Breaking Joseph (23 page)

He sniggered.
“They turn it into a karaoke bar on Sundays.”

“Oooh woooow,”
Abi squealed. “When I think about you, I touch myself!”

I flicked the
video back off. “You’re mean, Joe. Does she even know you’ve got
that?”

“Fuck, no.
She’d bite off my scrotum. Probably eat it afterward, too.” He took
my phone and started tapping the buttons.

“What are you
doing?” I shrieked.

“I’m telling
Poppy that you’d love to meet her for dinner. When she’s royally
slaughtered, you can meet me and Abi at the lap dancing club and
we’ll get incriminating footage of her doing something foul with an
uninterested Slavic whore.”

I rolled my
eyes at him. “How many videos do you have, exactly?”

“Of my lovely
friends? Oh, a good number. None of them would ever cross me,” he
said sagely. “Shall I do one of you, Leila? Are you a god-awful
singer as well?”

“Sod off.” I
swatted him around the head as I rose to dress.

Must never sing
in front of my evil boyfriend. I really am quite crap.

* * * *

Aidan rang
while I was in the cab to the restaurant.

“Lei-Lei! Where
have you and your lovely arse been?” he boomed.

“Erm…busy?”

“Does the
Marquis lock you in a cage at the stroke of six o’clock every
night?”

“Something like
that.” I giggled. “What have you been up to?”

“Auditions. And
shagging. More auditions. I’m going to be in Rent in the summer!”
He was doing that bouncy little dance that meant he was excited–I
heard his chair creaking. “It’s a total gay rite of passage.”

“But you’re
bi.”

“Yes, yes, I
know. But there’s no bi stereotype for jokes, it gets confusing,”
he complained. “Anyway, are you around tonight?”

“I don’t think
so. Having dinner with a colleague.” I grimaced.

“A colleague
you’re fucking?”

“Dear God,
no.”

Aidan hooted.
“That makes a change. Oh well. Running tomorrow?”

“I probably
should.” I leaned down to adjust the dainty buckle on my shoes.
“I’m about to load up on God knows what for dinner.”

“Nobody hires a
fat whore, Lei-Lei.”

“Hey! I’m not a
whore anymore, remember?”

The cab driver
jerked round to gape at me and I lowered my voice.

“Not fat,
either,” I added, disgruntled. “I think.”

“Not yet,
you’re not. Not that I’d mind, you know, but I don’t think the
Marquis wants everyone to shout
there she blows
! at his
girlfriend.”

“Okay, okay.
I’ll meet you in the park tomorrow morning,” I said. “Are you happy
now?”

“Absolutely. I
ought to go into motivational speaking, don’t you think?”

“I suppose we
do have issues with overpopulation.” I grinned.

“Oh, fuck off,
you harpy.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.
We’ll work on your abs.”

“I don’t think
I have any abs.”

“You do. I saw
them once in the mirror when you were doing reverse cowgirl.”

The restaurant
was beginning to fill up with the dinner crowd. It was an upmarket
French place, and just the sort I’d expect Poppy to pick. The
chairs were upholstered in cream leather, the floors were hard
wood, and light bounced between white tablecloths and reams of
glass.

The maître d’
guided me to a table in a quiet corner where Poppy was already
waiting. She smiled at me and her fingers flickered in a wave.

“I’m really
glad you could make it,” she said. “We don’t have long left working
together.”

“No.” I tucked
my bag under the table and shifted uncomfortably. I’d had the lack
of foresight to wear a lace dress and it chafed against the lash
mark on my back. Then I spotted the third place setting on the
table. “Is Matt coming?”

“No, no.” She
gestured to the bottle, already open. “Would you like some
wine?”

“Why not?”

I watched
scarlet tumble into my glass, reminded of the blood Joseph had
painted down my thighs just days before. Sometimes, the world was
just a big, metaphoric tapestry of us fucking. It never failed to
make me shiver.

“So,” I began.
“Um. How’s the job hunt going?”

She nodded.
“Litigation said no, of course, but then I expected that. Not to
worry, though. I’ve lined something up.”

“Really? Wow.
Congratulations, Pops.” I was genuinely pleased for her–she worked
hard and deserved a job. I reached over to clink my glass to hers.
“So where are you going, what field?”

