by Joanna Rees
Because she was lucky to be here at all. She knew that much. Lucky to be alive. The police inspector had made that clear enough to her. Around the same time he’d told her to take a long holiday and not come back.
They could prosecute her for hacking, he’d said. Frankie had told him that she’d just been doing her job, chasing down a cyber-trail of ghost invoices that hadn’t made any sense. But the inspector had made it quite clear that if she didn’t leave the country and keep her mouth shut, he’d personally see to it that she ended up in prison. Or worse.
Frankie hadn’t needed to think twice, because then the most horrendous thing of all had happened. Sadie, Frankie’s best friend and work companion, had been found macheted to death in the stairwell of the apartment she and Frankie shared. Her tongue had been cut out.
Even though Frankie would never be able to prove it, because the murder had been made to look like a bungled robbery, Frankie was sure it was meant to have been her who’d ended up dead.
Devastated over Sadie’s death, Frankie had quickly packed up and said goodbye to her aunt and uncle. Uncle Brody had even bought her ticket. He’d always been like a father to her, since Frankie’s parents had been killed in a car accident when she was only a baby. He’d made her promise to swear off politics and computers for ever.
But here she was, once again. Taking a risk. She hadn’t told Alex anything about her run-in with the South African police, as she didn’t want to alarm him. Or have to convince him of her innocence. Or have to think about what had happened to poor Sadie – and what might still happen to Frankie herself if she went shouting her mouth off.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Alex asked, as if sensing her apprehension.
‘Of course I am. I told you, this was my old job. Whatever needs fixing, I’m your girl.’
Alex nodded and smiled. The fact that he believed her and trusted her enough to help him filled her with fresh confidence.
She couldn’t blow it. Because, more than anything, she didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want to go back downstairs and have to face Simone and Trudy and all their prying questions, or to scrub out any more toilets. She wanted to be with Alex. With him, she felt invincible, on top of the world. Even the horrors of what had happened in South Africa seemed to fade in her mind. Alex’s power and strength and her closeness to him right now were slowly rubbing them away.
‘So, look,’ Alex said, pointing at the screen. ‘This is what happens when I try and access my account.’
She watched him type in various commands and get nowhere.
‘Let me see,’ Frankie said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Alex moved away, but Frankie hardly noticed. She tracked the problem in less than a minute.
‘Bingo,’ she said, gratified that she hadn’t lost her touch. ‘It looks like someone has been using your mail server as a relay and you’ve been reported for abuse, blacklisted and disconnected by your ISP. I could probably fix it for you if it’s a standard server like Microsoft Exchange or a Unix Sendmail system. Then I can contact your ISP to have you reconnected. I’ll need to send them a fax on headed notepaper. Why hasn’t your systems administrator taken care of this?’ she asked.
Alex looked taken aback for a moment. ‘Fired. I’m restaffing at the moment.’
‘OK, so we may as well check your firewall rules and change your administrative passwords too, just in case. Does anyone know the current passwords?’
‘Sure. They’re kept in an envelope in the safe at our Forest Holdings HQ.’
‘OK. Well, I guess for the time being we can create a second admin account. Let me just fix the server.’
Before long, Frankie was totally absorbed in Alex’s computer system.
‘So do you like Italy?’ he asked.
‘Pardon me?’ she asked, glancing across at him. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, his legs stretched out in front of him, his feet crossed. The way he was looking at her made her stomach flip over. Frankie ripped her eyes back to the computer, hoping that he couldn’t see her flushing. She needed to concentrate. She wanted this to work. She wanted him to be impressed that she could help him out. She wanted him to realize that she was more than just a stewardess.
But, God, it was hard with him staring at her like this.
‘I’ve never been there,’ she said. ‘But I’ve always wanted to go to Sardinia. The rest of the crew all say that it’s awesome.’
‘I love it. The Costa Smeralda, where we’re heading’ – he nodded out of the window – ‘is an amazing bit of coastline. Do you dive?’ he asked.
She nodded, looking at the screen. ‘Yes, but I haven’t for a while.’
‘Come diving with me, then. When we get to Porto Cervo.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I want you to see it.’
‘But . . .’
There were a dozen reasons why such an offer was ridiculous. Roz would never let her off her duties to go. And Alex requesting her presence on a trip would look so suspicious. The others would be sure to guess something was going on. When nothing was.
Was there?
She nearly blurted all this out, almost told Alex how life aboard Pushkin really was for her and how there was absolutely no way she could dive with him, but she didn’t. She didn’t want him to think less of her. She didn’t want him to think that she was someone who wouldn’t take risks. Because she was. She was here, wasn’t she? In his study. Off limits.
‘You’re the boss,’ she said with a smile. If Alex wanted her to go on a trip with him, then she had no choice. Richard and Roz would just have to lump it.
Maybe he sensed her acquiescence, because he suddenly grinned at her.
‘Good. That’s settled, then.’ He paused and looked serious for a moment, now that he had her full attention. ‘Listen, Frankie . . . about today. I’ve been thinking . . . Please don’t tell the others that we’ve chatted like we have. I’m not usually myself like this with . . . well, anyone. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you some of the things I have . . .’
