Текст книги "King of Hearts"

Автор книги: L. H. Cosway

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Five

“Well, are you going to just stand there all day, or are you going to come and play with me? I’m sure you’re eager for a rematch,” King went on as I stood by the door. I had to admit, I was flustered.

“Um, I….”

“Sit down, Alexis,” he urged me, but it also sounded a little bit like a command. Who knew my boss had a bossy side?

I tried to concentrate on the chessboard situation, but I had to get the “my hand on his mouth” situation out of the way first.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” I blurted. King only stared at me for a very long moment and arched a brow. “In your office, while your friend was visiting. I put my hand on your mouth, and it was so inappropriate I don’t even know where to start.” I glanced to the side and fidgeted with my hands.

“Sit down, Alexis,” King repeated, this time with more force.

Unable to resist an order like that, I finally came forward and took the seat he was offering. His knuckles brushed my shoulder as he pushed my chair in, and I instinctively sucked in a breath at the contact. Not that he noticed. Walking around to the opposite side of the table, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat.

“What you did was fine. Dilvan is a friend. If it had happened in front of anyone else, it might have been a different matter. Maybe try to resist the urge to fondle me during work hours in future.” His voice was lightly teasing, but there was also a stiffness that put me on alert.

He began to arrange the pieces to his liking on the board, and I didn’t know how to feel. Was he actually okay with it, or was he just pretending? Nah, a man like King didn’t pretend. He didn’t need to.

“Well, I’ll be more careful the next time. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

He fingered his bishop and flicked his eyes to mine. “Embarrass me?”

“In front of your colleagues. I know this business can be all about appearances.”

“You think so?”

I smoothed my skirt over my thighs and saw his eyes follow the movement. Huh.

“Oh, I know so.” I paused hesitantly before asking, “Do you want honesty or the polite answer?”

“Honesty, always,” said King without batting an eyelid.

I swallowed and gave it to him straight. “I’ve only worked here a week, and already I can tell the environment is all about appearing to be successful and acting like you’re doing well, even when you might be failing miserably. And, let’s face it, more people are losing than winning, especially in today’s climate, but you wouldn’t think it to look at them.”

It was true. I might not have been working right in the middle of it all, but I’d been through the main offices often enough to be able to get the lay of the land. And the land around here was highly competitive. It was kind of a relief not to be a part of it. I had no clue why someone would actually choose this for a career. Well, okay, I did know. They chose it for the money. Though personally, I thought the amount of stress that came with the money wasn’t worth it.

King seemed intrigued as he leaned forward and rested an elbow on his knee. “And am I one of the winners or one of the losers?”

“I’ve worked on your spreadsheets. I think we both know the answer to that question.” King was winning hand over fist.

His mouth moved in something akin to satisfaction. “You have a very cynical view of my industry, Miss Clark.”

My eyes grew wide. “Can you blame me? People have lost their homes, their jobs, because of bankers speculating with their money and handing out subprime loans like candy at a fair. But really, I just see it for what it is. If somebody’s making money in this office, then it goes without saying that someone in another office is getting screwed over. There’s cash everywhere, but seemingly never enough to go around. And definitely never enough to satisfy one person’s desire for it.”

I’ll give him credit, King didn’t show a single sign of annoyance at what I said. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he was actually enjoying the conversation. I was thankful my opinions hadn’t offended him.

“If this is how you see things, then why come to work here?”

I let out a laugh and decided to make the first move in our game. I picked up a pawn. “Because I don’t live in an ivory tower, Mr King. I live in a tower block. And I can’t afford to be picky. The way I see it, the people who while away their days living by lofty ideals are the ones who have the money to do so. The rest of us are too busy trying to keep our heads above water to have time to play around with moral codes. So yeah, I don’t believe the way the financial industry works is right or good, but if that industry is going to provide me with a way to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head, then I’m in no position to refuse.”

“You’re right,” said King, eyeing the board and seemingly deliberating over his next move.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a small burst of pride that was quickly deflated.

“But you’re also wrong.”

I glanced up at him, surprised. “How am I wrong?”

“You said we all desire money, but I don’t. My family is very wealthy, and I could live off that wealth quite comfortably for the rest of my life if I chose to, but I don’t choose to. I want to excel, to do better than everyone else. Break records all on my own merit, no cheating, no shortcuts, no unfair advantages. That’s what drives me. The money I make in excelling could very well be empty pieces of paper for all I care.”

“A-ha, but don’t you see, not caring about the money, only caring about winning, that’s a luxury. You come from money, so you have the luxury of only caring about your accomplishments. If you had nothing to fall back on, if the threat of poverty was something to really be scared of, you’d care about the money then. The money would be all you’d care about, because it’d mean the difference between having food on your plate or going hungry.”

