THE ENDGAME
CLEARY JAMES
Kindle Edition
© Cleary James 2015
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Note from the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Fresh from the shower, Lisa stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror wrapped only in a towel, looking at her reflection as she brushed out her newly-dried hair.
‘I’ve laid out your clothes for you,’ Mark said, emerging from the adjoining dressing room, wearing a beautifully tailored pair of charcoal trousers and crisp, snowy white shirt.
‘Thanks,’ Lisa said, her eyes focusing on the reflection of the bed in the mirror and the clothes draped on it, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach.
‘Put these in for me?’ Mark asked, handing her a pair of silver cufflinks and holding out his wrists.
Lisa bent her head to the task, her fingers shaking slightly as she fastened the cufflinks.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mark frowned. ‘You’re not nervous about tonight, are you?’
‘A little,’ Lisa admitted, her eyes straying once more to the flimsy red dress and lace thong that lay on the bed. She fastened the second stud and released Mark’s hand.
‘There’s nothing to be nervous about.’ Mark smiled down at her indulgently. ‘You’ll look stunning.’
Right, and that’s all I could possibly be nervous about, she thought. Because how I look is all that matters.
He held her shoulders and turned her around so they were both facing the mirror. Lisa looked at their reflection as Mark wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her bare shoulder. If looks were truly all that mattered, she had the perfect boyfriend. Tall and powerfully built, with a broad chest and strong muscular arms, Mark’s toned, taut body was a testament to his discipline and self-control. He ran every morning and worked out regularly at the gym, almost obsessive about staying in shape. His face was classically handsome, with regular features, a strong jaw and full, sensual lips. But it was his warm brown eyes and thick, wavy black hair that had most attracted her to him in the beginning.
‘It’s just been a while since we’ve ... socialised,’ she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. ‘And you know I’m not great at meeting new people.’
Mark sighed and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. ‘Well, we’ll have to knock that shyness out of you, won’t we?’
She gave him a shaky smile. ‘I know it’s silly. I do try.’
‘I know you do.’ He straightened behind her, his hand going to the front of the towel where she had tucked it at her chest. ‘Let me look at you,’ he said as he loosened it so it fell to her feet. His eyes darkened as they raked over the reflection of her naked body.
‘Look how beautiful you are,’ he said as his hand moved over her bare skin, cupping her breasts, stroking across her stomach and down to her thighs. ‘How could you possibly be nervous when you know you’re this beautiful?’
Lisa didn’t see beauty. She just saw how small and fragile she looked against him – her arms and legs so thin, her stomach almost concave. ‘Too skinny’ her grandmother would say. She would probably be shocked to see her now, Lisa thought, feeling a pang almost of shame.
‘How can you be unconfident when you know what it does to me just looking at you?’ He pulled her back against him so she could feel his erection pressing into her back. ‘Feel what power you have over me.’
Lisa breathed deeply, feeling suddenly suffocated by Mark’s iron-like grip across her stomach, his erection at her back and the sharp, citrusy scent of his aftershave enveloping her. She struggled to overcome a sudden surge of panic, fighting the urge to push him away.
‘And I love this,’ he said, his eyes hungry as his hand slipped between her legs. At his insistence, she had got herself waxed completely bare for tonight.
‘Let’s keep it like this. It’s so sexy.’ She shivered as his fingers stroked lightly along her sensitive skin. She bit her lip, hating the way her body responded to his touch.
‘If I don’t stop, we’ll never get out tonight.’ He withdrew his hand abruptly and pulled away. ‘Wear your hair up,’ he said, grabbing handfuls of her long, brunette hair and piling it on top of her head, looking at the effect in the mirror. ‘It’s more sophisticated.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded at him and he released her hair so it tumbled around her shoulders in soft waves.
She turned to the bed then and picked up her clothes, while Mark returned to the dressing room. She stepped into the lacy thong and pulled on the sheer slip dress, the cool silk sending a little shiver across her skin as it slid over her bare breasts. The needle-thin spaghetti straps tied behind her neck and the dress was cut low at the back, scooping down almost to the base of her spine, so that wearing a bra was out of the question. But it was one of the advantages of having ‘no tits’ as Mark put it that she didn’t need the support and could wear a dress like this. He liked to take her out in public with as much of her body on show as possible, and she knew it would turn him on to know she was practically naked beneath the thin slip of material.
The dress had been Mark’s choice, of course. She was used to him dressing her up like his doll, and as soon as he told her of tonight’s dinner invitation, he had started planning what she would wear, quickly vetoing everything in her wardrobe and insisting on buying her something specially for the occasion. Her protests that she didn’t need another dress had been met with anger and accusations of ingratitude. She knew how distasteful he found her careful attitude to money and she should have known better than to risk enraging him, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. She already had a wardrobe full of chic, expensive clothes, many of which she had worn only once, and she couldn’t bear the wastefulness.
