Trust Me to Know You (34 page)

“Up,” he cajoled pulling on my arm. “We’ll continue this later, after they’ve left.”

A promise I hoped he would honour and I heaved my dead weight off the kitchen table and started the process of normalising my brain functions. My bottom had a hot pulsating glow to it and there would be welts forming. The little spanking episode had served its purpose - I was ready for parents.

The gatehouse rang and the message was announced; my parents were on the way up to the house. I checked my hair in the hallway mirror and opened the door to watch them pull up. Jason was by my side holding my trembling hand.

“It is fine, babe, they’re your parents,” he whispered reassuringly.

They gaped overtly, jaw dropping, mouths
open. They probably thought Jason’s country house was a picturesque cottage retreat with a small walled garden
containing quaint rose bushes and not the remnants of large manor house with a long drive, stable block and acres of estate.

“Mum, dad, it’s great to see you. I hope you didn’t get lost?” I asked with concern.

“Oh no, dear, your father likes to drive slowly on country lanes. You know that.”

She gave me a kiss and hug. My mother was petite whereas my father was tall and
they often looked an odd couple. My dad gave me one of his bear hug type embraces. Jason stepped forward
to be introduced having kept himself at a distance.

“Mum, dad, this is Jason Lucas.” I took Jason’s arm and he reached out to shake my parents’ hands.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jason.” My mum was easily taken in by Jason’s good looks.

Mother have you no shame!

Blythewood impressed and showing off the understated, restrained and tasteful interior helped the time we had together go well. Jason’s choice of furnishings and decor was modern yet low-key which helped complement the age of the house without the rooms looking antique and out-dated. My parents were continually in awe of the house and grounds. Their small semi-detached house must have seemed particularly cramped compared to Jason’s many bedroom mansion.

We ate in the main dining room. There was gentle cream paintwork on the walls with halogen lights in the ceiling and bared oak floor boards covered with a cream rug laid simply under the long table. Such a dark wood, it was ebony not oak and the matching
chairs were covered in a soft white fabric. A nightmare to keep clean I supposed, but that
was not my job at least. Between the two windows was a small fireplace, which was modern and recessed with white marble. Eating in the dining room reminded me of a doctor’s surgery, pristine and clinical in style and yet still it managed to exude warmth.

The grandeur of the room was imposing and my mum could not
take her eyes off the silverware and crystal wine glasses. Jason was very helpful in the kitchen, reminding me that he was not incompetent on the domestic front.
Every now and again, he gave my bottom a gentle caress as the heat of my spanking continued to fade.

Conversation about the dining table was somewhat stilted. Dad was a hospital pharmacist and mum had worked her way through various administrative roles, mostly for charities
and small businesses. I realis
ed I missed their idle gossip and small worldviews - such a contrast to Jason’s parents. The only awkward moment came when dad asked about my resignation.

“It wasn’t appropriate for me to work in the same company as Jason, dad. He’s the MD and I was an intern,” I told him as I glanced at Jason who was poking at his carrot and not entering into the conversation.

“Anyway, there will be other jobs and Jason is taking really good care of me. How is life in the hospital, dad?” I changed the direction of the conversation quickly.

The rest of afternoon went well. We walked my parents around the gardens, which meant a lengthy time examining the contents of the flowerbeds and naming the rare shrubs. Then I watched as they gawped at the indoor pool.

My mum held me tight when we came to say goodbye. “Take care, darling, won’t you?”

Her tone was not of a mother who was pleased with her daughter’s circumstances. Something troubled her and I knew it was because she saw me as Jason’s mistress.
It was as if she expected a bona fida wife to leap out from a secret cubby hole and send me packing. I may not be Jason’s wife, but a mistress was not far removed
from the correction definition. I was his bedroom companion and little else it seemed. My earlier pre-spanking misgivings were resurfacing rapidly.

“Mum, please, I’m fine.”

