The Endgame (8 page)

‘Just salad for lunch, yes?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘That’s my girl.’ He bent and gave her a lingering kiss, his tongue parting her lips and invading her mouth, while one had slid inside her robe, grabbing her breast. He pulled away then and went down on his haunches in front of her, opening her robe. ‘I can’t wait until these are done,’ he said, running his hands over her breasts. ‘We decided on a D-cup, didn’t we?’

Like he was choosing a new car, she thought disgustedly, struggling not to show her revulsion. And there was no ‘we’ – he had decided the whole thing. But she just nodded.

‘Maybe we should go bigger,’ he said, with a wicked grin. ‘Treat ourselves. What do you think?’

Lisa shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’

‘Well, we can think about it. If you’re not having the operation for a while, we have some time to decide. I wonder what size Isabel is ...’

Lisa must have allowed some flicker of emotion to cross her face because Mark frowned. ‘Oh, baby,’ he said soothingly, ‘don’t look like that. You’ve nothing to be jealous of. You know that, don’t you?’

She nodded.

‘You’re way sexier than Isabel just as you are, even without the boob job.’ He looked up earnestly into her face. ‘You know I love you, don’t you, Lisa?’

‘Yes, I know.’ She forced a facsimile of an adoring smile. ‘I love you too.’

‘The operation will give you more confidence, you’ll see. You won’t feel so insecure about other women once you’ve had it done.’ He rubbed his thumbs idly over her nipples, his eyes darkening as he watched them harden.

‘Now you’ve got me hard again, you sexy girl. You’re going to have to take care of that.’ He rose to his feet, unzipped his trousers and pulled them down along with his boxers. His cock was already hard and thick. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him.

Lisa must have let her irritation show in her face as she slid out of her seat because he said ‘Come on, baby, don’t be a morning grouch.’ She was relieved that he smiled teasingly at her as he said it and he wasn’t really angry. It was lucky he was in a good mood this morning, and she’d got away with it. But she had to be more careful about letting her feelings show – a slip-up like that could cost her dearly.

‘It’s all your fault for being so gorgeous,’ he said.

She didn’t hesitate any longer, sinking to her knees in front of him and taking him in her mouth.

‘Be quick,’ he said, grabbing her hair. ‘I don’t want to be late.’

She was more than happy to get it over with. She stroked his balls as she sucked him deep, knowing how to make him come quickly. It didn’t take long until he was pumping into her mouth.

‘You’re amazing,’ he panted, stroking her jaw as she swallowed. ‘Now you’ve got me all messed up again and I don’t have time for another shower. You’re going to have to clean up after yourself.’

She did as she was told, licking him clean. Then she tucked his cock back into his boxers and zipped up his trousers.

‘Thank you.’ He took her hand and helped her to her feet, then bent and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ she said automatically, a programmed response.

‘I’d be lost without you, Lisa. You’re mine,’ he said, his thumb stroking her mouth as he looked down at her. ‘Remember that.’

‘I’m yours,’ she said. ‘Only yours.’

He smiled, tugging a strand of her hair. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have time to take care of you.’

‘That’s okay.’
Thank God
! She cringed at the thought of him touching her now.

‘You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you. But I’ll make it up to you tonight.’

‘I’ll hold you to it.’ She forced her lips into a smile.

‘Now I really do have to go.’ He gave her one last lingering kiss on the lips, then made for the door. ‘I’ll see you tonight. I won’t be late. And I’ll call.’

‘Okay.’ Of course he would call. He always called. At least once a day he phoned to check up on her, to make sure she was still here. If she didn’t answer there would be an inquisition later as to where she’d been.

He turned around in the doorway. ‘Don’t touch yourself today, okay? I know you’re probably dying to get off, but save it for me tonight.’

‘Okay.’

‘I promise you it’ll be worth it.’ He gave her a lascivious grin, and then he was finally gone.

She had been squirreling money away for almost six months now. She had to keep it in cash because she couldn’t risk paperwork turning up that might alert Mark to what she was doing. He controlled all the finances, and while he spent lavishly on her, he kept a very close watch on everything she spent herself. She could only save a very little at a time by shaving pennies off the grocery shopping or ‘losing’ receipts and lying to Mark about how much something had cost.

