I restocked every fridge, wiping down the shelves as I did. Then I took the crates with the surplus stock back towards the cellar, where Steve was busy doing whatever it was he was working on.
“Thanks. I’ll take those back down the stairs. Wouldn’t want you breaking a nail,” Steve said snidely.
Exasperated by his comment, I plonked the crates onto the floor and held my nails up in front of my face.
“Sure thing. I gotta keep my nails looking sharp, haven’t I? I mean, what else would I use to defend myself from all the bitches here?”
“Whatever. Have you started those glasses yet? Or is that too much for the delicate skin on your hands to cope with?”
Boy, Steve was the biggest bitch of them all.
“Oh, I can cope with a lot, Steve. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”
I’d done bar work before to help pay my way through university. Not that I’d told my family, but it felt good to earn some money of my own. Plus, it kept me focused on something other than missing Justin, and the long distance crap that we’d endured. The dishwasher they used here was a higher spec than the one I was used to, but it was easy enough. Load the tray up with glasses, pull the hatch down, wait for the green light to show the wash was over, and then take the tray out and leave it to drain. Not rocket science, but Steve would probably make out that it was.
I’d just run what felt like the hundredth tray through the washer, and was carrying it to the back of the kitchens to a free space to dry, when I heard a familiar voice.
“I thought I told you never to come here again.”
I placed the tray slowly onto the side and peered around the back door of the kitchens to see Jackson standing with his back to me. At first I couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as he moved to the side, I recognised the other guy. Ed, the unwanted house guest. The one who’d threatened us in our apartment that night, and the one who, according to Justin, was doing Jackson’s debt recovery.
“What, I’m not welcome here anymore?” He had a cocky air to him, and he was enjoying pushing Jackson, I could tell.
“No, you’re not fucking welcome. I already told you, I don’t want you anywhere near my home or my club. I paid you to do a job. It’s over. So you need to disappear back to the sewers you came from.” Jackson took another step closer to this Ed character. “If you can’t manage that, I can arrange to make you disappear another way.”
He reached behind and under his suit jacket and pulled out a hand gun, then held it up, pointing it straight at Ed’s face.
“You seriously think you can threaten me?” Ed laughed then moved a step forward, forcing the gun to push against his forehead like some kind of gangster movie stand-off. He had balls, I’d give him that.
“It’s the only fucking language you understand,” Jackson barked. “You had no problems threatening a woman not long ago, remember? I won’t warn you again. Stay. Away.”
Ed huffed in displeasure and pushed the gun out of his face. “So I’m exiled now, huh? You gonna talk shit about me too? Fuck with my business?”
“You got paid, didn’t you? Job done. I have no use for you or your shit. Leave. Before I do something I won’t regret.”
Jackson put the gun back into his trousers then straightened his jacket and tie. From assassin to businessman in one swift action.
“Yeah, I got paid. Didn’t do the full job though, did I? Shit, I was looking forward to that last part.”
I flinched as Jackson slammed his fist into the brick wall at the side of him. Boy, that had to have hurt. Instantly, he reverted back to his caveman persona and grabbed Ed around the neck, slamming him up against the wall.
“You go anywhere near her and I swear it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Do you understand?”
“Gonna do the job yourself now? Can’t say I blame you. She’s fucking hot. I’d hit that without being paid for the pleasure,” Ed wheezed out as Jackson tightened his grip.
“I swear to God, if you don’t get out of my face in the next ten seconds I’m gonna fucking kill you, do you understand?” Jackson pulled Ed from the wall and shoved him down the corridor. He started rubbing his hand over his injured fist and slowly stalked forward to force Ed to back up towards the doors.
Ed took two or three steps backwards then shrugged his shoulders to show he couldn’t care less about Jackson’s threats. Having a gun thrust into his face must’ve been a daily occurrence for him, no big deal. What kind of world did these men live in?
“Next time you need someone to do your dirty work, do me a favour? Don’t ring me. I’m out,” Ed sneered then turned and left.
I’d always assumed Ed and his gang were on the payroll. Seems I was wrong about that too. Jeez, this working day was spilling all sorts of secrets my way.
I retreated cautiously back into the kitchen, leaving Jackson and his broken knuckles in the corridor. As I backed up, I hit a solid frame.
“Woah! You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, blondie? What in God’s name are you doing back here?”
Cillian. And he looked totally flummoxed at my being in the kitchens. I loved that I could still shock people.
“I’m working.”
Nonchalantly, I side-stepped him, as if my being there was the most natural thing in the world. Then I went back over to the washer to load up the next round of glasses.
“What? Jackson brought you here to wash his glasses? Seriously?” He was gawping at me now, his mouth open, catching flies.
“No. He has no idea I’m here.”
“I bet! He’d go apeshit if he knew what you were doing. Ryley, why are you washing all the glasses in the kitchen?” He was truly puzzled.
“I was bored, and like my grandma always said, you gotta have a purpose for your day.”
“So you thought that purpose for you would be to get sweaty doing the washing up? You do know he pays a ton of people to do that job?”
