Mendacious (22 page)

Only this time, I’m not sad or upset. I’m so fucking angry my hands start to shake from the injection of adrenaline hitting my blood. I’m ready to kill someone. And my little bitch of a sister is topping the list.

“Alex? Darling? Alex?”

Bringing my phone back up to my ear, I grit my teeth and force a smile to my face. “I’m here.”

“What’s going on?” she demands, her voice loud and frantic. “I heard you both yelling and then you were breathing very heavy and shouting for Libby.”

“She was here.”

“Who was?”

“Libby.”

“At your flat?” my mother asks. “Why was she at your flat? That seems a little inappropriate.”

I hold my breath, knowing that I need to have this conversation in person with her and my sister. Neither of them are happy with me staying in contact with Libby, so maybe they need to know my reasons.

“Mum, let me get Alice and we’ll come see you.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

We both end the call and I turn and make my way back into my building to go and strangle my wayward sibling.

~

Pulling onto the driveway at my mother’s house, Alice and I are both completely silent. I think I’ve upset her, but she won’t admit it. And I won’t apologise. We are both as stubborn as we can get in that respect.

After I went back upstairs earlier, I completely blanked her apart from demanding that she’d better be waiting with a taxi out front by the time I’m changed, so we could go and pick-up my poor, abandoned car.

At least she listened to me.

There was a taxi waiting for me, but that was it. Complete silence ensued from that moment onwards. And it has been absolutely bloody bliss. It’s been peaceful this entire journey, apart from me leaving Libby a long and apologetic message, asking her to call me when she has chance.

I hope she does, but I won’t hold my breath. And I’m also hoping that she’s gone to her own house like she originally said and not back near that dickhead brother of hers.

“Get out,” I mutter to Alice, shutting off the ignition, unclipping my seat belt and getting out the car.

She complies and we both walk up to the front door, but our mother is already waiting for us, her arms folded and a scowl on her face. She beckons us inside and we both take a seat on the little leather puffs in the living room like we used to do when we were little and in the shit.

“What’s going on?” she asks, taking her seat in the big armchair facing us.

“I’m sick of—”

“He’s fucking—”

We both ramble off at the same time about each other until we are brought to silence by the simple raising of a hand. “Alex, go first,” she suggests.

“Okay.” I start and I don’t bother holding back. “Alice let herself into my flat, and said something to Libby, who then proceeded to grab her stuff and leave. She had no right to do that, and I’m really fucking angry about it. She doesn’t know our circumstances, at all.”

I have more to say, but I don’t get chance because Alice attacks me full force.

“She is your ex-wife for a reason, Alex. I don’t know what this whole ‘evil plan’ malarkey has done to you, but all of a sudden you are worshipping the ground she walks on. Are you sleeping with her?”

“We aren’t sleeping together. And even if we were, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” our mother sighs, and I can tell she doesn’t know where the hell to start.

Which I guess doesn’t help with me being not entirely truthful about why Libby was staying with me in the first place.

“Look,” I start, deciding to bite the bullet. “Libby was staying with me last night because she was in an accident, and I had taken her to the hospital.”

They both open their mouths into a small ‘O’.

“She was mugged in case you are interested. And she ended up slipping down a load of concrete steps.” I turn to Alice and note her eyes are wide. “You would have noticed if you had taken a look at her arms instead of flying off on a rant about why she was there.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t realise.”

“No, you didn’t,” I mutter.

“Where were you?” my mother asks. “How did you know she was mugged?”

It shouldn’t be relevant, but I know why she is asking. She wants to know if we have been seeing each other lately, but I can’t exactly tell her I was loitering in my car outside of a restaurant she was eating at.

The word stalker comes to mind.

“We were meeting for dinner, and when I got there, it happened. Luckily, her brother was meeting us as well, and he went after the little bastard. But Libby slipped and she fell down a couple of stairs, and got pretty messed up.”

“Is she alright?” Of course, my mother is compassionate. But Alice on the other hand, she doesn’t look like she’s buying the story.

“I thought you weren’t talking to her after the whole situation with Holli? What happened to the lawsuit she filed against you?”

At least she raises a good point. I haven’t actually heard anything further on what’s going on with that. I make a mental reminder to speak to Benedict after I get out of here. I’d like to think that something’s progressed with that.

