Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 (34 page)

But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

Felix glared at her, his iPad lying forgotten in his lap. “Did you have an affair with Peter Dell?”

Rob Drake, who’d been sitting quietly up until this point taking notes, looked up, glancing across at Felix and then over to her with curiosity.

Coco kept her cool. “No.” Well that was true anyway. One quick fuck was hardly an affair.

Felix didn’t say anything, and she could see he didn’t believe her, but he couldn’t outright call her a liar. Her heart sank. He thought she’d had a thing for Peter. How wrong could he be?

“So why were you glad when you heard that Sasha had filed a complaint against him?” Felix pressed.

She shrugged. “I don’t like the man. I don’t like his attitude toward women. I knew he’d had office affairs—that he used women and then cast them aside when he’d done with them.” She couldn’t stop bitterness creeping into her voice.

Felix stared at her, then looked out of the window. Was he thinking she was referring to him—that she thought he was doing exactly the same thing? Or did he think that’s what happened between her and Peter—that they had an affair and he dumped her, and she was bitter about it? Either way it sucked, and she couldn’t ask him because Rob was still sitting there quietly, chewing his pen as he observed them.

Felix ran a hand through his hair. Agitated, then. But he looked calm. Was he going to press her in spite of Rob’s presence? But he didn’t, he changed tack. “You say ‘I knew he’d had office affairs’. How many were you aware of?”

“Seven or eight definitely, over the ten years I’ve been here. And I suspect there’s been many more.”

His eyebrows rose. “And nobody’s ever complained about him before?”

She hesitated then, and looked down at her hands, examining her fingernails. How could she explain to him the sort of man Peter Dell was? She puzzled for a minute, then decided she had to just come out with it and be honest.

She sat back in her chair and looked at Felix, suddenly tired and wishing it was all over. She’d known this would be difficult, and she’d suspected it would be the death knell for their relationship. It was Felix’s birthday and they were supposed to be going out to dinner with his friends that evening, but would he still want her to go after this?

“You have to understand what kind of man Peter is,” she said, all resistance gone. “On the surface he’s funny and charming. When he talks to you, he makes you think you’re the most important person in the world. He knows all the tricks—eye contact, asking you questions about yourself, all the body language to prove he’s interested—and he uses it to its utmost. Practically every woman he comes into contact with falls for him.”

Including me
, she thought miserably. She’d been bowled over by his sweet talking, made to think she was special. And she’d been too young to see through his act, the fact that he was only playing a part, wearing the charm like a costume.

“Do you think he does it consciously?” Rob spoke for the first time. “Even if they say they don’t, most people use their ‘charm’ to interact with the opposite sex.” He looked at Felix. “Including me and you.”

The look on Felix’s face made a giggle issue from her lips before she could stop it. He sent her a wry glance before turning back to Rob. “That’s bullshit.”

“No, it’s not.” Rob leaned forward, eager to prove his point. “It’s perfectly natural—it’s how we communicate. I know Sasha got upset by your intimation that she was dressing to attract attention from the opposite sex, but the truth is that although we dress for ourselves because we want to feel good, we
do
dress for other people too—it’s human nature. Everyone loves a compliment. And the truth is that men and women flirt with one another. It can be very subtle, or it can be overt, but we all do it.”

“I don’t agree,” said Felix. “I’m always very careful not to flirt.” He flicked a glance at Coco, as if to say
apart from with you.

“It depends on your definition of flirt,” said Rob. “I don’t mean it has to be double entendre and personal comments all the time. But we use our charm to get women to warm to us. That’s flirting.”

“No, it’s not.” Felix glared at him. “That’s just communicating.”

Rob looked over at Coco. “What do you think?”

“Well, I tend to think of flirting as overtly sexual, comments that are more intimate, personal references, that sort of thing. But I think you have a point. It’s in our genes to communicate in this way. We all know that if we want someone to do a job, the best way is to give them a compliment, ask with a smile, and if it’s a really big ask, maybe finish with a touch on their arm or something.” She smiled as they both raised his eyebrows. “You thought Miss Stark never utilised those techniques? Of course she does. Is it flirting? I wouldn’t call it that because it’s not meant to bring about a specific outcome. But after watching Peter and seeing how he interacts with others, I agree that many people do use their charm.” She shrugged. “That’s why Sasha finds it so difficult to communicate with others—she has no natural charm, no way to get people to warm to her.”

She fell quiet, and so did Felix for the moment. She met his gaze. His anger seemed to have evaporated, and like her he seemed tired and a little defeated. This case had certainly got to him.

“Do you think Peter Dell made inappropriate sexual advances to Sasha De Langen?” he asked.

Surprise rippled through her. It was an un-lawyerly question to ask, because her answer would provide no evidence, and opinions should really count for nothing. But she wasn’t going to pass up on this opportunity to voice her feelings about the senior partner.

“Yes,” she said. “I do.” After all, Sasha had told them herself she was gay. Why on earth would she have made advances to Peter if that was the case? It was time the man got his comeuppance for all the women he’d used and abused over the years.

Felix nodded. He glanced at Rob and smiled. “Okay, let’s call it a day. I think we’re done.”

The three of them rose.

Rob glanced at them both. “Okay, I’m just going to get myself a coffee. Then we’ll do a summary, eh, Felix?”

“Sure.”

Rob left the room.

Coco breathed out a long sigh and met Felix’s gaze. At least he no longer seemed angry with her. “You think Rob knows about us?”

“I think he suspects.”

“Will he say anything?”

Felix shrugged as if to say
don’t know, don’t care.
She got the feeling he was thoroughly fed up with this case. He was probably desperate to return to his own branch.

