandy with the concept. Now, back to you and Jay. Has he gone down on you yet?”

“Michelle!”

“What?”

“Where are you right now?”

“In the queue at Boots. I had to stock up on shampoo and con***ioner. Why?”

“This is not a phone conversation you should be having in the queue at Boots. So, let’s wait until we see each other in person to talk about…those sorts of details. Right now I need your advice on something else.”

“Okay. I’m intrigued. Continue.”

I tell her about THE TEXT. Yes, over the past few hours it has become such a huge issue in my head that I now have to refer to it in all caps. Michelle listens and then mulls it over for a moment.

“Okay, I don’t think you should follow him.”

“Why not? It’s the only way I’m going to find out.”

“Eh, how about asking him?” she suggests, and I decide to let her sarcasm slide.

“Because, that would require me to be a mature adult, and it would also require me to admit to snooping on his phone. I’m not prepared for any of that. At least if I follow him, I’ll know for certain. If it’s a booty call, I can be all, We are over, sir! I said, good day! And then flounce off to nurse my wounded pride. If it’s something normal, like he’s meeting up with an old friend for tea and crumpets, I can nod approvingly to myself and scurry home happy that all is well with the world. Jay will be none the wiser of this highly bunny boiler activity that’s going on with me right now.”

Michelle groans. “Oh, God, Matilda. Please don’t follow him. It’s only going to end in tears.”

“Saying stuff like that only makes me want to follow him more. It makes me want to know why there will be tears.”

“Can’t you just take my word for it?”

“I will consider my options. My bus is coming now, so I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’re going to do it. I can tell.”

“’Bye!”

I hang up before she has the chance to dissuade me further. I’m doing this. I’m going to live up to the nickname Jay gave me, and I’m going to do some sleuthing. If anything, it’s his own fault for coming up with the nickname in the first place.

After dinner Dad offers to wash up, and I go to catch some soaps on the television. Jay saunters in and drops down beside me, too close, considering Dad could walk in at any moment. And yes, I’m quite aware of the fact that I’m an adult. It’s just that Jay is such an obviously ***ual person, which means if I tell Dad we’re together, he’ll know we’re doing ***ual things together. Just the thought of it makes me feel like crawling out of my own skin.

Yes, when it comes down to it, I’m a baby. A big, stupid, embarrassed baby.

Jay sits there all casual for a minute before randomly leaning in and licking me on the face. I laugh and wipe at my skin.

“What was that for?”

“Just felt like it.”

“Okay.”

“I have to go out for a little...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 32



Note to self: Never try to out-trick a trickster.

The look in his eyes is murderous, and for some reason I don’t feel safe. I guess that’s because he’s associating with men who carry guns, which means he’s not the person I thought he was at all. Does he carry a gun?

“WHAT.THE.****? What are you doing here, Matilda?” His voice is deep, raspy, and thoroughly pissed. He takes several long strides toward me, backing me up into a wall before slamming his hands down on either side of my head.

“I, uh…I came to ask if you, eh, if you saw my calculator anywhere. I seem to have lost it.”

“Jesus f**king Christ,” he swears, and I wince at my ridiculously obvious lie. “Did you follow me? How did you know to come here?”

I close my eyes and answer shakily, “I’m sorry. I read your text. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”

He exhales a long breath, and I open my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I would never hurt you.”

“That’s…that’s good.”

“But coming here was a seriously stupid thing to do, and I can’t pretend I’m not angry.”

“Who were those men?” I ask, swallowing.

Jay ****s an eyebrow. “Oh, no way. You’re the one in the wrong here. You don’t get to ask questions.”

“They looked shifty, like criminals. I don’t understand why you would be meeting up with people like that.”

“Necessary evils are everywhere in this world, Watson. And I’m not explaining this to you. Not now. You shouldn’t even be here.”

I move to walk away, but he blocks me, his hand clasping my shoulder. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“I’m going home.”

“Yeah, but I’m taking you.” His hand slides from my shoulder to my neck, gripping me tight and guiding me away from the wall. My anxiety levels skyrocket as he silently guides me out of the abandoned building and toward the spot where he parked his car.

“There are all sorts of low-lifes around here, Matilda. Junkies, homeless people. The kind who wouldn’t think twice about hurting an innocent woman when she walks brainlessly into their territory. ****, anything could have happened to you.”

We’re at his car now. He reaches around me to open the back door before guiding me in, his hand still on my neck. He slams the door shut and then walks around to the front, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“I saw the text you got earlier, and I thought it sounded like…like a booty call or something. That’s why I followed you. I had no idea it was going to be something like this.” I pause, my voice growing hushed, frightened. “Those men pulled guns on you, Jay.”

His eyes grow soft for a moment when he looks at me through the mirror. “A booty call? You thought that?”

I shrug, embarrassed now. “I jumped to conclusions. I do that sometimes.”

“I’m not that kind of person.”

“I know that now.” The question is, Jason, are you another sort of person? The sort who doesn’t bat an eyelid when a firearm is pointed at them. And that brings about a whole other barrel of connotations.

The problem is, not one of those connotations changes the strength of my feelings for him, and that’s the scary part.

He stares at me for a long moment before continuing, “And about the other thing, it was just a little misunderstanding. They weren’t going to shoot me. And I’ll say it again just in case you’ve forgotten. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He slams his hands down on the steering wheel, growing angry again. “****, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.” His eyes meet mine, and something inside me melts.

“You’re so important to me, Matilda. More than you know.”

I sniff and look away, unable to deal with the emotions his words evoke in me. All I can manage is another, “I’m sorry,” and, “I’ve learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.”

The next thing I know, he’s climbing through the gap between the two front seats and crowding me into the back. I shimmy away, unsure of his intent, until my head hits the window on the other side. He cages me with his body, lifting my thighs so he can fit himself between them.

His hot breath hits my ear when he murmurs, “Nah, I don’t think you’ve learned it yet, but you will.” And then, quick as a flash, he flips me over so that I’m lying face down. He grinds his obvious erection into my rear, and I gasp in surprise.

“Jay,” I exclaim, half indignant, half turned on.

“What?”

“We’re in your car. In public.”

“It’s hardly public here, but yeah, we are in my car. In fact, I really like being in my car with you.”

His fingers slip under the waist of my black jeans as his other hand pulls off my hat, my hair falling out. “Look at this f**kin’ outfit. Could you be any cuter?”

“Whatever you’re doing, stop. This isn’t happening. Not here,” I protest, my voice far too breathy for my liking. I should be focusing on the fact that he still hasn’t told me what he’s been up to. I can’t focus, though, not when he’s got his hands on me.

He pinches my hip and continues yanking down my jeans. When he reaches around me to harshly stroke between my legs, my brain shuts off, and I moan.

“Wet,” he says, like he’s just won something.

“Hmm,” I murmur.

“And soft.”

“Jay.”

“Sweet, too.”

“We can’t.”

“Oh, yes, we can.”

He tugs my jacket off me and pushes up my shirt, pressing kisses to my spine and biting softly, playfully. He licks the small of my back, and I pant.

“I like you to like me to lick you,” he rasps.

“Hmm?”

Jay purrs, a low rumbly sound. “Never heard that song?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Don’t look it up. My feelings for you are the opposite of that song.”

“Jay, you’re rambling. Just touch me.”

“My pleasure.”

My jeans are halfway down my legs when he wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me up so that I’m on my hands and knees. He caresses my bottom, then gives me a light spank. I yelp, and he rubs it better. One hand moves up my body, over my ribs, and cups my breast. He tweaks my nipple, and I bite my lip.

There’s some impatient fumbling behind me as he undoes his belt buckle and fly, and then I feel his hard, silky flesh rubbing against my cheek. Holding his ****, he rubs it over my arse and then lowers it, sliding across my wetness.

Nudging against my entrance and slowly pushing himself inside me, he growls, “This is the best feeling, being inside you.”

He rears back and then slams into me from behind, his thrusts hard and fast. Pleasure erupts through my entire system, my moans filling the small space. When he leans over me and bites my neck, I gasp. His hand grips my nape then and pulls me up, his hand going across my chest to hold me there as he juts into me.

The pleasure is sharp and all-consuming. He manoeuvres my body, and I’m his to possess. My heart beats fast, my pulse thumping in my ears, so loud it practically drowns out the erotic sounds of his groaning. Emotion catches in my throat, feelings bubbling up inside that I don’t want to acknowledge.

I love how he so thoroughly consumes me to the point where the entire world fades away.

