by Lesley Jones
“I don’t wanna handle it I wanna do something about it. I wanna stop her from doing it, stop it from happening.”
“Why don’t you then?”
“I left it too late. I had the chance. I’ve had many chances. I just didn’t take them. I thought I had more time and then along he came and swept her away, right out from under my nose and there’s been fuck all I’ve been able to do ever since.”
“Does she know?”
I lean forward in my chair and rest both my elbows on my knees and drop the hand holding my glass down between them.
“She knows, but I didn’t tell her how I felt until after he’d shown up, not until I realised that something was going on between the two of them.”
He chews on the inside of his lip for a few quiet seconds, and I got the sense that he’s contemplating whether or not to say something.
“I lost Georgia once,” he finally says.
I’m shocked. Not only by his confession and the fact that he’d confided in me, but also by the information.
Cam’s wife is stunning, in a supermodel kind of way. She’s probably around forty and as gorgeous now as she was in the pictures I’d seen of her in newspapers and magazines while I’d been growing up. It’s entirely apparent to anyone that’s ever been in their company, that they’re bang in love. The way they look at each other, it kinda makes you uncomfortable to be in the same room.
“To another man?”
“Well it weren’t to a fuckin’ woman. My wife don’t swing that way.”
I roll my eyes and let out a long breath through my nose. “I didn’t know if you meant you fucked up and she left.”
“I did fuck up. A bit like you, I kept my mouth shut for too long and didn’t tell her how I felt. I went away on a business trip, and by the time I got back, she’d reconnected with her ex.”
Fuck, it was hard enough never to have had Sarah. Imagine having her and then losing her. I think it’d kill me. This hurts hard enough.
“So it was before you were married then?”
“Yeah, way before then. I think she was only about nineteen at the time.”
“What happened?”
“She married him.”
“Oh fuck. Maca? You were with her before she married him?”
“Yep, not for long, but long enough for me to know that she was the one.”
He sips his drink, before adding, “it nearly killed me. I’d spent the previous couple of years getting myself cleaned up. After the death of my first wife, I was a mess.”
He sips his drink and shrugs, “I’m not an alcoholic or a drug addict, but I have been known to overindulge when things get tough. When I met Georgia I was the happiest I had been for the first time in years, maybe in forever, but definitely for a while. Then I lost her, and I just needed something to numb the pain. Cocaine, whisky, vodka, they all fit the bill.”
He lets out a long breath, causing his lips to roll together.
“You need to accept it and move on Will. I’m probably not the best person to give advice, but I will tell you this, you can either live each day in the hope that something will happen to make her come back to you, or you can save yourself a whole world of heartache and pain, and move the fuck on.”
“Is that what you did.”
“Nope.” He doesn't hesitate with his response. “I knew that one day I’d get her back. I never expected it to happen the way that it did, nor would I have ever wished for that to have happened, but, I just always knew, in my heart, in my gut, even in my head, I just knew that my time would come.”
“I don’t feel that.”
“That you’ll one day get her back?”
“Yeah, I know that I’ve lost her for good.”
“Then move on. If you don’t, the hurt will consume you, churn you up and spit you out, that, in turn, will make you a shit employee and I don’t employ shit. I only employ the best.”
I give him a small smile, “and there I was thinking that you wanted to be my new dad and that you actually cared.”
“I’m not that old you cheeky fucker, and I already have four kids of my own, thank you very much. And…” He lets out a long slow breath before continuing. “I do care, about my business. You’re a part of my business, so, I’ll give you this one last piece of advice.”
He stares at a framed photo that sits on the desk in front of him. I can only see the back of it, but I know from memory that it’s of him and his wife.
He takes a sip of his drink and then raises his eyes back to meet mine.
“If you do ever get another chance with her, or, if you ever meet another girl that makes you feel the way that she did, or does, don't hesitate, not even for a second to let her know. Make sure there is no miscommunication between you. Just put it the fuck out there and let her know exactly how you feel.”
He gives his big shoulders a small shrug, but before either of us can say anymore, the door to his office swings open and the voices of at least a half-dozen women talking at once invades our space.
Cam's eyes widen before he smiles.
“Book, what are you doing here?”
“Alright Queenie, how are you?” I hear someone question. The accent is similar to Cam’s, cockney or Essex but at the same time slightly refined. ‘Posh Essex,’ if there is such a thing.
“Paige, you can’t just barge in there without knocking.”
Cam’s eyes widen further, and I turn my chair to face whoever has caused the noise and interruption.
I get this feeling inside me, but I’m not sure where it’s actually centred, it could be my chest, it could be my belly. It’s like when you think there’s one more step left at the bottom of the stairs when you’re in the dark, but there’s not, and just for a split second, you think you’ve missed it and are about to fall. That feeling where everything inside you plunges and then drags itself back to its rightful position, only my insides have lost their way on the return journey, becoming twisted into a tangled mess, making my gut churn.
I stare at her.
She stares right back at me.
She’s young. About twenty if I had to guess. And she’s stunning. Tall, slim. Long, light golden coloured hair. Olive skin and gorgeous blue eyes that look almost too big for her delicate face.
“Kitten.” I hear Cam say from somewhere within the room. I move my eyes to his wife as she appears in the doorway and my stomach once again takes a dive to my boots, and my heart all but stops beating when I realise the likeness of the younger woman to Georgia King.
Fuck. My. Life.
She must be their daughter. My bosses daughter for fuck's sake. I have to shut down each and every improper thought I’ve had the previous few seconds. Thoughts about those pouty lips wrapping around my dick, thoughts about those big blue eyes, smeared with mascara as I fucked that beautiful mouth.
I blink, take in a deep breath and tuck each and every one of those inappropriate thoughts away.
About the Author
Lesley Jones was born and raised in Essex England but moved to Australia in 2006 with her family. Her first book, Saviour, was published in 2013 and she quickly gained a reputation as a writer of gritty, down to earth characters, involved in angsty and emotional plot lines. Carnage, her third novel, has won a number of awards for ‘Best Ugly Cry’ Her readers love the fact that she can switch her stories from hot and steamy, to snot bubble ugly crying, followed by laugh out loud moments, in the space of a few sentences. She has declared that the very best part of her job is meeting her readers and has travelled the world a number of times over the past few years to do exactly that.
When not writing, she has admitted to being a prolific reader, getting through around four or five books a week. She is a fan of trashy reality TV, listening to music, watching her son play football and enjoys a glass of wine… or three.
Connect With Lesley @
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Books By Lesley Jones
Carnage Book #1—The Story Of Us
Carnage Book #2—The Story Of Me
Marley—A Carnage Novel
The Letters—A Carnage Novella
A Different Kind of December—A Carnage Short Story
Saviour Series
Conviction
CowSex
