Breaking Joseph (15 page)

“That’s more
like it.”

He loosened my
hair and splayed it across my shoulders in handfuls. “I want to set
a condition too.”

“Go on.”

“Stop beating
yourself up about the things you want.”

I might just
pretend that he didn’t say that.

“The only thing
wrong with the things you do with men, Leila, is that you don’t do
them honestly. There’s never been a man you’ve been faithful to,
has there?”

I shrank away
from him. “Not really.” I was beginning to wonder if Matt counted,
what with monogamy not being physical and all. Crap.

“Being
paid–that was almost too honest. I see what you were trying to do.”
He stroked a fingertip along my collarbone. “I know because I was
doing it all too. Together, we could have whatever we wanted and
without harming anyone. Don’t you think?”

“No more
games,” I said softly. No more house of cards; no more solitaire,
either.

“We’re both
awful at relationships. We admit that. But maybe we just need a
better half.”

“Huh.” I blew a
curl from my eyes. “Don’t count your chickens.”

He laughed.
“From apples to chickens. You know,” he pulled me into his lap, “I
think I much prefer that to whining about diamonds.”

“Can you stop
being so chirpy, please? It’s disconcerting.”

“I’m
happy.”

Exactly what
was this arrangement he proposed–a relief? Or a compromise on the
happy ending I thought I should have? If it was…why did I go dizzy
at the thought of it?

“Aren’t you
happy?” he said.

“Yes.” So much
that I was almost nauseous. “It’s strange, that’s all. You paid me
before, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Now you can.”
His eyes just got greener. We were on the hunt.

“The funny
thing is, I don’t think I ever wanted to.”

He nudged my
hand toward his still-straining cock. “While we’re on the
subject.”

“I suppose if
you want to match me fuck for fuck, you’ve got some catching up to
do, mmm?”

“I wouldn’t be
so sure about that.”

Lately, I never
saw him up close in the daylight. When we were together, really
together
, it was beneath shadows and full moons. We weren’t
hiding from everyone else anymore–just ourselves.

Did this
mongrel of a tryst have any place in the sunshine? A relationship
doomed to dark corners was blind from the beginning, but then
wolves had night vision, right?

“Leila.”

“Yes?” I opened
my eyes.

“Come back to
Earth, please, and take off your clothes.” He tapped my forehead.
“One day, you can explain to me where it is you keep going.”

Underneath the
tree where the fruit thwacked down around me. The snake writhed in
fat, swollen roots. Not far away, Adam screamed, his rib torn clean
from his torso, red everywhere: on apples, in bloody puddles,
staining my hair.

I was scarlet.
Nothing new.

But the heart
that shrieked beneath my breastbone–either it never had a voice or
I’d lost the ears to hear it.

I’d buried it
alive once. I didn’t know a playing card would lend me a spade.

Chapter 8

It would be
easy to assume I was controlled by men.

There was
William, of course, who’d once controlled my appointments. Joseph,
my boss and my lover; Charlie, equally so. All of them stood by
windows of opportunity and gleefully dangled the keys, but one way
or another, they were governed by sex. I was the lock and the key
only fitted when I let them twist it in.

Women are
another matter altogether.

Aidan once
called me–quite scathingly–a bisexual tourist. He was right. I
loved women, from their glossy lips to their glossy…well, lips…but
if I had a relationship with one, the power balance would’ve gone
to cock. Women rule each other. They say that behind every great
man, there’s a great woman, and they may well be right, but behind
that woman is a not-so-great one, bawling her eyes out. She’s not
crying because she didn’t meet the man’s standards; she’s crying
because the other woman made them too high.

I sympathized
with Eve. We got a raw deal. Ever tried shoving an apple into that
lock? They’re hardly forked like keys. One can imagine the sticky
carnage but at the end, all that gets in is the core. Competing
with other women felt a little bit like that.

Whores were at
war with other women. We stole the sex and so we stole the power.
We stripped the weapons away and left little girls, unclothed and
uncertain. There was something distasteful about that image and the
reality was possibly worse–what does the little girl do when she’s
lost all her weapons?