“Yeah, and they all think I’m the new girl, Emily, so-”
Cillian smirked. “Not anymore. Emily’s just turned up. She’s learning the ropes behind the bar as we speak.”
“Oh.” Damn. My cover was blown.
“If you want to work, just tell him. I’m sure there’s a million and one things you could do up in the offices.”
“I’m not worried about a bit of dirty work. Bottle washing isn’t beneath me, you know.”
Cillian held his hands up in front of him in defence. “I didn’t say it was. Look, don’t get all touchy on me. I just think you could be used better elsewhere. Plus, Steve just collared Emily, so she’d probably appreciate the solitude back here to escape. You know, the real Emily, who’s being paid to do this.”
He was right, it was an excellent escape from the bitch that was Steve.
“You never cease to amaze me, blondie. I had you pegged as one of those pampered princesses when I first met you. I’d never have thought in a million years that I’d find you back here doing all of this off your own back. Not to mention the little show you put on for us all last night. How did he react to you bathing him in red wine in front of the city’s elite, by the way?”
A smugness spread through me at the memory. “He wasn’t all that thrilled.”
“I bet. He flew out of that room like a bat out of hell after you. Poor girl he left behind.” He shook his head. “I had to take her under my wing all night. This morning too.” He winked to make sure I got his not so subtle hint.
“Glad she got the relief she was looking for. Anyway, he got over it. He had to. And FYI, your man needs a serious lesson in how to cope in the twenty-first century. He has some pretty lame ideas when it comes to women.”
Cillian gave a knowing smile. “He’s just old-fashioned sometimes.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“He hates women!”
“He doesn’t hate women.” Cillian sighed. “He just doesn’t understand them all that well. I don’t think the same rules apply where you
’re concerned though, Ryley. You’re different. Special.”
“I have no idea why you’d think that. I’m not different or special. He speaks to me like I’m the bane of his life. To be honest, I’m kinda trying to be. I like winding him up.”
“Don’t we all.” He winked and leant against the counter, casually crossing his ankles over and studying me like I was an exotic creature. “Listen, he’s not the world’s best communicator, but he tries.”
I shut the washer off and wiped the sheen of sweat sprinkled over my forehead.
“Oh, yeah, he’s very trying. I just heard him outside talking to Ed. He’s a treasure too, isn’t he?”
Cillian frowned and his aura changed from playful to nervous and tense. “Ed was here? In the club?”
“Yeah. I heard Jackson tell him to leave.”
“Good.” He narrowed his gaze at me and sighed. “You know I think it’d be better if you leave too. He’s gonna be pissed about Ed showing up. It won’t help if he sees you grafting your pretty ass off in here.”
“Why would it bother him? He’s paying for my services after all.”
“You already know this isn’t what he meant.” He gestured towards the pile of dirty plates and cutlery which was next on my to-do list of jobs. “He won’t want people thinking you’re his woman and you’re being put to work like this.”
“Oh my God, are you telling me I’m expected to be the little woman sat at home all day?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. There’s just… expectations. Leave it to me. I’ll talk to him. See if we can sort something out for you to do. Give you that purpose you need.” Cillian winked.
“Don’t do me any favours. I could just as easily go and work for my dad. I just thought this might help pay off our debts.”
“Ryley, the debt’s forgotten about already. Just try to loosen up a bit. Enjoy a few nights out, and then in three months’ time you’ll have a shiny new life to go back to.”
Yeah, like it was that easy.
“None of this is enjoyable for me, you know. I’m used to a long distance relationship, but I haven’t spoken to Justin for days. I’m lonely and I’m bored.”
Cillian folded his arms and frowned. “Talk to Jackson. Maybe he’ll let you visit the rat.”
“Don’t call him that.” I tried to be angry with Cillian, but his cheeky face meant I couldn’t muster up the anger I’d previously felt at that God-awful nickname.
“I’m sorry, Ryley. You know, for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s good enough for you.”
“Why do you even care? I’m no one to you. To either of you.”
Cillian leant down to whisper low into my ear, even though we were alone and no one could hear what he had to say.
“It may surprise you to hear this, but I do care. I like you. You’re a good girl. I want to see someone do right by you. Whoever that someone may be.” He gave me a delicate little kiss on my cheek that totally threw me and knocked me off my game.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor,” I said. I was struggling to breathe right now.
“I know. But you shouldn’t have to be.”
I decided it probably was a good idea to avoid Jackson and leave. Cillian tried to offer me a lift back to the apartment, but I refused, preferring to call a cab like Dennis had suggested.
Once I got back, I sat down in a daze and watched the rest of the box set on Netflix, but I didn’t have a clue what I’d watched. Every minute I spent in this kaleidoscope of Jackson’s world was messing with my brain. Everything I thought I knew was becoming warped and I felt uneasy. I needed to see Justin. I needed grounding.
“Enjoy your day of espionage?”
Startled, I jumped up from my slouched position on the sofa. I’d fallen asleep watching the T.V., and the darkness outside told me that it was probably late evening.
Jackson stalked over to the collection of remote controls on the coffee table in front of me, and flicked a few buttons to bring a hazy glow of light to the apartment, and set the drapes at the window to automatically glide shut.
