She’d gone back to his office on Thursday, hoping Jack would see what a huge mistake letting her go was, but the office was empty. Breaking in, with the intention of waiting for him, a red haze of rage consumed her and she ended up destroying the office. The desk he’d screwed her on had been the initial target, but before she knew it, she started tearing through the rest of the room.
The adrenaline rush kept her pumped for hours. Even daring to sit across the road at Mandy’s Coffee House the next morning, sipping iced tea while she watched the comings and goings from the office. Ellen had been so scared. Not that she had anything against her, but it made Claire giggle when she watched Ellen run out of the office looking like she’d seen a ghost.
It hadn’t taken long for Jack to arrive. Bursting out of his car, he said a few words to Ellen, and then entered the office. His hair was rumpled and he sported morning stubble. His wrinkled jeans and t-shirt looked like he’d picked them up from the bedroom floor. To say he looked mad as hell was an understatement. She hadn’t wanted to make him mad. Had only wanted him to know he couldn’t treat her like a whore. She thought she meant more to him than that. She was sure of it. He was just taking a little longer to realize it.
But as she sat and watched, a moment of anger had fueled her mind, twisting thoughts around in her head, telling her he was like every other man who’d screwed her then left. She got another chance to sink her shiny new knife into his chest. His black BMW Coupe.
Jack’s pride and joy.
He left it parked at the front of the building, glistening in the morning sun, and she couldn’t resist. With people constantly walking past it had been a huge risk. But she pretended to bend down to fix her shoe, all the while stamping the car with her artwork.
The screeching sound, made by the hunting knife she’d stolen, against the black metal was like music to her ears. And as she stabbed the tires, she imagined the blade was puncturing his black heart.
She returned to the coffee house across the road and took up her earlier position in front of the window with the menu hiding her face. She got to watch Jack’s thunderous expression firsthand when he realized his car had been damaged. She hadn’t really wanted to hurt him that way, but he needed to learn a lesson and be sorry for what he’d done. Then they could get back together.
Picking up her handbag from off the floor, Claire violently shook the contents onto the bed. A bottle of antipsychotic meds that the doctors prescribed for her because they thought she was a whack job rolled onto the floor. She’d stopped taking them about a month ago, because she didn’t believe there was anything wrong. The doctors just wanted her sedated so she couldn’t think straight, and so they too could screw with her. Doctor Barlow had also promised to love her, but he’d dumped her when she told the medical staff they were in love and were getting married.
She threw the bottle across the room and watched the tablets spill over the carpet, then she grasped the knife that had created the damage. The light reflected off the silver blade as she held it up to her face.
She probably shouldn’t have ruined his stuff, but she’d been so angry and wanted to let him know he couldn’t treat her like that. Jack needed to know they belonged together forever.
* * * *
Lauren drove into her dark driveway. The sensor light above the garage flicked on, illuminating the stairs leading up to her apartment.
Lillian had the apartment built when her boys were teenagers. It gave them the space young men wanted but kept them close enough that she could still keep an eye on them. When they moved out it sat empty for a couple of years before Lillian gave it to Lauren to live in. She often thought she should find an apartment of her own, but she loved her little hideaway above the garage. It was comfortable and had everything she could possibly need, and having Lillian so close was a bonus. They’d often eat dinner together or spend a lazy evening watching TV. She wished Lillian would hurry back from her holiday. She missed her.
Living there also helped her save money, because Lillian considered Lauren a daughter and never asked for much. Anything she saved, she put aside for when Belinda demanded a handout. She knew if she didn’t do something to stop Belinda, the woman would eventually suck her dry, but she hadn’t worked out how to stop her dirty laundry from being revealed. So, for now, Lauren stayed in her cozy, little apartment above the garage and gave Belinda what she wanted.
The entrance door led straight into the open-plan living room and kitchen she’d decorated in warm colors. Big red and yellow embellished pillows scattered the caramel sofa, and pretty vases and bright bowls—the same as the ones in her store—littered the cream-colored kitchen counter.
Kicking off her heels, she thought about the business card inside her bag, weighing it down like a brick. Heaving the bag off her shoulder, she dropped it onto the glass coffee table. Did she really need to call Jack and accept the job offer so she could pay Belinda? She wished she didn’t, but after looking at her bank account, she knew she had no other choice. Which now meant she would have to work closely with a man who made her pulse race and her heart skip a beat whenever he came near. How was she meant to work in such conditions?
Pouring a generous splash of wine, she knocked it back like a shot of whiskey. She’d made an utter fool of herself that morning thinking Jack wanted to ask her out, and now she needed the liquid courage to call him. Lauren poured another glass, not so generously, and sipped it slowly. She sagged into the brown Lazy-Boy chair left behind by Lillian’s sons. A chair Ava liked to call theugly man chair. But Lauren didn’t care; it was comfortable.
Digging her phone and the business card out of her bag, she dialed Jack’s number. Would he gloat when she accepted the job after all? If only she hadn’t made such a big song and dance about never working for him. It was going to kill her to bite her tongue and be gracious for the job.
The phone rang twice before Jack answered. “Yes?” His tone was brusque, like she had caught him at a bad time.
After a slight hesitation, she cleared her throat. “Jack, it’s Lauren Moore. I’m sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time…”
“No, I was just locking up the office.” The sharpness in his tone changed, and he sounded like he was happy to hear from her. “What can I do for you, Lauren?”
A magnitude of inappropriate images of what he could do spun through her mind. She shook her head to clear the mental pictures. She needed to stop thinking this way, especially if she was going to work for him.
“I’ve decided to accept the job offer,” she answered, and then, to her horror, realized he may have given it to someone else. He had said he wanted the office fixed urgently. She quickly added, “If it’s still available.”
“You want the job? Oh, thank freakin’ God.” His relief was obvious through the phone. “We need to get started right away.” He sounded genuinely grateful, and she couldn’t detect any smugness. The tension in her body eased a little.
“I could come by the office tomorrow morning to have a look, and we can discuss your tastes and styles.”
“I need you to get started sooner than that.”
“How much sooner than tomorrow morning can you get?” She laughed.
“We can discuss it over a drink tonight.”
With shaky fingers she touched the locket. A drink alone with Jack didn’t sound like a great idea, because she needed to keep things purely professional. “No, Jack, I don’t think—”
