Never Again

by Lilliana Anderson

  There was no sleep for me that night. I sat up alone, drinking wine and staring at my phone while trying to figure out what I was going to do to convince Bran to give me another chance—there may have also been a hefty dose of self-pitying tears added into the mix too. But by the time the sun started to rise, I felt as though I had a plan.

  It took a little longer to get ready for work than it normally did, given my eyes were red and swollen with two dark crescent-shaped divots sucking against my sockets. It was a neon sign advertising my lack of sleep and poor emotional state. “Fuck it,” I muttered, dropping my concealer into my make-up bag. The basic cover-up job would have to do.

  I’d filled Olivia in on my plan on the way to work. She listened quietly and nodded, telling me that she’d support me in any way she could. Just knowing that helped to steel my emotions so I could get through this.

  Skipping our usual coffee, we walked into work. Nerves were swirling about in my stomach, but I had a game plan. I would hand the paperwork in to prove my intervention order had been revoked, while also admitting to my relationship with Bran. Then I’d accept whatever consequences came my way. It wasn’t every day you marched up to your boss and told him you were in love with his son. The idea made my knees wobble.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Olivia said, giving my arm a friendly squeeze as she held her card against the lock on the entry door.

  Taking a deep breath, I gave her a shaky smile then stepped over the threshold of the foyer to the office. Instantly, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could have sworn people were looking right at me and whispering.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered to Olivia who shook her head, quietly surveying the room.

  “I have absolutely no fucking clue. But something…”

  “Cora. My office please,” Adrian Sharp called out, his tone clipped.

  “Oh shit. Do you think he already knows?” I asked, grabbing her by the arm. This wasn’t how the morning was supposed to work.

  “Maybe it’s about the intervention order? Maybe it has nothing to do with Bran at all.”

  “Ugh. I feel sick. Wish me luck?”

  “You won’t need it.” She gave me an encouraging smile as I pointed my feet toward the director’s office and held my head high, ready to face whatever penalties that would befall me.

  “I’m glad you called me in, sir. There are a few things I needed to talk to you about,” I said, trying to stay ahead of the eight ball. There was very little going on in my life that could have made my boss angry with me, so I wanted to start off with an impression of transparency.

  He wasn’t interested in letting me speak, however, and slapped today’s newspaper on his desk in front of me. “Have you seen today’s headlines? My name seems to have made it in there.”

  “Your name?” I frowned, stepping closer to his desk to look at the article in question. The moment I saw the front page, the bold print sent my heart plummeting. ‘SON OF DPP EMBROILED IN ILLICIT AFFAIR.’ The byline belonged to none other than Jack Knowles.

  “That son of a bitch,” I muttered, reading the details that painted Bran as a predatory homewrecker, and me—labelled as a ‘nameless solicitor from the OPP’ to cover his arse against a lawsuit over the stop order—as a clueless and confused woman who’d allowed herself to be lured away from a doting husband. Accompanying the article were two photos. One of me leaving the restaurant with Bran last night, and despite the black bar across my eyes, it was obviously me to all who knew me. In the other photo, it showed Jack and me on our wedding day—black bars included. I looked far happier in the photo with Bran. “I see Jack doesn’t mention his own name in the article, or his serial philandering at any point. How objective of him.” I threw the paper back on the desk and folded my arms. “I suppose I’m fired now?”

  Taking his seat, the director shook his head. “My son has a habit of doing these things. He goes after women in positions of power and leaves a trail of carnage in his wake. It started in high school and continued through to university. I’d hoped you were too smart to fall prey to his charms, especially after the troubles with your husband, but I suppose my faith was misplaced. I’m disappointed, I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but as always in these circumstances, I’II do what I can to assuage the damage. As you can see”—he gestured toward the article—“I can’t always get ahead of these situations before they hit. This is going to hurt your reputation, Cora. Especially following the damage the intervention order did, but you’re good at what you do, and I’ve no doubt that given another twelve months supervising the trainees, you’ll be ready to return to the solicitor pool and resume your original career path.” Letting out his breath, he leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him. “As for Brandon, I’ve already made arrangements for him to finish his studies and internship in Sydney, so you needn’t worry about any awkwardness where he’s concerned. However, your estranged husband doesn’t seem to feel the same way.”

  “He’s angry, yes. But I honestly don’t care about Jack. I’m more concerned about Bran. Sending him away isn’t going to help anybody—least of all him. I need you to understand, sir. What was happening between Bran and me…it isn’t how that article paints it. We met before he started working here. After Jack and I had split. Neither of us knew who the other was at the start of things, so neither one of us preyed upon the other or played any games. We were simply two people attracted to each other in a less than ideal situation—which is why we hid it until we were sure it meant something. But in the end…it still got messy. Really messy. But I’m not sorry for falling in love with your son, sir, and I’m not planning on walking away from him to save face either. He’s angry with me too, but I’m going to fix all of this, I promise you. I only have your son’s best interests at heart.”