Pull out the
big guns. Ever tried shoving one of those into a lock? It’s fucking
painful.

I should
know.

* * * *

Something far
more exciting than flowers sat on my desk on Monday morning: a fat
white envelope.

Poppy was
already in, and she gazed at my desk with a forlorn little frown. I
tore the seal open and it may as well have been her jugular for the
coarse noise it made. The contract was printed on sumptuously
watermarked paper and my belly fluttered as I ran my fingers over
it.

One signature,
and I would be an official, qualified solicitor. I’d just paid my
parents off, I had a boyfriend I didn’t want to run for the hills
from…everything was coming together. Maybe this was what I
deserved.

I must have
been a very, very good girl.

Poppy cleared
her throat. “Congratulations.”

“Oh. Shit,
Pops. Thanks, though. I’m sorry you–”

“It’s okay.”
She shrugged. “I already spoke to him. He said I was a close
second.”

“What are you
going to do?” I asked.

“I’ve got an
appointment with litigation at lunch. They might still have me.
Maybe.” She scrunched her lips in discomfort.

“Good
luck.”

Matt limped in
a few minutes later and fell into his chair.

“Still not
better?”

“No. I’ve got
to get physiotherapy,” he grumbled. “Fucking Aidan.”

“That bad?”

“It is if I
want to play a last match before I go home.”

He’d be leaving
for his new job in Salisbury soon. I’d forgotten that, and my
stomach twisted at the thought of coming to work without his
friendly banter. My new colleagues on Joseph’s team were nice
enough, but at the end of the day, they were…well. Tax lawyers.

Of course, I’d
have company of another kind. I glanced at Joseph’s closed door and
remembered the lemony scent at the base of his neck. Earlier, I’d
collapsed against his freshly showered torso after my morning
run.

Sunday had been
spent in bed. Not just beneath him, although it wouldn’t be fair to
omit that, since he took me whenever he wanted. When I wanted. But
we had talked too, had lazed around and poured over the papers,
made pancakes–all those smug little domestic things I had pined for
and then rejected, I’d begun with him and hadn’t even noticed. He’d
disappeared to the gym in the afternoon and returned sweating
sweetly. On my inner thigh, damson stains simmered where he’d
sucked before moving higher, and above…I was strawberries and
cream.

I could let him
mark me however I pleased now. There was no worry that a paying
client would object. No care, either.

Between Poppy’s
disappointment and Matt’s injury sulk, we filed into Joseph’s
office under a strange sense of melancholy. Secretly, I soared, but
it was hard to keep it under wraps, especially with
him
just
a few feet away.

“I’ve got a
busy week ahead, children,” he said, folding his fingers together.
“You’ll be aware that most of it isn’t of your concern, but there’s
still plenty for you to do.”

We wouldn’t be
allowed to work on the Redfish case in detail now. Poppy and Matt
were leaving, and it was sensitive information.

“We’re waiting
on a response to the offer for Hemmings. In the meantime, I want to
see full New York reports from you all, including a detailed
analysis of the negotiation process.” He paused to sip a glass of
water. “All going well, our clients are flying in next Wednesday
and we have the Queen’s Trust ball that Thursday. We’re hoping to
begin negotiations ASAP, but there’ll be plenty for you to do until
then. Keep a clear calendar. You’ll be wanting good references, I
assume.”

What would mine
say?
Punctual and organized. Neat girl parts. Noisy when she
comes.

“Now. On with
those reports, and if you finish or get bored, Sadie has a stack of
loose ends that need tying up.”

Writing that
report was about as interesting as it sounded. I bought lunch and
chocolates for everyone to ease my guilt–it didn’t work, but at
least appeared to be appreciated. Poppy returned from her meeting
with litigation in a revolting mood and I assumed there had been no
job offer. By five o’clock, the atmosphere was stifling.

“What a fucking
horrible day,” Matt complained. He was limping home and I felt
obliged to offer an arm.

“I know.” I
sighed.

“It was like
somebody coiled a massive turd in the corner of the room.”

“Ew.”

