04 Heller's Punishment - Heller

by JD Nixon

  He kissed me on the cheek and was called away to deal with some minor emergency relating to the number of power points in Heller’s office.

  I sat in on Mada’s interview with Heller. Naturally, he performed well, not flustered nor bothered by either the camera or her inane, simpering questions.

  “Thank you for speaking with us today, Heller,” she said as she wrapped up. “But before we finish, I know that all the women out there will want to know if there’s a special somebody in your life at the moment?”

  His eyes flew to mine. “Yes,” he said, smiling at me. I smiled back, warmth spreading throughout my body. Mada frowned. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

  “I think we’ll cut that bit,” she muttered to the camera crew as we left his office.

  I escorted her downstairs to the security section where she’d arranged to hitch a lift with a team for the rest of the day. Clive’s grim, stony demeanour put her off a little, but she perked up when she saw the two bulky men she’d be partnered with for the day. She did a quick, unproductive interview with Clive who answered every question in monosyllables, then a pre-interview with the two men who weren’t much more talkative, before joining them in their vehicle. I didn’t go along with them, space needed in the back seat for the cameraman.

  I went to my flat and made lunch, giving myself the rest of the day off. I spent it ringing Dixie and my mum. To my surprise, Trent rang me. He’d taken himself off to his beach house to recuperate and was enjoying some quiet relaxation. I complained about my new boss and he sympathised, proclaiming her to be a pushy upstart. And with that comment, I guessed that he’d watched her debut and wasn’t pleased by the competition.

  “After that night, I was sure you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me again. That’s why you haven’t contacted me since, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “It’s not your fault we were attacked by that madman. I didn’t ring you because I needed some downtime. And I also thought you might be angry with me for being so useless, leaving you to deal with Beyrer by yourself. What happened to him anyway?”

  “Heller took care of him.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.” And that wasn’t a lie. After all, I didn’t know what had happened to Beyrer, although I had my suspicions. “Mada’s doing the story on Heller.”

  He groaned in disappointment. “But I wanted to do that story. That bitch! It will rate through the roof and she’ll come out of it looking good from my idea.”

  “She slept with him.”

  He laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s slept with me too.”

  “Geez, you media people!”

  He rang off, promising to keep in touch. I wished him a speedy recovery, which was a slightly selfish desire, because then he could come back to work and replace Mada.

  I wandered down to the office, wanting to talk to Heller about his interview and how he thought it went, but he had someone with him. I sat on what used to be my desk and swung my legs, chatting to Daniel and Niq, waiting for Heller to finish his meeting. Eventually, he came out of his office and over to me with a pleased expression.

  “You look happy,” I commented.

  “I am. The person I hired to replace you started work today,” he smiled. I pouted back at him. He didn’t have to look so chirpy about it. “Do you want to meet them?”

  “S’pose,” I said ungraciously, but then screamed with delight when I saw who came out of Heller’s office. “Bickley Barnes!”

  “Matilda Chalmers!” He stood, arms open, midnight blue eyes sparkling, and I ran to him and closed my arms around his waist. He picked me up and swung me around, before setting me back on the floor again, grinning at me

  “I can’t believe you’re finally here, Bick! And you look great in the uniform. It really suits you.”

  “Yep! I’ve finally defected from Select Security. And Heller was good enough to offer me a job. So here I am! I can’t wait to start working with you.”

  My shoulders slumped. “You won’t believe this, but I’m not working here at the moment.” I glanced over to where Heller stood, leaning against the desk, arms folded, regarding us, his face wiped of expression. “I’ve been suspended for twelve months.”

  His eyebrows pushed together as he considered this. “But you’re still here?”

  “Yeah, I live here in the building.”

  “Oh, well I might get to see you around sometime then?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Okay, Matilda, that’s enough reminiscing. Barnes has a job to go to. And you’re not supposed to be in here, remember?”