Frankie smiled. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. And you’ll have to trust me, because now I need your passwords if I’m to fix this mess of a system of yours.’
He looked into her eyes for a second or two, before nodding decisively. ‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘I guess I will.’
A few phone calls later, and he had the passwords ready for her. He leant down over the keyboard and she started to fix the problem. She shifted distractedly in her seat. Was he smelling her hair? She could have sworn he was. He seemed so close. She could feel his breath on her neck.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking . . .
Alex’s phone rang and he picked it up, breaking the moment. She glanced at him as he talked in Russian. He seemed so focused. So commanding.
‘OK, put me on to the financial director.’ Alex suddenly switched back into English. He smiled at Frankie whilst he waited, then turned away. ‘Thanks for looking into this for me, Bob,’ he said. He listened for a moment. ‘So they’re dormant, is that right? They’ve been holding companies for Forest Holdings in the past, that’s what I understand? . . . OK, fine then. Shut them down. I really want to tie up all these loose ends, get these finances streamlined.’ Alex sighed. ‘OK. You sure I have to sign? Actually go there?. . . Right. So who’s the lawyer? . . . Vincent Detroy . . .’ He wrote the name down, then ran his hand over his hair. ‘And he’s in the BVIs? Tortola? Road Town? . . . Road Town? Sure. OK, I’ll go. Give me his address.’
Frankie smiled absentmindedly about the address he wrote down. Heavenly House. It sounded beautiful. The kind of place she imagined Alex would fit in perfectly.
Alex flicked open another BlackBerry and consulted his diary. ‘Can’t it wait? I could take Pushkin there for the winter.’ He sighed again. ‘OK, if you say so. The twenty-eighth of June is the next time I can get out there,’ he said firmly. ‘Tell Detroy we’ll have our meeting then. Thanks, Bob.’ Alex rang off
and flung the phone down on the desk.
‘Twenty-eighth of June?’ Frankie said, her fingers clattering on the keyboard. ‘That’s my birthday.’
Alex looked at the phone, then back at her. Was he annoyed she’d been listening in? Frankie wondered.
‘I’ll remember that,’ he said.
His comment hung in the air as he stared at her and once again Frankie’s stomach flipped over. His gaze was so intense. What was he saying? That he’d remember her birthday because he’d be celebrating it with her?
No, he wasn’t saying that at all. Stop it, she scolded herself. She was being crazy. She forced herself to stare at the screen and concentrate. But still her mind raced. If they’d got this close in just one meeting, where on earth would they be by her birthday?
Because she couldn’t deny it. There was something between them. Something that was almost tangible. An electricity that she’d never felt before. Even with him standing behind her, as he was now, she felt her pulse racing.
‘OK. Think of a new password,’ she said. ‘This is just for you to access your server. No one else will know it. So it has to be something you’ll remember. A phrase is better than just one word.’
‘Frankie’s blue eyes,’ he said without missing a beat.
Turning round, Frankie realized that he hadn’t stopped looking at her. She felt herself blushing. ‘Seriously.’
‘I am being serious. Frankie’s blue eyes,’ he repeated, smiling. ‘The most memorable thing I can think of.’
And for a moment, she felt she couldn’t breathe.
‘It’s an old memory trick,’ he explained. ‘Image association. Whenever I need to remember the password, I’ll picture you here.’
Wow, she thought, weirdly thrilled at the thought of having become a permanent feature in his mind.
‘OK then,’ she said, her voice catching. She didn’t know what to do. How should she respond to such obvious flirting? ‘Whatever you want,’ she said, typing in the words, putting in the numbers 3 and 5 for the Es and Ss. She couldn’t look at him. ‘There,’ she said, a few moments later, having verified the password and returned his screen to normal. ‘All fixed.’
She turned towards him on the swivel chair and then he came and leant down, and once again their heads were side by side. Closer this time. She pointed to the screen and explained how he only had to type in this new password and he could access his accounts.
And then, when she’d run out of words, there was a pause. Neither of them moved.
It was Alex’s cue to move away and for her to get up and leave his study. But it was as if they were both frozen.
‘Frankie, please tell me this isn’t just me?’ he whispered.
They were both still staring at the screen. ‘What?’ she asked.
But she knew. And when he rested his hand gently over her hand, she slowly turned her head towards his.
And then his lips were on hers. Softly, they barely brushed hers. But his touch set off an avalanche inside her.
‘Oh,’ she mumbled. ‘Oh, Alex.’
He kissed her properly then and it was as if he’d ignited a touch paper. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, her arms around him, and his hands were buried in her hair as he pressed his body against her. She stumbled backwards, still in his arms, still kissing him, as he swiped the papers off the desk behind her.
She lay down on the desk and pulled him on top of her, overtaken with an animal lust that seemed to have nothing to do with her.
She moaned softly through the frenzied kissing, the agonizing desire, as her tongue reached into his mouth, wanting him, needing him, oblivious to everything but her desire to fuse with him. She lifted her legs up behind his back and she could feel his hardness pressing down on her, just a few layers of cloth away. She felt herself melt, her hips straining against his, her whole focus zoned in on him. She wanted him deep inside her. Now.