I kissed her back with as much self-confidence as possible, her doubts must not become mine. I could see dad was still looking for answers to questions that neither of them had asked. Thankfully, as I expected,
he let them lie unsaid and kissed me gently on the cheek. I bowed my head as I realised I wanted
more from him, something complimentary or congratulatory, after all I had found a wealthy successful man. Surely, my relationship with Jason amounted to some accomplishment in my otherwise dull life!

Jason and I walked back inside as they disappeared down the driveway. I flopped down on the couch and shut my eyes.

“Thank God that’s over with.” I rubbed my forehead with my fingers.

“They weren’t bad, Gemma. Very pleasant in fact.” Jason settled down next to me and began running his hand up my leg.

“Did you miss your golf?” I asked sweetly.

“Oh, I’ll survive.
Anyway, next week, you’re
coming to. Time you watched my
swing a club rather than a whip.”

I giggled at him delight.

Finally, he’s going to make it public!

I was
standing under the shower at the gym, making best use of my membership and Jason’s insistence that I kept fit for him. Drying
myself,
I checked my mobile number. One message for me. I unlocked the screen and I
did not
recognise the number displayed. I stared at the text, not able to take it in. I re-read
the fearful words again. Sitting down, I started to shake. The fingertips first and then the rest of me in a kind of osmotic effect.

: Little one. I’m going to find you and then I’m going to fuck you until you are dead. Remember my knife?

I knew the text was from
him
.

How did he get my number?

I took a few deep breaths and quickly got dressed. Gibson would be out in the entrance foyer waiting for me. Part of me wanted to delete the message,
to try to
ignore it, but Jason would flip his lid if he knew I had been threatened and not told him. He was going to go berserk anyway.

The moment I approached Gibson she could see I was upset about something. I must have looked white, the shock of what the message implied was starting to sink in - the bastard really wanted to hurt me.

“Miss Marshall, what’s wrong?” Her concern was genuine.

I held out my phone and she looked down at the message.

“Little one?” she queried.

“It’s what he called me.” I remembered how he would say it
to me sweetly in bed.

Gibson passed my phone back to me. She took out her own mobile and dialled a speed dial number. “Chris, it is Emma. Miss
Marshall has received a death threat on her mobile. It is from the target.... Yes
...
She’s OK
. O
bviously upset,” Gibson looked at me.
“Right.... We’ll hold here then.”

She hung up. “We’re to wait here to be collected by car. No walking back.”

I nodded in agreement, I did not want to step outside. Memories of my earlier mistaken stalker lurked and I probably would see him everywhere. I sat in a chair by the unmanned reception desk while Gibson fetched me a glass of water. My hands shook as I sipped on
it. An eternity of waiting and a Jaguar pulled up. Out stepped Martinson from the driver’s side and hurried in.

“You alright, Miss
Marshall?” he crouched down next to me and smiled reassuringly. “Can I see the message?”

I handed him my mobile. He frowned when he read the message.

“Definitely from him?” he asked me.

I nodded, and then tried to speak, “Yes,” my mouse-like voice was barely audible. I blocked the images forming in my mind. They had to go, each and every one of them.

“Right. I’m going to keep the phone, in case he texts you again. I don’t want you to be further distressed. We’ll get you a new
SIM
card for it and transfer your contact numbers over. You’ll have to let your friends know about the number change.”

Crap.
I could do without this. They might ask why my number was changing.

“How did he get my number?” I was not listed anywhere.

“We’ll find out. Don’t worry,” he patted my arm.

“Does Jason know about this?” I dreaded to think his reaction.

“Yes, I contacted him before I got here. He’s... concerned.”

That was probably putting it mildly, I could tell because Martinson’s usual impassive face had a small grimace on it. “I’m to take you back to the house.”

We were about to leave when my phone rang again, a call this time. Martinson looked at my mobile in his hands.

“Unknown number,” he frowned but put the phone to his ear.