  “I know. Let’s catch up later.” I waved at Bick as he left and scurried out of the office myself before Heller kicked me out.

  Back in my flat, I checked my phone to find a message from Will. His wife had been admitted to hospital for a few days as a precautionary measure as her blood pressure was high. Did I want to ‘visit’ him tonight? How repulsive of a man to go trawling for extramarital sex when his pregnant wife was in hospital. His entire focus should be on her, not me. I deleted his message without responding.

  That night the six of us settled down at Heller’s place to watch Mada’s story. It was a complete puff piece, very positive, and she hadn’t been able to hide the naked desire on her face as she’d interviewed Heller. He dazzled on TV, calm, authoritative, sexy, jaw-droppingly stunning. He watched himself with a small smile playing on his mouth, knowing that it had been a risk that had paid off. If I’d been watching as a member of the public, I would have been riveted to the TV watching him. Especially with the candid footage of him working out, his shirt off and muscles rippling. We all hooted in laughter when we saw that. He took it good-naturedly.

  “Heller, you beefcake,” I teased. He shrugged nonchalantly, smiling.

  We all cheered when Clive appeared onscreen and strangely enough, his gruff, intimidating demeanour didn’t come across as off-putting, but reassuring. Mada’s shadowing of the two men was instructive and they acquitted themselves admirably. The last shot for the story was a pull-away shot of Mada, surrounded by gigantic Heller’s men, looking directly into the camera with a saucy expression.

  “Do I feel safe with these Heller’s men around me? Hell, yes! But are they safe from me? Well, that’s another story altogether.”

  At the end of the show, Mada was slipped a piece of paper. She addressed the camera noting with raised eyebrows that the network switchboard had gone into meltdown with people (mostly women) wanting to get their hands on a copy of the Heller’s story. She reminded viewers that it would be on the show’s website in an hour or so, but to be patient if access was slow due to the heavy load.

  And it was a happy six people sitting in Heller’s living room that evening.

  “Thank you for organising that for me, Matilda. I think it will be very successful,” Heller said.

  And he was right. Enquiries quadrupled over the next few weeks and confirmed assignments tripled. Heller had to put on more men to cope with the demand. I wasn’t sure if he was aware or not, but he’d become an internet sensation across the globe, with millions of people logging on to watch the story. He was besieged by the press wanting more interviews and especially more photos, but politely declined them all. The top modelling agency in the country repeatedly begged him to join their books, citing at least five top advertising campaigns for brand products they could sign him up for immediately. He laughed out loud at that request, before throwing it to me to read.

  “I can totally see you doing toothpaste ads, Heller,” I teased again.

  “Very funny, my sweet.” He paused. “My mother emailed me. I’ve never even given her my email address. She saw the show. I didn’t imagine that someone on the other side of the world would ever watch it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s called the internet, Heller. You should investigate it. It’s a great new invention that’s becoming very popular.”

  He ignored me. “She wanted to know who was the
special someone in my life that I mentioned.”

  I groaned. “Mothers! Is that all they ever think about? Mine, on the other hand, is one hundred percent convinced that you were referring to me. She’s been driving me crazy, emailing me pictures of wedding dresses every day.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I emailed my mother a photo of us together. I told her that I’d settled down with you. She was so happy to hear that, she told me that she cried.”

  “Heller! You shouldn’t lie to your mother like that.” But I guess there was no harm in an elderly lady halfway around the world looking at a picture of me and thinking I was her son’s woman.

  “It made her so happy, Matilda, I couldn’t help it. It’s probably the first time in my life I’ve ever made her happy. She finally believes that I could be like other people.”

  I couldn’t help thinking that was a vain hope – he could never be like other people.

  Later, one night as Daniel and I lounged in my flat, drinking wine, we talked about that awful evening. He grew emotionally stronger each day, but was melancholic, less quick to tease or smile. I didn’t think he’d chance a relationship again. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever leave the Warehouse again.

