“Is it really so hard to believe, James? Do you remember those two days you said that I’d been avoiding you? Well would you like to know where I spent them? In my room. In bed. Do you want to know with whom?”
“No,” James gritted, his face pale. “You’re lying.”
“Why should I?” Her voice was airy. “I’ve hardly anything to gain, now, have I? The fact of the matter is, I don’t need to make up some elaborate story just to reject your marriage proposal. Most people don’t – it’s simply a case of, no. But this is the truth, James. I just thought you deserved as much.” She had to say it, Emma justified to herself. She had to leave him with no illusions, whatsoever. But even as her justifications seemed logical and rational, a stab of completely irrational pain sliced through her heart at the wounded, betrayed expression on his face. He looked as if he were in physical pain, and she ached to take him into her arms, kiss him, and tell him it was all a lie. For a moment, she forgot the reason as to why she couldn’t.
But ah, there it was. This vulnerability of his, it was all but a lie. He seemed weak and hurt and wounded now, but the moment that she gave in, the moment that power returned to his hands, he would only use it to wound, to control her. And she could not allow that.
So she lied, and continued to lie. The words came easily now, flowing smoothly past her lips, so plausible that even she began to half believe them. “You’re not a fool, James. Surely even you must see that those… times… we were together… they meant nothing to me? A drop in the ocean, so to speak. And I can’t even say that I really enjoyed them – I don’t enjoy being forced.” A half truth… she had enjoyed it, involuntarily, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.
There was a long, grim silence, then, “You could be pregnant,” James said suddenly, a triumphant look in his eye.
“I could,” Emma agreed. “But then again, I might not be. And even if I was, there’s no guarantee the baby is yours, James.” She watched his face, saw his eyes darken with pain, and rage, and felt the fist around her heart clench tighter. It was for the best, she told herself fiercely. She had to be strong. “Besides which, we do live in age where we can now get rid of such… inconveniences…” Not that she ever would, of course. But he didn’t have to know that.
“You wouldn’t.” He ground out the words.
She shrugged. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. In any case, it’s a moot point, James. I’ll deal with it if and when it happens.”
“If you hurt our baby…” Emma opened her mouth to deny the existence of any such, but he cut her off. “Very well,” he bit off, rising to his feet. “If that is the way you wish it to be.” He inclined his head briefly to her, then, stiffly, walked out.
And Emma closed her eyes against the irrational tears that seemed to seep out, no matter what she did.
***
Home, at last, finally. It had been more than two weeks since her departure from the Brandeworth Estate, and it seemed that those few days spent were destined to come back and bite her on the posterior, no matter how long it had been since she’d left. First there had been the small matter of her brother – she’d abandoned him there and taken their car, and so had had to come back and pick him up. Then it turned out Luc – her supposed fiance – had actually gone off to France to be married, when he had been supposed to be spending time with her and proving to the world just how unaffected she was by James. Hell, she should have had a month, at least, of respite from the world, supposedly as Luc’s impromptu fiance. Who knew, maybe James would be knocking on her door at any minute. And now, with this last little development she’d only recently discovered… well, she’d deal with it. She always did.
She dropped her keys on the table in the hallway and trudged to the small, cramped kitchen, dumping her groceries on the old watermarked bench. Feeling too fatigued to do much more than that, she went to her bedroom, ignored the hole in the floor, kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed, closing her eyes for a quick catnap.
Almost immediately, however, her eyes sprang open again. Creak, creak, creak. No, so she wasn’t imagining it. Kylie the Sex Kitten from upstairs was hard at work already. It wasn’t hard to imagine doing what, either.
Emma groaned. It was bad enough at night, but even now? Didn’t the girl ever rest? Eat? Sleep? She glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. She ought to probably eat – after all, she couldn’t afford not to.
It was nine by the time she’d finished the dishes and tidied everything up. She went to take out the trash – then stopped halfway through the doors as the elevator doors opened, and a familiar, tall, large, man stepped out. His eyes met hers from across the short distance between her apartment and the elevator, and Emma froze. Good lord – what was he doing here? The hysterical thought ran through her mind that he must have known, must have found out somehow, then disappeared just as quickly as she realised the need to flee, to get out of that timelock he seemed to have frozen her into somehow.
As if in slow motion, Emma’s limbs came back into action, but too late, too late – even as she was stepping back, closing the door he had sprung forward, wedging an immaculately Gucci clad foot into her doorway. “Hello, Emma,” came the familiar, throaty voice. “Happy to see me?”
Her reply to this was to push harder at the door, hoping in vain that maybe he’d relent and step out of her apartment, out of her life. No such luck. With humiliating ease, he gave a little push and she found herself falling backwards, looking up to see him walk into her apartment with casual familiarity. The door shut behind him with a final sounding click.
“Get out of my house.” Her voice came out, not firm and confident as she’d hoped, but weak and trembling. God, how she hated the way he made her feel.
“What, no hug, no kiss? What reception is this, for an old friend?” He tisked. “I did expect better of your manners, Emma.” He looked around at the shabby furnishings, the peeling wallpaper, the old, dirty carpet. “Is this how you’re living these days? Shame on Luc… a poor way to treat his wife, I’d say… you are his wife, I assume, now?”
“N-no,” Emma stammered. “But I will be. Soon. Just as soon as Luc gets back from France.”
“Funny,” James looked at her slyly. “I never would have thought of Luc as the polygamous type.”
Emma felt cold. So he’d heard already, had he? Damn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Poor Emma,” James mocked with insincere pity. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the happy news. Luc’s on his honeymoon right now.”
Emma steeled herself. “I wish him happy, then,” she said calmly.
James eyed her with interest. “Not jealous, then?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m glad for him.” She was confused, unsure how to react. Should she act sad? No, better not to show any weakness to him. He was a predator – weakness was never wise. How ridiculous her charade had turned out to be! She settled for a small, grim smile. “I never did expect him to be serious – I never was.”
“Good,” said James, and grabbed her. His mouth came down on hers with hard, crushing brutality and she gasped, only realising her mistake when his tongue slid inside her mouth to plunder and ravage. His hands skimmed over her body, coming to a rest over the curve of her bottom. He kneaded for a moment, stroking and caressing her, then cupped and lifted, and suddenly Emma found herself with her legs wrapped around him, three feet off the ground. “I’m not going to make love to you standing against the wall again,” James muttered against her red, swollen mouth, “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Wh-What?” Emma stuttered, dazed.
He cursed, and began walking, stopping every few moments to pause and open a door, then slam it shut again. It seemed he had opened every door in her tiny apartment before coming to her bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked, as he stepped inside, kicked the door shut behind him, then dumped her on the bed. Stupid girl – as if it wasn’t obvious!
He merely grunted in reply, stripping off his shirt and trousers. She stared in fascination at the scanty briefs that couldn’t seem to contain the throbbing erection between his legs. Then just as quickly, they were gone, and for the first time, it seemed, she got a good look at him. Oh my.