“Hello,” said Martinson tentatively. “Police?” My throat constricted and I listened as Martinson explained to the caller who he was and then there was a pause. “Can you wait a minute, she is standing right next to me.” He removed the phone from his face. “Miss Marshall, do you know a Trudy Belling?”

“Yes, why? She’s a good friend of mine.”

Martinson put the phone back to his ear. “Yes. What can I do for you detective.... I can pass a message to Miss Marshall.”

The tension was palatable as I waited for Martinson to tell me what the hell was going on.

“I see,” Martinson put his hand on hip and looked at the floor. “When was this? Where was she? How bad...
Pretty bad then
...
I am sure she will want to talk to you
...
Is there a number I can ring you back on?” Martinson gesticulated at Gibson who grabbed a pen and pad of the reception desk. Martinson jotted a number down. “Got that
... Will be back in contact shortly,” he hung up.

“What, for God’s sake, Martinson. What’s going on?” Panic was attacking me again, from different quarters - my friend was in trouble.

Martinson sighed and took my arm.

“I’m sorry, Miss, y
our friend Trudy has been seriously assaulted, she’s in hospital. It doesn’t look good. She was
snatched
on the way out of the Jinx club early Sunday morning. The only thing she has said is your name.”

I swayed and Martinson grabbed me.

Oh no!
The co-incidence was too much. Trudy’s assault had to be linked to him. I just knew it.

“Trudy would have my mobile number. It is too much of a fluke.” I blinked through tears. I put my hand to my mouth to stop a cry.

“Yes,” was all Martinson said.

He sat me back down. Taking out his phone, he walked to the other side of the foyer and rang a number. Jason’s.

“Sir.... There has been a further development. From the police... Miss Marshall’s friend Trudy was seized on Sunday morning and badly beaten, amongst other things.... It would appear she gave him the number under duress.... Yes sir.... In hospital.... Critical... She’s with me,” he turned to look at my tear streaked face.

“I want to go to the hospital,” I found myself saying to Gibson.

“That’s not a good idea, Miss,” she shook her head.

“I
don’t
fucking care. Take me,” I demanded. Standing up I walked across to Martinson.

“Miss Marshall wants to go to the hospital, sir.” Martinson repeated down the phone to Jason.

He shook his head back at me.

“
No
. This is
my
friend and she needs me and
I’m fucking going!
” I screamed at Martinson, knowing full well that Jason would hear me.

Martinson winced as he was caught between the two of us. He stopped to listen to Jason’s instructions, holding his hand up to me and making me wait.

“Very good, sir, probably for the best,” Martinson hung up. “We’re going to swing by the office and pick up Mr Lucas. He will accompany you to the hospital.”

I physically sagged in relief and sandwiched between Gibson and Martinson, I was quickly escorted to the car outside. We sped off to collect Jason.

Pulling up outside Jason’s headquarters, Martinson opened the passenger door as Jason strode across the pavement, a determined look on his face. He sat next to me, surveying my tear blotched face and trembling hands. His face noticeably softened when he saw my distress. He pulled me on to his lap and held me as I sobbed into his chest. Martinson drove the car towards the hospital.

“The phone, show me,” snapped Jason at Gibson.

She reached back from the front passenger seat and passed Jason my mobile.

He looked at the message. “Little one. Your pet name?”

I nodded back at him.

“This is a death threat. He really is nuts,” he spoke with disgust. “Trudy - did you go out with her on the Wednesday night?”

I nodded again, words seemed to have escaped me.

“He must have watched you arrive together. Missed the opportunity to grab her then and waited for another night for her to appear at the same club. He couldn’t get near you, I had turned up. Though.... You didn’t see him.” Jason paused to think. “There’s no evidence of him being
at the club. Check that,” he said to Martinson.

“I’ll get the club to go over their CCTV. The police may already have the film,” said Martinson.

I remembered something.

“Trudy left Wednesday
night with someone else, another man. She would have been safe while she was with him,” I whispered. My throat
was hoarse. “What’s the bastard done to her?” I glanced at Martinson sensing he knew more than he was saying.