  Hesitantly, I asked him if he knew whether Heller had sought any revenge. He told me the Monday after the incident, Heller burst into the surveillance section, grabbed a terrified Anton by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, lifting him so his feet dangled off the ground. And he’d told Anton that he was lucky that it wasn’t him deciding on reparations. He then dropped Anton, who crumpled to the ground, and ordered him to leave his staff card, get out and never return. The surveillance men had been frozen in shock, not sure what was going on and not often exposed to Heller’s ferocious temper.

  “You didn’t want Anton to be taught a lesson?”

  “No. I actually feel sorry for him.”

  “Really? He betrayed you and sacrificed you.”

  “Think about it, Tilly. He’s spent his whole life bowing down before that bullying family and he’s too afraid to be proud of who he is. He’s punished every day.”

  “That’s very humane of you, Daniel. That’s why I love you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

  “I learned from you, when you insisted that Heller call the police to deal with that woman who attacked us instead of letting him take care of her in his own way. I never realised before that there could be another way besides Heller’s way.”

  “There’s always another way besides . . . Heller’s way.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “What happened to the others?”

  “Again, I heard from Sid that Heller and Clive taught them all a lesson, one by one.”

  “He’s very thorough.”

  “He was very angry.”

  “We all were. But that’s over now.” I smiled at him. “I’m going to have to become involved in another ridiculous situation to take your mind off it and give you a laugh.”

  He smiled back, the first one I’d seen for a long time. “Knowing you, that shouldn’t take very long. But please, no more footage of your butt. I couldn’t stand it.”

  I whacked him over the head with a cushion and he whacked me back and we happily settled into our normal pillow-fighting routine.

  A few weeks later, Simon invited me down to The Farm for a visit. Heller offered to drive me there and we set off early one Saturday morning. When we bumped up the long road, the main gate was wide open, a much more welcoming first impression than the last time I’d been there.

  The compound had been rebuilt almost identically in the same mud brick, but the atmosphere was poles apart. There was an unmistakable, real spirit of camaraderie and cooperation permeating the place. The Farmers appeared cheerful as they worked, laughing and talking. The hot box had been demolished.

  I turned to him. “Simon, you’ve made such a difference here. Everyone looks so happy. You’ve done a wonderful job of rebuilding your community.”

  He showed us around, admitting that he’d thought about building separate bedrooms, but that everyone had voted on keeping the dormitory style of communal sleeping. I shuddered at the memory of sleeping in that room, but noticed that at least the pubic hair blankets had been replaced with something much softer and more comfortable.

  In the kitchen, a pretty young woman kneaded bread, looking up and smiling as we entered the room. A faint flush infused Simon’s cheeks.

  “This is Nicola, our newest recruit. She makes the best bread you’ve ever tasted. She’s our new cook.”

  She blushed with pleasure. “Simon’s exaggerating. It’s not that good.”

  “It’s wonderful. But let them judge for themselves,” Simon smiled at her. “You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you?”

  “Of course we will,” I said quickly, cutting off Heller who I was pretty sure was about to say no. I was relieved that lunch wasn’t Indeterminate Stew, but a delicious and wholesome vegetarian pasta dish with Nicola’s bread fresh from the oven. She seemed very sweet and gentle, and obviously a devout believer, just the perfect type for Simon. His eyes lingered on her frequently during the meal and I thought he was already halfway in love with her.

  As we departed, I hugged Simon tightly and whispered in his ear, “Don’t be afraid to love, Simon. She’s a beautiful person.”

  He pulled back, startled, before blushing and smiling. “Don’t you be afraid to love either, Tilly.”

  I smiled back at him. “That’s exactly what I’ve decided not to be any more.”

  Chapter 29

  On the drive back, Heller seemed preoccupied, but denied anything was bothering him when I enquired. Probably mulling over a work problem, I thought.