She bit her lip, not wanting to think about that now. Instead, she reached into her folder and, casting a quick glance at the door, extracted a small, flat package and handed it to him. “Happy birthday.”

He took the package and his eyes met hers. A smile spread slowly across his face. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

“Of course not. We’re going out for a birthday meal later, aren’t we?” There, she’d told him she still wanted to see him. What would he say in return?

Something like relief crossed his face. “Yes. Gene’s picking me up at six, then we’ll come around to you.”

“Okay.” She nodded at the parcel. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

He smiled and tore the paper off to reveal the circular disk—a coaster with the words
Lawyers do it in their briefs.

He grinned. “I love it.”

“I’m sorry it’s not an expensive piece of tom, but…”

He laughed. “Since when have you used ‘tomfoolery’ for jewellery?”

“All the time,” she said airily, then grinned. “I looked up some. Honestly, most of it’s so convoluted I had trouble understanding.”

“That’s kind of the point.” For the first time since she’d walked into his office, his eyes took on the look of lazy desire she was beginning to know and love. “By the way, not connected to Cockney but still connected to language, did you know that the French word for a kept woman is a ‘Cocotte’?”

She gave him an indignant look. “Charming.”

“I thought you should know.”

They smiled at each other, and her heart rate sped up a little.

He put the coaster on the table and slid his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking her by surprise.

“What for?”

He gestured around the room. “Having to do that.”

“It’s okay. It had to be done.”

He looked down at the floor. “Did you tell the truth?”

He meant about Peter, she was sure. He wanted to know if she’d meant it when she’d denied having an affair with him.

“Yes.” She had to force herself to meet his gaze when he looked up.

He nodded, took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. See you just after six then?”

“Sure.” She walked to the door just as Rob came back in.

“Thank you, Miss Stark,” Rob said.

She nodded and left the room, relieved it was over.

For the first time in several years, she left the office at exactly five o’clock. Suddenly she missed Amy, who would have been quite gleeful at seeing Miss Stark exiting the building at such an early hour. Perhaps it might have helped to talk things over with her, although of course Amy knew nothing about what had happened when Coco was seventeen.

She walked home slowly, thinking about Sasha. She’d criticised Sasha for finding it difficult to connect with people, but wasn’t she exactly the same herself? She had hardly any friends, only Amy. No social life to speak of. That was her own choice, of course, born out of her wish to look after her mother.

For the first time, however, she thought she could understand her mother’s anger at Coco’s refusal to let her go. Would she want her own daughter, if she were ever to have one, to have a similar life? Of course she wouldn’t. The thought was horrifying, and Coco’s breath caught in her throat at the realisation of the guilt her mother must be feeling.

But she pushed the horror away, refusing to accept it. Their situation couldn’t be any other way—she couldn’t let her mother go into a home, just couldn’t. Her father’s plea to her rang in her ears. And besides, she was never going to have a daughter, or a son for that matter, so the whole topic was irrelevant.

A sweep of sorrow engulfed her, so powerful and so sudden she had to bite her lip so she didn’t cry out. She stopped walking, the pedestrians still striding past, cars whizzing by on the road, but in her mind the Earth seemed to have ceased turning.

She’d never have children. She knew it instinctively. This thing with Felix was fleeting, like the seasons, and once he’d gone that would be it.

For a brief—a very brief—moment, she let herself imagine what would happen if he got her pregnant. Would it be a boy or girl? With her blonde hair, or his dark locks and warm brown eyes? She imagined herself holding the wrapped bundle to her breast while he looked down at them, tenderness in his eyes. A hunger consumed her that she’d never experienced before, and she wrapped her arms around herself defensively, unaccustomed to feeling broody.

And then it passed and she was left with an underlying sadness. That life wasn’t for her. If she told Felix she was pregnant he’d probably have a coronary before getting on a plane and flying as far away as possible. Oh, no doubt he’d do the right thing and pay his child support, but he wouldn’t want to be tied down, to be a father.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and carried on walking, refusing to think about it anymore. She was going out on a date and she had to get ready, and that was as far as she’d let herself think.

Chapter Forty-Two

Felix was waiting in the bar where he’d arranged to meet Gene at five thirty. Gene walked in, scanned the room, saw him and walked over.

“Gene!” Felix said. “My old China, good to see you.”

Gene shook his hand and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

Felix grinned. “China plate. Mate.”

Gene rolled his eyes, and then the two men laughed and bear hugged.

They’d been friends for a few years, since Gene had left the army and returned to Auckland, and Felix had come home from England. Not quite as tall as Felix at six-one, Gene still had the build he’d developed in the forces, slender and muscular, even though Felix knew that physical exercise wasn’t as easy as it had once been for his friend. When he was younger, Gene had been a sprinter and a decathlete, and he’d represented New Zealand on several occasions in international competitions almost to Olympic level, but an Afghanistan bomb resulting in a bad leg wound had put paid to any dreams he might have had of winning a gold. His new role as head of his own large security firm appeared by its nature to be more sedentary, but Felix knew Gene got bored sitting behind a desk and often took jobs on himself, which obviously kept him fit enough.

“Happy birthday,” Gene said. “Old man.”

“I’m younger than you,” Felix pointed out. Gene would be thirty-one in January.

“True. Don’t worry, the big three-oh’s not as bad as they say. Kind of like Y2K—it’s all hype.”

Felix grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and they both ordered a drink. “You look good. Busy?”

“Surprisingly so.” Gene leaned on the bar and ran a hand through his short, dark hair, just a shade too long to be a buzz cut. “Seems like there’s always a call for security. We’re branching out into online stuff now too. Physical and internet security, you know?”