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“And what if he does know?” Dean’s eyes are like coals. “What if he finds out you fucking lied about everything? That even your fucking confession was a lie?”
I shrug. My laugh is deranged through the tears.
“Then it’s all fucked anyway.” I suck in a breath. “And so am I. I’m fucked without him, Dean. I can’t go on. I can’t.”
He pulls me into his arms and I feel like the terrible crazy bitch I really am. I feel like hell. I feel like this is everything I deserve for lying so much and not giving a damn for the consequences. Not giving a damn about anything but getting into Alexander Henley’s bed.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I’m so sorry for what I made you do.”
He breathes into my hair and he rocks me, and it makes me feel even worse to know he still cares, despite everything.
“Fuck, Lissa,” he whispers. “You didn’t make me do anything. I’d have done it all myself.”
CHAPTER FORTY
ALEXANDER
I SHOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING SAID anything, but it’s done now.
She couldn’t hide the panic in her eyes, the crazy tension in her limbs as she freaked out and ran from me.
A couple of steps, that’s all I took, still fucking scarred from chasing that poor fucking cleaner down my street a few weeks back.
I should’ve chased Amy harder. I should’ve dragged her inside and made her listen to me.
I should’ve told her I loved her.
Because I do. I do fucking love her.
It’s not Melissa that’s cleaning my house this morning, it’s the girl from last week.
She’s still petrified of Brutus, I hear it in her voice when she calls him, tells him to get his sorry ass back where she can see him.
It makes me smile through the fucking panic.
She looks horrified as I step into the kitchen. Her eyes are wild as she gushes out apologies.
“Oh hell, Mr Henley, sir. I didn’t see you there, I swear. I’m sorry, oh drat, I’m so sorry.”
I wave her apology away as I take a seat at the island.
I feel exhausted as I give Brutus a pat, and I’m starving. I’m really fucking starving.
“Can I get you a coffee?” the cleaner asks, and I’m about to say yes before I really look at her.
The poor woman looks as exhausted as I am, working her ass off to clean up after me before seven on a fucking Sunday morning.
“What’s your name?” I ask, and her eyes widen.
“Sonya,” she says, “but everyone calls me Sonnie.”
“Well then, Sonnie,” I say. “Why don’t you sit yourself down for five minutes and I’ll get us both one.”
She looks like she’s going to faint as she takes a stool. As though this is some kind of test.
It isn’t. I put the beans in the machine with a smile.
And then I ask her if she wants to join me for some muesli.
SONNIE IS A CHATTY SOUL. She tells me how my dog isn’t really so bad when you get to know him.
She says Melissa told her so, and she was right.
I still feel a rush at the name, a debt of gratitude for the fact that she provoked the tiny spark of hope in me. Without that spark of hope I’d never have met Amy.
Without that spark of hope I wouldn’t be anywhere.
“Tell me about Melissa,” I say, and Sonnie grins.
“Lissa is all kinds of awesome, Mr Henley, sir. She’s damn sorry she couldn’t be here on a Sunday, what with her brother and all, but ain’t nobody gonna be keeping her from her Monday through Friday, that’s for sure.”
“Her brother?” I ask, and Sonnie looks unsure. “You can tell me,” I say. “She’s been an excellent help to me, I should thank her.”
“You haven’t met her yet?”
I shake my head. “A few moments in a meeting room, that’s all. She buys me bacon and orchids. I appreciate it.”
Sonnie’s grin is intoxicating. “Well, sir, she’d be damn happy to hear you say so. The girl thinks you’re class-A amazing.”
“She does?”
She nods. “Hell yeah.” She leans across the island. “Between us, she met you before. She wouldn’t say nothing, oh no, so I’m doing her a favour. Would make her year if you hung around one morning to give her your thanks.”
I sip my coffee. “She met me before?”
“Outside some school gates. You gave her one of your fancy cigarettes.”
The flash of memory is so faint. “The girl with the sparkly tobacco tin?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know about that, Mr Henley, sir. Depends how many schoolgirls you been giving your smokes to.”
I laugh. “I don’t make a habit of it.”
“Then I guess she’s the girl with the sparkly tobacco tin, sir,” she says.
How extraordinary.
I’d be taken aback if I wasn’t thoroughly versed already in the peculiarity of coincidence.
“You said she couldn’t be here because of her brother?”
Sonnie looks so sad. “I shouldn’t say anything.”
“Please,” I say. “If I can help her…”
“Her parents died,” she tells me. “Poor soul was only just eighteen, back last spring. Takes care of her younger brother now, just a wee little soul he is. So much to take on for a youngster.”
I feel a genuine pang of sympathy. “She lost both her parents?”
“Hit and run,” Sonnie says. “Awful, truly awful. Guy who did it got off with it, too. Some fancy lawyer to thank for that most likely.” Her eyes widen in horror as she realises what she’s said. “Not like you, sir. Oh no, not like you are.”
I wave her horror aside. “It’s fine,” I say. “Fancy lawyers have a lot to answer for. I know.”
“Lissa wanted to be a lawyer herself,” she tells me. “Before the accident, you know. I think you inspired her back then at school. Your little talk got her all fired up.”
I feel so sorry. I tell her so.
I ask her if she thinks Lissa would be suited to a place on our training program and she claps her hands in glee. “She’d love that, sir! Oh hell, yes! That would make her whole lifetime!”
I’ll set it up before I leave. It’s the very least I can do.
After all, I won’t be needing a cleaner for this house anymore. The orchids would be well and truly wasted on this empty place, and so would Lissa.
I wave Sonnie off as she leaves for the day and she thanks me for my muesli.
And then I fire off an email to Claude asking him for a final settlement figure on Amy.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALEXANDER
I’M glad I’m going to be through dealing with Claude soon, beca
use the cunt fucking infuriates me.
Back and forth all Sunday afternoon, grilling me on why I’m requiring a settlement figure.
I give him nothing. I tell him to quote me a figure and mind his fucking business.
His one fucking million is a joke, but I wire the funds anyway, just to keep this fucking easy.
After all, Amy will end up with most of it.
I’m calm as I head into the office on Monday morning. My resolve is steely and my nerves are cold as ice.
I prepare my official resignation for the board and begin assigning my clients to capable colleagues.
I need to keep this under the radar until it’s too late. Until it’s too late for my father to action any fucking comeback before I’m out of here with Amy in tow.
I’ve no time for him when he charges into my office. There’s not even a fucking board meeting on today and I tell him so.
His eyes are like pinpricks as they feast on mine, and they remind me just how much I hate him. How desperate I am to spend the rest of my life as far away from the seedy cunt as possible.
He slams a file onto my desk and jabs a finger in my direction.
“I knew there was something going on with you, boy.” He laughs a terrible laugh. “I should’ve guessed it would be a pissing woman. Sweet tight cunt is to blame for most of men’s problems. Don’t I fucking know it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, old man?” I sneer.
“Claude told me all about her.” He laughs and my blood runs cold. “I should’ve guessed it. Half a million for a piece of fine virgin snatch and it sends you all fucking doolally.” He shakes his head. “Now you’re after a settlement agreement for that same fucking pussy? Willing to pay a whole fucking mill for it?”
“Stay out of it,” I snap. “It’s none of your fucking business.”
“Oh but it is,” he snarls. “Because she’s addled your fucking brain, boy. The woman’s playing you for a silly fucking fool.”
“You know nothing about it,” I tell him, “and you definitely know nothing about her. Just get the fuck out of here.”
“Amy Leigh Randall?” he asks, and my breath hitches. “Twenty-one years old, perfect bloodwork, lives in EC1 with her lovely parents and two delightful younger siblings, yes?”
