Mendacious (6 page)

Following Libby out of the boardroom, I’ve got a mixture of feelings brewing in the pit of my stomach. Things are about to get ugly. It was obvious she was either going to be at a loss over the whole thing, or completely fucking pissed at me. And at the minute, I’d say she’s a bit of both.

Reaching the end of yet another corridor, I spot the young girl from earlier working at a small glass desk. She jumps up at the sound of our approaching footsteps and nods uncertainly. “Do you need me to do anything before I leave?” she asks, holding her hands neatly in front of her.

“Just go home,” Libby barks, walking straight past the girl and through a set of frosted glass doors. “It’s late and I need some privacy.”

Is she pissy with her assistant because of me?

Raising my eyebrows, I follow behind into what I assume is her office. It’s simple and clinical like the rest of the building, and lacking any sense of personality. There are no photos or plants, just glass furniture and white leather which seems to be the norm here.

Libby waits for the door to close behind me before she attacks with her sharp, acid tongue. “What the hell are you doing here, Alex?” she demands at the top of her voice, throwing her hands wildly in the air in some sort of ‘I’m angry’ stance that does nothing but entertain me.

Folding my arms across my chest, I cock my head to the side with a devilish smirk. “You don’t sound like you’re happy to see me?”

“I’m not. Don’t play games with me. Tell me what you’re playing at, Alex?”

I feign a wounded heart and clutch my hand to my chest. “You’re killing me here, Libby.”

She takes the bait and it does nothing but piss her off more. “You,” she screeches, pointing a finger in my direction, “need to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at. Y-You can’t—”

“Can’t what, hey? Invest in your company and take responsibility for overseeing the expansion?” I ask with amusement. “It’s too late, sweetheart. The deal’s done and dusted. You signed the contract. A L Investments are now a major stakeholder in your little lingerie company. And guess what? There’s fuck all you can do about it.”

“I-Impossible.” Her face scrunches as she stammers through her words. “I’m going to call my solicitor. She’ll fix this mess.” Libby turns and picks up the landline from her desk.

“Don’t count on it,” I sneer. “Do you seriously think I’d give you an easy way out? The forfeit on this deal alone is about double the investment we’re putting in, and I know for a fact you don’t have that kind of money. So guess what ... you’re kind of fucked.”

Libby holds the phone in her hand and looks over her shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?” The tone of her voice softens and she sounds almost desperate all of a sudden. “Of all the businesses to choose from, why did you pick mine?”

The question stays in my head for a couple of seconds and I ponder my answers carefully.

Because you deserve to suffer?

Because my life can’t move on?

Because I want to run you into the ground?

“It’s simple. I’ve got money and it’s what I do. I didn’t handpick you from a pile. It’s purely business here.”

Surprise lightens my features and I stun myself with my own bullshit comments, hoping that she’ll eat them up as easily as my own thoughts did.

“I-I would never have signed that contract if I’d known. Is that why you sent Benedict to the meetings instead?” She slams the phone back into the cradle and turns. “You played me, Alex.”

“It’s just business.”

And revenge.

But I don’t let that bit slip out. My lies are running away with me and I feel like I’m going to turn into fucking Pinocchio any second.

She scoffs. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want, but the deal is done. You need to get used to seeing me, because I don’t plan on going
anywhere
.” I turn and head for the door, but stop just before leaving. “You’d better be ready for this, Libby.”

And on that note, I open the door and leave her alone. I’ve won the first game, but I know the others won’t be so easy. It’s going to be a challenge, but I’m prepared to go to war over this ... and I don’t plan on taking any prisoners. Not one. I’ve got the upper hand for now; I’ll just have to wait to make my next move.

~

Picking up my menu, I try and disguise my blatant staring. Coincidentally, Libby was seated next to Daniel and right in my line of sight around the large, round table in the small Greek restaurant one of the directors recommended.

Libby doesn’t like Greek. I had been waiting for her to complain as soon as I accepted the suggestion, but she didn’t. Instead, she’s stayed quiet; her silence bothering me more than it probably should be.

Following our little blow-out in her office, I’ve wanted more than anything to get inside that head of hers to see what she is thinking.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

I divert my eyes back to the menu and sense Libby turning her gaze on me. “I’ll just have a bottle of beer,” I say to the waitress, knowing full well I’m not going to drink it. Alcohol and succeeding don’t mix; I can’t let my guard down. As per my fifth rule, I expect professionalism at all times, and that includes me.

“Beer?” Benedict murmurs when the waitress moves around the table taking orders. “Not like you to have a bottle of beer?”

I’m ready to ram my fist down his throat. “Why don’t you shut the hell up?” I snap under my breath, trying not to make a scene. This bastard doesn’t miss a trick and it pisses me the hell off.

