by J. A. Kerr
Yeah, that was Anna. She was killing him. The pain she delivered came in many forms but it always found its intended target; his pitiful heart. He was still physically and emotionally bruised, but the worse of it, after everything she had done, he still wanted her and he despised his weakness.
He had hardly left the Braille Club since their encounter. On tenterhooks, he was unable to stop himself checking the booking system for her name, while justifying his behavior as work orientated. The only thing he found was disappointment.
He had been in constant email contact with Ford, and his designs were both exciting and innovative. A new and exciting development was further engineering collaboration. He immediately started the vetting process, and it had gone smoothly. He hoped to meet the new engineer soon.
Benedict also seemed preoccupied, and Siena had been sorely missed over the last few days with no explanation for her absence; this sometimes irritated Guy. He had wondered at first if it was wise working with a couple but found the job completely absorbing. He had been drawn into their world, his involvement getting deeper as each unique day concluded. His heartache over Anna mercifully receded as bit by intoxicating bit, he succumbed to the running of Harrison’s and the Braille Club.
He had found his respect and regard for the intensely private couple growing with each passing day. When he’d received that frantic call from Benedict, all his training kicked in. It had been a shock when he had arrived at the hospital. He had never heard nor seen him behave irrationally. Together they had got to Siena in time, although it had been close…too close.
There was an even stronger bond between them now, their loyalty to each other forged forever on that day. He still felt uneasy, his instincts telling him it wasn’t over yet, which was silly because Nick Waters was behind bars where he belonged. He’d been sorry that he’d only suffered a broken hand and leg but had heard they had both healed poorly…such a comfort.
Guy had his ways of monitoring Nick Waters; he would only become a threat when he was released. He had ensured he would know when his parole was approved because he wasn’t stupid; he knew it wasn’t over. Men like him didn’t give up easily. So they must be ready. Benedict had made his rental property as safe as he could while his new home was renovated. It had a temporary safe room, CCTV and alarm, but Guy knew he still worried over his family’s safety.
A further meeting had been arranged due to new developments in the club. There was a strange tension in the room as they sat around the conference table, each of them distant and silent. Ford was still to arrive and Guy noticed Benedict frowning at his empty chair. Siena seemed pensive as she fidgeted with the minutes of their last meeting.
Ford arrived, his face subdued, adding to the already sombre atmosphere. “Sorry to be late,” he said distractedly, taking his seat. “Guy, as I intimated, I have enlisted the help of a friend of mine, a top engineer willing to give their time and expertise in the evenings.”
Benedict’s face didn’t change but his eyes appraised Ford coolly. “I’m afraid he would have to be security vetted and confidentiality agreements signed before we could proceed.”
“It’s a she, her name is Esme MacDonald. I believe Guy has the rest of that under control?” said Ford uncertainly.
Guy had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Benedict, I’ve been remiss in sending you the details. My apologies,” he said, flustered.
This had never happened before and he realised Anna was the root cause. Clearing his throat, he rapidly tapped on his laptop. “Ford sent an email saying he had someone in mind to help him with our design plans. I asked him to give me their details. I did a check and gave him the okay to sign the confidentiality contracts.”
“I see,” said Benedict.
Guy held his ground. “Ford has got all the consents from her and I think she will be an invaluable addition to the team.”
Siena looked pleased. “That sounds fantastic, Ford; it will give another female perspective.”
“Don’t forget we will be working with Niven,” said Guy. “Will Esme be willing to participate in our zone session, Ford?”
“Yes, but they need to be scheduled after work hours,” he replied, his tone strangely flat.
“Guy?” said Siena quizzically.
He looked up from his laptop. “That won’t be a problem; the zones are free until midnight.”
“Excellent, that means our sessions are balanced now, we have three sets of couples,” said Siena, smiling. She was ignoring the tension emanating from Benedict—this was his end of the bargain, she had done hers.
“Siena, what is the feedback regarding the scent?” asked Guy.
Benedict brought up how easily he identified Siena because of her perfume. They agreed this issue must be addressed. Siena took time with a professional who mixed the citrus and spice notes she loved until the balance was right. They had fifty samples of Caligo made up and distributed to their Braille members and the response had been very favourable. Encouraged, Siena ordered scented candles and diffusers to use throughout Caligo and again the feedback had been good.
“Funny you should ask, I was going to mention that. No negative comments to date, quite the opposite. Early signs indicate we are on to a winner,” Siena enthused.
“Good, we’ll continue to monitor feedback before we make a final commitment to the formula,” said Benedict.
Siena had been absent these last few days due to organising their wedding. Benedict had been quite insistent that a venue was booked. It had been so time consuming and she was glad to be back doing what she enjoyed best.
“Ford, when will the prototypes be ready to use?” she asked.
“Hard to say for sure but probably within the week,” he replied.
“Can we schedule a zone session, Guy?” Siena enquired.
“Give me five minutes to access the booking system and I’ll tell you,” he replied. He turned to his laptop and typed. “Okay, I’ve put a provisional booking in the system.”
