Breaking Joseph (4 page)

“Understand
what? Seven hours over the Atlantic killed half your brain cells?
I’m all for fun and games, but there’s stuff you do with someone
who’s paying and stuff you keep for someone closer. How can you
trust him?”

“I don’t,
entirely.” I looked away. “That’s part of the fun and games, I
suppose.”

“What did he do
this with?”

I tried not to
wince. “A bread knife.”

“Better than a
rusty screwdriver, I suppose.” He pulled my skirt down and brushed
creases from the fabric. “Next time he comes over all chop suey,
tell him to fuck right off. I’ll fly back out with you if it comes
to it.”

“Aid, it didn’t
hurt,” I whispered. “Not that way. He did it because I wanted him
to.”

“It’s not your
job to want it,” he said sharply.

“No, but…it’s
not like that with him.”

“Has he brought
you out here on a smug little holiday, or to fuck when he pleases?
Lots of them like to play games, to pretend they’re not stooping to
that level. But it’s bullshit.”

“He’s not
stooping–”

“You know what
I’m on about.” He nudged my chin up with a fingertip. “It’s not
about what it means for us. For them, there’s always guilt with
paying. Stigma. Some of them like it and some just ignore it, but
it is what it is.”

“It’s not
impossible for him to like me.”

“No, it
happens–but guys like him? They don’t
like
anybody.”

I bit my
tongue, and it wasn’t because Charlotte wanted to stick it out at
him. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh? Did he
carve a ring on your finger too?”

Voices echoed
down the corridor and several girls fell into the toilets. We
waited for their doors to latch, for the giggles to drown out our
footsteps, and then hurried back out to the table.

I pushed
tendrils of pasta around my plate with glum detachment. Aidan’s
scolding still grated inside, and the chatter of pedestrians seemed
louder after the quiet restrooms.

“I’m sorry,” he
said. “I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”

“You’re always
blunt.”

“You need it
right now.” He rolled flat Coke and ice around his half-empty
glass. “It’s one thing to say I’d hate to see you get hurt, but
what he’s done…seriously, Lei-Lei. Warning bells. Brrring!”

“Are you saying
this because of Matt?”

He snorted. “If
you don’t want him, no amount of my bitching is going to change
your mind, is it?”

“No, but…”

“So no, it’s
not about the Mattman. Besides,” he added sheepishly, “I want him
to myself.”

“Good luck with
that.” I smiled.

“Bitch. Just be
careful, all right? It’s weird listening to you talk about this
guy. You’d barely talk about Matt at all.”

“Yeah, well.
Says a lot, I suppose.”

“That you were
a lady then?” he teased.

“Arse.” I
stabbed him lightly with my fork and he cocked an auburn
eyebrow.

“Now see…that’s
fun and games.”

“Oh, be
quiet.”

Stuffed with
carbs of the dirtiest sort, we skipped dessert and he walked me
back to the hotel. We breezed through a dozen different city
smells; dry fire car exhausts, fresh coffee, sugared donuts. A
hundred perfumes warmed on bodies and commingled in the air.

“You sure
you’re not coming for more drinks?” he asked.

“With you and
Matt?” I grimaced. “I don’t know if I could be drunk enough for
that.”

“You get to
watch us wrestle.”

“Now you’re
talking. Ugh. Seriously, I think it’d be weird.”

“Oh,
fine
, fine.” He squashed me into one of his horrendous bear
hugs. “You take care of yourself, okay? Call me if there’s a
problem. Any time.”

“Thanks,” I
squeaked, half smothered in his armpit.

“I like my
Lei-Lei in one piece,” he said fondly.

“You won’t tell
Matt about…” I gestured to my stomach and he stepped back.

“You think I
want to spend the evening coaxing his head out of an oven?”

“I think you’d
leave it there if his arse was poking up in the right
direction.”

“I’m ashamed of
my answer, so I’m going to ignore that.” He kissed my forehead.
“I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

Between
fumbling for my key card and balancing on heels on plush hotel
carpet, I heard my phone ring. A dangerous name flashed on the
screen, and the feverish smile that left Aidan so disgusted made my
face ache all over again.

“Hello?”

“Where are
you?” Joseph. Bar noise fizzed and echoed in the background.