Our game of chess felt long forgotten as King stared at me for what seemed like forever. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He knew I was right. And speaking of hunger, I hadn’t yet had the chance to touch my lunch, so I picked up my sandwich and began to unwrap it. I took a bite, chewed, and all the while King didn’t say a word.

Finally, he spoke. “Have you ever considered joining a debate club? You’d be a formidable competitor.”

I laughed. “Maybe I will.”

King watched me eat for a moment (which made me unusually self-conscious) before opening up the small food container he’d brought with him. It looked like some sort of healthy Asian salad.

 “Why did you bring your chessboard here? This is the same one we played at your apartment, right?” I asked as we both ate.

He cleared his throat. “It is. And to answer your question, I enjoyed playing with you. I thought we could make it a regular thing.”

His answer caught me off guard, and yes, I was also a little bit flattered that he wanted to play chess with me on the regular. “And you put it in your bathroom because…?”

He gave me a hint of a smile. “You’re oddly taken with my bathroom. I thought you’d be more amenable to playing if I put it in here.”

I laughed loudly, because even though it was so weird, it was also so right. “Oh, my God, you know me too well. It’s kinda scary.” I waggled my brow at him.

“I wanted to make an effort for my very first Sapphic friend,” he replied.

Christ, if ever there was a lie that would come back to haunt me, it was telling Oliver King that I batted for the other team. Still, it was a little bit funny he believed I was gay, and it was enjoyable to play along. I mean, even though I found him attractive, I had no intention of ever letting it go anywhere, so what was the harm in him believing I liked girls?

“If you’d really wanted to make the effort, you could have popped a few pictures of topless birds up on the wall. You know, so I’d have somewhere pleasant to rest my gaze.”

King chuckled. “My apologies. I’ll remember that for the next time I need to butter you up.”

***

Mum: Dinner’s on the table at 7. Don’t be late.

I got the text right after lunch, and remembered I’d promised my parents I’d come around for dinner that evening. King and I hadn’t managed to finish our game within the hour, so we’d left the board as it was with an agreement to pick up where we’d left off tomorrow.

Was he going to spend all his lunch hours playing chess with me in his bathroom?

The question gave me troubling butterflies in my belly, and I couldn’t deny I was flattered by how much attention he was showing me. I had the feeling Oliver King didn’t show attention to new people easily, so I knew there must be something about me that interested him. I was under no illusions that I was special, but I put it down to being different from the usual women who worked at Johnson Pearse. I didn’t mince my words, I said inappropriate crap, I acted inappropriately, and seemingly King found all of this endearing for whatever reason.

All I knew was, he wasn’t inviting Gillian to spend her lunch hours with him playing chess.

It was five past seven when I arrived at Mum and Dad’s. They lived in Hackney, in the same little house I’d grown up in. It was far from a perfect place. The house was old and worn and in definite need of a lick of paint, but it was home, even more so when it was filled with the aroma of my mum’s cooking. My mouth was practically watering at the scent of her special recipe moussaka.

“You’re late!” Mum said, one hand on her hip, her usually plump lips drawn into a thin line. “We’ve all been waiting.”

By “all” she meant her, my dad, and my younger brother Kain, who had just turned twenty-one and still lived at home. My older brothers, Leon and Matt, were married with children and had long since moved out.

“Sorry, sorry, today was my first day on my own, and it took me a little longer to finish up than usual,” I said, raising my hands in the air. I loved my mum to pieces, but she had a fiery temper and got mad easily. Lateness was one of her many pet peeves, especially when she’d gone to the trouble of cooking.

I almost laughed as I took off my coat and saw she was holding a spatula. She pointed it at me like it could’ve been used as a lethal weapon. “The next time I will make fish fingers! Then you’ll learn to be on time.”

Now I did laugh. Mum had only moved to the U.K. when she was twenty-three, so she still had an accent, and “fish fingers” just sounded hilarious when coming from her. I stepped forward and gave her a hug, which seemed to placate her mood.

“I’m sorry, mamá, it won’t happen again.”

She sniffed. “Yes, well, see that it doesn’t. Now come on, you look starved.”

I followed her inside the kitchen, saying hello to Dad and Kain as I took a seat at the table. I filled them all in on the details of my new job, and I didn’t fail to notice the look of pride in my dad’s eyes when I spoke. I knew the fact that I’d gone back to school meant a lot to him. He’d always told me I had brains to burn, and that I was wasting my time working in a bar. I wasn’t quite sure that I’d ever go much further in my career than working at Johnson Pearse, but at least it was something.

