Tainted Love (3 page)

It was turning into a beautiful fall day outside. The sun was shining and the air was clean and crisp. The streets were not too crowded as Abbi and her mother casually made their way to the accountant’s office.

‘How did you find this guy, Mum?’ asked Abbi.

‘He’s Peter’s nephew. You remember Peter, right? The man who owned the writer’s desk that he thought was a Civil War heirloom?’

‘Oh, sure,’ Abbi laughed. ‘He was really nice. I liked him.’

‘Me too. Anyway, his mother’s money seemed to be vanishing into thin air so he got his nephew to investigate, turned out he traced it back to Peter’s wife, whose toy boy was some kind of wizard when it came to hacking people’s accounts. But he wasn’t so clever that the Peter’s nephew couldn’t find out what he was doing. So, when I told Peter about our little problem he recommended his nephew, and here we are.’

‘Sounds like you really did your homework on this guy.’

‘Don’t be smart, Abbi. It’s nice to keep business within business. Besides, he might give us a professional discount since we have been very good to his uncle over the years. If what I show him today confirms what I think, this could be a very expensive undertaking.’

‘Well, it will be worth it. If you are being ripped off and have been for a while it could add up to a lot of money. I don’t really like the idea of you and dad travelling around to different shops if we have a criminal working for us.’

‘Oh, Abbi, let’s hope I’m wrong. Most of the employees we have, I have known for years. They’re like an extended family. It will be very hurtful to your father and I if there’s a thief amongst them.’

‘Well, let’s just wait and see what Mr. Worthington says before you get too upset.’ Abbi gave her mother’s hand a squeeze.

Abbi and her parents were just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. They weren’t used to dram
a–
maybe that’s why Abbi s life seemed so boring sometimes.

They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when they saw the sign for Worthington Accounting. It was a nicely done dark brown sign with gold calligraphy writing. The door chimed when they entered and stepped on to a plush royal blue carpet. A very attractive young blonde receptionist looked up from her computer when they walked in.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Can I help you?’

‘Yes,’ Celia replied. ‘I’m Mrs. Parsons. I have an appointment with Mr. Worthington at eleven.’

‘Oh, yes, you’re the antiques people, aren’t you?’ the receptionist responded as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘I just love your shop. You have such beautiful furniture.’

‘Well, thank you,’ Celia said, smiling. ‘It’s nice to see young people take an interest in antiques. Was there a piece you liked in particular?’

The receptionist’s jaw dropped open, as her eyes darted around the room. ‘Um, well … you know … they’re all nice.’

Abbi gave a small shake of her head. She didn’t have the patience for people who feigned interest in antiques like the woman had. She could always detect shallowness in people, and frankly, she found it boring and a drain of her energy to engage with them.
I bet Phoebe,
as Abbi had seen on the desk nameplate,
has never even passed by our shop, let alone come in.
Abbi sat down in the waiting area, leaving her mother at the desk, and picked up an old issue of OK magazine.

Moments later, the phone on the large mahogany desk buzzed and was promptly picked up by Phoebe, who lifted her finger in a ‘just wait a minute’ gesture to Celia. That was another pet hate of Abbi’s. Was it really necessary? As if her mother had no social manners and would keep prattling on whilst the receptionist was talking to someone on the phone.

Abbi feigned a yawn and went back to reading about rich, good-looking people with too much time on their hands.

‘Mr Worthington will see you now. Right this way,’ beamed Phoebe like she was about to take Abbi and her mother to meet the Prime Minister. Abbi rolled her eyes and put the magazine down.

Celia waited for her, and when Abbi was dutifully beside her, they started towards the door where Phoebe was standing, gesturing ‘this way,’ while still beaming. Abbi laughed quietly to herself. She would definitely last one day if her boss was not her mother. Maybe a half-day. It was the only friggin’ door to go through, for crying out loud!

‘This way?’ Abbi asked with an innocent expression on her face as she approached Phoebe. Celia nudged her sharply. Her mother knew her too well, and Abbi smiled at her. When she looked through the open door, her heart practically jumped out of her chest. 

Standing in front of them, shuffling papers behind her desk, was the ma
n–
the … man … from … the … train.
Abbi stood frozen to the spot. She probably had the same expression as someone who’d recognised a fugitive serial killer.

Oh my God! This can’t be happening!!
Oh, but it was. Her mother walked up to the desk and glanced back at her paralysed daughter. Celia frowned at her and then turned back to Mr. Worthington.

‘Good morning,’ he said warmly, looking up from his papers. ‘Taylor Worthington.’ He stood and extended his hand to Celia.

‘So nice to meet you, Ms. Worthington …’

‘Please, call me Taylor.’

‘Okay, thank you, Taylor. I’m Celia Parsons, and this is my daughter, Abbi.’ She looked back again at Abbi, who now seemed to have remembered how to walk and was moving forward.

Taylor laughed. ‘Well, well. Small world, Abbi.’

Celia frowned in complete confusion and looked from Taylor back to her daughter, with a perplexed expression on her face.

‘Do you two know each other?’

‘Not really. We just happened to bump into each other on the train earlier this morning,’ Taylor said, smiling at Abbi.

‘I’ll tell you later, Mum. It’s not a big deal.’ Abbi was glad that words were finally leaving her mouth.

See, it’s like this, Mum. This is the man I was fantasising about this morning and ended up missing my stop for….

‘Nice to meet you again, Abbi,’ Taylor said extending his hand.

His touch left Abbi flustered. ‘Likewise,’ she said and smiled back.

Taylor’s hand enclosed hers, and with that smile and those eyes looking at her, Abbi felt that same jolt of electricity run through her that she had experienced when she’d fantasised about their tryst at the hotel. What was it about this man that gave her such a reaction?