He pulled at her top and it ripped, but she didn’t care. His hand reached for her breast. It felt as if her skin was on fire.
She cried out, her head reaching back, straining, as he leant down and his tongue flicked over her erect nipple.
She’d never felt this kind of desire. This overwhelming yearning. And she realized that every moment since she’d first seen him, this had been waiting to happen. Had needed to happen.
‘Oh Frankie, Frankie,’ Alex moaned. ‘Oh . . . God . . .’
But suddenly there was a loud noise. They froze. It was the buzzer on the intercom. Frankie hadn’t even noticed it was there.
Entwined as they were on the desk, they stared at the small red lightbulb flashing on the wall. They were both panting. Still pressed against each other.
‘Sir?’ It was Richard’s voice. ‘Sir, are you up there?’
Alex swallowed hard, then reached up to press the button. ‘Yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘What is it?’
‘Your breakfast is ready, sir. And I was wondering? Is Frankie with you?’ Richard asked.
Alex looked down at her. ‘No,’ he said immediately – the huge lie sounding totally plausible.
‘OK. Sorry to interrupt, sir. See you in a few minutes.’
Frankie and Alex stared at each other, their faces just centimetres apart. But the spell had been broken. There was no point in pretending they should carry on now. Richard’s voice had shattered the moment, had punctured their passion like a pin popping a balloon. Frankie became suddenly aware of the warm air on her naked breast. She felt suddenly caught out, wrong-footed.
But even worse than that, she could see in Alex’s eyes how he was already retreating from her. As if he’d suddenly remembered his responsibilities and the fact he was the boss.
Alex helped her to her feet and she stood up, straightening out her top, clutching the skimpy material in her fist, desperate to cover herself up. Even though every nerve, every skin cell was screaming out for him, she stepped away and smoothed her hair behind her ear. She felt crushed. A deep blush rose into her cheeks.
Was she mad? What the hell was she doing, losing control like that? What must Alex think of her?
‘I should go,’ she said, surreptitiously wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.
‘Don’t.’
But Frankie shook her head. She felt as if she were being watched. ‘I can’t do this. Not when—’ She shook her head.
‘I want to see you,’ he said. He sounded desperate.
‘But . . . where? They watch me all the time.’
Alex pulled her towards him and lifted her chin towards his. He smiled, his eyes melting into hers.
‘This is crazy, isn’t it? I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught.’
Relief flooded through Frankie at the admission that he was freaked out. But still, she didn’t know what to say. She nodded. Whatever the next move was, she knew that it had to come from him.
‘I’ll find a way,’ Alex said. His voice was confident, strong. He said it as a statement of fact. ‘We’ll be together. Just us. I don’t want this to be about me being the boss. I want us to just be us, where none of this matters.’
He kissed her, gently this time, sealing their pact. And she felt as if she were floating.
‘God, I want you,’ he breathed.
She reached up and kissed him again, holding his face and smiling. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, pulling herself away from him. ‘Before someone . . .’
He nodded. He looked as shocked and amazed as she felt.
She swallowed hard. There was nothing she could say. He took two steps towards her and pressed his fingertip against her lips, his eyes glittering.
‘Soon,’ he said. ‘Really soon.’
CHAPTER TEN
In the Merton Correctional Institute in Texas, Peaches felt her hands sweating as she followed the guard along the featureless grey corridor. She’d faced plenty of tricky situations in her time – bar brawls with gun-toting drug-dealers, violent drunks, and she’d even
been with a client once when his mansion was burgled by armed thieves. But nothing had ever come close to this.
This made her feel choked up with fear. Peaches loathed and detested prisons – just the thought of them, let alone actually being in one – because she was a law-breaker herself. And ending up in a place like this was just about her worst nightmare. It stank of disinfectant, but misery and death hung in the air too.
A door opened at the end of the corridor and she was ushered into a featureless grey waiting room, where a second guard stood along with another man who leapt up from the steel table and stubbed out a cigarette.
‘Ron Wallace,’ he said, offering her a greasy palm.
Peaches’ arm stayed by her side. She drew herself up in her navy Armani trouser suit and stared down at him for a moment without speaking.
In the flesh Ron Wallace was no less annoying than he had been over the phone. He was small, with unfashionable round gold glasses and greasy black hair. His skin was grey from the amount of cigarettes he smoked. The smell of sour body odour rose up from his crumpled grey suit.
All the way here this morning, Peaches had wanted to turn around and flee back to her life in LA. And now, more than ever, she willed herself to get the hell out of jail.
Being here was crazy. Why should it matter what this Gorsky person had to say to her? Surely she was just opening a can of worms? She was fine, she reminded herself. Her life was a success. What could she possibly find out that would make a difference?
Peaches wasn’t a needy person. She was all about the present and the future, not the past, so she hated herself for being needy now. And she was being needy. The reason she was here, the reason that she didn’t leave but continued holding eye contact with Ron Wallace, was because deep down she did need to know what this was all about. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone having information about her that she didn’t know herself.
