Breaking Leila (11 page)

He ran his
fingers through his damp hair as he headed for the door. “I’m sorry
I couldn’t stay longer. I want to.”

“Another
time.”

He went to
leave and then spun on his heel, gathering me against him for a
tongue-laced kiss. For a man meant to be somewhere else, he didn’t
seem to be in much of a hurry.

“I’ll see you
tomorrow,” he mumbled, “when I’ve regained some
self-restraint.”

“That doesn’t
sound like much fun.”

“It isn’t,” he
said grimly.

The floorboards
groaned as he sauntered back down the hall, and I pressed my
fingers to stinging lips. Joseph did not kiss me with the absent
abandon of a client. He kissed me as a lover would, razors and
all.

Mine.
 
The word hissed in my ear again.

God, I’d never
danced like this before.

Do you stake a
claim on someone, or do they offer themselves to you?

* * * *

“To Bhan.”

Three glasses
clinked and we sat back against the old pub chairs.

“I can’t
believe they fired him,” Matt said. “He’d been working his balls
off–”

“He didn’t have
enough balls,” Poppy cut in. She paused, sighing. “He was just
never going to have the commitment required. This job demands that
you don’t have a life.”

“I know that
feeling,” Matt grumbled.

It had been an
awkward day in the office. A lump had risen in my throat as I
watched Bhan clear his desk, as he tried not to cry–he’d thrown six
years of study down the toilet and wouldn’t be going home to a
happy wife. I wanted to hug him before he left, but he wouldn’t
look any of us in the eye, let alone give us the chance to speak. I
didn’t blame him.

What unsettled
me the most was the way Joseph handled it. He’d been in a foul mood
all day, but the green eyes that surveyed us with silent fury were
the same ones I had gazed into the previous night as we fucked. He
didn’t have a Charlotte for his dirty work, and it frightened
me.

Intrigued me,
too.

“Leila? Are you
listening?” Poppy waved a hand in front of my face and I blinked
several times.

“Sorry, chick.
What were you saying?”

“Matt was just
saying about how he’s been offered a job.”

“Oh?” I smiled
brightly at him. “That’s brilliant. Where are you going?”

He bowed his
head a little. “A firm back home in Wilts. Commercial
property.”

“You were
serious about that, then.”

“Yeah.
Anything’s better than tax, anyway.” He eyed me with boyish
mischief. “I used to walk past the offices on my way back from
school and daydream about–”

“Drafting
planning deeds?” Poppy said helpfully.

“He probably
just caught sight of the secretaries.” I giggled.

Matt held up
his hands in protest. “As it happens, yeah, there might have been a
secretary or two. However, they also had really nice cars.” He
sipped his pint. “All of them. I knew right then that I wanted to
work in law.”

“Admirable,”
Poppy said, nodding. “I knew because that’s what the head girls at
my school always did. I didn’t actually know what else to do with
myself.”

I raised an
eyebrow. “Really, Pops? I’d have thought you’d have some sort of
ten-year-plan mapped out by the beginning of sixth form.”

“Well, I had
the stationery.” She laughed. “I think I got slightly distracted by
emo music and eye liner experimentation.”

“I know that
feeling, too,” Matt said.

I stole a
glance at his dark eyes, the pupils framed with velvety lashes. A
bit of eyeliner would suit him.

“What about
you, Leila?” Poppy asked. “What made you decide to enter the
thrilling world of corporate profit swindling?”

I shrugged. “I
grew up with my parents running their holiday business, and I used
to help my mum do the accounts. I liked to mess with them, and law
was a bit less straight-laced than accountancy.”

“Is anyone else
eating? I’m going to eat,” Poppy said from behind the menu.

“I think my
watch actually says big-fat-burger-o’clock.” Matt tapped a
leather-bound wrist. “See?”

“If they have
pasta, I’m game. I’m carb-starved.” I gave a mock whimper.

Poppy
disappeared to order for us, leaving me and Matt to play with the
bar mats and avoid looking at each other.

“I’m really
pleased for you,” I said finally, “about your job.”

“Cheers,” he
mumbled.

Ask him ask him ask him ask him to the
wedding!
 