His hand still gripping my neck, he reaches around with the other, seeking my clit. I whimper when he finds it, rubbing fast circles, bringing me closer to the edge.

“Come for me, darlin’. Come on my ****,” he rasps into my ear, his lips on my skin.

“I….” Words fail me.

His sculpted chest is pressed into my back, his h*ps jutting in and out. Warmth spreads all through me. I feel fevered, reckless.

“Your body drives me crazy,” he growls, biting down on my shoulder, his fingers digging into my neck. I clench around him, my orgasm close.

“Wow, you like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” I manage, and he laughs tenderly.

My body jerks as I come, the pleasure intense, consuming me. His thrusts slow down as he turns my head back to him and captures my mouth with his. His tongue plunges in, licking, caressing. Then I feel him coming hot inside me. My body goes limp, and he gently pulls me on top of him as he reclines backward, holding me tight in his arms, his release giving him a satisfied glow.

My face rests on his shoulder, where I place soft, worshipful kisses on his skin, sighing at the simple pleasure of lying in his embrace. We stay like that for a long time, absolute darkness surrounding us. There are no street lights here, just the vague light from the city in the distance.

When I move to find my clothes, a deep, rumbling growl emanates from his chest.

“Don’t,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.

“We can’t stay here all night,”...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 33



We sit and chat for a while. Dad comes in and grabs something quick before leaving for an early morning meeting he has scheduled. Then Jay saunters in, looking sleep-ruffled and delectable. His hair is messy, his T-shirt crumpled. And really, there should be a rule against him wearing boxer shorts around the house. His thighs are just so flipping…glorious. All muscle and sinew and ***y, sturdy strength. Those thighs were meant for plundering, and let me tell you, they plunder.

Michelle waggles her eyebrows at me when he walks in, and I give her a look to keep quiet. We still haven’t had the chance to properly discuss what’s been going on with me and Jay, and I can tell it’s killing her.

Her waggling eyebrows turn into narrowed brows when her gaze focuses on my neck.

“What’s that?” she asks, leaning in curiously and tugging down the collar of my blouse. “Is that a bruise?” she continues.

I put my hand to my throat self-consciously. I didn’t see any bruises when I was getting ready this morning, but then again, I was rushing a little, so I didn’t really have the chance to study my appearance. Jay, having just poured himself a cup of coffee, turns around, taking a sip from his mug.

“I think it is a bruise,” says Michelle, confirming it. I get up from the table and go to look in the mirror. And, just like she said, there’s a small grey bruise on my neck. In fact, there are three small bruises all in a cluster. A vision of Jay gripping my neck in the back of his car last night flashes in my head. Oh, God, he really had been rough with me.

“Yeah, looks like you’re right,” I say quietly, tugging my collar back up. “I’m always getting those mystery bruises, never know where they come from.”

“Oh, yeah?” says Michelle. There’s a twinkle in her eye that makes me wonder if she suspects I know exactly where it came from. I glance at Jay, and there’s unmistakable heat in his expression. He’s remembering, too.

I blush.

He must notice, because he comes to my rescue by focusing his attention on Michelle. “So, I hear you and Jessie have been bangin’ pocketbooks again. What’s up with that?”

I swear I almost spit out the mouthful of orange juice I just drank.

“Hahaha!” Michelle says loudly. “That’s a good one. I’m going to use that. And yeah, we have been. We’re having a little *** affair. It’s all quite exciting.”

Jay strides across the room and comes to sit down at the table with us. He takes a bite out of my half-finished bagel like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I give him a look of mock outrage, to which he gives me a cheeky wink. “A *** affair?” he asks nonchalantly. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Michelle’s lips tighten infinitesimally. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “I just get the feeling you like her more than you care to admit.”

Michelle gives me an exasperated look. “God, Matilda, tell him. I don’t get attached. And if I were to get attached, it would be with a man. No offence to Jessie or anything.”

“Oh, so you’re just using my friend? That’s lovely. You should be very proud of yourself.”

Jay’s tone is on the verge of being pissed, but there’s something off about it. Like he’s feigning anger to get a desired result. Michelle’s posture deflates, and her eyes grow guilty.

Her voice is quiet when she replies, “No, that’s not what I’m doing. Please don’t tell Jessie I said that.”

“Why do you care if I do? You said yourself you’re not attached to her.”

“Yes, but it’s just…okay, look, you know how sometimes you have this ideal of the person you want to be with? For example, you always go for hunky metro***uals. But then you meet a work colleague who’s sort of nerdy and doesn’t know a thing about style or looking good. You immediately dismiss this person as a romantic interest and put him in the friend zone. But then you get to know him better, and as time passes by, you start to form a crush, because his personality, or something about him, like, his inner soul or whatever, just gets to you. And then all of a sudden you find yourself developing serious feelings for this person, feelings you never expected.”

“So, Jessie’s the work nerd?” says Jay, his mouth curving into a pleased smile.

Michelle’s eyes widen, like she can’t believe she just said all that. “What? No. That’s not what I meant.”

All Jay does is raise an eyebrow, and she’s done for. Her fluster gets the better of her.

“Okay, okay, so maybe Jessie is the nerdy work colleague. Not that she’s nerdy or anything like that. But God, the girl is just so cool, and she makes me laugh so much. I’m starting to think that we don’t fall for looks or gender in the end. We fall for the person as a whole. We fall for their souls.”

Well, that was quite…deep.

I slam my cup down on the table. “You’re falling for her?”

Michelle groans and covers her face with her hands. “Jesus, how the hell am I admitting all this?” She drops her hands and points a finger at Jay. “You’re a f**king sneak. You did this. You knew I was hiding something.”

Jay sips on his coffee. “Hey, I was only making conversation. I had no idea what the deal was, thought you were just a lesbi-tourist.”

“I prefer the term ‘bi-curious,’ if you must know.”

Jay laughs into his coffee cup. “Sounds like there was a lot more than curiosity going on.”

She looks at him with annoyance for a moment before turning her tortured gaze to me. She takes my hands in hers. “Oh, God, Matilda, how the hell has this happened? I’ve spent years going out looking for men, and in the end it was a woman who got to me. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“It’s ironic, really,” says Jay, deadpan.

I give him a silencing look before turning to Michelle. “This isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a great thing. To have genuine feelings for another person is wonderful. Doesn’t it feel good? It must feel good. Who cares if she’s a woman?”

I can feel Jay watching me intently as I say this, and yes, in a way I am talking about having feelings for him.

Michelle lets out a trembling sigh. “It feels like the best thing and the worst thing all at once. I don’t know what to make of it at all.”

I rub her hands in mine and turn to Jay. “You’re Jessie’s friend. Do you think she should tell her how she feels?”

“Sure. Go for it.”

Hmm, I’m not certain if that’s the best advice.

Michelle draws away, sitting up straight in her seat. “No, I’m going to wait for a while. I don’t want to rush things. Besides, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel, what’s going on with me.” She glances at her watch. “Oh, crap. Look at the time. I have to get going.”

“Okay, well, let’s meet up after work and talk some more, ’kay?”

“Yes, that sounds good,” she says, standing and leaning down to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”

And with that, she’s gone. I turn my attention to Jay, who’s sitting back now and watching Ellen and Portia as they chirp at him from their cage by the window.

“Well,” I sigh. “You certainly have a talent for getting people to tell the truth. It’s a pity I don’t have that skill.”

He turns his head to face me and grips my knee, running his thumb back and forth over my tights. “You said you could wait, darlin’.”

I sniff, remembering the decision I made last night to be patient with him. “I can.”

“Well, then, stop trying to guilt-trip me. It won’t work.”

“Fine.”

His handsome eyes probe me before moving down to my neck. Reaching out, he runs his thumb over the bruise. “Sorry about this. Don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “No harm was done.”

A moment of eye contact ensues between us. I break it when I go to grab my bagel and see that it’s all gone. “Oh, my God, you ate all my breakfast,” I say, trying to hold back a grin as I push his shoulder.

He grabs the hand I pushed him with and drags my body into his. Our mouths are close, and I think he might kiss me. Instead, something passes behind his eyes and he lets go, backs away.

“I’ll make you something to replace it. What do you want? Eggs?”

I study him, wondering why he didn’t kiss me, wondering what the thought was that I saw come over him. “Yeah,” I reply. “Eggs sound good.”

***

The next day as I’m sitting on a bench, eating lunch in the park close to the office, a man comes and sits down beside me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, thinking I know him from somewhere but not being able to put my finger on where.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 34



Jesus Christ, did I just say that? Kill me now.

“Actually, I’m loyal to just the one apple,” he counters.