It gave her a feeling that she had some control over her life. Progress was agonisingly slow, and sometimes she was tempted to leave right away and take her chances. But realistically she knew that wouldn’t be a good decision. If she wanted to be really free of Mark, she couldn’t do it in a half-assed way. She would have to get as far away as possible and start a new life somewhere else. It would take time to find a job, and she’d need enough to live on for a few months at least. So she had to grit her teeth and play the compliant Stepford wife for a while longer. It would pay off in the end, she told herself as she gathered up the money and stuffed it back into the envelope.

She returned the jewellery box to the drawer and took out the little photo album she kept there alongside it. She smiled to herself as she turned the pages, feeling a sense of wellbeing settle over her. The images from her childhood conjured up such happy memories – her grandparents standing with their arms around each other in their garden, squinting into the sun; Lisa and her grandmother on the beach at Brighton; playing chess with her grandfather in front of a blazing fire, a Christmas tree twinkling in the background.

She looked at these pictures from time to time to remind herself of what she wanted to get back to. She had lost sight of that laughing, carefree girl a long time ago. Now she stared at the photos wonderingly, trying to remember what it had felt like to be so secure, to know she was loved unconditionally, and to have such confidence in the world and her future. Sometimes it all seemed so remote from her that it was as if the girl in the photographs was a different person. She had to remind herself that this was who she really was; not the tense, cringing creature Mark had turned her into, afraid of her own shadow.

Her grandparents would hardly recognise the person she’d become, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. They’d be so disappointed. They hadn’t raised her to be so spineless. Maybe it was a good thing they couldn’t see what a mess she’d made of her life. They wouldn’t understand why she had tolerated Mark’s abuse for so long, and it hurt to imagine how shocked and bewildered they’d be if they knew.

She wouldn’t be able to explain it to them – she hardly understood it herself. It had happened so insidiously. She had been at a very low ebb when she met Mark. Looking back now, she could see how vulnerable she had been. She had had a tough couple of years since leaving school, her grandparents constantly in and out of hospital, lurching from one health crisis to the next, and she had been permanently on edge, waiting for the results of tests and the outcome of operations. At the same time she had been trying to concentrate on her art studies as well as working two jobs to pay her way through college.

Then her grandparents had died within five weeks of one another. When Mark came into her life she was lonely and exhausted, struggling to cope with her grief and the stress of her workload. He had been kind and generous, and he’d used his money to make her life easier and more comfortable. After years of being the carer, it had felt good to have someone look after her for a change – even spoil her a little.

Mark hadn’t seemed controlling then, just capable and caring, intent on making her happy. He had been so charming in those early days. Thoughtful, sweet and romantic, he was the perfect boyfriend. Even now with the benefit of hindsight, she couldn’t see any warning signs that should have put her on her guard. He had been possessive, but she had found that flattering. They were in love, and it was natural for it to be intense in the heady early stages.

Later, as she came out of the fog of grief and loneliness that had enveloped her since her grandparents’ death, their relationship had started to feel suffocating. But it would have seemed arbitrary then to ask Mark to back off and give her some space. She had been so grateful for his attention before. Besides, she loved him and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She thought that as their relationship grew, it would naturally evolve into something calmer and steadier.

Instead his fixation on her only grew stronger, and as she started to see things more clearly, she realised she had gradually let him take over her entire life. It had happened by degrees, almost without her noticing, a series of decisions and choices that had all seemed innocuous and rational at the time. It had made sense to move in with him to save money on rent when they were spending all their time together anyway. She understood when he didn’t want to spend time with her friends, who were all so much younger than him. It had been a relief to give up her part-time jobs and let him support her so she could concentrate on her studies. When he encouraged her to take a year out from college, she had felt like the luckiest girl in the world to be given the opportunity to paint full-time for a year. It hadn’t felt like free-loading. It was only until she finished college, and besides, Mark was going to sell her work through his gallery and he was confident he would soon be earning high commissions on it.