There were murmurs of approval.
“I will need to contact Niven and Esme; does 7:30 p.m. suit everyone?” asked Guy.
There was a general nodding of heads.
“Okay, let’s take a break while I confirm this and reconvene in twenty minutes.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay and catch up on some work,” said Ford.
The others nodded as they left the room quickly.
***
Ford
Ford had an avalanche of work but couldn’t get Esme out of his mind. He kept seeing her crumpled face and her tears of distress but it was her words that tore at his heart.
“I’m an orphan now, I’ve got no one,” she’d sobbed.
He wanted to go with her to the care home, but she refused, telling him she needed to see her mother alone. He offered to wait up for her, but again she refused.
They’d stood awkwardly in the hotel foyer as she waited for a taxi, nether knowing what to say. Ford hugged her and said to call if she needed anything; she nodded, then disappeared inside the cab. That had been two weeks ago now.
He’d been disappointed she’d not contacted him with the funeral arrangements, and told her so. Her email had been dismissive, saying he hadn’t known her mother and therefore it seemed inappropriate. She finished by saying it had been a very small, private affair. Although hurt, he replied he’d wanted to attend to support her because he thought they were friends, and that’s what friends did for each other. His phone rang and his heart leapt to see Esme’s name on the screen. Her voice had been strained as she apologised. He hadn’t dared mention the Braille Club but was relieved when she told him she was still interested and had been working on some ideas. Their conversation was stilted, and when Esme said she had to go, he didn’t argue.
Ford was totally adrift, not knowing if her feelings for him were because of the games they played, or something more. He’d flown back to break things off with Monique. Wanting to be completely honest, he told her the
ir relationship was over…but hoped they could still be friends. She had been distraught, and he’d felt like a total shit. Losing all composure, she begged him to stay. He had never felt so wretched as he gently shook his head. He’d flown back to London the next day, went to the first pub he found, and got blind drunk.
The next day was no better nor the next, especially as Monique kept calling, leaving messages for him to reconsider, her tear-filled voice broken and desperate. Depressed, he struggled to focus. If not for the project he might have succumbed to her pleading. However, it absorbed him—he lost hours messing about with the Braille chair and key. He’d almost filled a full pad as he formulated his initial ideas and had lots to discuss with Guy, Benedict, and Siena. Monique faded into the background although his heart still ached from hurting her. She had done nothing wrong and guilt sat heavily on his shoulders but he couldn’t change the way he felt. It was over between them.
The door opening disturbed his thoughts as Guy re-entered the room. Ford had not even looked at his laptop and now guiltily clicked into his emails. Siena and Benedict came in next and they all looked expectantly at Guy.
“Okay, both Niven and Esme are on board, we will meet as discussed,” said Guy. “Ford, do you want to bring us up to date with your progress?”
“My focus has been the chair. I took all your observations into account, including the height issues. We want something that moves, allowing the…” Ford searched for the word he was looking for.
“Patron,” supplied Siena.
“Ah yes, patron,” said Ford, the word new to him. “The patron must be able to assess the…”
“Assignee,” supplied Siena.
“Yes. To do that the chair must be at a certain height, have the ability to recline, and be coordinated by a simple remote control. It will be used to increase vibration frequency, chair positioning, and regulate the central pulse. Here are some of my provisional drawings.”
The group pored over the information.
“This is good, Ford, exactly what we need,” said Siena excitedly.
“I will collaborate with Guy on the sensory suit. Esme has a few surprises, but the thing I think is essential is the suit must connect to the chair.”
“Is that possible?” asked Benedict.
“We’ll make it possible,” said Ford.
“What are these surprises?” Siena asked curiously.
“I’ll let Esme explain,” said Ford, smiling.
“I’m intrigued,” said Siena, delighted.
***
Benedict
Benedict had remained silent for most of the meeting, pre-occupied, his mind on recent and future events. Amsterdam had been a re-connection for them both after all the trauma of their affair, Siena’s attack, and Nick Waters’ trial. Their passion had been subdued as a result, only reigniting over the last few months.
When he had finally made love with Siena in their hotel room, it had been explosive and heady because he knew she would soon be his wife. They couldn’t get enough and had rediscovered every inch of each other’s bodies. Pushing boundaries in terms of heightened pleasures, they had missed dinner, awakening ravenous the next morning.
He was worried that Siena would be tired as they sat eating breakfast, and yet he could not take his eyes from her mouth; it had given him exquisite pleasure. She noticed him watching and smiled. His body jerked as her foot pushed against him intimately under the table.
He leaned over and whispered, “I need to be inside you.” Five minutes later he was.
As a deeply private man, Benedict was uncomfortable at the thought of sharing their connection in a zone session. He thought of their impending nuptials to keep him calm although he felt anything but. He retuned into the conversation.
“…until the session,” said Guy, standing. “Sessions will be conducted on an informal and trial basis until further notice.”
Benedict stood up, nodding at Ford, his hand lightly guiding Siena as they walked out the door.