“The office won’t be the same without you.”

“Now you’re
just spouting crap, Leila.” He smiled ruefully. “But thank
you.”

Ask him,
dammit!

No no no no
no.

I chewed my
bottom lip. “Was that really why you went into law? Boobs and
cars?”

“No getting
past you, eh?” He spun the bar mat in his palm. “I realized I was
never going to play rugby professionally, or be in a band. And law
seemed...sensible.”

“Sensible?”

“What, like I
can’t be?” He poked my arm.

“I...that’s not what I meant. So where in Wilts is it,
this
 
sensible
 
new firm?”

“Salisbury.”

“Oh? That’s
near Stockbridge, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He
folded his arms behind his head. “Why’d you ask?”

Be subtle!
 
“I’m going to a wedding there this weekend.”

He tutted. “Not
yours, is it? Something else you forgot to mention?”

Ouch.
 
“No,” I said quietly. “Just a friend’s.”

“That came out
wrong. I didn’t mean–”

Poppy returned
then with an armful of drinks and cutlery. “I ordered you the
linguini, Leila,” she said cheerfully. “With garlic bread. It
looked extra carby.”

“Thanks, Pops.”
I tossed her a bank note and she tucked it into her purse.

Suddenly, I
wasn’t so hungry.

* * * *

I couldn’t
shake the grip of Joseph’s last kiss. It squeezed me in its fist,
and I oozed out of the separate ends in two fleshy lumps. One half
for Joseph and one half for Matt.

And the vacant
space in the middle…who lived there? The girl who walked into the
office every day with a brave smile and narrowed, paranoid
eyes.

Jesus, if only she’d just stop
 
moaning
.

* * * *

Joseph had been
snappy all morning. We cowered, a miserable triangle in the corner
of the office, and his wrath simmered steadily behind the door.

The firm lagged three days behind on a major acquisition.
Three days was a
 
long
 
time in tax law–something had been fucked utterly and half of
it needed doing again. Joseph had the rest of the department
tearing the muck from their scalps, but so much needed to be done
that we had our hands, laps and briefcases full as well.

“What’s left?”
Joseph hovered over us, his hands clenched behind his back.

“We’re about
half-way through the laundry invoices for APAK,” Matt declared. “We
figured I’d do the last bit myself and the girls could start on the
VAT for the drinks machines.”

Laundry and beverages. We were only trainees–we got all
the
 
fun
 
jobs.

Joseph folded
his arms, exhaling. “Don’t expect to be home before ten tonight,
children. Nobody’s leaving the building until it’s case
closed.”

“Do we at least
get lunch today?” Poppy’s eyes were big with hope.

“Mmm.” He
cocked his head. “Half an hour at one–but only because you all look
like the ghosts of fuck-ups past.” He strode back into his office
with a dramatic slam of the door.

Poppy grimaced.
“Do we look pale, Leila? I don’t look pale, do I?”

“You’re
naturally alabaster,” I said, patting her hand. “And I’m
naturally...erm...pasty.”

“Actually,
you’re a little flushed,” said Matt, his tone dragging with
suspicion.

“It’s the
stress. Getting to me. Had plans tonight,” I mumbled.

He raised an
eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Glamorous man,
Leila?” Poppy grinned.

It was a glamorous man
whore
, actually, but I couldn’t
bring myself to say it. “Just a friend,” I yawned, “but not
anymore, evidently.”

“I’m going to
get Sadie to order in again.” Matt stood up and stretched. It made
him look comically tall. “What shall we get? Sushi?”

“Good with me.”
I waved a hand, my nose wedged firmly back into a heap of
invoices.

Poppy nodded as
he disappeared to the PA’s desk. Then she nudged me beneath the
desk, and I snapped up.

“What’s gone on
between you and Matt?” She had that bossy tone to her voice that
made me slightly afraid of her.

“Nothing.”

“Bollocks,
Leila. Why does he keep making all these barbed comments?” She
leaned in to whisper. “Did you turn him down, too…?”

Erm. Erm.
 
“No–”

“Oh my God! You
slept with Matt!” She slapped a hand over her painted mouth.