“I haven’t been spying on anyone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced his way, expecting to see him grinding that jaw of his or pinning me with an accusing stare, but he just looked puzzled. “You know, it helps when you actually speak and make some sense. I don’t talk in demon’s riddles like you,” I spat back.
He mumbled something about she-devils before sitting down on the sofa opposite. His long, muscular legs strained under the material of his trousers, as he leant forward and threaded his fingers together. I could see blood and the early signs of bruising on his right hand.
“Been scraping your knuckles along the floor again? You have that whole caveman thing down to a tee, don’t you?” I joked.
He lifted his hand up to look at the damage then sat back into the sofa, keeping his fists at the side of him, away from my prying eyes.
“I don’t want you sneaking into my club, skulking around and causing trouble. You’re not welcome there. Stay away.”
Skulking? Really? Did he honestly think I went there to hide around corners and spy on him? Well, apart from that one time, but that was by accident. That was the last time I trusted Cillian to keep anything a secret.
“I wasn’t spying on you, despite what you might think. I was bored. I wanted to work. You know, make myself useful.”
I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but I didn’t care.
“Cill mentioned you want to work, but you can’t come to my club. I don’t want you there.”
“I don’t particularly want to spend any more time in your presence either, but I didn’t know where else to go today.” I sighed. “I’m bored. I’ve always worked. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t mock me and trivialise what I was saying, just nodded his agreement.
“I can understand that. What are you interested in doing? I know you’ve been away at college or university or whatever, so I’m guessing you’ve learnt more than how to stock a bar and wash the glasses. Or was that expensive education just to please Daddy?”
Wow. Did he just hit me with the Daddy card? And there I was thinking we were making progress, but no. He still had to make out I was an over-privileged airhead. Going away to study, because it was what Daddy wanted. He probably thought my parents had bought my place at university too. Asshole.
“Believe it or not, I went there for the education. I do have a brain. I studied English Literature, because reading, books, they’re my lifeline. A perfect escape from an otherwise shitty world. Don’t you agree?” I bet the only reading material he owned was porn mags, and he wouldn’t keep those for the articles.
“So young and yet so cynical,” he mused.
“Hardly. I’ve had a great childhood.” He flinched slightly. Was there something behind his change in demeanour? Obviously, his childhood had been the exact opposite to mine.
“My dad wasn’t too keen on me sticking to just ‘the books’ as he called it, so he encouraged me to do a business and accounting course at the same time. That way, I could help the family business if that’s what I wanted to do later. It isn’t, by the way.”
He leant forward again, suddenly listening intently and looking fascinated by what I was saying. I don’t know why. It was all pretty boring family stuff I was spouting on about.
“Daddy doesn’t like you having free rein then, huh?”
“He doesn’t like much when it comes to my life at the moment.” Why was I talking like this? “He hates Justin. He’s one hundred percent against the wedding, and he hates that I wasted time studying something for enjoyment, when I could’ve been working for him and making his company even more money.”
Seriously, I needed to shut up. I had no idea why I was opening up like this to Jackson Caine of all people.
Jackson rubbed his stubbly jaw and smiled to himself.
“So, Daddy hates the rat. Why?”
I wasn’t about to get into this with him.
“That’s none of your business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Sensing he wasn’t going to get anything else out of me about Justin, Jackson changed tack.
“Then forget about Daddy and his money-making machine. What do you want to do?”
Honestly? I hadn’t a clue, but I knew I wanted to help people. Make someone else’s life better for them. I knew not everyone had the upbringing and privileges that I’d had, and I never took that for granted, but I wanted to use my skills and education to help others. I didn’t want to rub my wealth in their face. Just do what I could to make things better.
I told Jackson as much and he tapped his hands on his thighs, appearing perplexed, toying with something internally. The devil was probably cooking up some hellish, sadistic plan.
“Okay, I have an idea.”
He stood up and walked over to the front door where he’d left his briefcase. He pulled out a manila folder, and when he came back over to the sofa area, he threw it down on the coffee table in front of me.
“You know I’m involved in a charity for the homeless, don’t you?”
“You might’ve mentioned something about it the other night at the gala,” I replied nonchalantly.
I also remembered that Cillian had told me not to mention it to him. It was a ‘touchy subject’, apparently. Obviously not tonight though.
“You also know I’m not the best at… communicating, selling myself or what I hope to achieve with all this.” He gestured for me to take the folder, so I did. “I think you’d be better placed to do some fundraising, get people on board with it,” he said expectantly.
I flicked through a few of the papers, but I couldn’t make heads nor tails out of what he was trying to tell me.
“What is it you want to achieve with this charity?” I asked.
“I want a place for people to go; the homeless mainly, but I also want to focus on dealing with mental health too. There’s not a lot of dignity in being homeless, but I want to create a space to give people a fighting chance at life. Give them the respect and dignity they deserve. A place to call their own, a safe haven, if you like. Do you know what the suicide rate for men in this country is at the moment?” he asked.
This Cruel Love (A Dark Hearts Stand-Alone Novel Book 2) Page 11