“So what did you think of the presentation?” Daniel pipes up. “Some good ideas, right? Maybe we can sit down and go through it together?”

I weigh up the options, deciding that we may as well involve Libby as another way of getting to her. “Okay.” I nod and sign myself up for another round of torture with him. “My assistant, Kelly, will be in touch to arrange a meeting with you both,” I reply, switching my eyes back to the menu.

“I’m going to quickly nip to the loo,” I hear Libby mumbling to Daniel a few seconds later.

My menu finds its way back on the table as I watch their exchange. Libby places her hand on Daniel’s shoulder and squeezes gently. In return, he offers her a sweet smile and a brief caress of his fingers against the curve of her waist.

“Lib—Sorry, Elizabeth,” he calls out after she’s walked away. “Do you want me to order for you?”

Well, this was completely unexpected.

It looks as if our Libby and Daniel might have something going on. Honestly, I’m surprised. He’s not the type of guy I thought she’d go for, not that I have any right to judge.

Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest and look at Daniel. While he’s too busy watching Libby’s legs disappear toward the toilet, I take my opportunity and look at him a little closer.

He’s blonde and I’m brown.

He’s got green eyes and mine are hazel.

We are complete opposites. Even his build is different to mine. One of my quads alone is probably double the size of his put together. The bloke is a fucking pansy. Why would Libby be interested in someone like this?

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Benedict mutters, clearly reading the expression on my face.

I grit my teeth. “How can I not?” This fucking plan just got
way
harder than it already was. Not only am I a bastard, but now I’m a bastard that stoops as low as stealing another man’s girlfriend.

“They could just be close work colleagues for all you know.” Benedict tries to reassure me, but I’m too busy sinking in my own vile pit of jealousy.

The bitch actually moved on and found somebody else. It’s obvious in her world nobody else matters. She’s only looking out for herself ... just like she always did.

Fuck the fact I’ve been living in a virtual hell for seven long fucking years after she stabbed me in the back and left. The pulse in my neck throbs and I fear it’s about to explode. I’m getting worked up the more I think about it. This bitch didn’t give a shit about me, ever.

It’s time for the lessons in this game to begin. She needs to learn what happens when you fuck around with people. My plan is solidified. Libby’s going to regret the day she fucked me over. I’m going to break every little piece of her until there’s nothing left but an empty shell.

I’ve tried to read this new proposal at least five times in the last hour, but I just can’t concentrate. My mind keeps shifting back to yesterday and seeing Libby.

The damn girl looked much better than expected. I wanted her to look haggard, but instead disappointment festers in my gut at how fresh and happy she seemed, of course until her eyes locked with mine.

But it still pisses me the hell off. She doesn’t deserve to be doing well. Well, I take that back, because she’s got a good business brain on her, at least. But as for the fucking pansy bloke she’s stringing along ...

“Knock! Knock!” Sean sticks his head inside my office, notices I’m not on the phone and comes barging in. As usual, he’s got his damn phone glued to his hand and he takes a seat in front of my desk. “So, what happened yesterday with the meeting? Benedict told me you lost your shit. What the hell happened?” He’s looking at me seriously, not an element of humour in his voice at all.

“Watch your fucking tone,” I snap, putting down the paper. “And nothing happened. It went smoothly.” There was no point telling him about the battle I had with Libby. That’s between the two of us, and only adding fuel to the fire.

Sean smirks. “Someone’s being a bit touchy. I take it you met Daniel then?”

“Yes.”

“Nice bloke, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“I think he’s punching above his weight.”

A chuckle escapes my lips. “With Libby? Of course he fucking is. I haven’t got a clue what she sees in that wimpy piece of shit, but he’s a lucky son of a bitch to have landed her.”

“It’s touched a nerve.”

“Fuck off,” I grumble, wrinkling my brow. “I was just surprised. Don’t act as if this is something bigger.” I’m getting defensive, but the bastard is baiting me. “Why don’t we find one of your ex-girlfriends and see who they’re fucking lately?” 

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m just curious and that,” he mutters.

“Did you hear any more from Benedict?” Changing the subject, I pick up a glass of water and take a couple of sips. Water is my go to remedy when I’m stressed.

“Well, he said they were impressed with you guys. He also mentioned some good ideas from their presentation—”

“I’m not using
any
of their ideas,” I interrupt him. “This expansion is gonna be my baby. I won’t take input from anyone but my team.”

“We might have to consider some of them though, Alex. Benedict said their employment proposal was decent. Remember, we’re gonna need staff for the new expansion, so with them needing to make cuts, we can invest some of those people in the retail shops?”