“No! I mean…no,
I haven’t. Nothing’s gone on. All the cocoa sachet invoices have
gone to your head.”

“Drunk on VAT
law. Fun, fun, fun.” She chewed her pen. “I don’t believe you. I
think you screwed him.”

Matt returned
and froze at our paranoid glares. “What? Are my flies undone?” He
checked his zip and shrugged, finding it intact.

“We were
talking about…women’s things,” Poppy said finally. “Weren’t we,
Leila?”

I tutted. “Yep.
Tampons, flower arrangements, bra strap widths. Nothing of interest
to anyone owning a penis.”

He broke into a
grin. “I quite like flowers,” he said pointedly. “Receiving, as
well as giving…”

Poppy kicked me
under the table again and I tried not to wince.

Matt sat down opposite me and his knee pressed against mine,
his leg warming the leather of my boot. I expected him to jerk away
but instead he held my gaze, the heat of his flesh making me buzz
and shiver. I had to look away before I demolished any remaining
pretense that we were
 
just
friends
.

Despite Matt’s
little advance, as one o’clock rolled closer, I found myself
staring at Joseph’s door. Could I ease his frustration with
something other than a spreadsheet?

Would Captain
Covert let me?

So when the
food arrived, I rose and smoothed my hair.

“You’re not
eating?” Poppy asked.

“In a minute.”
I grabbed a random handful of papers. “I have a couple of things I
need to sort.”

I knocked tentatively on Joseph’s door. My heart thumped in
the few seconds it took him to reply, but he did, and I disappeared
into his office with a
 
click
 
of the lock.

“This had
better be–can I help you, Leila?”

I chewed my
bottom lip. How to seduce someone I’d seduced already, and to talk
in echoes?

“I’m worried
about you,” I said. “You seem really stressed.”

“I
 
am
 
stressed.” He laughed. “I’m guessing you didn’t lock my door
just so nobody could hear you state the obvious?”

I perched on
the edge of his desk, my skirt riding up just a little. “Maybe…I
could help?”

He stroked a
fingertip over my exposed thigh. “Leila, I don’t remember hiring
you this afternoon. Even if I did, time–”

A flush spilled
over me, hot and prickly. I could lie crushed underneath this man,
but now I could barely talk to him with my clothes on? “That’s not
what I meant.”

“Right.
So…”

“I don’t mean
to be weird,” I mumbled.

“You’re not
weird, sweetheart. You’re a bit confusing, but if you admit that
you swanned in here to suck me off, I’ll forgive you. Just this
once.”

“Now you’re
just being opportunistic.” I stood up and he tugged me onto his
lap.

“I’ll settle
for a quick grope–technically, we’re charging Groverton for this,”
he said.

“Pfft. I’m
still sore after you refused the post-shower massage.”

“I changed my
mind.” He grazed my nipples. “And I like that I left you…sore.”

A knock sounded
at the door then and we both jumped. I waited a second. Was he
going to kiss me?

No. Strange
boy.

“I’d better get
that,” I mumbled, going to climb off.

“Leila.” A
finger silenced me as he held my waist. He eased the skirt up my
thigh to reveal a blossoming blackberry of a bruise. “What’s
this?”

“I…uh.” What
does it look like, Mr Merchant? “You know how I got that.”

Joseph circled
the bruise with the pad of his thumb. Then he scooped inward until
the purple paled and my nerves twinged, and his gaze cut into me,
ushering a whimper. I bit my lip, clutched at his shoulder, willed
myself not to break. But when a nail scored across the marbled
skin, the heat went acidic and the whimper came.

Another knock
shook the door, and it was impetuous, impatient.

I scrawled a
few things I already knew over the papers, and hurried over to
loosen the lock. Algie Bach–a senior partner they called BFG, big
and fucking gruesome–stood outside in all his Fester-esque glory.
He shot me a disapproving stare.

“I hope you’re
not distracting our Joe too much, Miss Vaughn,” he said.

I tipped my
chin. “I’ve barely been in here five minutes, Mr Bach. I shall
leave you to it.”

Outside, Matt
wouldn’t look at me as I sat back down.