Abbi’s hand became clammy, and she instantly dropped it to her side. She wanted to wipe it on her jeans to dry it off but wasn’t sure that would give a good impression.

‘Please, take a seat,’ Taylor said.

Abbi and Celia pulled out the two chairs in front of his desk and settled into them. Celia began to take papers out of the folder in her bag.

‘I really appreciate you taking a look at these for me,’ Celia began. ‘This is not my area of expertise, by any means, but after my accountant spotted some irregularities, Abbi here suggested I hire a forensic accountant to take a closer look. Like I told you on the phone, my own accountant thought that with the way the funds have been taken, trying to trace them is a little out of his depth.’

‘I totally understand your concerns, Mrs. Parsons,’ Taylor said.

‘Oh, Celia, please. I’ve highlighted where the anomalies are.’ Celia smiled warmly as she slid the paperwork across the desk. 

‘Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here,’ Taylor stated quietly as he picked up the papers and started to flick through them.

Abbi could see Taylor’s eyes reading rapidly, and his face took on a totally different expression of focus and concentration. She was trying her best not to stare, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the man. Abbi was surprised to see there wasn’t a wedding ring on his finger, and as she quickly scanned his desk and the rest of his minimalist office, she saw no pictures of a wife or children either. 

Yes, well there’s an engagement ring on my finger, and a picture of Ben in my purse.
She looked guiltily down at the beautiful engagement ring Ben had given her.
That’s right, Ben
–
my fiancé
.
Whom I love and adore and can’t wait to marry
. The last few words were thought without any amount of conviction. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t anxious to get married. If she were, surely she wouldn’t be having fantasies about other men, especially the man sat right in front of her.

Taylor finally broke the silence and smiled. ‘Right, Mr
s–
I mean, Celia. Do you have the relevant invoices with you?’

‘Of course. Here you go.’ Celia handed over the invoices she had been holding and waited patiently and silently as Taylor scanned them.

With her mother looking out of the window and Taylor engrossed in the paperwork, Abbi flopped happily back in her seat as she admired the way Taylor’s sun-kissed hands slowly caressed the sheets of paper. She found herself completely mesmerised by the thought of Taylor’s hands on her body. It wasn’t long before her mind drifted off to fantasyland again.

She imagined herself sitting in her office, at her desk, restoring an old clock her mother had given her to work on…

There’s a knock at the door. I look up, and it’s Taylor.
His broad muscular chest strains against the tight fabric of his top.

‘Am I disturbing you?’ he asks, hovering in the doorway.

‘No, not at all. Please come in.’

Taylor’s eyes fall to the clock, and he smiles. ‘It’s very beautiful,’ he says, nodding his head towards it.

‘Yes it is
–
very beautiful.’ The words seem to get stuck in my throat as my eyes remain glued on his. They are magnetic
–
pulling me in, daring me to lose myself in them.

He moves around to the side of my desk and sits on the edge, then leans in towards me and whispers, ‘Its beauty reminds me of you. Timeless.’

I move my chair back a little to make more room. ‘You can touch it if you want.’ My words stumble over one another, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

‘Are you talking about the clock? Or you?’ He rolls his tongue over the contours of his perfectly formed lips.

I can feel my heart start to beat faster, and I catch my breath.
Taylor reaches down and takes my hands in his. Holding them gently, he begins a slow, calming massage starting on the back of each hand with his strong thumbs. With soft circles, he works in ever increasing circumferences toward the tips of my fingers. He smiles knowingly as he notices the goose-bumps exploding along my arms. My hands tremble, and he raises them to his mouth, sucking the tips of my fingers one by one. Molten shafts of desire burn its way through my veins. The sensation is both alien and exquisite.

‘Do you like this?’

‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly. His mouth is hot and moist, a mirror image of what’s between my thighs.

‘Stand up.’

On weak legs, I stand, gripping his hands to steady me. They are warm, strong and confident. His arms encircle me, drawing me against him. Every part of my body is moulded against his. I can feel the ridged hardness of his manhood. His lips graze mine. I open my mouth waiting, yearning for his probing tongue to find mine
–
he’s unleashed my hunger, now I want him to satisfy it.

I gasp when, without warning, his hand sears a path down my stomach and in between my thighs: feeling my nakedness, his fingers slip easily inside of me. With each deepening thrust, my nails dig deeper into his shoulders. His eyes penetrate mine as if he can see into my soul. He remains watching me as I throw my head back and let out a stifled scream as my body feels like it’s exploding into a million glowing stars. Every part of me is still throbbing as I bring my head forward to meet his gaze. I watch transfixed as he moves his hand towards his waist and unzips his trousers.

‘Now it’s time for the real thing.’

‘
How long before I can see the rest of the paperwork?’

….What?? What was that??

Abbi jerked back to reality. Celia was looking at her. ‘Abbi? Taylor just asked how long before he could see the rest of our financial records? Are you okay?’ Her mother looked at her with legitimate concern.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ stammered Abbi, ‘I was up all night with Buddy. He’s our Yorkshire terrier,’ she said as an aside to Taylor as way of explanation. ‘He ate something bad, I guess. I’m just tired. Let me see. Tyler should be by around three thirty after school. He can probably get them to you by four, if that isn’t too late?’

‘No, not at all,’ said Taylor looking at her closely. ‘I’m sorry, Celia. But it does look to me like something is off. Hopefully, it is just a clerical error. Honestly, that’s what things like this usually turn out to be so I wouldn’t worry too much. Give me a day or two to look at it some more, and I will have better idea. Does that sound alright?’

‘Oh, that’s just fine, really. I really do appreciate it. I feel better already having someone on board who knows what they’re doing. Thank you so much. Do you want payment up front or a deposit of some kind?’