“It’s still ongoing,” I reply.

“So why did you help her?” Alice mutters, narrowing her eyes. “She doesn’t deserve your help.”

This is getting silly now. I’m not sure what angle she’s going for, but she is way off track. I need to tell them about the baby. It’s the only saving grace in all of this.

“She was hurt, Alice,” I fire back. “What do you expect me to do?”

She shrugs. “You should have just left her.”

That’s the final comment I’m going to sit and listen to. I’ve had enough and she’s gone too far. My anger spills over and I stand-up in a flurry, knocking the puff to the side and barging out of her way.

“You are despicable. I’d go to the end of the earth for that woman right now. And you want to know why?” My hands ball into fists that start to shake. “Because she is carrying my fucking child!”

They both gasp, but I’m not waiting around to discuss this. Instead, I fling open the front door and slam it closed behind me. Unlocking my car, I slide into the driver’s seat as my mother comes rushing down the front garden.

“Alex!” she cries.

I hold-up my hand and with a shake of my head, put the car in reverse and back off the driveway, needing to get as far away from here as possible. I’m absolutely fuming with what just happened.

Speeding off down the street, I prod my finger on the touch screen in my car and dial Libby’s number.

It goes to voicemail.

She has ignored both of my calls, and I’m getting paranoid. Especially, given the history of her previous miscarriage, I don’t want to put more stress than necessary on her, and I’m worried this blow out with both of our families is only going to escalate her stress.

Her brother dislikes me.

My family dislike Libby.

We are pretty much screwed with whatever angle we come at from this. Nobody is going to be happy about this baby, but frankly I don’t give a shit. It’s not their child. It’s ours at the end of the day.

“They’ll come round,” I sigh, putting my foot to the floor and merging onto the motorway, heading straight for home.

It’s Monday.

I’m back to sleeping like a restless fool, and I’m aware that I probably look like absolute shit. But what do people expect when I’ve got a pregnant ex-wife who has taken to not answering my calls, yet again?

Libby seems to be dangling a carrot, which she snatches away as soon as I get close. I’ve not hidden my feelings about wanting things to work out between us, but I feel like I’m being played, which is not okay.

I’m used to being the player, and not the one being screwed over. This situation is all new to me. I don’t have an ounce of control here, and I know Libby is well aware of that fact. She is holding me captive, waiting to make her own decision. But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on for. There is only so much I can take before I eventually give-up.

Granted, I haven’t sat her down and said in black and white that I want us to be together again, but I’ve done virtually everything else. She’d be clueless to have not gotten my hints. And for the fact I’ve called her every day for the last two weeks since she left my flat … she must sense that I’m a man on a mission. It’s just a shame my prey does not want to be caught.

Not even my man with the eyes has been able to track Libby down. It is almost like she has disappeared. He has waited by her office, but she hasn’t showed up, which kicks my suspicious mind into overdrive.

What if she needs me?

But this is Libby we are talking about. She loves her own company, so I’m sure she is relishing this time to recuperate. I’d just wish she’d let me in instead of shutting me out. It’s our baby after all ... not just hers.

Picking up my phone, I dial her number and wait for the dial tone, but it doesn’t materialise. It goes to her voicemail, again, and I throw my phone down on my desk and continue pacing backwards and forwards across my office.

I’m going fucking crazy.

She is driving me bloody insane.

I don’t even know where to turn. There isn’t a chance in hell of her dick of a brother giving me her address, so I haven’t bothered wasting my breath. And my man with the Eyes won’t give it to me despite the money I’ve thrown his way. It seems confidentiality only comes into play when you don’t want their services and want to track somebody down yourself.

But I need to find a way to her soon.

“Hmm ... Daniel?” A light bulb switches on above my head and I have that eureka moment I’ve been waiting for, followed by a determined grin that illuminates my face. “Kelly, I’m going out,” I say, flying past her desk and straight through the door before she has a chance to respond.

I’m sat in my car in record time and reversing out of my parking space with lightning speed. In fact, it doesn’t take me long to get to Libby’s office at all, and before I know it, I’m charging up to the two girls sitting behind the large white reception desk, and I’m demanding to see Daniel.

