Chapter Twenty
Rory
‘I’ve gotsomething to tell you.’
My head says,Christ, not her again,even as my heart drops into the pit of my gut. Dissolving in my stomach acid, if the resulting sensation is anything to judge. It’s a reflex reaction caused by the mere sound of her voice; the teasing inflection that immediately has me on the back foot.
Get a grip, man. This is only step forty-seven in her master plan to screw Rory to her hip.
‘Whose phone are you on, Beth?’ I keep my tone neutral without mentioning I’d blocked her number well before the construction problems began, bone tired of her brand of crazy-fucked-up.The late night phone calls, the begging and crying. The promises of we-could-be-so-good. The showing up at places I happened to be. I even tired of the naked selfies, eventually.
‘That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?’ Her tone is flat; she sounds slightly confused, before her childish simper returns. ‘You play hard to get so well,wo-wee, but I think you’re just dying to hear what I have to say.’
‘Nope. I’m not.’ I keep my answer short and disinterested, letting it sink in for beat. ‘I’m unlikely to be interested in anything you have to say, hen.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ she spits suddenly, her mask slipping, and I’m doubly pleased this is a conversation we’re not having face to face. Apart from having to peel her fingers from my shirt, I’d probably have copped a face full of saliva along with those words.
‘I always thoughthensuited you.’ Up until I found out who she really was—the real Beth. The one rude to wait-staff and mean to the point of miserly. The one who isn’t twenty-nine as she’d originally claimed, but ten years older.If she’d told me the truth I wouldn’t have minded. There’s nothing wrong with being thirty-nine, even less so when you’re as flexible as her.
‘Well, I don’t like it, so just don’t call me that, okay?’
‘Got it. No hen,’ I say, not bothering to suppress the burgeoning chuckle. If only she knew. Originally, she washenbecause she’s small and dark and the kind of girl who looked good with a few ruffled feathers. Now, she’s more the kind of hen whose talons dig in to my chest—the kind that pecks my fucking head. ‘Not that you complained before.’ Sliding my feet from the hotel desk, I lean forward and grab my beer bottle.
‘Well, that was before, Rory. BR: Before Rory,’ she adds, in a childish tone. It’s not cute. It never was. ‘And things will never be the same, especially now that—’
‘Look, Beth. Let’s not rehash this. I can’t give you what you want and you knew that from the start. It’s been four weeks. We agreed.’
‘Yes,’ she answers quietly. ‘We did, but the heart wants what the heart wants.’ More like the spoilt bitch wants what she can’t have. Must be a new experience for her. ‘Besides,’ she says, her tone hardening. ‘I have something to say and you’re going to listen—’
‘Okay.’ I capitulate with a sigh.
‘You’re going to listen to—what?’
‘I said okay. Fine. But not over the phone.’ I tilt the bottle, peering at the production date. I feel sort of sick, but I don’t think it’s the beer. As I put the bottle down, I think it might be instinct, and I don’t mean the name of the brew, but this sick feeling I have.
Step forty-seven, whatever it is, I know intuitively I neednotto learn of it over the phone. I’m gonna have to see her again. Put an end to her delusions, once and for all.
‘So you’ll come see me?’ Like the flip of a switch, she’s back to simpering.The woman needs fucking therapy. ‘How wonderful! We’ll have dinner at that place—you know the one. We went on your birthday and you followed me to and fucked me in the—’
‘Arse?’ I finish for her.
‘Rory, you are bad. I was going to say powder room.’ And I dunno about bad, but maybe mental is catching. ‘Let’s do it again,’ she purrs. ‘All of it. Every dirty little thing. I want you to break me, baby. I want your big cock in my—’ I look down at my crotch and shake my head. Not a thing; in fact, he seems to be retreating inwards. ‘I want you to rub your cum all over—’ Dirty talk? More like the musings of a lunatic.
‘A trip down memory lane?’ I ask, cutting her off.A lane full of Rory road kill. My words are light, amused almost. But I’m not amused. Not anymore. What I am is sick and tired of this bullshit, but I know losing my temper will get me nowhere fast. And playing her games? That’ll just get me screwed, and not in a fun way. Looks like my dirty laundry’s about to get aired within the company, because fuck hanging on and hoping Kit can smooth things over. It looks like we’ll be going down the legal route.
‘I’ll be back in town in a day or two.’
‘Baby, that’s all I want. To see you again. And trust me, you’ll be so happy to hear my news.’
‘You think?’
‘I know,wo-wee. You just leave the thinking to me. Analysis isn’t your strong suit.’
Just fucking charming.
Jesus wept. Grabbing my phone from the desk, I take another swig from my beer, grimacing at the sour taste.
I’m coming home,I type out.As soon as I’ve seen this last property. I’m done. Get Anna to book me a flight from Aberdeen.
