It was biting at her and she couldn’t help it. Even though she didn’t really want him to confirm what his father had said, even though it was safer not to say it. “Why did you have to shag me, Saul? Tell me that. What was all that about? You already had the place, all you had to do was throw me out, not shag me like I’m some bonus part of the deal.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you were never some perk of the job, Roisin. You know you weren’t.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as though he didn’t trust to have them loose. “And you know I can’t throw you out even if I don’t understand why it’s so important for you to stay.”
“I don’t know anything, Saul. I’m not even your type. Am I just filling a space like I was for Toby, eh? What am I, a challenge? I’m not going to let you just use me.”
“You’re certainly a challenge, but you’re talking crap. And how the fuck do you work out I’m using you? Isn’t it more likely the other way around? That you’re keeping me happy, keeping me dangling on a string so you don’t have to go, eh? Keeping me happy while you screw around with James.”
“Piss off. Offering to share the premises was all your idea, not mine, and you knew James came as part of it. You just never thought I’d go along with it, did you? You never thought I’d do it.” The words were out before she realized what she was saying. Before she’d registered that it was the truth, what it all came down to. She leaned back against the stable wall, knowing her legs were trembling. He’d never thought she’d do it. She was supposed to give in, give up, and walk away.
“No.” He looked straight at her then, and she knew this bit wasn’t a lie. “No, Roisin, I never thought you’d have the balls. I made the offer to make myself feel better because I thought you didn’t deserve to be in the shit like you were. I wanted it to be your decision to give up. Was that what you wanted to hear me say?”
“Well I’m not going to.” Mr. Shagathon might have made her insides melt, but her mind hadn’t quite turned to mush yet; she was still capable of doing something for herself. “I’m not giving up.” Her nails dug painfully into the palms of her hands.
“I gathered that.” He picked up a piece of straw, twisted it around his finger, and leaned back against the doorjamb as though he wanted something else to take his weight. “And you know what, I’m glad. I don’t want you to give up.” It could have been a sigh, she wasn’t sure, but she could see he was thinking of going. “I don’t, and that’s the truth, for what it’s worth.”
“Saul.” He had levered himself away, was going; she just knew he was off and something twisting in her chest was telling her not to let him. She had to talk. “Does your dad hate all women, or just ones like me?”
He shrugged, relaxed back a whisper of an inch. “I never realized he did until just now. Funny, isn’t it, how you never really look at your parents as people who can do wrong?”
“Dead funny.” Dads and doing wrong went together perfectly, as far as she was concerned. Except maybe they hadn’t a long time ago, when she was young, when she was still into hero worship. Until her father had gone and shattered the mirror of self-deception. “Why is he like that, so…”
“Bitter?” His face twisted. “Dad was brought up in an orphanage, but he worked bloody hard to make something of himself. When he met my mom he thought he’d finally made the grade, gone from barrow boy to Lord Muck. She was rich, seriously rich, and all of it inherited, so she was the total opposite of Dad. Then she walked out on him, and all of a sudden he hated everything she stood for; she left us for someone even richer than she was. He wasn’t good enough and nor was I, and that hurts when you’re little, you know, finding out you’re not good enough even for your own mom. So we forgot her. Dad looked after me, got me a job on a building site with him as soon as I was old enough. I bought a house as soon as I could and we did it up together, sold it on, and that was the start of the business. I dunno, maybe she left because of the giant chip he had on his shoulder. Maybe you’re right; maybe he just doesn’t like women.”
“But he liked Bianca.” He liked Saul’s ex-wife, his spanking buddy.
“Shit, no. They hated each other. But he hated me even more for throwing her out.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“He’s a strange man.” He shook his head; he was looking straight at her but she knew he wasn’t seeing her at all. “Bianca was well off, had connections in all kinds of places. I didn’t realize when I first met her but”—he looked wry—“I guess she met most of them playing Dungeons and Dragons.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“If you don’t know then you shouldn’t be asking. Anyway, she had friends, contacts, and it wasn’t long before we were making money faster than we ever had, but when she went so did the work. We were on the verge of signing a really big contract, and when we lost it, it nearly bankrupted us.” He shrugged, and his eyes focused back on her. “All I had to do was keep it together one more week and it would have been sorted.”
“But you couldn’t?”
“Nope. Fucked up my marriage and my company just like that.” He snapped his fingers and laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor in the brown eyes. “So I deserve some of the aggravation he throws my way.”
“Why?” She whispered it because she knew she shouldn’t ask, but she had to know.
“Why did I throw her out? Because…” She watched his Adam’s apple move convulsively, watched as his hand rifled through his hair. “Because she killed my child.” There was a tic in his jaw that she wanted to reach out and touch, but she just held her breath and daren’t move. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant. She aborted it and told me purely as an explanation when I asked why she wasn’t hungry.”
She felt her stomach lurch. “Oh God, oh, I’m so—”
“Don’t.” The glare stopped her dead. “It was a long time ago and we would have made shitty parents anyway.”