“Mr. Thomas is engaged,” the girl repeats, fixing me with a steely glare. She isn’t backing down and I’m impressed. I half-expected her to give in after the third attempt of me pestering her. But she hasn’t.

“Well, when is he free?” I snap, strumming my fingers on the desk impatiently.

Her response is blunt. “Tomorrow.”

“So he has absolutely no time available today?”

“No, Mr. Lewis.” She sighs just as Daniel rounds the corner, coffee cup in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. A look of genuine surprise captures his face when he sees me.

“Alex? What in the devil are you doing here?” he asks, heading straight for me. “You are aware of the lawsuit, right? I don’t think you should be here. And besides, Elizabeth isn’t in at the moment.”

I hold up two fingers. “Just give me two minutes of your time.”

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate—”

“Please,” I ask again.

Jesus, I’m even begging now. I’ve officially hit a new low. Not once in the last seven years have I had to almost beg somebody to meet with me. It doesn’t usually work like that.

“Two minutes,” Daniel agrees, walking toward his office with me following closely behind. He puts his coffee and papers on his desk and turns to me with his hands on his hips. “What can I do for you, Alex?”

“Tell me where Elizabeth is.”

“At home.”

“And what’s the address?”

Daniel arches an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be right for me to tell you her address.”

I grit my teeth and force out my next sentence with as much politeness as I can muster. “Listen, Daniel. I get that you’ve got feelings for her and want to protect her, but listen to me when I say that nothing is going to happen between the two of you.”

He scoffs. “How do you know?”

“Because she is pregnant,” I state flatly. “And it is my baby she is carrying.”

He stares at me blankly for a couple of seconds before he chokes out the word, “Pregnant?”

I nod. “Yes. And I haven’t been able to get hold of her for the last two weeks and I’m worried. I need to know that she’s alright.”

“Your baby?” he repeats the words slowly.

“Yes.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Okay,” I say, digging inside my jacket for my wallet. Pulling it out, I show him an old photo of the two of us that I’ve never been able to throw out. It’s a small wallet sized photo from a friend’s wedding about six months after we were together.

Daniel takes the picture and studies it closely before turning to me with an incredulous stare. “I assumed the surname was coincidental. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Libby didn’t want it broadcasting,” I confess, finally being able to call her by the name I prefer. “When she found out it was me investing, it was made pretty clear that our personal lives were to be kept separate. She didn’t really want people knowing about the divorce.”

“I had no idea you two knew each other.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. I think we did a good job hiding it, but now everything is blowing up again, so I’m sure everyone is going to find out anyway.”

Daniel shifts from foot to foot. “So if she is pregnant with your baby, does this mean the lawsuit has been dropped?”

“Not exactly. I’m still working on all that ... Or I was, until she stopped answering my calls,” I tell him, hoping to appeal to his better instinct. “All I’m after is her address, so I can check she’s alright.”

Despite the conflict I see in his eyes, it doesn’t take him long to break. “Okay,” he says, grabbing a Post-it note and scribbling down an address. “But only because I’m also concerned. She hasn’t stepped foot in the office in two weeks and all communication has been via e-mail.”

Taking the piece of paper from him, I slap him lightly on the back with thanks and head back to my car. I’ve got her address, so she has nowhere to hide.

“Libby, I’m coming for you,” I murmur, programming her address into my satellite navigation.

~

Turning into a quiet cul-de-sac, I scour the numbers on the fronts of the houses, looking for number six. It’s a small street with a few semi-detached houses centred on a circular driveway.

It looks nothing like where I expected Libby to live. It isn’t modern and the houses aren’t large. They are the complete opposite of what I’d imagined.

There are fir trees lining the front gardens of each house, offering discreet privacy to its residents, while each front door has its own unique colour that distinguishes and allows each property to stand out.

Spotting a giant, golden number six on a bright red door, I pull my car up onto the kerb and see a two-year-old Volkswagen Golf on the driveway. It’s a far cry from the sleek looking Mercedes I’ve always known Libby to want, but I shrug it off as a matter of taste.

Getting out the car, I make my way up to the house and knock loudly on the door.

No answer.

I knock again, my fist curling this time to give maximum impact when it connects with the wood.

But still no answer.