The way his eyes dance and shine makes me want to laugh. I hate how he does this to me. Our conversation right now is verging on the ridiculous. Still, I don’t let it drop.

“You can’t be loyal to only one apple. Once it’s eaten it’s gone, and you need to go find a new one.”

“Oh, I could eat my apple over and over again without ever feeling the need to find a new one.”

“Maybe your apple doesn’t want to be eaten. Maybe your apple is tired of your apple-eating ways.”

He leans forward, one elbow resting on the table, his gaze growing even darker. “On the contrary, my apple loves to be eaten. In fact, my apple is a little cranky right now because she hasn’t been eaten in a while.”

The bloody cheek of him! I want to reach across the table and give him a good, hard slap. Instead, I calm myself and school my expression into a neutral mask. I remember his words from that night at the outdoor cinema.

Please don’t push for more, even if it feels like I want you so badly it hurts, even if I’m the one doing the pushing.

Is this what he’s doing now, pushing?

“I didn’t realise apples had genders and emotions.”

“Yeah, well, you learn something new every day.”

I don’t say anything more. Instead, I pick up my pencil and return my attention to the paper in front of me. Even though I’m not looking, I can practically feel the amused grin on Jay’s face being levelled directly at me.

I sketch an outline of the dress. All the while I can feel his gaze on me like a hot touch. Jay continues eating his apple, and it irritates the hell out of me to know he thinks he won our little veiled argument.

A period of time passes before Jay starts to speak again. “I’m moving into my new place tomorrow.”

His words surprise me. Somehow I’d managed to forget he was moving out. I’d been more focused on the incident with the man in the park and the fact that he’d withdrawn from me. A sudden and excruciating pain hits me right in the chest. I put my hand there, trying to rub it away.

“Oh, right. Where are you moving?” I don’t look at him, because if I do, my strength might crumple.

“Grand Canal Dock.”

“Ooooh, very fancy!” I declare, trying to cover up my pain with a joke. “Are you going to get yourself a job at Google, too? That way you’ll be a stone’s throw from the office. You can enjoy all the perks of being a minion of the evil empire with excellent dining opportunities right on your doorstep.”

He laughs. “You know what, that sounds an awful lot like the spiel the estate agent gave me.”

I shoot him a wary smile. “I can imagine. So, are you having a housewarming?”

“It’s a penthouse apartment, and yes, I’m having a barbecue on the terrace on Sunday. You and your dad are invited. I think Jessie’s bringing Michelle.”

In the back of my mind, I find it odd that he’s going from one room to an entire penthouse all to himself. I mean, why not just get the penthouse in the first place if he could afford it? Perhaps he’s come into some money recently. I glance at my nails. “Well, I’ll have to check my very busy social calendar and get back to you on that one.”

I expect him to find what I’ve said funny, because we both know I spend most of my spare time in the solitary occupation of dressmaking. Although it hasn’t been so solitary since Jay came into my life. Instead, he narrows his eyes and studies me seriously.

“You got a hot date or something? Has Owen called?” The way he says the name is like he’s trying to swallow glass, and admittedly I take a small piece of satisfaction from that.

“No, I don’t have a hot date. And yes, he has called, which surprised me, given how disastrously our second date went, no thanks to you. However, I explained to him that I’m not in the right place for a relationship right now. He was very gracious about it.”

He’s silent, sitting back and folding his arms. I become self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, so I decide to pack up my things for the night and hit the sack.

“Don’t go,” he says, reaching out to grab my wrist when I pass him.

“I’m tired,” I reply, moving on, and his hand falls away as I leave the room.

It’s after midnight, and I still can’t sleep, tossing and turning. I yank off my pyjama pants, feeling too hot. Dad’s loud snoring echoes down the hall from his room, and I envy his slumber. I can hear Jay pacing next door, but unlike how it usually soothes me, now it just irritates the hell out of me.

In the back of my mind, I know it’s not irritation, but heartache.

When he leaves tomorrow, I’m going to miss him like crazy. I want to grab him and hug him so tight, let him know how hard it is for me to let him go.

Soon his pacing slows down, and there’s silence. I hear him flick the light off, hear the sound of his mattress creak as he climbs into bed. The clock on my bedside table ticks loudly in my ears. The more I focus on it, the louder it gets, as though taunting me. Counting down the seconds until Jay’s departure.

If I were brave, I’d sneak into his room right now and give him something to remember me by. In fact, I think I might be feeling a little brave, because my body moves of its own accord. I barely make a sound as I open my door and take the few short steps down the hall to Jay’s room. The door hinges make a tiny noise as I go inside, the room encased in darkness.

Placing my hand on the wall, I feel my way to the foot of his bed. There’s some movement, then Jay whispering, “What are you doing, darlin’?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

I’m on his bed now, tugging the covers down. He clears his throat and puts his hands on my shoulders as though to stop me. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I make out his na**d chest, the little trail of hair that leads from his navel down into his boxer shorts. I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and cotton pants. Jay’s gaze eats me up in the same way mine is devouring him.

“You shouldn’t,” he murmurs, but his eyes tell me that I should.

Hovering over him on my knees, I lean down and place a soft kiss to his pec. His body shudders at the touch. It’s been a week since we last had contact, and somehow I can tell he’s been craving me just as much as I’ve been craving him, even if he did force himself to stay away for whatever unknown reasons.

I crawl in between his legs, my thighs braced over one of his, as I take his nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, wet and hot.

“****,” he swears, his hand going to my forehead and brushing my hair back. I grind myself into his thigh, needy, kissing my way from one nipple to the other, then down his perfect chest and abs. I nuzzle his hipbone when I reach the elastic of his boxer shorts, and his chest rises and falls quickly, his breathing growing frantic.

“What ya doing?” he growls, and the sound pleases me. I like that I’m torturing him.

“Tasting you,” I whisper, my tongue sneaking out to lick his skin. “I’ve missed you so bad.”

His body jerks.

“Yeah, you’d better start tasting real soon, or I’m gonna have to f**k you.”

I moan. His words thrill me. When I tug his shorts down, his gorgeously hard c*ck springs free. I nuzzle it, and he cups my cheek, his eyes shining down at me. I kiss the tip, and he groans, swears profusely.

“You were put on this earth to torture me, I’m certain of it,” he breathes.

I open my mouth and take in an inch of him. His hand on my cheek grips tight. I move my head down, taking his full length slowly inside. His body becomes a rigid coil, his mouth a fountain of lovely profanities, as I bob up and down, sucking him, flicking my tongue around the seam of his head. He seems to like that one a lot, so I do it a lot.

Gripping his hard thigh with one hand, I cup his balls with the other, and a spurt of salty pr**um fills my mouth. I increase my speed, and he fumbles for me, his hands reaching down, sliding inside my top to cup my bare br**sts.

I moan around his c*ck when he pinches my ni**les, and the most masculine sound erupts from him, half growl, half purr. Pure ***. Hot liquid spurts into my mouth as he comes, and I keep sucking him, draining every last drop.

When he’s done, the rigi***y falls away from his body, and he’s spent. The way he gazes down at me, rubbing his thumb over my lips, the adoration beaming out of him, makes feel like I’ve done what I set out to do. He won’t be forgetting this any time soon.

He pulls me up and settles me into the side of his body, my head resting on his chest. I allow my fingers to trace the lines of his tattoos. I study them, feeling like they tell a story, but that story is hidden to me. I wish I could somehow flick a switch and illuminate the words.

His breathing evens out, and I think he might have fallen asleep, but then his hand starts to move down my thigh. With his deft fingers he parts...

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“Well,” he says under his breath. “Well.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Don’t make a big deal.”

Dad nods, and that’s all that needs to be said. Like me, Dad doesn’t really care much about what people decide to do in their own private lives. I take a look around the apartment as Dad goes to sit on the couch with the others. There isn’t much furniture yet, just a few bits and pieces. I wonder why Jay didn’t bring the chaise longue with him, but I’m kind of glad that he didn’t. Perhaps it means he’s still going to come over and hang out with me from time to time. Although really, I’m not sure if that would be a good thing for me emotionally.

I find my way into the kitchen and put the wine in the fridge to chill. When I turn back around, Jay’s standing a couple of feet away from me, and I jump.

His lips curve. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

I put on a brave face, even though seeing him hurts. “Well, my host wasn’t anywhere to be found, so I took it upon myself to find my way.”

He full-on smiles at me now, though there’s a touch of sadness to it. “Oh, yeah? You look beautiful.”

