her breasts.
‘Get your hands off me or I will make you regret it,’ she hissed. She spat in his face.
Lester blinked a couple of times, then sniggered, a cruel, throaty rasp. Shoving his bottle down on the side he pushed her to the floor, restraining her with grimy hands and shoving a knee between her legs.
‘What you gonna do, huh, baby sis? You’re a woman now, and women got things they have to do.’ He unbuckled himself. ‘Sixteen today, ain’t that right? I bet you thought I’d forgotten. Never. You’ll never be able to get away from me.’ His breath was rotten, his teeth blackened. She struggled beneath him. ‘I’m always gonna find you out.’ He landed a wet, rubbery kiss, half on her lips and half on her cheek. ‘Always.’
With all her might she tried to throw him off, kicking and punching and gnawing at his shoulder. He ripped aside her knickers, his mouth open, tongue escaping, eyes wild.
‘I’ve waited for you,’ he gasped, his voice syrupy with desire. To her horror she felt his thing. It wasn’t hard like Robbie’s, it was soft and thin and damp at the end. She gagged.
He thrust her legs apart, guiding himself in. She screamed out loud.
Then, as though an unexpected thought had occurred to him, Lester’s features were suddenly rearranged. He looked puzzled, raised a hand to his head before releasing a watery ‘Ugh’ and slumping on top of her, his face buried in her neck. There was something sticky and warm dripping on to her and as a bead of it slid into her mouth, she tasted its saltiness and realised it was blood.
‘Get him off me!’ she yelled, pushing at his bulk with all her strength. Her brother rolled on to the floor, face down, the back of his head a red, shredded mass of glass and skin and hair.
She stared at it, at him, dumb. It took her a moment to realise there was another person in the room.
Robbie Lewis. He was standing above her, shaking, a glass bottle in his hand. The top of it had come off in a jagged line and glistened black-red in the dim light.
‘What the fuck have I done?’ There was silence before he said it again. ‘What the fuck have I done? ‘
Las Vegas
Elisabeth Sabell stabbed a spear of asparagus with her fork. She bit off its head and chewed carefully, scrutinising her fiancé. They had met for a late lunch at Athena, the Parthenon’s signature restaurant, but Robert had barely uttered a word.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked gently.
‘Nothing’s the matter.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Just a little hot in here, that’s all.’
Elisabeth looked down at her salad, her appetite vanishing. She felt like there was a stamp across her forehead that disclosed her guilt.
‘Are you sure?’ she enquired weakly.
Robert smiled in a way that made his eyes go crinkly at the edges. ‘Of course.’
A simultaneous rush of relief and affection compelled her to take his hand. She stroked his skin with her thumb, the first real act of intimacy between them in weeks. They’d made love, of course, but methodically–not with the passion they’d once shared.
‘What time are you expecting them?’
He reached for his glass of sparkling water and took a very long drink. ‘Early evening,’ he said. ‘They’re scheduled to arrive at seven.’
‘Great!’ Elisabeth sang, wearied by the thought of it. She wasn’t looking forward to this evening at all. The last thing she wanted was to make Lana Falcon’s acquaintance. The woman spelled trouble for Robert and her–she couldn’t put her finger on it but it was definitely there.
Then again, Elisabeth was hardly able to indulge in the mistrust of others. Swallowing her memories of Alberto Bellini with the next slug of Sancerre, she put her cutlery together and gave Robert a tight smile. Since the fight she’d vowed to put him from her mind. It wasn’t easy. Every time she thought of Alberto’s touch, the way he had caressed her body with hands that had known a thousand dangers, she felt a shiver ripple right down her spine.
‘I’ll give them a tour of the Orient before we eat,’ said Robert. He cleared his throat.
As Elisabeth glanced up she felt a stab of guilt. She had to tell him, they were getting married. The twinkle of her engagement ring caught her eye. Robert still hadn’t mentioned a date for the wedding. In a defence she didn’t quite support, she decided it was no wonder she’d found solace elsewhere.
The mess you’re in is Robert’s fault, is it?
Yes, it is. He forced me into Alberto’s arms.
Don’t kid yourself, Elisabeth.
‘Is there something you want to talk to me about?’ she asked, bracing herself for the accusation. Hoping for it, even.
You’re a coward.
Instead Robert’s face broke into a warm smile. ‘No, darling.’ She got the impression he was treading carefully with what he said. ‘Why?’
She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
A moment passed. She felt his eyes on her but she gave nothing away. For a second it was like they didn’t know each other, just two strangers meeting at lunch. Abruptly he stood up.
‘I’ve got a VIP arrival,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘I’ll see you this evening, yes?’
Elisabeth dabbed her mouth with a napkin. ‘Of course–I’ve got a session with Donatella anyway.’
Robert tried a laugh. ‘Good luck,’ he said, remembering Elisabeth’s formidable voice coach.
Elisabeth didn’t join in. She rose to her feet. Then she added in a weird chummy sort of voice, ‘Till this evening!’
Silence. There had been this awful politeness between them for weeks. She felt like she should shake his hand.
‘Eight o’clock?’
She nodded, then grabbed her things and made a swift exit. It seemed important she be the first one to leave.
Later that afternoon, Robert stood for a long time under the hot needles of water. He scrubbed furiously at his skin, washing away the sleepless night he’d had, the torturous day; preparing himself for what was to come.
In less than two hours, Lana Falcon would be in his hotel. He would see her again. He would see those clear green eyes and pretend he hadn’t looked into them a thousand times before. He would embrace her politely when they met, feel her familiar shape and skin and smell her hair. He would talk to her like they had never even met.
But despite how it had ended, he couldn’t bring himself to wish he had never been a part of her life. It would still be Laura, he couldn’t doubt it, and for that reason he knew he would still love her. He would still love her in that lasting, irrevocable way he could not summon for anybody else. Her laugh, her kindness, her body.
He remembered the night she had walked out on him, the guilt that had set hard in their bones finally winning the fight. That morning he’d woken to find her gone, her closet empty, not a trace of her left. Except a note:
Robbie, this is my lie. Let me take it with me.
The