She had made so many allowances and compromises. For his sake, she had divided her life into compartments, keeping her friends separate because Mark didn’t get on with them. But he wasn’t happy with that either. He resented her going out without him, and accused her of sleeping with other men when he wasn’t around. To appease him, she had stopped going out with her friends, and instead invited them to the house. But he had alienated them all, making no secret of his dislike for them. They had persevered for a while, but he was rude and dismissive, treating them with contempt until eventually, one by one they had drifted away. In the end, Lisa was relieved when they gave up. She couldn’t endure any more nights of tension, watching him humiliating and insulting people she cared about.

It was only then, when she was in so deep there was no way out that he began to show his true colours. He became increasingly impatient with her, frustrated with her lack of education and experience, contemptuous of her work, scornful of her efforts to please him. He started to criticise everything about her – the way she dressed, how she looked, the way she spoke and the things she said – until she felt she could do nothing right. Even sexually, he found her inadequate. Still desperately in love with him, Lisa had learned to cope with his violent mood swings, trusting that if she just waited and rode out the storm, the man she had fallen in love with would return. He always did, and she lived for those times. He made her feel so special and cherished. Filled with remorse, he would plead with her not to leave him, and she would forgive him, glad to have the real Mark back.

But soon the good days were outweighed by the bad, and she started to wonder if she’d ever known the real Mark at all. He had slowly chipped away at her confidence and eroded her self-esteem until she barely felt like a person anymore, and then he had taken control. Scared of losing him, she had been an easy target for his manipulation, and she turned herself inside out trying to be what he wanted. He thought she was too fat, so she went on a diet. He liked her in high heels, so that was what she wore. She always gave in, at first because she was desperate to please him; later because she was afraid of him. Gradually her whole life became circumscribed by his rules and demands. He would lay out the clothes he wanted her to wear when they went out. He ordered for her in restaurants, and if they were eating at home, he told her what to cook. She tied herself in knots trying to please him, but it was never enough. His rages became steadily more terrifying, and she was constantly on edge, second-guessing her every move, fearful of his reaction.

The first time he had hit her, he had been so wracked with remorse, she had actually felt sorry for him. Consumed by guilt and self-loathing, he had sobbed in her arms like a child, swearing it would never happen and begging for her forgiveness. Her stomach turned over now at the thought of how she had comforted him, assuring him that she trusted him and promising that she would never leave. She saw now with sickening clarity that she had been setting a precedent – giving him permission to do it again; reassuring him that she would tolerate anything.

If only she had walked out there and then. Maybe he would have let her go. But she had been naive and trusting – and desperate to be loved, if she was honest with herself. When he told her he would change, that things would be different, she was all too eager to believe him. She’d been so besotted, one word of praise or admiring look from him meant the world, while his touch lit up her whole being. It had made her so happy knowing he loved her and wanted her.

His sweet words and affectionate gestures meant nothing to her now. In fact, she dreaded them. She knew they were meaningless and she hated the pretence. Sex had become something she merely endured. Sometimes she couldn’t help her body responding to his touch, but she resented him for making her come, feeling only humiliation that he could still exert his will over her in that way.

She preferred to be numb. And mostly these days she was. She played dead, sleepwalking her way through her life on autopilot, hardly caring whether he hit her or kissed her – it was all the same in the end. She was simply surviving, breathing in and out, biding her time until she could get far, far away from him and start living again.

Sometimes she wondered if she could make it by herself. It had been a long time since she had been independent, and she had nothing of her own left – no money, no friends, no work. She hardly even knew who she was anymore. But last night she had felt a new sense of hope. She smiled as her thoughts strayed to Grayson and the time she had spent alone with him in the library. Despite all the embarrassment and humiliation she had suffered last night, ultimately it had buoyed her up and emboldened her. For the first time in a long time, she had felt like herself again. Playing chess with Grayson, talking about her grandparents, her childhood, her artistic ambitions – it had brought her back to herself. She remembered what it was like to be that person, and it had felt possible that she could be that person again.