I glance down at the simple dress I have on and shrug shyly. He strides toward me, and my breath catches. He doesn’t touch me, though. Instead, he reaches around me, opens the fridge again, and retrieves a tray of burger meat covered with cling film.

“You want to help me?” he asks, unsure.

“Okay.”

Relief floods his features. “Great. Go grab the burger buns.”

I do as he says and follow him out to his terrace. It’s a lovely sunny summer’s day, with a great view out over the water. Jay starts to cook the meat on a fancy new barbecue that he must have bought especially for this housewarming, or else it came with the apartment. There’s a deck table and chairs, so I make myself busy by setting out plates and napkins. When I’m done, I turn back around, and Jay’s standing by the barbecue. He’s not focused on cooking, though. He’s focused on me. The look he’s giving me turns my tummy into pure butterflies.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say, frowning and rubbing at my chest. He has this habit of making my heart sore, making my lungs feel like there’s not enough air.

He tilts his head attractively, which only makes matters worse. “Like what?”

“Like you’re molesting me with your eyes,” I blurt out.

His answering laugh is long and deep. I can barely handle the affection in his gaze. “Okay, I’ll try to stop. But if it all gets to be too much for you, this apartment happens to have a very nice bathroom. You can go rub one out again to take the edge off. I’ll come listen, too, if that will help.”

There he goes again, pushing me.

I do a slow blink at him before coming out with a rather masterful comeback. And when I say “masterful,” I mean ****. “Why don’t you go and rub one out?”

He ****s an eyebrow. “I don’t rub out, darlin’. I jack off.”

“Oh, my God, shut up!” I suddenly giggle, looking back inside to make sure nobody was close enough to hear.

“You are way too f**king cute when you’re embarrassed.”

I stay silent. Talking with Jay only seems to get me into trouble. The kind that requires a change of underwear. Yes, I said it.

A couple of minutes later, he calls everyone out, and the food is served up. We sit and talk and drink wine, and generally just soak up the nice atmosphere. I find I’m enjoying myself, too, even if I do have to studiously avoid Jay’s penetrating stares. I wish he’d stop, because sooner or later somebody is going to notice.

As the evening draws to a close, Dad decides it’s time to call it a night. I don’t want to leave yet, so Jessie offers to drive me home later. Once Dad’s gone, I feel a little less tightly wound. At least now he won’t be here to notice the weirdness between me and Jay.

I sip my wine and let the conversation drift over me, staring out at the view. My relaxation is short-lived, because a minute later a chair moves beside me, and Jay drops down into it.

“So, do you like my new place?”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s lovely. Great location, too.”

He chugs back some beer and stays quiet for a moment, then asks, “You think you could ever see yourself living in a place like this?”

There’s a touch of insecurity in his voice, which is so out of character.

“I’m sure I could. It’s hardly a shanty town. But I think I’ll always stay with Dad. He’d be lonely by himself,” I answer without thinking. When I see Jay’s expression, I suddenly realise the meaning behind his question. He wants to know if someday I’d live with him. Here. After all the madness is over and he can finally tell me all the stuff he’s been holding back.

Wow.

Just…wow.

And there’s the chest ache again. Only this time it’s a good kind of hurt. Sort of. This man is seriously hazardous for my heart. He just keeps on surprising me at every turn.

“You have to move out some time, Matilda. You know, see the world. I’m sure your old man wouldn’t want you staying with him just because you feel it’s your duty.”

“That’s not why I stay. I like living at home. It’s comfortable. And besides, me and my dad, well, we’re all each other has.”

Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Living with Dad is a comfort blanket, one I’ve always been too scared to let go of. Sometimes I think I convince myself he needs me more than he really does.

Jay grabs my hand then and squeezes softly. “You’re not all each other has.” His tone is serious, fervent.

I suck in a breath. More chest pangs.

“So, you mean to say we have you now, too?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. Air catches in my lungs.

“It doesn’t feel like we have you. In all honesty, I don’t know where I stand with you from one day to the next. You want to be with me, but you can’t be with me. For all I know, you could be gone in a heartbeat, back to America to perform in Las Vegas or some other glamorous location.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you do remember our little agreement, don’t you? We made a deal you’d be coming with me the next time I have shows there, so you see it’s not true. You’ve got me, Matilda. You always have.” He pauses, and his voice lowers. “You’re mine.”

I close my eyes, his words too much for me.

“I miss you,” I whisper. “I miss having you sleep on the other side of my wall, hearing you pace.”

His eyes go sad. “I’ve only been gone a day.”

“And that’s why it’s scary. I shouldn’t miss you this much.”

“It’s not gonna be forever. Trust me.” His thumb brushes soothing circles to the inside of my wrist, and I melt.

We sit like that for a long time, the day drawing to a close around us, city noises drifting in from nearby. It’s after dark when Jessie comes and tells me she can take me home.

“It’s fine. I’ll drive her,” Jay interrupts.

I look at him, stare down at our intertwined fingers, before pulling my hand out of his. “I should go. It’s late, and I have work in the morning.”

He gazes at me, his expression probing. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, breath whooshing out of me. “I’m sure.”

We hug tight, and as I go, I can feel him watching me the entire way to the door.

***

I’ve always found mediation to be an uncomfortable process. Two opposing parties get together to try to find a solution to their disagreement, with a neutral third party hired to play the middle man between the two. It’s often a measure taken early on in an effort to save money. If an agreement can be made, then everyone can avoid the high costs of going to court.

I knew from the start that the session organised to take place between Jay and Una Harris was going to be a tumultuous affair, and I wasn’t wrong. I was also aware that Jay wasn’t going to accept any offers from the newspaper. This was all a part of the dance for him, a part of whatever strange secrets he was keeping, and we had to go through the motions.

The morning it’s scheduled, Dad’s in fine form, a swing in his usually stunted step. He’s been enjoying every moment of working on this case, and I think he has high hopes that a conclusion can be reached today. I don’t have it in me to shatter his optimism.

I’m not keen on attending, but Dad insists I be there to take notes and the like. We arrive at the conference room early: me, Will, Dad, and Jay. The mediator is there waiting for us. A man named Jon Snow. Yes, I’m not joking. Jay and I both give each other a giddy look as we meet him. We both know the significance of his name. I think back to that first night Jay had moved in, when we’d had dinner and he’d teased me about my Game of Thrones T-shirt. A pang of nostalgia settles...

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“I’m not sorry,” says Jay, eyeing Brian fiercely.

“No need to apologise,” says Brian to Dad with a dismissive wave. “I know what kind of white trash I’m dealing with.”

Oh, my God.

“Well, would you look at that.” Jay leans farther over the table, studying Brian closely. Then he turns to Dad. “You know what that look means, Hugh? The ever-so-slight raising of the upper lip? It shows disgust. Do I disgust you, Brian? Do you find me distasteful?”

Brian’s eyes slide past Jay before landing on Dad. “Could you control your client, Mr Brandon? He’s letting his emotions get the best of him.”

“You know what I find distasteful?” Jay goes on, eyes darkening. “Degenerate old f**ks like you.”

Okay.

“Seriously,” Una exclaims. “We should not have to deal with this type of behaviour.”

“She’s right,” Jon Snow finally puts in. “Mr Fields, you need to be more respectful. This session is not about throwing barbs back and forth. We are trying to reach a conclusion satisfying to both parties.”

Jay sits back, his arms falling to his sides. I reach over and lace my fingers through his beneath the table, unable to help myself. Despite everything, I need to show him my support. He squeezes back tightly.

“Why should I be respectful when Brian’s showing me none?” Jay asks casually.

One of the solicitors speaks. “I apologise for my client’s comment. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand.”

“I’m not talking about him calling me white trash. I could give a f**k about that. I’m talking about the way he’s looking at me.” Letting go of my hand, he leans forward again, talking to Una this time. “You know all about me, don’t you, Una? Why don’t you tell Mr Scott how I know what he thinks of me?”

“Oh, yes,” says Una, seeming pleased to have an opportunity to speak. She turns her head to Brian. “Mr Fields was raised by his uncle, Killian Fields, one of the foremost behavioural science academics in the United States. That’s where he gets his little…mind tricks from.”

She says the last part with a tone of disdain.

“Ah,” says Brian, for a brief moment looking uncomfortable before the bland expression is back in place. “Well, that’s very interesting. But I’d like to get back to business. I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh, in that case, you can scoot right along. I’ve decided I’m not interested in a settlement. I’ll see you in court,” says Jay, folding his arms. I think he might also have his middle finger ever so subtly sticking up where it rests on his arm.