“I’d rather not
say until I finalize things.” A nervous quiver shot through her
voice, a faint one. Joseph’s revelation about the coke made me
wonder if she was using. I’d never failed to notice it with
clients, and still felt a bit shocked that I hadn’t seen it in her.
Maybe I just wasn’t looking for it at work?

“Fair enough.
Either way, I hope it goes well for you. Are you staying in London,
at least?”

“Oh yes.” She
sipped, swallowed. “Not venturing far.”

“Just here,
madam,” said the maître d’.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck. I almost spat my wine out.

“Sorry I’m
late,” said Isobel, slinking into the middle chair. “I got held up
in traffic.”

“It’s no
trouble,” Poppy said. “Leila, you’ve met Isobel.”

“Yes.” Dear
God, I hoped my face wasn’t as crimson as the menu. It felt like
it. What the fuck was going on?

Poppy poured
Isobel a glass of wine while she slid out of her cropped
jacket.

“Have you both
had a good weekend?” Now it was my own voice cracking with
nerves.

“Rather quiet,
really,” Isobel said in her soft Austrian accent. “I fly back out
tomorrow, though. Can’t wait to get home.”

Poppy tapped a
fork on the table. “Isobel’s had a tough week.”

“I’m sorry to
hear that.” I lowered my eyes.

“What about
you, Leila? Have you been celebrating getting your contract?”

“Just with my
parents.” I forced a smile.

I wanted to ask
why Isobel was there, but couldn’t think of a polite way to slip it
into the conversation. The two women had seemed to click at the
ball on Thursday. Could she just be there as a friend, a last
hurrah with Poppy before she went home?

“Did you enjoy
the Queen’s Trust ball, Leila?” Isobel eyed me sharply over her
glass. “It was quite something, no?”

“It was great
to see so much money raised.”

“It was nice of
Joseph to donate that script,” she went on. “I didn’t know he did
such things. Still. A lovely gift.”

“Speaking of
which…” Poppy and Isobel swapped glances. “We have a little gift
for you, Leila. Something to celebrate your new job.”

“Oh?” I smiled
again, genuine this time, but only in its discomfort. “You
shouldn’t have.”

Isobel pulled a
card file from her bag and slid it across the table.

There’d been
warning signs. I should have noticed. They were both silent as I
peeled back the cover. I don’t know what I was expecting but if
blood could run cold, mine froze solid and my veins squealed with
the sudden pressure.

Staring back at
me was my Ladarna profile picture: a very wanton Charlotte clad in
just five black scarves.

This was worse
than the night I’d found Joseph and Matt posing as clients. So much
worse.

I gripped the
table in a fist of cloth.

“What do you
think?” Isobel asked softly.

“I don’t know
what this is,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be
ridiculous.” Her voice was calm and measured, but spite rose from
its lowest tone. “We all know that’s you, Leila.”

I traced a
finger over the scarf blindfold on the photo. “Even if it was,
there’s no way of proving it.” I pulled my trembling hand back and
hid it in my lap.

“But you see,
that’s where Matt was extra helpful.” Poppy smirked now. Couldn’t
contain her glee. “Look what he named that file.”

I glanced
hurriedly at the tag at the top of the paper:
Leila1.jpg.

It was just a
file name. It meant nothing, proved nothing.

Oh, fucking
hell.

“Did he give
you this?” I managed.

Poppy nodded,
her smirk twitching as she watched me crumble. “He did.”

I took a deep
breath that made me splutter.

“You know, it’s
funny,” Isobel went on. “That Ladarna logo. If you Google the name,
it finds an escort agency.”

“Do you know
what an escort is, Leila?” Poppy asked.

They teased me,
now. Closed in like hyenas.

“It’s a woman
who sells herself. She fucks people for money.” Isobel practically
spat the words. “She does it because she’s got no self-respect and
she doesn’t care how many lives she chews up. She’s a whore.” She
sought my eyes. “And we both know how Joseph is fond of
whores
.”

The maître d’
approached and I slammed the file closed. “Are you–?”

“Not yet, thank
you.” Poppy smiled brightly. “A few more minutes.”

“Of course,
madam.” He strode off and I wrenched my gaze from the
tablecloth.

“Why are you
showing me this?” I asked.

Poppy tutted.
“It’s your gift, Leila. Your gift is that you don’t have to worry.
We won’t be showing this to Solomon or Algie.”