  “I don’t think you understand my son, Cora.”

  “No, Adrian, I don’t think you understand your son. He didn’t prey on me because I’m in a position of power. Your son simply prefers a more mature woman. We met outside this office, and we fell in love, plain and simple.”

  Adrian eyed me for a moment, one hand toying with a pen on the desk. “You love my son?” He said it as though the idea was a little crazy, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t going to act like it was any less than the truth for the sake of my dignity.

  “I do, sir. Yes.” I held his gaze.

  “And he feels the same way?” He did… A burst of nerves jittered about in my stomach as I hoped with all my might that his words still held true.

  “He’s said as much, but he’s angry over all of this.” I gestured to the paper. “I was and still am understandably angry at my husband for his multiple affairs, and I chose not to speak about him to Bran. Bran was shocked when he found out about Jack. I dare say he felt more than a little betrayed.”

  “I can sympathise with both of you,” he said, sitting back in his chair, rocking it slightly as he regarded me. I could see the emotion behind his eyes, knowing he’d experienced infidelity himself and been hurt by it. I could see his understanding, and I could also see his concern for his son. I hurt him. “My son is a risk-taker, Cora. As much as it would pain him to admit, he’s very much driven by his emotions, much like his mother. They like things they shouldn’t, and their actions tend to get them into trouble. Normally, as a man in my position, I’m able to keep the worst of it from public record. But normally, I’m approached before things get this far. Money seems to close a lot of open windows. Other times, my connections allow me to open certain doors that other parties are happy to walk through and disappear from my son’s life. It’s generally a good indicator as to how serious those relationships really were. This time, however, it seems things are different. You’re telling me you love Brandon and won’t walk away from him. And it seems Jack isn’t interested in either money or opportunity, or he would have come to me with this before printing, and before pressing assault charges.”

  “Jack did what?”


  “The police report came to us late yesterday afternoon, seeking advice before charging Brandon for the assault that occurred yesterday morning outside the court. But there wasn’t much I could do. Jack was pushing hard. He has witnesses, a medical report, not to mention it was all caught on CCTV. I had no choice but to let the charges go ahead.”

  “You’re prosecuting him?”

  He nodded. “His bail hearing is today. I can’t save him this time. I can’t stop them linking you to this, or your name from being dragged through the mud. But, I can guarantee that you’ll still have a job at the end of all this.” What?

  “And what price do I have to pay for that guarantee?”

  Adrian smiled and shook his head. “I’m not blackmailing you, Cora. I’m simply placing my hope in you now. Brandon has refused any sort of legal counsel. Jack is intent on creating a scandal out of this, and frankly, damage control is all I can do. But you might be able to do something—talk some sense into one of them, or both of them, anything you can think of—because you’re the one at the centre of all of this. Seems these men are lashing out because of their feelings for you.”

  “Lucky me.” I picked up the paper and stared at the article. “I’ll go talk some sense into him.”

  “Which one? Jack or Brandon?”

  “Both. I need Jack to back off and drop these charges, but I’m honestly not sure how I’m supposed to do that. All he’s interested in is lashing out because I won’t let him control my life anymore.”

  “He’s adept at hitting you where it hurts most. Your career and your previously impeccable standing in the public eye. It doesn’t take a mastermind to see that woman in the pictures is you. Perhaps it’s time you went after whatever is most important to him.”

  Putting the paper back on the desk, I shook my head. “The only thing he gives a shit about is the dick between his legs. Pardon my language,” I said, holding up my hands so he forgave my verbal slip.

  “Jack is an unapologetic, self-righteous prick. The legal community and press associated with the courts is a fairly small community; I’d heard rumours about him, but I’d always hoped they weren’t true.”

  “Seems everyone knew about his proclivities before I did.”

  “We never want to see the negative side of the people we love.”

  “Loved. The e-d is key in this situation. I’m just glad he didn’t end up giving me some nasty—”

  I grabbed for my handbag, searching for my phone.

  “Is everything all right?”

  I grinned, nodding as I dialled. “I just figured it out.”

  With my phone pressed to my ear, the director sat silent as I waited for the call to connect. It only took a couple of rings.

  “Cor.” Jack’s voice sounded delighted when he answered. Arsehole.

  “What the fuck have you done this time, you miserable excuse for a human being?” I demanded, my teeth jammed together.

  “You read my article. I thought the photos of you came out nice. They certainly captured your good side.”

  “I swear to you, Jack, quit messing with my life, or I’ll pay to have billboards put up all over the country with your face on them. The caption will read: ‘Genital warts can affect anyone. Don’t take the risk.’ You’ll never get laid again.”

  The director’s hand went up to cover his mouth, stifling a laugh.

  Jack chuckled on the other end of the line. “You wouldn’t dare. I could sue you for slander.”