Brian stares at Jay for a long moment, and Jay stares right back, his gaze never wavering. Jay has hardly paid any attention to Una since she arrived, and it makes something click into place for me. I don’t think Harris is the one Jay is targeting at all, despite all the horrible things she’s written about him.

I think his real target is Brian Scott, and I have no idea why.

Una rises from her seat and goes to link her arm through Brian’s. “Come on, let’s not waste any more of our time on his charade.” Brian nods to her and allows her to lead him to the door.

Jay chuckles harshly as he watches them leave. “Yeah, you go on ahead. The ideal f**king pair, a garbage bag and a trash can.”

I immediately put my hand to my mouth when he says it, laughter bubbling up, because Una’s black leather dress does look an awful lot like a bin bag. And the sad fact is, she probably paid more than I earn in a month for it.

Dad’s staring at Jay with disapproval, and Will is sitting sternly in his seat. I don’t think either one of them is happy with how Jay is behaving. Now I feel bad for not warning them, because I’d expected this all along.

We leave the room quietly, Jay walking behind me. When we get out onto the street, he asks, “So, lunch anyone? My treat.”

“No,” says Dad. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now. But thank you for offering.”

“Me, neither,” says Will, and they both start walking in the direction of the office, not far from our current location. I’m left standing alone with Jay, the sounds of afternoon traffic passing us by.

“Well, they aren’t happy with me,” he observes.

“Nope.” I try *****ppress a grin. I shouldn’t want to smile, but there was something so hilarious about Jay mouthing off to Una and Brian. I mean, those two are probably never spoken to like that. I bet they spend half their lives having their arses licked.

Jay sticks his hands in his pockets. “Well, are you going to come to lunch with me, Watson? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

I glance at him, and it all becomes too much. The laughter bubbles forth, and it just won’t stop. I clutch at my belly, I’m laughing so hard.

Jay grins. “What? What are you laughing at?”

“It’s just,” I manage, followed by more laughter. “The look on Brian’s face when you called him a pu**y. He really wasn’t expecting it.”

Jay throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a funny f**k. We’re going for lunch.”

I think, but I’m not certain, that I see Una Harris and Brian Scott sitting in a fancy car by the side of the road, watching us as we walk away. I just about manage to calm myself down by the time we reach the café.

Twenty-Six

Months go by. After a couple of weeks of keeping a painful distance from me, Jay starts coming over to the house. Almost every other evening he shows up and we sit together, each of us focusing on our own tasks. He’s creating a brand-new show from scratch, which can apparently take a really long time to put together.

It seems magic and illusion doesn’t come easy. It takes dedication almost to the point of obsession. My little dressmaking business grows, and Jay even helps me set up a website. The man is a genius with computers. He also helps me with orders, packing, and doing post office runs, which kind of melts my heart.

We rarely touch, but when we do there are fireworks. Silent explosions. And all from an innocent hand on my elbow. Our arms brushing absently against each other. Sometimes he’ll gently pull my hair out of the messy ponytail it’s in and redo it for me.

I love when he runs his fingers through my hair.

I always thought that in order to have a relationship, there needed to be ***. But really, that’s not the case. I’ve grown closer to Jay without *** than I ever had when there was ***. Not that the *** lasted very long, anyway.

Still, I ache for him.

I long for the day when he’ll allow his touches to linger, to transform into something more. I patiently wait for the circus that his court case has become to be over.

The newspapers in both Ireland and the UK have caught on to the case, and in the weeks coming up to the court date, it gets a lot of attention. As the day draws near, I notice something building in Jay, a kind of electricity. The anticipation of relief for it all to be done with.

A week before the trial, I get home late. I’d spent a couple of hours at Michelle’s house, hanging out with her and Jessie. Yes, over these past few months their *** affair has transformed into something of a permanent thing. I’m not sure if either of them ever broached the subject of having a relationship, but that’s what seems to have happened.

They’re happy together, and I couldn’t be any more surprised by it all. I just hope the day never comes when Michelle decides she wants to go back to men.

It’s dark out on a cold January night as I try to locate my house key in my handbag. I’m rooting away when a gloved hand slides roughly over my mouth and a strong body presses me hard against the door.

I feel something sharp dig into my belly, just before a male voice threatens, “Scream, and I’ll cut you.”

My heart pounds fast, sweat breaking out all over my body.

I don’t scream. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m in too much shock to react at all.

The hand covering my mouth goes to my hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling down hard. A strangled whimper comes out of me, but it’s barely audible. In my head, I wonder if this is the man from the park finally come to make good on his threat.

“You’re gonna give Jay Fields a message,” the voice continues, the very sound of it grating on me.

All I can do is nod.

“You tell him that if he shows up at court next week, we’ll come for you again, and the next time we’ll leave a mark.”

“We”? Is there someone else with this faceless person? I nod again, and the pressure is gone. I stand in place for several seconds, unable to turn around, but I think I can hear the click of high heels alongside the boots as they walk away. A car engine starts up somewhere nearby, and my body finally kicks into action. I turn and swiftly run out of the driveway just in time to see a black vehicle speed by. The windows aren’t tinted, and I’m not sure if my eyes are...

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They won’t attack me if I’m with someone. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Unfortunately, all the stressing out and anxiety takes its toll, and the day before Jay’s court date, I fall ill with the worst flu of my life. And I’m not talking about one of those bad colds that people call a flu. I’m talking about a real flu. The kind that makes every muscle and bone in your body ache, the kind where you’re barely lucid enough to remember your own name, and when people try to talk to you, you’re replying with nothing but fevered gibberish.

Dad organises for a temp to fill in for me, because obviously I’m not going to be of any help in court in my current state. I don’t mind too much, though. Court is usually hours of tedium followed by a few minutes of something interesting. Jay doesn’t hear about my illness until the morning of the trial. I’m lying in bed, wrapped up in blankets and wearing my cosiest pyjamas, when the front door opens and shuts.

Dad left the house about an hour ago, so there’s only one person it could be. Jay’s footsteps sound on the staircase as he makes his way to my room. He knocks on the door first.

“Don’t come in,” I call weakly. “I’m contagious, and you can’t afford to be sick this week.”

“**** that, darlin’,” Jay replies, stepping right inside and coming to sit on the edge of my bed. He puts his hand to my forehead to feel my temperature, his face a picture of concern. “****, you’re burning up.”

“I know,” I sniffle. “You need to go. Seriously. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you caught this.”

He frowns and takes my clammy hand in his. “I really wanted you to be there today. I feel braver when you’re with me.”

“You’re the bravest person I know, Jay. You’ll do fine. Hopefully I’ll be better in a few days. That way I’ll be there for the verdict.”

Jay ploughs a hand through his hair, and I look him over. He’s wearing a fancy light grey suit, a blue tie, and a white shirt. He looks drop-dead gorgeous.

“You look amazing,” I manage, and his eyes grow warm.

“Thanks, so do you.” He leans in and places a soft kiss to my forehead.

I choke out a weak laugh. “I’ve never looked more amazing, I’m sure.”

“You always look amazing, Matilda,” he says, and then takes his leave.

I don’t have a television in my bedroom, and after spending two hours reading, I become restless. I want to know what’s happening in court. I know the news channels will be covering it, so with great effort I manage to relocate downstairs to the living room. I make a bed out of the couch and lie down. After that ordeal, it takes me another twenty minutes just lying there before I have the energy to find the remote and turn on the TV.

I flick to the main twenty-four-hour news channel and wait for the trial to come up. When it does, the reporter gives a quick rundown of the case, with some footage of Jay arriving at the High Court with Dad. Unlike most people arriving at court who try to avoid the press, Jay flashes a dazzling smile at one of the cameras.

Even his TV smiles make my heart go gaga. My anticipation builds, because after all this time, once this case is over, there’s a chance that Jay and I can finally be together.

Then there’s a clip of Una and Brian arriving, and my anger rises to the surface. If that bitch thinks she can scare me, she’s got another thing coming. I would have loved to see her face when she realised Jay had shown up, that her threatening me didn’t work.

I watch every second of the news channel that day while Michelle pops over at lunch to feed me soup. Later that evening, I go back to bed and conk out, sleeping straight through until the next morning. When I wake up, I feel more refreshed. I stretch out my limbs and glance to the side, startled to see Jay sitting there, his chin resting on his hand.

“Hey,” I whisper. “What time is it?”

“Half-past seven,” he answers. He’s wearing a different suit from yesterday, this one navy, and he looks freshly showered. The scent of his cologne hits me, and I breathe it in deep.