We were just done with dinner when my phone began to vibrate. Since texting at the table was another of my mum’s pet peeves, I excused myself to the living room to check my message.

Oliver King: Are you busy?

Alexis: Just finished dinner. What do you need?

Oliver King: I’m at a meeting that’s running late. I was due at my mother’s an hour ago, but it looks like I’m not going to make it. Can you pick up some flowers and deliver them to her?

I frowned at his message. I didn’t want to blow off my family, since I usually stayed and watched TV with them after dinner, but I was really curious to meet the elusive Elaine King. Okay, so I was morbidly curious. She hadn’t been seen in the public eye for more than a decade, and there had to be a reason for it. Plus, she’d been the one to teach King how to play the piano so beautifully, and I was a little in awe of her for that. Finally, I replied.

Alexis: Of course. Send me the details.

Needless to say, Mum was none too pleased when I skipped out on her early. I left with a promise to visit again at the weekend, and that kept her happy. When I arrived at the florist, there was a huge bouquet of red and yellow lilies waiting to be collected. I picked them up, careful not to damage the petals, and went outside to thumb a cab.

Elaine King lived in a four-story period house in Bloomsbury, a very exclusive and expensive area of London. I stood outside for a moment, gathering my nerve. I’d never stepped foot in a house like this in my life, and it was slightly intimidating. Finally going for it, I pressed the doorbell, and a moment later a female voice came through the speaker.

“Hello, is that you, Oliver?”

“Mrs King, my name is Alexis. I’m your son’s assistant. He had a meeting run late and asked me to deliver some flowers. I hope that’s okay?”

“Flowers? Oh, yes, flowers. Okay, I’ll be right there.” There was something manic and airy about her voice that sounded kinda off. I was standing there for a good five minutes before I finally heard the door being unlocked. She opened it slowly, and I was met with an older pair of ice-blue eyes that were almost identical to King’s.

She studied me for a moment, then craned her neck around the doorframe to ensure I was alone.

“Do you…do you have any identification?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. Jesus, was she okay? Resting the bouquet on my hip, I rummaged in my bag for my work I.D. before pulling it out and showing her. She took her time scanning the details, and then before I knew it, she’d reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. Her hand was cold. It all happened so quickly that I barely had time to react. I was standing in the foyer, still holding the flowers and my I.D. when she began flicking locks and pushing over deadbolts.

Whoa. That door had a lot of locks on it.

When she finally turned to face me, I had a proper chance to take in her appearance. Her light blonde hair was long and raggedy, and she wore a cream silky robe over a pair of peach-coloured pyjamas, slippers on her feet. Her complexion was pale, and there was a nervousness in her expression that made me want to put her at ease. She was like a twenty-first-century Miss Havisham, locked away in her big old house. I could already see that the furnishings were dusty and uncared for, which meant she probably didn’t have any household staff.

“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for intruding, but like I said, Mr King wanted you to have these.”

She stared at me, seeming to flounder for a moment, and I got the feeling she didn’t speak to new people very often. Then her eyes went to the flowers, and her face lit up in a smile.

“Oh, my, they’re beautiful,” she said, coming and taking them from me. Without another word, she carried them into the living room and placed them on the window ledge. I noticed that she needed to squeeze them in, because there were a bunch of other vases there already. Some of the flowers were fresh, and others looked like they’d died a long time ago. I felt a little shiver run down my spine. There was definitely something not right about this woman.

“Thank you so much for bringing these. Oliver knows I love my flowers. I remember when I was still performing, I’d come back to my dressing room, and it would be full to the brim with bouquets. Oh, the smell was just heavenly.” She paused, and swallowed, her bloodshot blue eyes considering me shyly. “Would you like to…to stay for a cup of tea?”

I wasn’t sure if I did, but there was no way I could say no to her. She seemed so lonely, and she had clearly sequestered herself away from the outside world. I wondered if King was the only person who ever got to visit her.

“Of course,” I replied. “That’d be nice.”

She smiled again and motioned for me to follow. A moment later, we were entering a large, unkempt kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed dishes, but thankfully she set a clean-looking mug down in front of me for the tea. As she busied herself making it, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and pulled it out.

Oliver King: Did you deliver the flowers?

Alexis: Yes.

Oliver King: How did she seem?

Alexis: She seems okay. I’m still here. She invited me in for tea.

I knew saying she was okay was stretching it a bit, because there was nothing okay about this situation, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking King about the state of his mother’s mental health in a text message. There was a long stretch in between me sending the text and King replying. Elaine had made the tea and was pouring some into my cup with an unsettlingly shaky hand when I felt my phone buzz again.