  “And take what? You’ve already taken everything, already ruined my life. Take away everything a woman holds dear and she becomes a monster like none you’ve ever seen. So, keep pushing, Jack. Keep pushing me and find out. I will follow you around and hand out pamphlets. I will whisper in the ears of every woman you go near, ‘Don’t touch him, he has VD.’ If you don’t undo this I will make your life a living hell. That is a promise.” Not waiting for a reply, I ended the call and shoved my phone in my bag.

  Adrian chuckled and shook his head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  I smiled and prepared to leave. “Now, exactly where is Bran?”

  35

  “Brandon Sharp. I’m his legal counsel.”

  The desk sergeant checked the paperwork in front of her. “He’s waived his right to legal counsel.”

  “I was employed by his father. I need to confer with my client before his bail hearing.”

  “Mr Sharp is a grown man; his father doesn’t get to override his legal decisions.”

  “Even when his father is the Director of Public Prosecutions?”

  “His father is Adrian Sharp?”

  “You weren’t aware? It’s all over the front page of today’s newspaper. You can call him if you want. I have him in my contacts list.” I held out my mobile phone.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll let you through. But, Ms Knowles, if your client chooses to pass on you as his counsel, you’ll need to respect his wishes, DPP or no DPP. Understood?”

  “Understood.” She buzzed me through, and I was taken to a windowless interview room to wait for him to be brought in. I sat on one of the two chairs provided, tapping my fingers against the worn table in agitation. Each second ticked by like four.

  It felt like an age, but ten minutes later, the door opened and a constable I’d known for years nodded in greeting before gesturing for Bran to enter. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said. He’d been one of the officers present when I removed my belongings from the home I’d shared with Jack. He had kind eyes and liked to keep his opinions to himself.

  “Can you make it thirty?” I asked, needing as much time as I possibly could.

  Bran paused in the doorway at the sound of my voice, his eyes meeting mine. His jaw clenched. “Actually, we won’t need any time at all,” he said. “It’s a bail hearing; I’m fine without counsel.”

  Constable Reeves gave me a withering look and went to close the door again.

  “Wait!” I called out, leaping to my feet. “Let me help you, Bran. A criminal conviction could completely ruin your legal career.”

  “I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

  “You might not, but I do. I care what happens to you. Please, Bran. I’m at the centre of this mess. Let me help you fix this.”

  With a heavy sigh, he nodded his head and stepped through the door.

  “Half an hour,” the constable said, giving me a friendly smile before closing the door and leaving us alone in the tiny room with poor lighting.

  “I don’t see how you think you’re going to help me, there’s irrefutable evidence to back up the assault charges. Plus, I did it.”

  “I’m working on it. Just, please sit down.” I reached across the table and tapped my hand lightly against the cool surface. “We need to talk.”

  He did as I asked, another sigh escaping his chest as his hands raked through his hair. He looked tired, the naked overhead bulb casting a thick layer of shadow over his under-eye area. He obviously hadn’t slept either. He was still wearing the same clothes I saw him in yesterday, minus the tie, and his hair stuck up all over the place. There was a light smattering of stubble over his cheeks and jaw; it made a scraping sound when he ran his hands over his face.

  “I thought I made myself clear yesterday; I wasn’t interested in seeing you again.”

  His words made my heart squeeze with pain, but I kept my cool. Nothing would be accomplished if I started getting upset. “Yeah, you did. But I remember someone telling me a few months ago that this wasn’t over when I tried to push him away. So, I guess I’m repaying the favour.”

  He shook his head, his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the wall to his right.

  “You know, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours thinking a lot about the things you said, and the thing that stuck with me most was that you wouldn’t have touched me if you’d known I was married.”

  “I don’t fuck married women.”

  “I get that. You’ve got principles, and it�
�s part of what I love about you. You have this brutishly masculine way about you. But at the same time, you’re sweet and vulnerable and you care for me like no one ever has.”

  His jaw flexed and relaxed, his eyes stayed turned away.

  “But, I have to think, what if Jack and I had been in a de facto marriage? You see, for most of our relationship, that’s what it was. We got married last year—turns out he only did it to shut me up—but still, if that hadn’t happened and I’d simply walked out on an eleven-year relationship under the same circumstances, would you have had a problem then?”

  He shook his head, and for a moment, he glanced at me. The eye contact caused my stomach to flip. Those eyes, those beautiful green eyes. They held my heart and mirrored my soul. “I suppose not,” he admitted.

  “Why not?” I responded, shifting my head to try and keep our gazes locked. I needed him to look at me, see how much I was hurting without him too. “We’d still have the same problems we do now. Jack still would have taken out the intervention order, I’d still own property with him, he’d still be trying to ruin me with some fucked-up notion that it would get me to give him a second chance… Why does a slip of paper change the way you feel about me?”

  “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. It changes us. I respect the vows made between a man and a woman for that piece of paper to come into being. It’s a contract, one that binds you together in sickness, health, good and bad. How can you be completely with me, when you’re still legally connected to another man?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nodded slowly, searching his eyes and seeing hurt and confusion. I hated that I’d caused that.