“How did court go yesterday?”

“Uneventful. Today will be more exciting, though.”

“Oh, yeah, why’s that?”

“Watch the news. You’ll see,” he answers mysteriously.

He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he helps me downstairs and makes me breakfast, though all I can manage to get down is some dry toast and a cup of sugary tea. He and Dad leave together, and I’m faced with another day on the couch, mindlessly staring at the television. Despite Jay’s instructions for me to watch the news, I don’t think I can manage more hours of repeated headlines, so I decide to pop on a box set instead.

After a couple of episodes, I check in with the news, and I only have to wait a few minutes for the case to come up. The prim blonde newsreader sits at her desk and reads out her spiel.

There has been a shocking discovery in the court case of Jay Fields and The Daily Post. Today the jury heard how journalist Una Harris used illegal research methods for her articles about the American illusionist. There was no evidence found to back up many of her claims about his background, but, most pertinently, it came to light that Miss Harris hacked into Mr Fields’ phone and email accounts in order to glean information about his private life.

Representation for Mr Fields showed evidence of Miss Harris’ activity and even provided proof that she had been trying to bug the apartment that he had been living in with his friend, a Miss Jessica Hanlan, at the time.

Jessica Hanlan was called forward as a witness to explain how she discovered the bug while cleaning her home. She stated she didn’t know what it was, but later sought out a professional to identify the object. Many are now posing questions as to the integrity of The Daily Post and whether this kind of practice is common among its employees.

A jury of six men and six women has been selected to determine a verdict, and it is predicted that the trial will end sometime next week.

Wow. I’ve only been working on Will’s caseload these past few months, since Dad’s been spending all his time preparing for the defamation trial, so a lot of this is new to me. This kind of scandal could absolutely kill the newspaper, not to mention lead to other cases being brought against them in the future.

I slump back on the couch. I wish I was there today. I can just imagine Jessie being called up to the witness stand. She was probably delighted to be the centre of attention.

That evening, Dad and Jay arrive back at the house with Chinese takeaway. I sit at the table and slurp on my chicken noodle soup while they discuss the day’s events. Judging from Dad’s constant smile, I’m gathering that things are going well so far. After I’m finished eating, Jay helps me up to my room so I can take a nap. He kisses my forehead and tells me to rest up. Then he and Dad shut themselves away in Dad’s office so they can prepare for tomorrow.

I doze for a while and then wake up, desperately needing to go pee. I hurry to the bathroom and do my business. When I’m leaving, I notice that the light in Dad’s office is on, and both he and Jay are still in there. In fact, it sounds like they’re having an argument. What the hell?

I shuffle to the door and listen.

“This is unacceptable, Jason. How could you keep something like this from me? We’re two days into the trial. Two days! You should have talked to me about this months ago,” says Dad, sounding distraught. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him address Jay by his full name before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry before, either.

“I couldn’t tell you. You know I couldn’t,” says Jay. He sounds a little calmer than Dad, but only just.

“Of course you could. You’re my client, and we’re bloody well suing a national newspaper. You were supposed to tell me everything!”

“Okay, okay, think about it this way. If I had told you everything from the very beginning, would you have agreed to take my case?”

“Of course not! For Christ’s sake, half the things you’ve just explained to me aren’t even legal. I don’t care what happened in the past. This…this is…I don’t do things like this. This is not the kind of man that I am.”

“I know that,” says Jay. “You’re not wired like me. You’re a good guy. You can let things go. I can’t.” He pauses, and there’s such emotion in his voice that I can hardly bear to listen. “I need this, Hugh. And despite what you might think, you need this, too. You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this victory.”

What on earth are they talking about?

There’s a long stretch of silence, and I think I can hear Dad quietly weeping. Jesus. I’m just about to go in there and break things up when I hear him speak.

“Come here, son,” says Dad shakily.

Another silence, and then Jay speaks, his voice heavy with emotion, “I’m...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 38



“You okay, darlin’?” Jay asks, breaking through my thoughts. He obviously saw me staring at Brian.

I glance at him and then down at the papers in front of me. “Yeah, it’s just — there’s something off about that guy, you know. I can’t figure it out because he just seems so normal.”

Jay strokes at his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “Have you ever read any Hannah Arendt?” I must look lost, because he explains further. “She’s a political theorist.”

I shake my head at him. “No, I never went to college, Jay. People who haven’t been to college don’t generally read political theorists.”

I’m not sure why I snipe at him. It’s probably because I know that he knows exactly what it is that’s “off” about Brian, but he won’t tell me.

“Neither did I. But yeah, I get what you mean. Anyway, she wrote this book about the trial of a Nazi lieutenant named Adolf Eichmann in the 1960s. Arendt was a Jew who left Germany during Hitler’s reign, and during the trial this guy had to face up to all the atrocities he committed. Things only a monster could conceive of. However, he was examined by psychologists, and it was determined that he wasn’t a psychopath, that in fact he was entirely normal. This left Arendt to determine that perfectly ordinary, everyday people were capable of crimes normally associated with only the most depraved, wicked members of society. She called it the banality of evil. That’s what you see when you look at Brian Scott, Matilda. He is mundane, run of the mill, humdrum, looks like a carbon copy of every other professional man his age, and yet….”

He trails off and looks away. I feel like I’m holding my breath. “And yet what, Jay?” I ask eagerly.

“The judge is here,” he says, turning back and rubbing his hands together. “Looks like this party is about to get started.”

Dad swoops in then, talking hurriedly to Jay, so I don’t get the chance to question him further. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jessie sitting in the gallery, and she gives me a cheerful smile and a wave. I wave back and settle into my seat.

I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long and interesting day.

Twenty-Seven

Dad’s going to call a witness to the stand, a woman named Emma Feelan who works as Una Harris’ P.A. I’m actually stunned that they convinced her to be a witness. And really, I’m not sure if Una was aware of this, because when Mrs Feelan is called forward, her mouth falls open in surprise

I watch her expression of shock turn to one of fury as she levels her catty green eyes on her employee. Or should I say, “former employee”? At least, I’m sure she will be before the day is out. I watch the woman as she takes the stand and the registrar has her swear the oath. It takes me a discombobulated minute to realise that I know this woman. It’s the cougar. The one Jay and I had to rescue Jessie from when she’d tried to get her to have a threesome that included her husband.

What. The. Eff. Is. Going. On?

Gone is the jewellery and semi-slutty outfit she’d been wearing the first time I saw her at the casino. Now her hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and she’s wearing a very respectable pantsuit. Immediately, my head whips back to Jessie where she’s sitting in the gallery. She gives me a mischievous wink as I mouth, What the f**k?

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, because seriously, I don’t believe for one second that this is a simple coincidence. I try to catch Jay’s attention, but he’s staring stoically forward.

Dad stands up for the examination in chief. He holds his head high, even though his limp is evident and his suit is worn and inexpensive. For a second, I forget about my suspicions. In this moment, I’m simply proud to see my dad, a man who’s been through so much and spent so long working crappy small-claims cases, step forward to represent the plaintiff in one of the most high-profile lawsuits this country has seen in years.

I’m so incredibly proud of him.

“Where do you work, Mrs Feelan?” asks Dad.

“I’ve been personal assistant to Una Harris for the past six years,” Emma replies, holding her hands firmly in her lap.

“Would you call yourself a content employee?”

She furrows her brow. “Excuse me?”

“Are you happy in your work?” Dad elaborates.

Emma glances at Una for the briefest of seconds. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” When I look at Una, I see her mouth draw into a severely tight line. Someone is definitely not pleased.

“Are you unhappy in your work?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“Why are you unhappy?”

It takes a long time for Emma to answer. She leans forward into the mic, the word on the tip of her tongue before it finally comes out. “Because of how my boss treats me.”

There are murmurings among the jury, and then Dad goes on, “What kind of treatment are you referring to?”

“Well, she can be harsh at times. Sometimes she’s threatening and verbally abusive. She also makes me carry out tasks I’m uncomfortable with.”

“Can you explain what these tasks are and why they made you uncomfortable?”

“She would make me collect her prescription medication on a regular basis. It made me uncomfortable because it’s not in my job description. My duties are mainly administration.”

Una lets out an audible huff of annoyance from her place in the courtroom. When I look at Jay, he has his arms folded, and there’s the slightest touch of a smile on his face. Then I study Emma, and there’s no denying that she’d rather be anywhere else than on that witness stand right now, no matter if she is unhappy in her job. Somehow, Jay has coerced her into being here. I can just tell.