***
Siena
Her mind also on their impending nuptials, she felt overwhelmed with so much still to do. Just thinking about their weekend together had her pulse racing. She had wanted it to go on forever…those feelings had been so infrequent over the last year but she missed the twins acutely. Her parents had been at the airport to collect them and her heart was only complete when she and Benedict had a child each in arm.
She turned; Benedict was staring at her intently, his eyes clear and shining. She knew she had made the right decision, she couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Harrison—to call this beautiful and complex man her husband, the father of her children, and the love of her life.
Chapter 33
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The neck restraint was the first to tighten and desire shot through Guy’s body and cleared his thoughts. This experience was all about the mind. There would be a build-up, the anticipation, the fear, and ultimately the pain. With every thought his mind produced, his body responded accordingly as the restraint continued to tighten.
Niven
Niven remembered little of the days directly after her attack. Shocked and deeply traumatised, she was rushed to the hospital. Her neck wound required stitches but the cuts to her chest were superficial, most of the blood on her was Maria’s. The angle she fell at meant she’d pinned Toby against the wall but bled mostly on Niven.
She’d not spoken either, turning her face away when anyone entered the room, especially her parents. Whenever Niven thought of Maria it was like suffocating. The pain made it hard to breathe. She loved her like a mother, and Maria had sacrificed her life to save Niven. Pronounced dead at their home, Toby’s knife had punctured her heart, killing her instantly. Niven had been too frightened to speak, giving the scantest of details over several days to the police. There was no doubt in her mind Toby wanted her sexually. Pinned beneath him, she’d read every intention in his bright blue eyes; it was why she was alive today.
He’d ample opportunity to stab her, but she’d felt something pressing against her, through her pyjamas. Saw the excitement in his eyes as he cut through her top. However, she didn’t share any of these thoughts with the police. She would never know why Maria came into her room but was eternally grateful she had. The media had been interested, but they only had the basic facts. No one was talking. The story had been woven as an accidental death—a child with a knife fatally wounding the housekeeper of the family.
Her mother went to extreme lengths, not to protect Niven, but to protect herself. Her father was also quick to distance himself from his son and play the role of shocked and concerned parent to Niven. With Toby in custody, it was like he had never existed. Craig approached and paid off Toby’s mother, Joan. She quickly adopted the same ethos and took the money, appalled by her son’s behaviour but not surprised. Like Niven, she confessed to being afraid of him. She said it started as a seed of doubt but it grew quickly. From a young age, her son was disliked at nursery. Whenever a child got upset, Toby was usually involved, and he was a dirty fighter; he liked to bite. Things only got worse when he started school. She tried to get his father involved, but he wasn’t interested.
Joan told of countless visits to the school and understood it was only a matter of time before Toby got himself into real trouble. However, she never in her wildest dreams thought he was capable of murder. The money she took for her silence was substantial and an opportunity to escape Toby and his crime. People knew what he had done. They thought it was her fault…that she’d been a bad mother. This time she wouldn’t stick around to take the blame. She made plans, her heart breaking as she realised she may never see her son again. She said at first she struggled to comprehend her emotions before understanding she was relieved.
Due to the delicate nature of the crime—a child killer was major headlines after all—the last thing the police needed was a media frenzy. They were keen to protect Niven’s identity. However, the Child Protection Officers sensed something was amiss
. The terror in Niven’s eyes told a different story but they were unable to proceed without her collaborating testimony. Niven was traumatised and went along with her mother’s version of events, too terrified to face the truth.
“Say you awoke with Toby in your room; it was a childish prank. He was showing off with the knife when Maria came into the room. She mistook him as an attacker and rushed forwards. Startled, Toby turned, the knife in his hand, and accidentally stabbed her,” said Clarisse patiently, over and over.
Niven had felt sick at the lies that spewed from her adoptive mother’s lips and unbelievably she became the victim, not Niven. Friends, shocked and horrified, rushed to her side. Hiding the truth from them, she was all about damage limitation. She was unable to change the fact that Toby killed Maria, however, with the right spin, the tragedy might work to her advantage.
Toby would be sent away, Clarisse didn’t care where, only that she would be rid of him. Replacing Maria was inconvenient, as good housekeepers weren’t easy to find, but the agency sent someone as a temporary measure until Clarisse could interview.
Niven had been terrified when the trial came around and even her mother worried she might break down and blub out the truth. Measures were put in place that allowed her video testimony to be used, thus sparing her the horror of seeing Toby again. Her abject terror convinced all involved this was the only solution. Craig’s version of events told of Niven’s screams and their dash to her room. His voice, barely audible, told of how he tried to feel for a pulse but was interrupted by the arrival of the police.
He appeared distraught by the turn of events and Maria’s accidental death, but it was Clarisse’s testimony that planted the seed with the jury early on; that something was wrong with Toby. She stated he was jealous of Niven and she’d quarrelled with Toby—told him not to come to the house anymore. Her face stricken, she told the jury she blamed herself, if she had been more supportive…more understanding…then Maria might be alive today. By forcing Toby out of their lives, she inadvertently invited him in, with devastating consequences.
