All of a sudden I hear a voice, a sweet, lost child voice. The questing innocence beguiles me, irretrievably draws me to her. She is in direct contrast to the usual threatening, sordid, obscene, and often downright menacing voices I am forced to listen to. I listen out for the unspoiled new voice and realize that all the other voices seem to have hung back.

The lovely new voice thrusts forward eagerly. I embrace it with all that I am. Perhaps I will be all right. Perhaps this new voice will keep me safe and guide me to the right path. Perhaps the phoenix sent this voice to me. Immediately I feel stronger.

You can’t trust anybody, it says in its uniquely fresh and wonderful voice.

I nod enthusiastically.

And you can’t give up on divine plans.

I nod again.

The phoenix has sanctioned them.

Of course the phoenix did. I listen intently as the beautiful voice elaborates on what must be the truth of the matter.

Blake must die just as you planned—a car crash on his way home from the hospital after signing over all his rights to the Barrington fortune. Then it will be the turn of his bastard child to die.

Afterwards, as planned, we will pay a little visit to the lying, cheating, cock-sucking cunt he married…and watch her die, slowly and painfully.

Twenty-Six

Blake Law Barrington

She comes toward me, her eyes huge, her face pale and drawn, and I feel a stab of guilt. When I found her she was bursting with life, an innocent thing in an orange dress. Look how careless I’ve been. Look what I’ve done to her.

‘What is it?’ I ask, holding her. She seems so small, her bones so breakable. She was not always like this, was she? No. Once she fought me on her terms.

‘Blake,’ she calls.

‘What is it?’

She swallows hard.

‘Tell me?’

‘Oh, darling. You don’t really want me anymore, do you?’

‘What?’

‘I know you love me, but you don’t desire me anymore.’

I shake my head. I will never understand women. How they can be so intuitive and so dense at the same time. I run a finger down her beautiful, beautiful nose to her plump lips. I remember the first time we kissed. I remember how they looked when that fucking pervert abused her at the party. I remember them when she was laughing at that drug dealer party she invited me to, and I remember them when she told me on our honeymoon that she was my captive slave. Seems so long ago. So much has happened. I wish I could go back. I can’t. Here and now is what I have.

‘Lit matches,’ I whisper.

‘What?’ she asks.

‘That night I met you I thought your eyes were like lit matches. So blue. The impression of something cool and yet it’ll burn your fingers.’

She bites that plump lip. ‘Have I burned you?’

‘Never.’

‘I’m so confused, Blake.’

‘Come here. I want to tell you something.’ I lead her to the sofa. We sit together, our thighs touching. If only she knew. Maybe I need to spell it out to her. Maybe I’ve been too distant. It’s my upbringing. Stiff upper lip. Better in than out.

I take her hand. It’s cold. I grasp it between my palms.

‘Your hand is warm,’ she murmurs.

I smile at her.

‘Tell me the truth, Blake. I can take it.’

‘Oh, Lana. Tell you the truth? Here’s the truth. Right now, I want to fuck you until you can’t remember your name.’

Her head jerks. She didn’t expect that. Of course not.

‘The only thing that stops me is your grief. I don’t want my method of dealing with grief to intrude on yours.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean the only time I forget that Sorab is gone is when I am inside you. That is the only time I don’t feel the guilt that I did not protect him. I did not protect you. I let my guard down. I was careless, Lana. I didn’t see her as she really was.’

‘So you still want me?’

I gaze at her. In time we will learn everything there is to know about each other. For now I will just have to show her. I take her hand and put it on my groin. It is hard and throbbing for her.

Tears gather in her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I really, really thought you had gone off me.’

‘Gone off you? Are you totally blind? There is no one else for me. From the day we met again at the bank I have never looked at another woman. Let alone wanted one. You’re the only one for me. I could take you right now if I thought you were up for it.’

She looks at me with her big, electric blue eyes. ‘I’m up for it.’

I take Sorab from my head and store him safely in my heart and I start to unbutton her top.

I drink her in. Glazed doe eyes, flushed cheeks and reddened lips. Oh yes. That’s my Lana. Her hands go to the front of my trousers and find me hard as a rock.

I smile. ‘See? Nothing has changed between us.’

‘Oh, how I’ve missed your body,’ she whispers as I lift her up.

Her legs wrap around my body tightly. I can feel the wetness between her legs seeping into my clothes. Damp spot on my shirt. It’s a good feeling.

‘I was so afraid your passion was gone.’

‘I can’t imagine what gave you such an idea.’

‘I don’t want you to be gentle.’

‘I didn’t plan on being gentle. It’s going to be as hard and dirty as they come. If you don’t shatter then you’re going to pass out,’ I warn, swooping down to crush that plump mouth that I bought another lifetime ago. Once when I was king of the entire realm, for as far as the eye could see.

Twenty-Seven

Lana Barrington

Jack calls me. For an instant his voice confuses me. It seems so near. As if he could pop around for a coffee.

‘Oh, Jack,’ I breathe. ‘Where are you?’

‘In Africa. Billie emailed me. Is there anything I can do?’

‘No. No, there is nothing you can do. Blake has it covered.’ My voice is bitter. ‘Turns out Victoria took our son to punish us.’

‘I can’t hear you properly. Who took him?’

‘Victoria.’

‘Who?

‘Blake’s ex?’

There is a shocked silence as he assimilates this fact. ‘I thought she was locked up in an asylum.’

‘She is.’ I suddenly feel tearful. In my peripheral vision I see a yellow Post-it pad. It has the faint indentation of the message on the note that was above it.

‘Then how can she?’

‘It’s called money and privilege.’ I open a drawer and take out a pencil and start to lightly run the lead over the message. A sentence in Blake’s handwriting starts appearing.

Jack sounds bewildered. ‘What happens next?’

‘She wants Blake to renounce his inheritance.’

There is an electric pause. The line crackles with it. ‘Is he going to?’

‘Yes. Yes, he is.’

I hear him breathe a sigh of relief and then uncomfortable words start pouring out of my receiver. ‘Thank God. It’s not that I doubted him, it’s just—’

‘Don’t worry, Jack,’ I interrupt. ‘They are a cold, calculating bunch and I don’t blame you for thinking that.’ I hold the note up and look at the message.

‘I’m coming back.’

‘Don’t, Jack. You can’t help.’

‘No, I’m coming back because I’m of no use here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll tell you when I get back.’

‘You’re not in any trouble, are you?’

‘No. I just realized I’m doing more harm than good.’

‘All right, tell me when you get back.’ In my mind another sentence forms. After I get Sorab back. But I don’t say it. It’s unnecessary. As unnecessary as saying I miss kissing the wet crown of my son’s head as I lift him out of the bath. The real pain, the deep pain is in my bone. Hidden in the marrow. A ravenous thing, eating relentlessly, eating up the cells that hold me up. When I put the phone down I tear away the Post-it note. The scrawl reads: