by Sofia Grey
Fuck. Was this Nick’s way of getting his own back, for her going out with Karl? Why didn’t she tell Karl the truth? Thoughts raced inside her head, and she struggled to stay calm.
Lara watched her carefully. Was this a bluff? Surely not.
Adele tried to sound innocent. “What did Nick say happened in Paris?”
Lara’s tiny smile made Adele cringe. She tapped the folder with her fingertips. “I’ve seen the proof. Your hotel bills. I know you shared breakfast on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday in your room. When I asked him, he didn’t deny it. You slept together.”
Bloody Nick. How dare he expose them like this? It was supposed to be a secret.
“Are you going to bother denying it?” Lara’s voice was icy.
“There’s no point. He made me promise not to say anything.” Adele’s furious words trailed away when she saw Lara’s face crumple. “Shit. He didn’t say that. Did he?”
Lara shook her head. Tears trickled down her cheeks and landed on the folder.
“Lara, I’m so sorry.” Adele reached out to take her hand, but Lara snatched it away. “We didn’t have sex.”
“You slept together?”
“Yes. We physically shared a bed, but there wasn’t any sex.”
“And that’s supposed to make a difference?”
“Yes.” Adele was on shaky ground, but she clung to her logic. “You’re acting like we fucked, but we didn’t. It was platonic.”
“Did you wear pyjamas? Cuddle? Did he kiss you? Did he touch you?” Lara’s voice rose with each question she threw at Adele. “Whose idea was it? And how many nights?”
“My idea. I was frightened by myself.”
“How many nights, Adele?”
“Three. It was all my idea. There’s nothing more between us. I swear it.”
Lara’s lips trembled, but she spoke clearly. “Did you sleep together at Uni?”
“What? Yes, but that was years ago.”
“Did he kiss you while you were in Paris?”
“No. Not really.” Fuck. Why did she say that?
“Not really? Forgive me for pressing the point, but what the fuck does not really mean? Either he kissed you, or he didn’t.”
“Just a friend kiss. Not a sex kiss.”
“Pyjamas? Or do you sleep in the nude?”
“I wore PJ’s. So did Nick.”
“But he cuddled you?”
“Well... yes.”
Lara shoved her chair back, the legs screeching on the floor. “How could you?” She sounded choked. “He’s married. And we’re having a baby.”
“I know.”
“Even better, he told you I was pregnant. Did he tell you he wanted me to have a termination?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. I haven’t even told my mum yet, but Nick has no issues crying on your shoulder.”
“I’m sorry.” Adele stood too. “But you should be talking to Nick about this, not me. If I could turn back the clock, I would. He felt horrendously guilty. We both did.”
“But it didn’t stop him. Three nights.” Lara clapped her hand across her mouth. Did she feel as nauseous as Adele did? “You don’t get it, do you? It’s the betrayal that hurts. He didn’t tell me. He hid it from me. You both did. And Karl.” Lara sounded choked. “He thinks you’re just friends. I asked him.”
Oh no. “Please leave Karl out of this. I wasn’t even seeing him then.”
Lara gazed at Adele as though she hated her. She probably did. “When I spoke to Karl, he believed your story. Are you going to tell him the truth? It’s better to be honest, because lies will come back and bite you in the ass.”
Was Lara going to tell him?
****
Jordan was tired and grouchy on Tuesday morning. The whisky may have helped him sleep, but it left him feeling hungover and nauseous first thing, and he still had a headache. He stopped the cab on his way to the office, to buy some more extra-strength Nurofen, and gulped them down with a drink of water. He barely functioned without them.
Aiden requested a catch-up first thing. At last he’d made progress.
“I’ve got three pieces of news,” he said. “The first is regarding the recipients of the fraud. The funds were ultimately paid into two accounts. One in the Cayman Islands—virtually untraceable—took the bulk of the money. Over one and a half million.”
Jordan winced. That would be impossible to recover.