“Just got back
to the room. How about you?”

“Down in the
lounge, entertaining. Come and join us.” He paused to murmur
something in another direction. “I’ve been telling everyone about
you–they’re waiting.”

Cock parade?
“Give me ten minutes.”

With skin
blanched from the breeze and my fingertips still glossy with garlic
butter, I looked like I’d been blown back from the restaurant. In
the harsh light of the bathroom, I twisted my curls into a loose
knot and sprayed spiced apricot perfume, before sliding out of my
plain dress and into a V-necked satin number with a clingy
skirt.

After two large
cocktails, it was harder to walk in heels than I’d anticipated. I
counted the black and white squares on the shiny lounge floor as I
went. Joseph smiled as he saw me, patting the space beside him on
the plush seat of the booth. Opposite, Kenji and Elise leaned in
together–it aroused me, noticing how his hand curled over her
knee.

“Good evening.”
I sank down next to him.

“So far.” Elise
nudged the wine bottle on the table. “How about you?”

“Yeah, it’s
been good. Thank you.”

Joseph inclined
his head toward the menus. “Have you eaten, sweetheart?”

“I just had
dinner.”

“Ooh,” Elise
said, “where did you go?”

“Anico’s? A
couple of blocks away, the place with the seats out on the
pavement.”

“We like it
there,” Kenji said, looking at Elise. “Don’t we?”

“We used to
meet there for lunch when we first started dating.”

“The pasta is
yummy. And the cocktails are good,” I added.

Joseph nudged
me. “Not too good, I hope.” He sat just a couple of inches away,
his fingers wound tight about his glass. What would he make of
Aidan’s harsh words?
Warning bells.

I shuddered. “I
behaved myself.”

“That’s no
fun,” said Elise. “You can let your hair down, now. We won’t tell
anybody.” She reached for an empty goblet and the wine spewed in
with soft little glugs.

“If Redfish are
successful in their bid, Elise and Kenji will be spending a lot of
time in London.” His hand lingered over mine shamelessly as he
passed me a full glass. “Leila went to uni in the city, so she’s
been there for a few years now.”

Kenji shot
Joseph a conspiratorial glance. “It’d be brilliant to get back to
England.”

He nodded back.
“We were at Cambridge together.”

“You and Ken?”
What? Can anybody say conflict of interest? Jesus.

“Yup.” Kenji
raised an eyebrow at me. “Better that you keep that to
yourself–don’t want Deacon to think that we’re biased.”

“Best that our
colleagues don’t know, either. We are going to win this purely on
our lawyerly prowess.” Joseph’s tone was so dry that I couldn’t
suppress a giggle.

Kenji had a
similar manner to Matt about him, with almost-black hair that kept
trying to claw his eyes out. “Did you study law as well, then?” I
asked him.

“No, no.
Politics, Philosophy and Economics. It was a little like law,
though–lots of arguing with everyone. I was on the debate team with
Joe here.”

“So who taught
who the arts of persuasion?” I sounded far more coy than I’d
intended.

Elise bit her
bottom lip. “Now there’s a question.”

“I don’t
actually remember much about our debates,” Kenji admitted, “just
the celebrating afterward. We won a lot.”

“We beat the
shit out of Oxford twice.” Joe grinned, reaching for the wine.

“We were
awesome,” said Kenji, clinking his glass to Joe’s. “Best days of my
life.”

Elise elbowed
him.

He winced.
“Except for now.”

“I’m borrowing
your credit card for that one.” She brushed my arm. “Come shopping
with me tomorrow. After the meeting. I’d love to show you a few of
my favourite haunts.”

Joseph nudged
me again. “You should go.”

“Do you have
embarrassing stories about Joe to tell me?”

“Not yet.” She
laughed. “But I can probably get a few.”

“I never did
anything embarrassing.” He beckoned the waiter. “Did I?”

“You
embarrassed a lot of other people.” Kenji grimaced. “Including
me.”

Another bottle
of red appeared, uncorked, on the table, and beneath, Joseph
trapped my foot between his and squeezed, squeezed. I thought about
how he’d last had me–up against the bedroom door–and squirmed
against the upholstery. If he was as crass as Aidan said--as
everyone said--why did I still feel this way? It was clichéd to say
someone set me on fire, but what else consumed the air between two
people and left them no choice but to close the space?