Oliver King: I’m still in the meeting. I’ll call you later. Be as sensitive as you can with her.

Well, it was obvious from his response that when King had asked me to deliver flowers, he hadn’t expected his mum to invite me in.

Alexis: I will. Don’t worry. Talk to you later.

Elaine sat down across from me, her hand still shaky as she lifted her cup to her mouth. She took a sip, then set it back down. I clasped my hands together in my lap. This was one of the oddest moments of my life, sitting in a kitchen having tea with a woman who was once a global superstar. I drank some tea.

“Goodness, you must think all this is terribly peculiar,” said Elaine, gesturing around the room.

I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I said, “Oh, give me peculiar over ordinary any day. It’s far more interesting.”

Something about my response made a tiny smile crop up on her lips. “I would have dressed if I’d known I’d be having company.”

I waved her away. “Don’t sweat it. Me and my roommate Karla practically live in our PJs when we’re at home. In fact, it’s the highlight of my day, getting home and slipping into a pair. And don’t even get me started on bras. Taking those torture contraptions off after a day’s work is pure heaven.”

Surprising me, Elaine laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She settled into her seat, looking a little more at ease now. “How long have you been working for Oliver?”

“Not long. His other assistant, Eleanor, is retiring soon, so he hired me to replace her.”

“I haven’t met Eleanor,” said Elaine. “But we spoke once or twice over the phone. She seemed very nice.”

“She is. I’m going to miss her when she leaves.”

So even Eleanor, the woman King trusted the most, hadn’t met his mum? The fact that he’d trusted me to come here made me feel…I don’t know, special.

Elaine shifted closer in her seat. “Alexis…what’s he like, at the office, I mean?”

“Mr King?”

She nodded. I chose my words wisely when responding. “He’s…extremely driven. People really respect him, and he’s a good boss. He doesn’t go crazy if I make a mistake or anything.”

She seemed happy with that answer, and now I knew something else. Elaine King had never seen her son work, had never visited him at the office. She was a full-fledged hermit. We spoke for another few minutes, and then I got the feeling she wanted me to leave. Not because I’d done anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but just because being around someone new seemed to take a lot out of her. I said my goodbyes, and she walked me to the door. When I stepped outside, I immediately heard her re-doing the locks.

What on earth had happened to Elaine King?

I caught the tube home and was just settling into bed for the night when my phone began ringing. It was King.

“Hello?”

He exhaled a long breath. “Alexis, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realise she’d ask you in. She never asks anyone in. She comes to the door to collect deliveries, but she doesn’t let people inside, except for me and her therapist. She won’t even allow me to hire any household staff.” Wow, he almost sounded upset. It was a little jarring, since he was always so suave and put together at the office.

“Look, King, it’s none of my business. I know it must be difficult having a family member who….”

“Did you just call me King?” he said, cutting me off.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I….”

“Don’t apologise. I like it.”

A silence elapsed, and then he said, “Alexis, I’d really appreciate it if you kept my mother’s current condition to yourself. Every once in a while, journalists come sniffing about. It’s a hard job keeping them away from her.”

“I can imagine. But don’t worry, you have nothing to fear from me. I won’t tell anyone.”

He seemed curious now. “I hope this doesn’t sound like an odd request, but could you tell me what happened? The fact she let you into the house is a big deal.”

“Of course,” I answered, and then began to detail the encounter from beginning to end.

When I was finished, King said, “She must have seen something trustworthy in you. I’m not surprised. I felt the same way the first day you came to be interviewed.”

What he said made me catch my breath. I just hoped he didn’t hear it. “You did?”

“Yes, you have a warmth about you, Alexis. I sensed it even after you got prickly when I told you I liked your picture. Do you find that a lot of people you don’t know very well open up to you?” he asked, and the accuracy of his question blew me away.

I did find that happening a lot. Whether I was sitting on the tube or having a quick coffee in a café, I’d find myself being drawn into conversations with strangers, where they’d tell me things about themselves you wouldn’t normally say to someone you don’t know. It had happened just this morning, when I’d gotten caught up chatting with the man at the newsagents, thus making me late with King’s papers.

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“You see. People must feel like they can tell you things without being judged.”

Ha! That was a laugh. I was a judgey little bitch sometimes. Just ask Karla.

“Huh,” was my only response.

“Well,” said King, clearing his throat. “I’d better let you go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you,” I said, and then we hung up.

Dropping my phone on my nightstand and making sure to set my alarm, I thought that today had been one for the books. I was exhausted, and as soon as I shut my eyes, I was out. However, in my dreams, King’s words seemed to echo: You have a warmth about you, Alexis.

I found I kind of liked the sound of that.