“The balance, over six hundred thousand, was paid into another offshore account, but this one was on the Isle of Man. While we don’t have full jurisdiction there, we have a greater level of access and have placed a trace on the account. Any movement of funds will generate an automatic alert.” Aiden consulted his notes and gave Jordan a smile. “We’ve also got his alias. Or one of them. The account is in the name Jason Hartley.”
“That’s a start. What else do you have?”
“He emptied his normal bank account at lunchtime on the day he supposedly died. He withdrew all the available funds up to his overdraft limit, taking three and a half thousand pounds in total.” Aiden took a drink of coffee, and flipped through his notes.
“Finally, he has a stepbrother currently serving time in Wandsworth. He’s part way through a seven-year stretch, for drug trafficking and aggravated burglary. Word has it that Jason had a hand in putting him away, so I’m going to pay him a visit this afternoon, with the police.”
Jordan was intrigued. “He may have little or no allegiance to Jason?”
“That’s what I’m hoping. It’ll be an interesting conversation. I’ll update you when I get back.”
The morning improved even further when Jordan had a visit from DI Taylor and DC Mackenzie. A witness had come forward, who not only claimed to have seen a man pushing someone under the train at Leicester Square station, but also identified him from a photograph of Jason. The police now believed he was alive, and they were actively looking for him. Things were finally looking more positive.
Aiden called Jordan with another update after the prison visit. Jason’s stepbrother, Wayne, had been happy to talk to the police once they promised to consider him for early parole. It seemed Jason had been breaking and entering with Wayne from an early age. Jason was a skilled lock-picker, and his deft hands ensured that he could pick pockets with the best of them. It was amazing he’d managed to stay out of trouble, with his stepbrother taking all the blame.
Wayne talked eagerly of the poker parties they both attended, and how the guys that ran them were brutal if they failed to meet their debts. They were also the dealers Jason used. Wayne found out Jason was creating fake invoices, initially to meet his gambling debts. It became apparent that the longer the fraud went on, the further into trouble Jason spiralled, until it became impossible to quit. The dealers started blackmailing him.
The critical piece of information, though, was how Wayne helped Jason plan his suicide. The intention had always been that, if the TM-Tech fraud was uncovered, Jason would flee the country. Wayne said it would be easy. Jason would steal a stranger’s wallet, slip his own in its place, and wait until the right moment in the crowd on the platform.
Wayne’s callousness was sickening.
Jordan asked Aiden why Wayne was so forthcoming with this information.
“They had an arrangement to disappear together. Then Jason had a change of heart, realised he would do better on his own, and stitched up his stepbrother. Wayne hates his guts now. It didn’t take long before he told us everything. Or nearly everything.” Aiden paused. “We still have no idea where Jason is. The police have notified airports and ports, and he won’t find it easy to leave the country, but he’s gone to ground. Wayne couldn’t suggest where he might be.”
****
Sylvie was pleased with the results of their extra visits to see Callum. She could now hold him briefly, and he’d go to Daisy with a happy smile. He tolerated Alex, staring at him with wide, nervous eyes, but staying close, instead of hiding from him. The
plans to take Callum home on Thursday looked promising.
On Tuesday, Alex sat her down to talk about the video shoot. “I know you’re nervous, but I talked it through with Frankie and the video director, and we found an easy way to do this.”
He talked to Frankie? Sylvie wasn’t sure she wanted to know how that conversation went. “I’m listening,” she said.
“We’re going to do it reportage-style. That means splicing footage from our live concerts with some extracts from documentaries, and adding in a few new shots.”
She was interested, despite her trepidation. “What sort of new shots?”
“Patrick, the director, suggests that we get together in a hotel room and he shoots some footage of us hanging out together. He wanted to do it here, in the studio, but I don’t want a film crew in our home. If we shoot in a hotel, the finished product will look as though it’s backstage material.” Alex smiled, looking pleased with himself. “It means we only have to put up with a couple of days of filming, and we don’t need to act or do anything in particular.”
“Just hanging out in a hotel?” It sounded too easy.
“Yep. What do you think?”
It didn’t sound too bad. “It might be okay.”
“Told ya.” He scooped her up and twirled her in the air while she squealed at him to put her down.
Kate walked in as they fooled around. “You two look happy. Anything I should know about?”
“Alex has been trying to convince me the video shoot will be painless,” Sylvie explained. “I’m reserving judgement until after the event.”
She felt better today, a lot more like her old self, but she became bad tempered when tired. And she wasn’t sleeping properly yet. She dreamed of Rico again last night. It woke her in the early hours.
“I’m off to playgroup with Pops in a little while,” said Kate. “You’ll have the apartment to yourselves until after lunch, if you want to use our spa bath again.” She gave them a wicked smile, and Alex laughed.
“Mmm, I think I need to get cleaned up. What about you?” he asked.
They played and made love in the bath, and they were getting dressed again, when a horrifying thought hit Sylvie. “Shit.”
“What? What’s the matter?”
“My pills. I haven’t had my pills.”
“I should hope not. I got rid of them.”
“No, you muppet.” She struggled for the right words. “My contraceptive pills.”
“Huh?” He stared at her, baffled.
“With everything else that’s been going on, I’ve not taken my contraceptive pills for days. Over a week.”
“Fuck.” He sounded shocked.
“Fuck’s about right.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We’ve done plenty of that the past few days.” It was her idea to ditch the condoms, but how irresponsible was she, to forget her pills?
Alex sat on the bed and tugged her close. He took her hands and kissed her fingers. “Don’t worry. As far as I’m concerned, if we have a baby of our own to grow up alongside Callum that would be wonderful. I’d be over the moon if you’re pregnant, but if you’re not, I wouldn’t mind either.”
“I don’t know if I should start taking them again or if I have to wait for my period. I just don’t know.”
“Okay. When are you due?”
She shook her head. “I need to check. Maybe a couple of weeks.”
Alex looked at her, his expression neutral. “So what do we do for the next two weeks? Do we use condoms? Or carry on as we are?”
“Or abstain altogether?”
“Fuck that.”
She managed a half-smile. “That was a joke. We use condoms until my period arrives. If it arrives. Oh hell. I can’t believe it.”
He shrugged. “Don’t stress, Syl. For all we know, the drugs and booze might mean I’m firing blanks anyway.”
“I hope not. I do want our babies; I’m just not ready for them yet.”
“All this talk about sex is making me horny again. You’re not going to make me go out for condoms, are you?”
It was something else to worry about, but in the light of everything that happened in the past couple weeks, Sylvie wasn’t going to fret endlessly about it. She’d buy condoms today and keep her fingers crossed her period arrived on time.
****
After the humiliation with Adele, Lara was filled with a cold fury and a fierce desire for revenge. She left work immediately and headed home. Nick would be out for another two hours. Maybe three. She didn’t have long.
Changing the locks was quick and easy with the emergency locksmith. Expensive too, but she charged it to Nick’s personal credit card. Packing up his possessions and dumping them outside was intensely satisfying. He might have forgotten about his wife while he was busy with his almost-mistress, but she’d make damn sure he wouldn’t forget today in a hurry.
When his belongings were strewn at the front of the house, Lara moved the car. She wanted him to think she’d gone to her mum’s, to see if he dared call her. There was a small shopping mall a few hundred yards away, and it was easy to abandon their car on the car park amongst all the other shoppers. With luck, he’d drive straight past it.
She stalked back home and smiled at the havoc. Bastard. She felt justified. She didn’t want to break up with Nick, not really, but he had to understand how she wouldn’t tolerate him betraying her trust.
Was she being extreme? Adele had been clear that they didn’t have sex. Where should Lara draw the line? Was it okay for Nick to share a bed with Adele, if they were both dressed and nothing happened? No. Not even if they both wore suits of armour.
Nick lied to her about staying at Adele’s place after the club. He turned to Adele when Lara wasn’t around, and that hurt. Adele knew about the baby. What else did Nick tell her? How close were they?
Was her marriage more broken than she imagined?
Images of Nick in bed with Adele were stuck on auto-repeat in Lara’s head. Fuck them both. Adele was blonde and glossy in a way Lara could never be. She probably did yoga and Pilates, and waxed regularly. Sleeping with slim and glamorous Adele must have felt like trading up from sleeping with Lara.
She had to focus on being angry. Anger was a hot emotion. It would energise and cleanse her.
It still hurt like hell.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Nick was out all afternoon, visiting a new customer. His phone was turned off for the visit, and he wasn’t surprises to find a number of texts and messages when he fired it up again. It was approaching six in the evening, and he walked back to the pool car feeling pleased with the prospect of a potentially large order for TM-Tech. He climbed into the car, dumped his laptop and briefcase on the back seat, and flicked through the texts.
There were several from his team, with updates and queries, but nothing unusual. Then one from Adele.
Ring me ASAP. Lara knows about Paris.
Fuck. It felt as though he’d been drenched in cold water. His fingers shook, as he dialled Adele’s number. “Adele? I got your text. What do you mean?”
“Hang on a minute. Let me go somewhere quieter.” He heard footsteps. A door closing. Then— “Right. I’m in a meeting room. Can you talk?”
“Yes, I’m sitting in the car. What the fuck happened?”
“Lara came to see me today. She said you told her we slept together in Paris.”
“What?” He was staggered. “I didn’t. How the hell did she find out?”
“I don’t know, but she had copies of our hotel bills, and she talked about us sharing room service breakfasts.” Adele sounded pissed off.
“And what did you say?”
“I was stressed. I thought you’d told her.” She paused. Her voice dropped. “She asked me if I was going to deny it, and I said there was no point. Then I realised she’d been bluffing, but it was too late.”
“Jesus Christ.” Nick paused for breath, his chest felt tight. “How did she take it?”
�
�How do you think? Jeez, Nick, I felt like a piece of slime. It was pretty shitty.”
He didn’t know how he felt. Angry that Lara had tricked Adele, horrified that his deception had come to light, embarrassed at being caught lying, and appalled he’d hurt Lara so badly. He didn’t want that to happen.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t think what else to say.
“Has she spoken to you this afternoon? Any messages?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t see any. What the hell am I going to do?”
“I’ve no idea, and frankly, I don’t care. Lara is your wife. I’m worried at what she’s going to tell Karl.”
Karl was the least of Nick’s worries. There was little more to say, and Nick promised to update her when he saw Lara. He thumped the steering wheel in frustration. He was easily an hour’s drive from home—quite possibly longer, since it was foggy again. Did he phone Lara now or wait and see what reception he received? He scanned through the voicemails, but there was nothing from her.
In the end, he sent her a text.
Hi babe. We need to talk. It’s not what you think. LvU, N xxx
He stared at his phone and willed her to answer. She did, a few minutes later.
Fuck off!!! And take your girlfriend with you!!
Great. This was so not what he needed right now. With a sinking heart, he started the engine and headed for home.
He needed to make things right with Lara. Nothing else mattered.
It was dark when Nick pulled onto the gravel at the front of the house. Shapes littered the path and clustered on the doorstep. The car headlights flashed over them. Bags and boxes. A couple of suitcases.
Oh fuck. She didn’t...?
Yes, she did.
A cursory glance revealed that all his clothes, books, CDs, and his precious vinyl collection were tossed out onto the ground. A cardboard box held his toiletries, leaking badly where the bottles of aftershave had not been sealed properly. His clothes were dumped in bin bags, his shoes in a series of shopping bags. It was foggy again, and the moisture in the air was making his clothes damp. His private laptop too, in its leather case. Fuck. It would get ruined outside. He hauled as much as he could into the car, then went to the house. He’d go on bended knees, if he had to.