Predictably, Mark had flown into a rage at her tentative suggestion that she wear something she already owned. He had accused her of disrespecting his friends and not caring enough about him to make an effort. Didn’t she want to look her best? Wouldn’t she like him to feel proud of her?
‘You’ll have to let go of your niggardly attitude to money,’ he had told her. ‘It’s unattractive and vulgar. I understand that you didn’t have much when you were growing up, but your circumstances have changed. You’re with me now, and this preoccupation with what things cost is tasteless and unnecessary. Your penny-pinching days are over. For God’s sake, stop quibbling and just enjoy it!’
He had launc
hed into a full-on tirade. He was a very wealthy man, he reminded her, and he was happy to lavish his money on her. Most women would be grateful for such generosity instead of throwing it back in his face. She would just have to get used to him buying her nice things, and become accustomed to the finer things in life, because he intended to give them to her. The least she could do was accept graciously. He didn’t think it was too much to ask.
Lisa had succumbed to keep the peace, as she always did, but she didn’t think she would ever get used to the extravagance. Mark had taken her to a high-end boutique and picked out the dresses he wanted her to try on. Then he had made her parade in front of him in them while he scrutinised her. All the dresses he had chosen were more revealing than anything she would have picked out for herself, and she had felt self-conscious as she modelled them for him. When he had finally decided on the dress she was now wearing, he had bought and paid for it without even consulting her as to whether she liked it. It had been outrageously expensive, especially when you considered how little material there was in it, she thought wryly. It was extremely short, barely covering her crotch, and the silk was as soft and thin as tissue. She had meekly suggested that it was too flimsy for a chilly March evening, and way over the top for dinner at a friend’s home. But Mark had dismissed all her ‘complaints’, again accusing her of ingratitude, and Lisa didn’t have the will or the strength to oppose him any further.
She surveyed herself in the mirror now, wishing she could wear something less revealing. She wasn’t comfortable baring so much flesh, especially for people she had never met before. She felt exposed, and it only added to her nervousness about this evening. She didn’t know why she felt so jittery. It’s just dinner, she told herself for the umpteenth time in an effort to calm and reassure herself. It was true she was quite introverted and she didn’t relish meeting new people. But it wasn’t just that. There was something odd about Mark’s demeanour tonight that was putting her on edge. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but he seemed oddly excited ... almost nervous. His whole attitude towards this dinner party had been strange ever since he’d first mentioned it a couple of weeks ago. It didn’t make sense – his baffling air of eager anticipation, the meticulous planning of her outfit ... None of it added up, and she couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t just dinner. Why would he be so keyed up about sharing a meal with another couple?
She didn’t know much about their hosts, only what Mark had told her. They lived in Hampstead, a wealthy North London suburb, not far from Mark’s home in Highgate. Isabel was a sculptor and gallery owner, who Mark knew through his work as an art dealer. It was obvious from the way he spoke about her that he admired her greatly, both professionally and personally. He had never met her partner, Grayson Fielding, but he knew him by reputation as an acclaimed architect, responsible for some of the most outstanding and ambitious public buildings in the city as well as spectacular private homes for his super-rich clients. From everything Mark had said about them, Lisa understood that they were a wealthy, glamorous couple – clever, talented and successful. It was obvious that this evening was important to Mark and he wanted to make a good impression. Lisa got the feeling they were on a mission to woo the other couple. Maybe Mark wanted to do business with one or both of them.
But that didn’t explain why he had insisted she get waxed completely bare. Perhaps he was anticipating a big night when they got home, she thought with a shiver as she arranged her hair in an artfully messy up-do. Her heart sank as Mark emerged from the dressing room with a pair of nude Louboutin stilettos. She hated wearing high heels and they were her highest, spikiest pair.
‘I thought I might wear the Manolo pumps,’ she said as he handed them to her.
Mark simply shook his head, and Lisa dropped the shoes to the floor, taking his hand to balance herself as she stepped into them.
‘Your legs look fantastic in the heels,’ he said, smiling at her in the mirror.
At least they would be sitting down most of the time, she thought wearily, already longing for the evening to be over.
‘Relax, baby,’ he said, obviously sensing her tension. ‘You look stunning. You’ll be a big hit.’
She forced a smile as he wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on her shoulder.
‘It’ll be fun, you’ll see,’ he said, releasing her. He put on his tie as she leaned into the mirror to put in her earrings. ‘And whatever happens tonight, just go along with it, okay?’
Lisa turned to him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing,’ he shrugged, giving her an enigmatic smile. ‘Just don’t act like a hick and show me up. These are sophisticated, worldly people, Lisa.’
She could only suppose he was worried about her holding up her end of the conversation in the company of his smart friends. ‘I’ll try to keep up.’
‘Good girl,’ he said, shrugging on his jacket. ‘Just relax and join in, whatever happens. Enjoy yourself. Or at least pretend to. Okay?’
She nodded uncertainly, trying to appear unfazed, but his enigmatic words did nothing to put her mind at rest.
He frowned, clearly sensing her hesitation. ‘Promise? This means a lot to me, Lisa.’
‘I just wish you’d tell me–‘
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. ‘Don’t be so uptight. I want it to be a surprise,’ he said with a crooked smile. ‘Just trust me.’
She swallowed hard and nodded.
‘Promise,’ he insisted, giving her a hard look. ‘Whatever happens.’
‘I promise,’ she whispered.
CHAPTER TWO
Lisa wished she knew exactly what she’d promised to go along with as they stepped out into the cool evening air. She pulled her coat tighter around her, knowing it wasn’t just the chill breeze that caused her to shiver. Mark’s car was waiting in front of the house, his driver, Andrew, standing beside it.
‘Hi Andrew,’ Lisa smiled at him as he held her door open.
‘Good evening, Miss Matthews,’ he replied, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. She had given up telling him to call her by her first name. No matter how often she said it, he stubbornly insisted on addressing her formally as ‘Miss Matthews’, and he never made eye contact with her. She suspected that was Mark’s doing.
‘Thanks,’ she said as Andrew closed her door and Mark slid in beside her from the other side.
Andrew obviously already had instructions as to where they were going, because he drove off without another word.
‘That dress is stunning on you, Lisa,’ Mark said, smiling across at her as he sat back against the plush leather upholstery. He reached across and slid a hand up her bare thigh. ‘You look so good in clothes – though not as good as you look out of them, obviously,’ he added with a wolfish smile.
Lisa blushed and glanced at Andrew, but he was staring ahead, concentrating on the road, discreetly affecting deafness.
‘I’m glad I can take you out again and show you off,’ Mark continued, squeezing her thigh possessively.
Lisa swallowed her bile and gave him a smooth, unruffled smile. ‘Me too,’ she said softly, looking lovingly at him from under her lashes. She covered his hand with hers.
‘You should be proud of yourself,’ he said, his eyes raking over her body. ‘I know it’s been hard work sometimes, but it’s paid off. You look amazing.’
‘I only did it for you,’ she said. That at least was true. She had starved and sweated herself down to a rakishly thin size zero for Mark’s sake. She had never been unhappy with her body before she met him. Though she hadn’t been as slight as she was now, she had always been slim. But Mark demanded perfection in all things, and his girlfriend was no exception – and to him a supermodel size zero was the ideal female figure.
So that was what she had aspired to. She had been so in love, so desperate to please him, and she had been willing to do whatever it took. When they first got together, he had eyes only for her, and he constantly told her how beautiful and sexy she w
as. But after a while, the jibes started to creep in – little casual remarks about her appearance that undermined her confidence; admiring comments about other women that left her feeling inadequate and undesirable by comparison. When she put on a few pounds after quitting work at his gallery, his criticism had become harsh and unrelenting. Though she was still by no means fat, he began badgering her about her weight constantly, accusing her of letting herself go now that she was sure of him. He no longer told her she looked attractive when she got dressed up for a night out, and the desire she used to see in his eyes faded. Eventually, they had stopped going out altogether, and she knew it was because he was ashamed of her.
He told her she was fat so often that she had started to believe it. She felt overweight and unattractive, dissatisfied with what she saw in the mirror. Consumed by fear that Mark would stop loving her, she had become anxious and insecure. She felt him withdrawing from her, and she was terrified of losing him. Desperate to win back his approval and turn herself into his ideal woman, she had embarked on a punishing diet and exercise regime.
Mark had helped her then. Pleased that she was making an effort, he had bought her a membership at an exclusive gym, hired a personal trainer for her, and made sure she stuck to her strict low-carb diet by monitoring what she ate.
And she had done it. She had become Mark’s image of perfection. But it had been a hollow victory. Because she had quickly realised that she would never be secure in a love that was so conditional, so easily withheld. Now, instead of being proud, she felt ashamed that she had let him manipulate her so thoroughly, and in the process had become a person she didn’t respect very much.
‘I just wanted what’s best for you – even if it does mean I’ll have to fight off other men for you now,’ he added with a wry smile. ‘Because they’re all going to want you, Lisa.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anyone else – only you.’
He took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him, gazing adoringly into her eyes. ‘I love you so much, baby. You’re everything to me – you know that, don’t you?’
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