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The statement hurt. It took a few seconds for her to digest the implication. Gemma had screwed up once, a major fuck up of judgement and trust, resulting in a horrific attack on her. It was her turn to become annoyed. Her thoughts hurried into dark recesses, places she desperately wanted never to remember. With her teeth gritted, she shut down the images, and the emotions that went with them, before they could take hold.
She couldn’t hide the bitterness from him. “That was low, Jason. I’ve been with plenty of men where I’ve judged the situation well, you included. If you don’t want to be supportive, then don’t bother to say anything.”
Angered by his comment and seeming lack of sympathy, she hung up without speaking further.
She ignored his ringtone. He would be mad with her, and she had had enough of the day not to suffer what he would say to her. With him miles away, what was the point of dredging up old memories. She could hear Joshua howling and went to investigate, leaving her phone on the bedside table, ringing.
By six o’clock, Clara had gone home, leaving Gemma with a disgruntled son and a challenging bedtime. He drifted off to sleep around seven o’clock, with hot, clenched fists and a tear-streaked face. She suspected he was coming down with a cold or another bout of teething. In two weeks’ time, he would be a year old.
Gemma, stressed into a loss of appetite, heated-up pizza—her preferred comfort food—and nibbled on it. By ten o’clock, she pined for the reassuring company of her husband. She filled the empty hours worrying about the manner in which she’d ended the phone call, regretting her haste. Slamming the phone down on her Dom landed her in disrespectful territory. She went to fetch the telephone.
The dialling tone beeped in her ear, and she waited for him to pick up.
“Gemma,” he responded without endearments.
Her shoulders slumped. “Hi. Sorry. I’m having a shitty day. I can’t believe someone has photos of me,
revealing photos. I don’t know what else is out there.” She dropped into a whisper. “Do you think he took photos of me?” Her tiny voice articulated her fear—a haunting picture of her bloody body—an unknown photograph hidden somewhere and about to be unveiled.
Jason sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have made that remark. It set you off, didn’t it? All I know is the police never found anything, and his possessions are gone, destroyed. Don’t fill your head with unnecessary stress. You should have rung me earlier.” His tone softened throughout his reassurances.
She tried to picture his face. The warm, kind expression he could wear when he soothed her troubled mind. “I didn’t want to hear your reprimand. I’m missing you. Josh is being difficult, and I think he is coming down with something.”
Jason snorted. “Again? It’s never-ending snot.”
“You’re not here to wipe it up.”
“Two nights, Gem. I’ll be back on Thursday morning. Martinson says there is nothing to do. That if we want to reveal the culprit, we should plant the money and see who turns up to take it. He’ll explain when we get back. In the meantime, you’re not to worry. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Meeting Mina for lunch. At the Presario. Josh is staying with Clara.”
“You’ll be watched closely. Don’t misbehave, Gemma.”
She knew what that comment meant. Do not wander or ignore the instructions of her guardians. Joshua would spend his days being followed and watched by bodyguards—the reality of his life filled her with sadness.
“I don’t have any intention of being difficult. I want to know who this person is. Why he has waited so long to come after me. And not me, now, Gemma, back then.”
“Whoever it is doesn’t know that you are married or wealthy. They’ve assumed you have a Facebook account. This person has not been following you. They happened upon you by chance, and probably at the dance school. It’s opportunistic and ill-conceived. Quite amateurish by previous standards.”
Her heart faltered in its beats. “Previous standards?”
“Gem, do you think I’ve not been blackmailed before? All these years without incident? This matter will be handled carefully and then put to bed. Nobody has won when it comes to blackmailing me.” If speech could sound like icicles forming in midair, Jason could create them in an instant. His frosty tone managed to both reassure and scare her. The arrogant confidence buoyed her, but he had hinted at something else. Jason had a method for dealing with blackmailers, and it sounded potentially unpleasant.
“Nobody? You don’t involve the police?”
“Not been necessary up to now. I don’t break bones, if that is what is troubling you. Fight fire with fire is the approach I use, my love.” His voice switched again, back to comforting and helpful. “Now, go and have a hot bath. Get the Calpol ready for Joshua, and you can open a bottle of white for yourself. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
Instinctively, she straightened up. “Yes, Sir.”
“Oh, if you hang up on me again, subbie, a different photo will be brought to life.”
A genuine Jason threat—tantalising, as they always were when he addressed her as Master and, of course, she’d never trivialise his status. She showed her fidelity with a kiss down the phone.
“Caught it, babe.”
***
Something moved on to the bed. The mattress springs rippled underneath her. Gemma reached out and touched Joshua. The child was breathing gently, fast asleep next to her. Joshua wasn’t the culprit for the mysterious movement. She opened her eyes. Jason lay on the other side of the bed. She smiled as he put his finger to his lips and pointed at Joshua. With that wonderful grace, which she seemed to lack in her tired body, Jason scooped up his son as if Joshua was a feather.
