***
I don’t remember following Nic to the loo. Rupert’s already in there. My foggy brain struggles to process what’s going on until I see the white powder on the toilet lid.
Rupert inhales; Nic follows. The next line is for me. I stare at the powder.
‘Not a virgin at this, too, are you?’ Rupert sneers.
I think that was my tipping point.
Fuck it. I lean over. The hit is instant, and all my nerve endings are suddenly on fire. Euphoria mixed with dread. Everything sharpens. Colours pop. Sounds explode. My heart hammers. Confidence surges. Somehow, I shake hands with Rupert, or is it Rufus? And agree to a deal.
That is my second mistake.
***
I crawl into bed at around four in the morning. Jo stirs.
‘You’re late,’ she says sleepily.
‘Sorry. We went to the casino… time flew.’
‘As long as you had a good time,’ she murmurs.
I snuggle close to her. The scent of curry lingers on her breath. My mind’s still racing. Rupert said someone would drop my car off at seven. Then I remember the winnings. I reach for myjacket. Two grand in the pocket. So, this is how the other half lives: fine dining, client gifts and cash on the side. As Nic said, there will only be a few times. No one will know. And maybe… just maybe… Jo and I can finally live like her parents. Maybe Donald will stop looking down his nose at me.
With that thought, I fall asleep.
I should have stopped it there, but I didn’t.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Daniel
At first, I was on edge handling the transfers for Rupert Maynard. I was convinced the guilt showed every time Sheila, my secretary, entered the room. Briefly, I took to locking my office door – until Nic warned me that would only raise suspicion.
Stupidly, recklessly, under the influence of alcohol and coke, I’d agreed to something that could cost me everything, and now I had no idea how to back out. I believed Nic when he said Rupert was powerful, the kind of man who could end a career with a snap of his fingers, and here I was laundering money through the company’s books. What was I thinking? I should never have trusted Nic. If I hadn’t gone to that bloody casino with him, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Still, who’s going to spot anything odd? I run the finance department for this company, I oversee the books. I make sure every figure adds up, that there are no red flags and no inconsistencies. I audit other people, it’s not the other way around.
Setting up the offshore accounts was easy enough. Nic handed me everything I needed. I told myself it was legit, even though I knew, deep down, the account names and IDs were fake. I promised myself it would be a one-time thing.
It wasn’t.
Months have passed, and the money continues to roll in.
But the casino has its claws in me now. Gambling has become a habit. I tell Jo I’m meeting clients, then head straight to the tables. The more I lose, the more desperate I become to win it back. Bet after bet, loss after loss. The only thing that lifts me is the coke.
I’m scared to look at our bank accounts now. I don’t want to see how much I’ve burned through. Every transaction I arrange for Rupert tightens the knot in my chest. I’ve started coming into the office on weekends to ensure everything is running smoothly.
And Jo has started to comment. Last week she said, ‘I don’t know why you have to work on a Sunday,’ in slightly sulky tones.
‘Because that’s how we pay for the bloody house,’ I snapped.
She went quiet then. And I felt like a bastard. She works just as hard as I do. Her salary is helping pay for the new place, too; or at least she thinks it is, but I’m gambling it all away behind her back.
So, here I am again on a Sunday. The intricacies of Rupert’s accounts have been gnawing at me since Friday, and I couldn’t face the thought of a disaster on Monday morning with the whole team around.
The caretaker lets me in with a grin. ‘Don’t you know Sunday’s a day of rest?’