  When we arrived home, I stretched when I stepped out of the Mercedes. It was dark, but not too late in the evening. I’d wanted to stop for dinner on the way, but Heller insisted that we could wait a while until we arrived home.

  As I headed for the stairs, Heller came from behind and swept me up in his arms.

  “Hey!” I protested, laughing. “I can walk. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Enjoy the ride,” he smiled and effortlessly carried me up to his flat.

  He didn’t put me down until he opened the door to his bedroom. When my feet hit the floor, I looked around me with a sharp intake of breath. Dim lighting cast a romantic glow. A small table had been elegantly set for two on one side of the room. Soft orchestral music flowed from his stereo. The bed was sprinkled with rose petals, their heady scent filling my nostrils. On his TV screen, a display of fireworks was showing. I went to the table and lifted the lid of the cloche. Lobster. A bottle of very expensive French champagne sat chilling in an ice bucket.

  “Did I forget anything?”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No. It’s perfect.” I looked around again, bringing a handful of petals to my nose. “Who did all this?”

  “Daniel did, on my very specific instructions. It was a good project for him. He enjoyed it.” He smiled at my joy. “And Victor helped as well.”

  “Oh, Victor helped too, did he?” I laughed. It was all so wonderful.

  “Come and eat, my sweet.” He pulled back the chair for me and tucked me in, before taking his place on the other side. We dined on a simple, but exquisitely prepared lobster salad. Replete, we sat back and looked at each other.

  He stood and pulled me up by my hand, gently grasping me by my upper arms. He drew me towards him, his eyes burning with serious intent. I swallowed nervously as I glanced up at him. My eyes felt as big as hubcaps and my heart pounded.

  “I’ve waited so long for you, Matilda. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “No.”

  He slid his arms around me and yanked me in crushingly tight against his hard body, pressing his lips down on mine. His first kisses were impatient, urgent and insistent, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth, his hands roaming over my body hungrily, pushing me backwards towards the bed with his body. My heart sank with disapp
ointment. He was going to be rough again. I tensed in response.

  He stopped suddenly, releasing my lips, sensing my anxiety. “I’m not doing it right, am I? Not like this?”

  I took a deep breath. “Not like that,” I agreed and placed my hands either side of his beautiful face, slowly stroking down his neck, across his broad shoulders and down his arms, my eyes fixed on his. When I reached his hands I pulled them towards my mouth and kissed the back and palm of each. “Slowly, my darling Heller. We have all night. You don’t have to run home in the morning this time.” I smiled at him and started to relax.

  “I’m sorry, my sweet. I just want you so much,” he smiled back.

  He gathered me in his arms, kissing me more gently and slowly, allowing us the chance to move our hands caressingly over each other. I unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it carelessly to the floor, savouring the feel of his smooth skin and taut muscles, kissing his shoulder, tracing a trail of kisses up his neck, across his chin, back to his mouth. He buried his hand in my hair and slipped the other one up my shirt, cupping my breast and rubbing his thumb across my nipple. It felt so good. We kissed for a long, long while, our hands roaming freely, before he started nudging me backwards towards the bed, unbuttoning my shirt as he did. I shrugged out of my shirt and kicked it out of the way when it hit the floor. He reached behind me and made a valiant attempt to undo my bra, fumbling clumsily, a comical look of frustration on his face.

  “I hate those things,” he said, admitting defeat, and I laughed, relaxing even more, reaching behind me and undoing the clasp instantly. “You’re so clever, Matilda,” he admired, and I laughed even harder.

  He pulled the straps down over my arms and threw my bra on the floor over his shoulder. He ran his hands gently over my breasts, bending down to kiss my nipples and tease them with his tongue. I stopped laughing straight away, my breathing becoming more ragged. I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and slid them down over his hips, and he stepped out of them. I’d already seen him naked many times before, but it was a magnificent sight to be sure. He was rock hard already and a wave of desire tore through me at the thought of him being inside me again, leaving me gasping. Oh God, I wanted him.