“What did you
do after Cambridge?” Elise asked Joseph.

“I worked at a
local firm and then went to the City a few years later. Found Bach
and Dagier and didn’t look back. I made partner in two years.”

“Impressive,”
she said. “You like it there?”

He paused a
little longer than he should have. “It’s still challenging,” he
said finally. “It’s enough…especially if we get this contract.”

“And what about
you, Leila?” She smiled. “Do you like it? I’ll show you around my
pretty offices tomorrow. What do you think, Joe–could we convince
her to move?”

“I don’t know
about that.” Was she referring to the rumoured New York branch of
Bach and Dagier? That one that had inspired Poppy to apply for the
same job on the team as me?

Joseph folded
his arms. “No poaching my staff, madam. Is that clear?”

“Madam.” Kenji
laughed. “You’ve still got the weirdest way of talking to
women.”

“It works,” he
said.

Elise surveyed
the pair of us, her left cheek pricked with a fiendish dimple. Then
she leaned in to whisper at me. “Does it?”

His fingers
found my thigh and I edged my legs apart just a little. When he
slid beneath the gusset of my knickers, I bit down. Waited for the
breath to pour between my teeth. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

* * * *

Morning. New
York. Outside, the city was raucous with life, and inside,
traveling voices in a dozen different accents pierced the steamy
hiss of the shower. A room service tray lay in Joseph’s place on
the bed and the air hung thick with the citrus scent of his
soap.

I picked at
croissants and fruit salad while I gained my bearings. We hadn’t
gone to bed late, but a fair amount of wine was consumed, and my
thighs were stiff and sore. The mix of tottering around half-drunk,
holding my buck-happy hips still beneath the bar table as he
stroked me, and straddling him when we finally fell into bed
would’ve done it…funny how I didn’t have more of an appetite.

You’re
happy
, Aidan had said. Indeed. But one has to stare hard to
recognize a long-lost acquaintance, especially when there are other
things in the way.

I slid out of
bed and my feet landed on a smooth brown shoebox, a silver logo
dissecting its lid. I teased it open with a toe and tucked aside
the tissue paper. The shoes were light in my hands and yet heavy
with suggestion; heels higher than any I’d dared to walk in, with
leather smooth as cake frosting and startling red soles. An ankle
strap led to a delicate buckle. They were a perfect fit.

“Do you like
them?”

I stared at
Joseph, who was shower fresh and glistening, through my tousled
morning hair. On any other man, the towel that clung to his hips
would have offered a bit of modesty, but here was a man for whom
modesty trembled and fell over itself to escape.

Yummy.

“I do.” I
stretched a leg up from its crossed position. Naked except for the
shoes, I felt wicked, and it was hard not to bite my lip. “Thank
you.”

“You can keep
them on, I think.” He eased me back, his wet skin sticking to mine.
Then his teeth descended, white little razors that grazed at my
neck.

“Not really
office wear.”

“Not what I’m
talking about.”

I flicked my
tongue over his, stiffened my legs as he pushed at them. “Maybe I
ought to make you wait.”

“I buy you
pretty things and this is what I get?”

I scraped the
heel down his shoulder and he grinned at me. “Later. When we have
more time.”

For a split
second, I thought he would release me–he had a fist full of thigh
and my skin burned in his grip. Then that scent caught on the air,
and I shivered. Here was a game, spewing smoke as it grew to full
flame. One last push, I broke, and he settled on top of me with a
curious half smile.

“Now,” he
said.

I spread my
arms in a vain little struggle. “No.” The velvet head of his cock
kept nudging my clit and it took great effort to get that word out.
One twist of his hips and he’d have me regardless.

But he
waited.

I thought he
might pin my arms, but he brought them around his neck as he kissed
me, and I was smothered in fresh breath and damp hair.

“Still no,” I
said, panting as he broke off.

“No such
word.”

He slid just a
little farther down. God knew, I was wet enough for him to barge
right in. What would be sweeter: the release of him stretching
seared tissue now, or the dull throb of my G-spot giving me slow
fever all day?

“No.” It was
triumphant and teasing, a challenge posed.