Sunday morning, I spoke briefly with Scott, who informed me his father wanted to talk business with him so he would be tied up all day. Obviously playing the role of new and supportive girlfriend, I didn’t make a fuss, agreeing to his suggestion of dinner Monday evening.
Today was Monday, and I sat at my desk, feeling somewhat heavy hearted. Molly had texted me this morning informing me she was off sick today, which to be quite honest, after Saturday, I was rather grateful for. Paul breezed past me with a beaming smile before calling me into his office. As he shut the door, my heart started pounding.
“Hi,” he said. He looked at ease, the usual cool, calm, and collected man I’d first been so taken with.
I smiled back but said nothing. He perched on the end of his desk as I took a seat in one of his chairs.
He scratched his head, his eyes scanning the floor before he finally spoke. “How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. What do you want?”
“I wanted to explain my behaviour to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Please, Kyra. Just listen?”
I sighed, clicking my tongue as I crossed my arms over my chest. I stared at my shoes, noticing the little scuffs on the sides. I’d have to get some boot polish on them to cover them up. After a minute’s silence, I glanced up at him. “Are you getting on with it or what?”
He cleared his throat, pursing his lips before speaking. “On the Monday evening when I left here, before I…cut things off between us, I received a phone call.”
I nodded, remembering that night. He had marched out of the office with an ashen face and his phone stuck to his ear.
“Well, the purpose for that phone call was my father telling me there was someone of importance waiting to see me at the house.” He faltered before starting his next sentence. “The person who was waiting for me is a good friend of my father’s, and also happens to be in the club.”
I raised my eyebrows, my mouth running dry at the thought of where this was going.
“My father called in a favour from him many years ago, for me. As a result, he insists I meet this man every time he comes over to show my gratitude to him.”
Taking slight relief in the fact he said this was a man, I let out my breath, not realising I’d been holding it until now. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat as he continued.
“This man, Mr. Peters, has a wife.”
My heart rate spiked in an instant. A ball of nausea began brewing in my stomach. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the springing of tears. “Please, stop. I get the picture.”
“Just listen.” He paused, taking a sip of water. I dared to open my eyes, watching his face crease into sadness as he spoke. “Mrs. Peters has quite a liking for me and when she comes over, she requests my…presence.”
I choked back a sob, realising this was going where I thought it was. “Paul, please…”
He ignored me. “Mrs. Peters requested me on Monday evening when she arrived at the house—”
I stood up, my hands shaking. “I don’t need to hear this.”
He stood up with me, blocking my path to the door. “But I refused.”
A wave of relief hit me. I sat back down, forcing myself to listen to the rest.
“My father was not amused in the slightest, nor were Mr. and Mrs. Peters. After much arguing, Mr. Peters announced unless I did as his wife wished, he would find a way to…undo what he’d helped me with years ago.”
My jaw dropped open. His statement left me speechless.
“So I had to…go ahead with their wishes.”
I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to force unwanted images out of my mind.
“My father knew why I refused Mrs. Peters and was livid. I had no choice but to do what I did to you. My hands were tied from all sides. I did what I thought was best for you.”
I let out a sob, my chest heaving, and my head reeling with this information overload. He bent down, placing his hands on my arms. I flicked my eyes to his, those beautiful blue eyes sweeping me up in the notion of me and him once more.
“I’m sorry, Kyra.” He tilted my chin up with a gentle touch. “I couldn’t…be with you after I’d had to do that. I spent two days convincing myself I was doing the right thing. The only way I could make it happen was to be cruel to you. I’m sorry.”
Hot tears slid down my cheek, the information replaying itself over and over again like a painful roundabout.
“But that’s what you do,” I said, my voice sounding weak and pathetic. “You go with other people and all of that. I don’t understand.”
He gave me a wry smile. “Don’t you remember Tessa?”
I blushed as I let out a half sob, half laugh, nodding.
“Didn’t you wonder why I didn’t touch her?”
I thought about the situation again and shook my head.
“Because I didn’t want to touch anyone else.” He moved his hands to my knees, my skin heating to new degrees under his touch. “I may have said I don’t do relationships, but that was one to me. I wasn’t having sex with anyone else. That was my commitment—I just didn’t want to admit it.”
My tears sprung free as I attempted a nervous laugh. “What kind of fucked up relationship is that?”
He gave me a cheeky smile and wiped my tears away. “I’ve not had a relationship for a long time, I’ve told you that before. Give me a break, it’s been a while.”
I smiled, finding myself silently begging for him to wrap me up in his arms. Why hadn’t he just told me this before? So much heartache, and for what?
“So what’s the deal with this Mr. Peters? What did he do?”
His smile faded as he raked a hand through his hair. “Mr. Peters is a judge.”
“What? Why would you need a favour from a judge?”
His eyes flitted around the room and he drew in a deep breath. “Remember my ex I told you about? The one who cheated on me?”
I nodded, dread filtering through me at what was going to be said next.
“Well, I caught her in bed with my best friend. To cut a long story short, I chased them across a road whereby they were hit by an oncoming lorry. I was up for manslaughter. Mr. Peters made it all go away.”
My head spinning in a million different directions, I fell against the sturdy back of the chair as I listened to the confession of my boss, my ex-lover, being a killer.