“That’d be
awful, of course,” said Isobel. “You’d be fired and you’d never get
a decent reference. Probably blacklisted,” she added blithely. “So
of course, we won’t do anything like that.”

“You want to
blackmail me.” Blood swilled in my ears as my pulse gained pace for
battle.

Poppy cocked
her head, her earrings swaying. “Pretty much.”

Oh, this was so
much worse.

I reached for
the wine and took a long, cool gulp, though it served to do nothing
but curdle in my stomach. Then I made myself ask. “What do you
want?”

“It’s very
simple,” said Poppy. “We want you to leave Bach and Dagier.
Immediately.”

“What?” I
choked. “But I have to give–” Three months’ notice. Except that I
didn’t, because I hadn’t signed my contract yet.

God.

“I don’t care
how you do it, you just leave. Tomorrow,” she said coldly.

“I won’t finish
my training,” I mumbled.

“I don’t give a
crap.”

“And Joseph,”
Isobel said. “You leave him too.”

Poppy leaned in
to whisper. “If we get any inkling that you’re seeing him–or that
you’ve told
anyone
about this–we go straight to the
partners. You’ll never work in law again. Is that clear?” She
snatched the file back and my centre of gravity followed. I was
painfully dizzy, everything spun.

“She said, is
that clear?” Isobel hissed.

I nodded, and I
prayed the motion wouldn’t spill the tears that swarmed at my
eyeballs. They were desperate to charge.

“Good. Because
it was disgusting that you were even going to get away with it.”
Poppy sat back and refilled her glass. “Everyone knew you were
fucking him, Leila. Nobody thought he’d be stupid enough to hire
you because of it…let alone pay you.”

“I never said
that he–”

“Oh, shut up!”
Isobel’s fist closed around a fork. “Of course he was paying you.
He likes to pay. He takes great pleasure in making that clear.” She
was spurned and angry. “You deserve each other, really, but you’ve
done nothing to earn that job.”

I glared at
her. “I got the best results out of everyone there.”

“I went to
Oxford,” Poppy snapped. “I went to Oxford. I worked my arse off.
You went to fucking UCL and you were shagging your way around the
office. It
wasn’t fair
.”

“Except now, it
is.” Isobel straightened, the flush falling from her cheeks.
“Everyone gets what they deserve.”

Poppy folded
her arms. “Look at her, Isobel. Would you pay for that?”

“No.” She
regarded me the same way as she had across the ballroom–a tight,
vicious simmer of a stare. Then she laughed. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“I’ll bet Matt
was paying her too. Was he, Leila? Or did he find out when he found
that picture?”

I wasn’t going
to answer that.

I tugged my bag
up, wincing as my dress rubbed over my back again. “If it’s all the
same, I won’t stay for dinner.” I was surprised I could get the
words out, let alone stand.

“Good.” Isobel
smiled. “Because you’re not welcome.”

I kept myself
upright until I got out of the restaurant and then fell against the
back of the bus stop, taking deep, wheezing breaths. They
threatened to turn to sobs every few seconds but I wouldn’t break
like that, couldn’t, had so little left. I had to hold on to
something.

I had no voice
to hail a cab, so I walked the three miles home. The fresh air
helped me stay glued together and after the first delirious blocks,
I began to reason my way through the problem. It drew the emotion
away, numbed me.

Matt had given
them the photo. In the humid dark of his bedroom, he had confessed
to keeping it, and this was his revenge. I’d thought we were
friends, he said that he loved me…but evidently, not enough.

I couldn’t go
to Joseph about this because he would sack Poppy. In fact, I
couldn’t go to him at all because they’d stipulated that I had to
finish with him. That part was just vicious.

How was I meant
to do it, what reason would I have? How did I explain leaving the
company at such short notice and refusing the job they offered me?
It would look horribly suspicious. And Elise…Elise had showed me
the Redfish deal. I knew things I shouldn’t. Did she do that on
purpose? Was she in on it too?

The reasoning
wasn’t working, the tears weren’t holding and it all got messier by
the second.

Would I count
as qualified if I didn’t finish these next few weeks? What the hell
was I meant to do otherwise? I’d just re-signed my lease, I had to
pay…some dogsbody paralegal job would barely cover the rent, let
alone anything else. And if Joseph wouldn’t give me a
reference…