“But to—”
“And I guess it wasn’t much worse than what my mother did to me.”
“You can’t say that.” She tried to ignore the look. “How can you say that when you don’t know what happened? Have you ever even asked your mom?” She wanted to touch him, to help him, to make everything better. But she couldn’t. She didn’t know how to. He was telling her things, but he wasn’t sharing; he was farther away than he’d ever been.
“Nope, I haven’t a clue where she is; she just packed and went, whoosh, right out of my life.”
“Are you sure? Saul, not many women can just pack and go and leave their kids.” He’d set his chin again and the gap was widening; she was making it worse. He had his “don’t touch” sign erected and, all of a sudden, they seemed to be on quicksand.
“It doesn’t matter.” He ran his hand through his hair in that familiar gesture. “I only told you because you asked why my father hated women.”
“I think it probably does matter, though.”
“Drop it, Roisin. It’s not your problem.”
“And never questioning it works for you, does it? Never asking yourself if it was maybe your dad at fault, not the fact of where he came from but that he was too busy looking after himself and your mother couldn’t cope with it anymore. It’s not easy staying with someone when you’re struggling, but it’s bloody impossible if you know they don’t even love you.”
“Yeah, and how would you know what he’s like?”
“I’ve got eyes, Saul, and you know what? You’re going to end up just as bitter and twisted as him if you’re not careful.”
“You don’t know anything about me. You were brought up with money, a loving family, everything you ever wanted so how can you possibly understand my dad or me?”
It pulled her up short. “No, I don’t, do I? And you don’t know anything about me and”—he was going to go, she just knew he was going to go—“what did he mean, make o
pportunities?” She had to know everything before he walked.
“I’m not discussing this anymore.”
“Saul, tell me, I need to know. You’ve got to tell me. What did he mean?”
“Got to? I don’t have to tell you anything.” He was staring at her, and suddenly she felt like she didn’t know him at all.
“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me or this finishes, now.”
“Finishes?” He shook his head slowly, fixed her with a gaze that made everything suddenly so final. “Who said anything ever started? No one gives me an ultimatum, darling. No one.”
Chapter 11
The whiskey should have hit the spot, but it didn’t. It didn’t give him a warm, fuzzy feeling; it just left a hot, acrid streak that melted to nothing. Saul took another long swallow. He felt like total, absolute shit. Where had all that starting and finishing crap come from? She’d pushed him too far; after all, he’d been more than fair. She should have been bloody grateful; he’d given her a way out of the mess. A way they could both be happy with, but she just wanted more, didn’t she? He’d been fair; he’d played by the rules even if they weren’t rules that people like her agreed with. He was in there to win, to make money, to prove to himself and his dad that he could still do it. Prove he could use his head, not his heart.
Shit. He poured another good slug, picked up the glass again, and then set it down with a hard clunk. How much of this was just about doing what his dad wanted, about making sure he was happy and wouldn’t leave him like his mom did? If he was honest with himself, he’d offered Roisin a job and a tenancy because he felt guilty about what he’d done, and he’d also done it because he wanted to see her writhing underneath him, begging for more. He couldn’t ignore that bit; he’d wanted to see her. Full stop.
But he should have seen it coming, because he’d known deep down that if she found out what he’d done, he’d be history. So he’d saved himself from having to tell her by being a shit. By pretending nothing had happened between them. Even though she was the only person he’d ever told the full Bianca story to. The only person he’d trusted. Which meant something had started.
He grabbed his tablet off the floor; he’d email her and explain. He couldn’t beg, he couldn’t try and change her mind, but he could set things straight, give her what she wanted. The answers. Let her know she hadn’t been duped, that she hadn’t been just another careless shag. It had been right girl, but wrong time, wrong place.
He wasn’t even sure he remembered her email address, but the second he logged in his eyes were pulled instinctively to one unread email, glaring out at him from the top of the list like some threat that was better ignored, except he knew that nothing went away when you ignored it. And he didn’t want her to go away. Even though he wasn’t quite ready to let himself question why.
Saul,
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here or why I’m bothering, but I couldn’t sleep because I knew I had to say something and I can’t say it so I’m writing it. I guess we all have problems but at least yours are still there to face.
I told you Dad was dead—well, he shot himself in the head. He was a loser but I still loved him, which I hadn’t really thought about until I was shouting at you today. He’d inherited money, lots I suppose, though I never really thought about it. And you’re right, I had everything when I was a kid, but somewhere along the line he made bad mistakes and once he started it was like his luck had turned rotten and it just got worse and worse. He lost it on deals, but then he just kept on spending on drink and women because he couldn’t face up to Mom anymore. Dads are supposed to be superhuman, aren’t they? They don’t make mistakes and they’re supposed to be able to handle everything. He was too old-fashioned to discuss it with anyone, or admit he’d made a mistake, so he just carried on trying to sort things his way. Still awake?
Yeah, still awake, Miss Bossy. How can I not be when you’re making me feel even guiltier than I did before? He shifted uneasily in his chair; he’d never asked her about her family, her problems. He’d just assumed that it all started and stopped with Toby. He’d never given her a chance to say otherwise. Though he doubted she’d have told him anyway. Was she only telling him now because she thought she’d never have to look at his ugly face again?