“Everyone can
smell it, but nobody wants to mention it.” He scowled in distaste.
“Still. That’s what she gets for applying for your job, I
suppose.”

“It was never
my job as such,” I insisted, steering him around the swarm of
briefcases near the tube station. An elbow flew into my
belly–
Jesus.

“You okay?”

I wheezed.
“Uh-huh.”

“Twats never
look where they’re going. Anyway. She could have been a little more
gracious.” He blew his hair out of his eyes. “How should I kill
Aidan? My leg is fucking killing me.”

“You wanted me
to tell you, didn’t you?” I’m not entirely sure I meant to say that
out loud.

“What?” He
stiffened. “Oh.”

“Joseph and I.
We’re dating,” I muttered.

He went silent
for a good few paces. “Does anyone else know yet?”

“No. We’re
keeping it quiet for a bit.”

“Is it
serious?” He forced the words and they fell out in heavy
chunks.

“I don’t know.
It’s…experimenting, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Well.”
His shoe scuffed against the pavement. “Good luck with that.”

I squeezed his
arm, humbled. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,
babe.”

I’m not sure
that he did, but he wanted to. That he said it at all was more than
I deserved.

“What are you
up to tonight?” I asked.

“Mostly barking
at Tobe while he waits on me hand and foot. Being an arse because I
can’t play rugby tomorrow. That kind of thing.” He tugged at his
tie. “You?”

“Um. Nothing,
actually.” How utterly glorious. “I appear to need a hobby.”

He grinned
through his wanton fringe. “Will you maim me if I suggest a
few?”

“You’re maimed
already,” I laughed, “but depends what they are.”

“You’re right.
I’ve been hanging around with Aidan too much.”

I helped him
into the lift and left him behind the doors, wandering home to do
nothing with enough spring in my step for the pair of us.

* * * *

“Joe?”

He glanced up
from his book as I lowered mine. “Mmm?”

“Can I ask you
something?”

We were naked
and splayed across the thick rug on his lounge floor, propped up by
sage green cushions. Dinner had been at Chervil; dessert had been
carpet burn. The week had been tense and busy now we’d gone full
throttle with Redfish’s offer on Hemmings.

“Go on.” He
rolled onto his side and peered down at me.

“Are you
opening a US office?”

His eyes
widened–it was brief, but I caught it. “Who told you that?”

“Just…you know.
Speculation in the office.”

“And since when
do you listen to that kind of thing?” He pulled my book away with
one hand and took my wrists in the other. They landed above my
head, below his fist, and in a euphoric stretch of muscle.

“It’d be nice
to know if you’re moving away, is all.”

“Leila.” He
traced my nipple.
Oh.
“What makes you think I’m
emigrating?”

“You have
family over there. Friends. An apartment. And you seem…well. Bored
of Bach and Dagier.”

“I’m hardly
bored right now.” I hated his sly smile. Or maybe I loved it.
Hadn’t quite decided.

His tongue ran
across the underside of my breast, and I arched up to him on pure
instinct.

“You haven’t
answered me,” I said.

“My family
fucked off and left me here when I was barely thirteen. I think I’d
rather rim a horse than join them over there, okay?”

“So why have
you got an apartment there?”

“Because I
spend enough time there to warrant it. It was a good
investment.”

Snap. Teeth
closed around my nipple to crush and I jumped, yelped, tugged his
hair.

Then he licked
the welts he’d made and glanced up with a satisfied smirk.

“I still think
you’re bored,” I said.

“Maybe I am.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had too much on to think about it lately. You’re
more concerned about it than I am, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” This,
this. I liked his kisses much better, especially when he tasted
like me. “What time are you picking up Elise and Kenji
tomorrow?”

“Around seven,
I think.”

His cock
hardened between my thighs, and I rubbed the arch of my foot along
his calf. Tendons, still ripe and fizzing from the way we writhed,
poured heat through his smooth skin. There was nothing rugged about
him on the outside, but I knew what lay caged: my wolf in good
boy’s clothing.

“Are you going
straight to the hotel?” I asked.

“Probably. Will
settle them in. You can help me, if you like. And then there’s
Thursday.”