Dad walks over to the desk and picks up several sheets of paper. He hands them to Emma.

“Are you familiar with these documents, Mrs Feelan?”

“Yes.”

“Where have you seen them before?”

“Miss Harris had me regularly visit her doctor and collect these prescriptions before going to the pharmacy to have them filled.”

“Was there any money exchanged?”

“Yes.”

“How much money?”

Emma scratches at her arm before answering, “Anywhere between two hundred and five hundred euros.”

“Did you find this unusual?”

“I did, but it wasn’t my job to question it. I carried out many tasks for Miss Harris. She’s a very busy woman.”

“I have no doubt. Did you also pay money to the pharmacist who filled the prescription, that is to say, over and above the usual cost of the drugs?”

“Yes.”

Oh, my God. Several people in the gallery gasp in surprise. It’s quite obvious where Dad is going with this, even if on the surface the topic might seem irrelevant.

“In your personal experience, is this usual when collecting medication?”

“No. I have never paid for medicine for myself in this way.”

“In your experience dealing with Miss Harris, did you know her to have any long-standing illnesses that would necessitate the kind of medication she was having you collect for her?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“And in your personal opinion, would you say that Miss Harris was having you procure these medications because she was addicted?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes she would act unusually irritable or confused at the office, but I put it down to stress.”

“Objection,” Thomas Jenkins interrupts. “There is no evidence to prove that my client is not sick, and this line of questioning could be incriminating the witness.”

Dad picks up the prescription papers again and hands them to the judge. “I will bring your attention to the amounts that were being prescribed each month. Even if Miss Harris was severely ill, no law-abiding doctor would prescribe these levels of medication.”

“Overruled,” says the judge.

Dad returns his attention to Emma. “Did you ever try to refuse to carry out Miss Harris’ bidding?”

Emma swallows. “Yes. On several occasions I refused and she threatened to sack me from my job. She also said she’d make certain that I couldn’t find another one.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I was in fear for my livelihood.”

“One final question. In your personal opinion, do you think that Miss Harris could be trusted to carry out properly researched journalism while under the influence of the kind of medication she was taking?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Mrs Feelan.”

Thomas Jenkins steps up for the cross examination, and although he does an extremely good job of questioning Emma and salvaging some of Una’s reputation, Dad’s point has been made clear. Una Harris is an addict, unfit to carry out her job, and therefore none of what she has written about Jay can be considered credible. Dad even brings a medical professional...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 39



I communicate to him silently that kissing wouldn’t be wise. He communicates right back that he accepts the challenge.

“**** it,” he curses. “I’m kissing you.”

Before I can try to move away, his lips are on mine, his tongue sliding its way into my mouth. A deep moan escapes me, and he cups my face in his hands. It’s been so long since I’ve had this, and I can feel his kiss everywhere. Between my thighs, in my hardening ni**les, on the tips of my eager fingers as they clutch tightly at the lapels of his suit.

Of their own accord, my hands start to undo the buttons of his shirt, reaching inside to feel his skin. I wouldn’t normally give in so easily, but I need this. I haven’t been able to touch him in so long. We’d grown close, and yet there was a wall between us. He groans when I touch him, sliding my palm over his chest. His hand moves down between my legs, hitching my skirt up and cupping me right there. I moan loudly.

The door handle moves, somebody on the other side trying to get in, and we pull apart, our breathing laboured. I let go of him and run a hand through my hair. “We’d, um, we’d better go grab a bite to eat before we have to be back.”

The dark, hot look he gives me lets me know that’s the last thing he wants to do. But we both know this is the last place we should be doing this, so he finally replies, “Yeah, let’s do that, then.”

I tell him I’ll catch up with him, and he leaves, but not before murmuring in my ear, “I f**king love the way you taste.”

I shiver at his words and his hot breath on my skin. Then I lock the door after him, making quick work of using the bathroom and straightening up my appearance. As I’m making my way back out, I turn a corner and almost bump into Una Harris. Her normally coiffed hair is slightly dishevelled, and it looks like she bit so hard on her lip it started bleeding. Also, her pupils are completely dilated.

“Looking at me like she thinks she’s better than me,” she slurs, and a waft of alcohol hits my nose. If my assumptions are right, she’s on something and she’s been drinking. Jesus, she picked the worst possible place to unravel.

“I’d rather not look at you at all, Una,” I say, raising my chin.

She screws up her mouth and wags her finger at me. “Oh, the other night didn’t scare you, did it? You should be scared. It would be very wise on your part to be scared.” She reaches out and runs her hand down my scar. “How did you get this again?”

I immediately recoil from her touch. “I don’t recall telling you. Now please, get out of my way.”

“Una, that’s enough,” comes the hard voice of Brian Scott. He walks toward her and sleekly slides his arm around her waist.

Jessie’s at my side then, asking, “You okay, Matilda?” She shoots a sharp glance in Una’s direction.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Who the hell are you?” Una asks, slurring her words again.

“Uh, none of your f**king business,” Jessie answers, folding her arms and levelling her eyes on Brian. “You’d wanna go get her cleaned up. She’s a hot mess right now.”

“Yes,” says Brian, voice steely. “I have every intention. Goodbye, ladies.”

He steers Una away, as she swears her head off. “****ing leave me alone, Brian. I can walk perfectly fine on my own.”

“Bitch has more issues than Vogue,” Jessie mutters under her breath, and I laugh.

The rest of the day moves fairly slowly, and there are no more big revelations. I leave the courthouse with Dad and Jay, the press hounding us with questions, to which they receive a firm “no comment.” We quickly locate Jay’s car, and he drives us home. Unlike yesterday, he doesn’t stay for dinner, but instead leaves right after he’s dropped us off.

The next day of the trial goes as follows: Una’s second PA (yes, the woman actually has two assistants) takes the witness stand. This one is a guy, and he basically goes against everything Emma Feelan said the day before, painting Una as the perfect, most generous boss a person could ask for. Then Dad calls Una to the stand, and that’s when things start to get interesting.

“Miss Harris, in 2004, did you write an article exposing the private life of government TD Victor Nugent?”

Una narrows her eyes at Dad. “Yes, I’d been covering politics at the time and discovered that Mr Nugent had been procuring the services of prostitutes.”

“And how did you come by this information?”

“I have informants,” Una replies sharply. “All journalists do.”

“Did you tap his phone or hack into his computer like you did with my client?”

“How is this relevant?” Thomas Jenkins objects. “We are not here to talk about past articles. We’re here to talk about the articles Miss Harris wrote about Mr Fields.”

“I assure you, my line of questioning is extremely relevant, Justice,” says Dad to the judge.

“Continue,” says the judge with a casual gesture of his hand.

“You can answer my question, Miss Harris,” says Dad, turning back to Una.

Her one-word reply sounds strained. “No.”

“Mr Nugent took his own life a few months after you broke the story. Are you aware of this?”

“Of course I am.”

“Do you hold yourself responsible?”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “No.”

“Do you think that if you hadn’t written the article, Mr Nugent would still be alive and well today?”

“I can’t know that. But I will say that Victor Nugent was supposed to be an upstanding member of society, and the things he was doing needed to be exposed.”

Really, the irony here is just laughable. Una Harris judging someone else’s tawdry private life after everything that’s come to light about her. I guess everyone’s the hero of their own story.

“And did you go to great lengths to expose them, Miss Harris?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘great lengths,’” Una states, her voice hard.

“Did you hack into his private email account?”

“No.”

“Thank you. That will be all, Miss Harris.”

Una leaves the witness stand and returns to her seat, while Dad picks up a folder and offers it to the judge. “Here I present records of Victor Nugent’s personal email account being accessed from Una Harris’ home computer in 2004. The emails accessed are also included, alongside a copy of the article Miss Harris published in The Daily Post several days later. As you can see, information from these emails has been used, almost verbatim, in the article.”

I seriously have no words. I really wish I had been working with Dad on this case instead of with Will these past few months, because seriously, I don’t think I can take any more surprises.

The next few days are absolute madness. All across the country, people are in an uproar over The Daily Post, and every television channel, radio station, and newspaper is calling for the publication to be shut down. Una has been branded a devil and Brian the one who gave her a platform to work from.

The biggest surprise, though, is still to come. And even though there isn’t any magic involved, I like to think of it as Jay’s prestige. His big finish. And, inarguably, the final nail in the dual coffin of Una Harris and Brian Scott.

Twenty-Eight

It’s the second-to-last day of the trial. Tomorrow the jury will decide on a verdict. I’m fairly confident that Jay is going to get some serious compensation, but there’s always the chance that things could change. Despite all of the evidence brought forward against them, Brian and Una’s legal team have still managed to salvage some of the case.