We had a big house a few miles away, and he burned it down, with Mom and my sister still inside. The inquiry said he probably drugged them, and the dogs, but we’ll never know for sure. Then he drank a bottle of whiskey and shot himself. He left a note for me and my brother and he blamed people like you, City men in suits who didn’t give a damn, vultures circling for the kill, he said, and today I felt like maybe you’ve proved him right. Everything was someone else’s fault, which I know it wasn’t really, but there you go.
Anyhow, that’s when Toby asked me to marry him, because we’d been dating and he promised Dad he’d look after me. Dad had even signed this place, my place, over to him, though it was probably more as a tax dodge than because he liked him. I should have said no, he should have said no, but it was the last thing Dad asked him to do, so I suppose he tried.
So that’s my sob story, and it’s why people like me don’t trust people like you, and it’s why I tried so hard to hang on to this place and stay here. But hey, guess what? You’ve just made me realize I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need to hang on to the past because I can’t get away from it even if I want to.
I don’t want charity from you or your dad. You want this place? Well, it’s all yours—bring in the bulldozers, baby. I guess working with you was always a no-no, but I don’t want anything from you now. Not even answers. Give me a month to sell the horses. It’s probably best if I just close the door behind me and leave the key, isn’t it?
It was fun.
Roisin x
P.S. I still think you should talk to your mom.
He should have known when she’d thrown that ultimatum at him that she’d stick by it. When he’d first seen her in that bar and put a hand on her knee she’d not backed down, even though she seemed so not the type. When he’d come up with his cock-eyed proposition and she should have run a mile, she’d called his bluff and jumped in feetfirst. He swirled the whiskey in the glass, then put it down again. He didn’t want her to close the door and leave the key.
He emailed his response almost without thinking about it.
Roisin, I thought we had a deal? You signed a contract. This isn’t charity. This is you working for me, remember? Saul.
P.S. Stop telling me what to do!
The reply came back almost instantly.
I just quit. You said you’d changed your mind, well, I’ve changed mine.
P.S. Someone needs to tell you.
The response he fired off was brief.
I never had you down as a quitting type. And who’s going to boss me about if you bugger off and leave me? Saul.
Roisin’s reply was even briefer.
I never had you down as a lying type. You’ll find someone else to do it.
That stung.
Ouch. No one could do it quite like you.
He hit Enter, refreshed the page impatiently when there wasn’t an immediate response, and fought the urge to pick up his mobile.
I never got any of this, why you gave me a job, and I just decided that from now on what I don’t get I don’t put up with.
He could just imagine her sitting there on the bed, biting her lip, and he wanted to see it again.
I’m not a lying type, or a long email type, but hang on and I’ll send one…And don’t argue or go to sleep.
He pressed Send, finished the whiskey, and poured another.
I don’t know what Dad said to you, but I never meant to mislead you, Roisin. I never meant to fall for you either. I came to your place to finish off a job. Yeah, Dad was right, we’d spent time creating an opportunity, and it makes me feel like
shit because you never deserved it. Your husband had been digging himself into a hole for a long time; he liked taking a risk but he wasn’t good at it. Not many people are; that’s why the bookies are always the winners.
So we watched and we didn’t help him out, we passed him a bigger shovel. We made him an offer months ago for the place which would have gotten him out of trouble, but he was sure if he carried on gambling he’d sort it. Then he got to the point where he had no choice because we made sure all the debts were called in at the same time. That’s what making opportunities involves. The best bit for Dad was always closing the deal, watching the mighty fall, maybe his way of making even with Mom, or maybe that’s reading too much into it, too deep for him. Maybe he is just one of your City men, except he’s probably more just the shark. But I suppose like you love your dad, I still love mine. Toby should have told you, and you should have moved out and handed over the keys well before he died, but he kept stalling and I don’t know why, but I let him. And you know what, girl? I’m glad, because I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.
Fun isn’t the right word. Don’t sell the horses. X
His finger hovered over the Send button. He’d been soft before, he’d told Bianca how he felt and sworn he’d give her a happy ever after, and he wasn’t sure he could do it again. But he couldn’t walk away either. Roisin had probably been right; she knew she couldn’t escape her past but she could move on; she didn’t have to hang on to anything. Like he’d been hanging on to every bad bit of his car-crash marriage, hanging on to something he really should have let go of. Just like his dad had.
***
Roisin stared at the words; she should hate him. Except Toby had pressed the self-destruct button a long time ago, and even without help he would have gotten there in the end.
So what is the right word?
Shit, the sudden ring of her mobile phone nearly made her jump off the bed. She’d been concentrating so hard on her laptop, willing each email to pop up in her inbox. She pressed the Receive Call button as she picked it up; she couldn’t have done anything else right now even if she’d had a list of all the reasons not to in front of her. He didn’t even wait for her to say anything.
Riding High Page 15