I’m starting to think Daniel has led me off on a happy little trip to the middle of nowhere, and that this really isn’t Libby’s house. Things don’t seem to be stacking up.

I tilt my head to the side and look at the windows, wondering if I can try and catch a glimpse inside. The blinds are open in the living room, so I’d only have to peek through and check.

Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway, as I cross over the grass and walk up to the window. I brace my hands on the glass and lean forward to get a good view.

And that’s when I see it.

I clear my throat and immediately step back. The feeling of guilt starts to wash over me, but it’s not alone. It’s mixed with something else.

Surprise.

Maybe even a little relief?

My mouth grows dry and I feel my heart thudding under my shirt. Realisation settles over me like the gusty breeze that’s just blown over my face. It’s sudden and unexpected, yet I welcome it with open arms to cool my heated skin.

It feels good.

So good.

A grin spreads across my lips, and I know my eyes are wide and gleaming. It seems too good to be true. I lean back into the window and focus properly. And that’s when I realise this is far from a game.

Spread across the coffee table and piled on top of each other are lots and lots of photos. They are all pictures of me and Libby from what I can see, varying from various dates and occasions. There is also an old biscuit tin on the floor that seems to hold more; a small ring box even. It is slightly ajar and I can just about see a sparkle of cheap silver peeking out from within the plastic box.

Her rings.

She
actually
kept her rings.

Just seeing everything spread out like that brings back memories for me. There were so many I’ve forgotten over the years, but suddenly they hit me in one forceful blow, knocking the wind out of my lungs and catching me off guard.

Just seeing those photos sitting there has me feeling nostalgic. The pictures tell a story when pieced together.

It’s the story of us.

“A-Alex?”

I back away from the window and turn to the end of the drive where Libby stands with a carrier bag in her hand. She looks surprised. Her face puzzled at why I’m standing in her front garden, my body leaning toward her living room window.

But I don’t say anything and I head straight for her. My body is burning from the overwhelming relief releasing from my chest. It all hits me in one go. Everything I’ve struggled through seems to charge forward and take hold of me all at once.

“Come here.” I wrap my arms tightly around her waist and pull her toward me. My lips descend without warning and capture her mouth with an explosion of possession.

My Libby.

She gasps at the assault, the carrier bag sliding from her grasp and hitting the ground between us with a thud. She winds her hands around my neck and returns the kiss with a frenzied passion that sets my insides alight.

“You taste so sweet,” I whisper, swiping my tongue across her lower lip.

“I want to taste you, too.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. As soon as she says that, my hands drift to the backs of her thighs, and I hoist her up against me. Libby wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her up the drive to the front door, leaving the carrier bag where it fell on the pavement, neither of us actually caring to pick it up. All that is on our minds is ... us.

Using my foot, I kick the front door closed behind us and pin Libby to the wall in the hallway. Her back barely hits the plaster before I attack her again, my mouth aiming for the pressure point, just behind her ear.

I hear the key drop to the floor and a soft sigh escaping her lips when I kiss the side of her neck and trail my mouth along the line of her jaw.

Every inch of her is complete perfection, and I feel my dick swelling rapidly in my trousers. I’m confined and straining within seconds, a grimace now visible on my face from the pressure. This is too painful. I literally feel as if I’m about to explode.

Pulling Libby away from the wall, I carry her into the living room and put her down on the sofa. But immediately, she goes for my belt, unbuckling me and pulling my trousers and boxer briefs down my legs, allowing my dick to spring free and the pressure to subside, a little.

“Shit.”

I hiss through gritted teeth when she pulls me into her mouth unexpectedly and swipes her tongue across the head of my dick. My thighs clench of their own accord, and I find myself pulling her hair away from her face and holding it on top of her head as I gently thrust my hips toward her, slowly but surely fucking those deliciously plump, pink lips.

“Jesus, Libby,” I choke when she sucks me into the back of her throat. She pushes as far as she can before her gag reflex kicks in, and I feel her mouth tense around me.

I’m not going to last like this.

My dick is about ready to rip through her like a category five tornado, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold back.

“Libby ...” My warning is a breathless groan that only spurs her on further. She lifts her hand to my balls and cradles them within her soft fingertips, massaging them to the point of no return.