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“She’s a character,” I insisted. “I suppose there issomeof me in her.”
“The guy she talks about at the beginning of book one. Was that Mr Morgan?”
My blood really did run cold, prickles dancing along my spine. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t?! Magpie says she’s leaving a nobody, just a man who should’ve meant something. A partner in every way but the one that really mattered. I remembereverythingabout that book.” Her eyes glazed over in that hero-worship way again.
“I didn’t feel like that in real life,” I lied. “Creative license.”
I arranged the bottles in the fridge, nice and neatly to appease Mr Perfect. Topaz was on a roll, quoting this and that from those fucking books. Things I’d forgotten I’d ever said, and certainly ever done. It felt unpleasant, like she was sniffing at the crotches of the panties in my laundry basket. Still, I’d signed up for that, made my personal life public domain in the flimsy disguise of fiction. The dread ofBird in the Bushthrummed right through me. She’d never look at me the same again after that instalment. Never.
I had to change the subject. “Have you never tried to fuck him?”
My question cut through her rambling in a heartbeat, and the bottles clanked as she lost her grip on the box. “Sorry?”
“Andy. Have you never tried it on? He’s always here, you’re always here. There must have been ample opportunity.”
“I, um... no. Never. I’m not really his type.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just know,” she smiled shyly. “I mean, look at me. I’ve got green hair, and he’s like Mr Polished.”
“Mr Polished who owns a sex club for deviants and weirdos,” I said. “And the green hair’s cute. You’re cute. Universally. You shouldn’t put yourself down.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “Like I said, Mr Morgan doesn’t notice me. I’m not naive. There are so many beautiful women in this club. If he’s not going to fuck them, he’s hardly going to look twice at me.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “You’re stunning. Trust me on that.”
She actually laughed aloud, poor little cow. “Thanks,” she said. “But it wasn’t me he was all over in playroom two the other day, was it, legs eleven?”
“That was my fault. I started it.”
“Gah,” she smirked. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s my boss crush, and I can dream. I’d just have liked to have had him once, you know? Just one crazy night, for the memories.”
I took the last two alcopops from her hands, taking them to the bottle opener instead of the fridge. “There’s always time,” I said, handing her one.
“Nowthat’scrazy. He’s loopy aboutyou. Pissed off, and grumpy, and out to make your life as miserable as humanly possible for as long as humanly possible, I don’t doubt. But still, he really wants you.”
The idea thrilled me way more than it should have.
And way,waymore than I wanted it to.
***
Faye
“He’s... he’s... nobody. A man who should’ve meant something.Weshould’ve meant something. Life works out weirdly sometimes, doesn’t it?”
Lights twinkle from the plains down below, stretching out towards Venice. This is a magical place. Vincent Blackthorne smells divine. His scent on the breeze is exotic and dark. Black treacle and amber. He’s bigger than I expected from his author photos. His thigh is so thick against mine. My Prosecco is going down well.
“This man, he’s your partner?”
“Business partner. A partner in every way but the one that really matters.”
“And you want more?” His eyes twinkle. Searching. He wants me. I know he wants me. The thrill sizzles through my drunken limbs. I only came for a signed paperback. This is crazy. Crazy.
“Wanted more. Funny thing, how much you can want someone you shouldn’t have.”