Dad is to call forward one more witness. Reporters had shown up at our house this morning, looking for statements from Dad, so we were all in a fluster to get to court on time. By contrast, Jay is cool as a cucumber. He’s wearing my favourite suit, the light grey one, and looks as handsome as ever.

There’s a peace about him, like the turmoil inside his head is all coming to a conclusion.

I’m so busy admiring his gorgeous profile that I don’t listen when Dad calls his final witness. There are shocked gasps from those in the gallery, and the men and women in the jury. Brian is getting up from his seat, running a hand through his greying hair and looking entirely discombobulated, while Una has gone pale as a ghost, her expression distraught.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask Will, who’s sitting beside me.

“Haven’t you been listening?” he whispers animatedly. “David Murphy is the witness.”

“Huh?”

“David Murphy. Jay’s volunteer. The one Una reported had died of a heart attack.”

I swear to God, it really is too early in the morning, because my brain refuses to comprehend what he’s telling me.

“I don’t understand.”

“Christ, Matilda. Didn’t Hugh tell you?”

...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 40



They all seem confident that Blake is going to prove that something was amiss and that Una had been tricked into believing David was dead. However, when Blake takes the stand, he denies all association with Una and firmly states that he never told her that David Murphy had died. Una claims that all of her dealings with Blake had been in person, so she has no proof that the meetings actually took place.

Again, Jay’s trickery is stamped all over this. I’m almost starting to feel sorry for Una. I’m also starting to wonder if Jay had been planning this entire thing since before she ever wrote a single word about him.

Which only brings forth a whole bucketful of other questions.

The judge asks the jury to retire to the jury room and consider their verdict. I have absolutely no doubt that they are going to decide in Jay’s favour. It seems like a forgone conclusion, really. Waiting for the verdict is not what has my heart pounding in apprehension. If I know anything about Jay by now, I know that there is a reason for everything he does, and what I really want to know is why he orchestrated all of this.

Why did he want to destroy Una Harris and Brian Scott?

Twenty-Nine

The jury’s deliberation carries on through the night and most of the next day. We all arrive in court the following morning bright and early for the verdict. Jay and I haven’t spoken much, but there has been a lot of meaningful eye contact going on, mine full of unanswered questions.

Brian Scott is there with his team, but Una Harris is nowhere to be found. Early this morning there were news reports claiming that after the scandal of phone and email hacking, The Daily Post is going to be shut down. And it wasn’t even Jay’s story that was the catalyst. It was the story of Una exposing Victor Nugent’s private affairs, which was shortly followed by him taking his own life, that has incited the anger against the publication.

The fact that Una came by her information illegally has had the entire country in uproar, with readers boycotting The Daily Post entirely. If the newspaper does close down, over one hundred people are going to lose their jobs, and I’m not sure how well that sits with me.

By the judge’s request, the forewoman of the jury stands up to give the verdict. A clerk asks her if the jury has reached a verdict, to which she replies with a simple, “Yes.”

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?” asks the clerk.

“Guilty,” replies the forewoman.

“Is that the verdict of you all?”

“Yes.”

Well, surprise, surprise. And when I say “surprise,” I mean no surprise. Dad and Jay shake each other’s hands and pat one another on the back in victory. I’m delighted for them, really I am. Dad just seems so happy, and it’s incredible to see that. I haven’t seen him smile like this since before Mum died.

Brian Scott beams rays of hate across the courtroom at Jay with nothing but his eyes. Jay doesn’t notice, though, and that’s mainly because his attention is fixed firmly on me. He seems…apprehensive.

As I said, the guilty verdict is no surprise. What is a surprise is the sum of money that gets awarded to Jay. Two. Million. Euros. No, I’m not joking. That’s a lot for this country. I’d expected one hundred thousand, maybe two, but two million? Wow.

As soon as he can, Jay makes his way to my side, his hands in his pockets. “Watson, we need to talk.”

“I’m…I’m not feeling very well. I think I might still have a touch of the flu. I’m going to go home and lie down.”

“But I’m treating everyone to a celebratory lunch. Come on, I want you there.”

Looking into his eyes, I can’t bring myself to say no to him, so I nod weakly. He puts his hand to the small of my back and leads me from the courthouse. The press are waiting in their droves, and Jay insists I stand by his side as he gives a statement.

I’m in a bit of a daze, because normally I wouldn’t agree to be on television like that. Jay’s statement is going to be on every news channel this evening, I’m sure. And I will be right there with him, probably wearing a comically confused look on my face.

Everything that happens after the verdict feels like a blur. Before I know it, I’m sitting in a nice Italian restaurant with Jay, Dad, and Will, eating spaghetti carbonara and trying to figure out why my brain feels like it’s turning to mush. I feel like I’m trapped inside one of those swirly optical illusions that make you dizzy just looking at them.

There is information in some dark recess of my brain, just dying to break its way out, to help me understand what’s really going on.

Jay has barely stopped staring at me, his gaze probing and intense. Dad and Will chat amiably about the success of the trial as I push back my seat and stand up, excusing myself to go to the bathroom.

I don’t go to the bathroom.

Instead, I walk right out of the restaurant and hail a taxi to take me home. When I get there, the prospect of going inside is too suffocating, so I decide to take a walk to clear my head. I cross the road and walk toward the promenade. When I find an empty bench, I sit down and stare out at the water.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been there when something drops down beside me. I glance to my left to see a stack of old letters tied together with some string. I can feel somebody looming over me. Jay.

I don’t turn to look at him.

“What are these?” I ask curiously, picking them up and setting them in my lap.

“Letters written by my mother,” he answers. “Why did you run out of the restaurant like that? We were worried about you, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

I face-palm. “Damn. I’m sorry. It’s on silent. I just needed to get some air. Letters?”

He walks around the bench and lowers himself to sit, his arm resting across the back of it. I can feel his heat. “Yeah, I want you to read them. When I was just a kid, I used to think she was writing in a diary, but that wasn’t it. She was writing letters to my uncle. She used to write to him every week without fail, and the prick never wrote her back. He’d read them and then set them aside. I think he was using it as an experiment to see how long she’d keep writing without ever receiving a reply.”

“That’s a little cruel. Is this the uncle in America? The one you went to live with?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the touch sending shivers through me. “Yeah. Just read them. They’ll paint a clearer picture for you. Then I’ll explain the rest.”

I look down at them again. “Okay.”

He smiles at me, sad and affectionate. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” Linking his arm through mine, he helps me up.

“Why do you look so sad?” I ask, stopping and putting a hand to his chest as I stare up at him.

His words are a whisper, a faint watery shine in his eyes. “Because I’m afraid of losing you. And if you decide you don’t want me, I’m not sure if I can let you go.”

Emotion catches in my throat. “Jay.”

“Just read the letters,” he pleads.

I gather myself, nod silently, and we walk back to the house. Jay stands on the doorstep as I put my key in the door. When I step into the hallway, I turn back to him, but he’s vanished, ever the magician.

Wanting privacy, I go straight to my room and undo the string that’s keeping the letters held together. I flick through them, noticing that they’ve been stacked in order of date. Carefully, I open the first one and unfold the paper.

Dear Killian,

I haven’t heard from you in months. I know you enjoy your solitude, but I miss our talks. We used to be so close as children. Do you remember? We made Dad move your bed into my room so that we wouldn’t have to sleep alone. I miss those days. Childhood feels so hard, but then you look back and realise they were the easiest days of your life.

We moved into a new house last year. It was a fixer-upper, but with a little TLC we managed to do it up nicely. It’s still nothing amazing, but the area is wonderful. So quiet. Peaceful. The neighbourhood has actually become quite sought after. Just the other day a property developer came and made an offer to buy the place. I invited him in for tea, and he told me about his plans to build a brand-new hotel right where our house is. He was a lovely man.

Sometimes I forget that there are nice men out there. I spend so much time with Luke that it feels like they’re all monsters. I’m not sure how much longer I can take being married to him. It’s not just me he hurts anymore. He’s started in on Jason and Jack now, too.

I want to sell the house, take my half of the money, and get away from him, take the boys with me. When I told Luke about the offer, he called the man up and told him he’d sell him the house for double. He’s being entirely unreasonable, and I really can’t see him getting that amount of money for the place.

God, it feels so good to tell you all of this. To vent. Please write me back if you have the time. I’d call you, only Luke still hasn’t had the telephone connected, and I hate using...