It’s a good idea. I’d actually heard that suggestion yesterday before my brain had shutdown from boredom. But I can’t use it in my plan for Libby’s company. Part of my plan when I takeover is to cut almost fifty percent of the staff. I can’t let that little secret out yet because I know it’ll cause uproar, but it’s the only way I’m going to make a significant profit on this thing regardless of the proposed forecasts.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply, closing off the conversation.

Sean shakes his head. “Sure you will.”

Leaning forward, I press the button for my intercom and call Kelly into my office. She appears in the doorway a couple of seconds later.

“Have you arranged another meeting over at SB yet, and did you get hold of Jack regarding the Williamson deal?” I only asked her to do it a couple of hours ago, but I want to get back over there to sort stuff out. The early bird catches the worm, right?

“Jack passed me the Williamson papers, and they are on your desk. I’ve also booked your meeting at SB, Alex. The secretary has you down for an appointment tomorrow morning at ten. Would you like to take the car from your flat or are you driving?” Kelly asks, pushing her reading glasses further onto her nose.

“I’ll drive myself. Tell Benedict I won’t need him attending either.” I nod and dismiss Kelly back to her desk.

“Driving?” Sean raises a curious eyebrow.

“Yes. And your point is?”

“Nothing,” he replies with a smirk.

This bastard thinks I’m up to something, but it has nothing to do with him even if I am. Nobody gets to meddle in my business.

My eyes flick to my watch. “Are we done here?” I ask, getting to my feet and closing the lid on my laptop. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“A date?” His eyes flash with curiosity.

“Sean, get the hell out my office.”

~

Killing the ignition, I unbuckle my seat belt, grab the bouquet of flowers from my passenger seat and get out of the car. Surprisingly, the place is busy for a Tuesday evening.

Walking up to the automatic doors, I step into the entrance foyer and flash my visitors pass to the porter. Once I’ve cleared the authorisation panel with my identity card, I head straight for the stairs. No point being lazy and taking the lift for only two flights.

It only takes a minute before I’m on the second floor and heading straight for room twenty-eight. I’ve made this trip so many times over the last few years, but not so much in the last month or two. Flowers are my usual present to hide whatever guilt I’m harbouring.

Stopping outside the room, I bring my hand up and lightly tap the door a few times before going in.

“And there she is,” I grin, placing the bouquet of flowers on the bed and bending down to kiss my grandmother’s cheek. “Goopie, I missed you. Sorry I’ve been a bad grandson lately. There have been some big deals happening at work.”

I take a seat next to the bed and grasp her frail, wrinkled hand. She’s looking paler than normal. They’ve got her on a continuous drip now to try and keep the fluids going into her body, but it doesn’t look good at all.

In fact, I feel like an arsehole. Work has come before my grandmother, which shouldn’t be the case. Alice had mentioned her weakening over the last few weeks, but I hadn’t thought it’d be this bad.

Her eyes flicker open slightly and she squeezes my hand. “It’s lovely to see you, Alexander.” She beams from ear to ear and tries to sit up in bed.

“Don’t strain yourself. I’ll come to you,” I say, edging the chair close so I’m in her line of sight. “I bought you some flowers. Do you like them?” I grab the bouquet and lift them closer.

“Beautiful. Thank you, darling.” She sniffs them and fixes me with a cheery smile. “D-Did you come on your own today?” Her neck twists and she tries to look toward the door.

“It’s just me today, Goopie. I know Mum and Alice have been over a few times this week, so I said I’d come today.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.”

“Not really. I’ve barely seen you in the last month. What have you been watching on television lately? Anything good? How’s Jasper doing?” I ask, noticing she’s not listening. “What are you looking at?” My eyes follow her line of sight to the photo frame on the cabinet next to the door.

“Why didn’t you bring Libby with you?” Her voice is a weak and fragile whisper.

Closing my eyes, I sigh and squeeze her hand gently. “Goopie ... I’m not married to Libby anymore. We got a divorce, remember?”

“What do you mean?” A hacking cough wracks her frail form.

“Shh,” I say trying to calm her down. My fingers continue to squeeze her hand, but she’s not looking at me. The coughing escalates until I’m left with no choice but put an oxygen mask over her face.

And now I feel even worse than before. I’m responsible for making my grandmother feel like shit. Yeah, I’m a dickhead.

After ten or so minutes of watching her breathe in the oxygen, she decides to take off her own mask. Putting it on the side, she reaches for a mint humbug and offers one to me, which I can’t help but take. My weakness is my sweet tooth.

“Thanks.” I take it from her and she grabs another for herself. “Where’s Jasper?” I ask again to change the subject.

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Jasper will be here soon to watch Home & Away with me,” she replies, popping the sweet in her mouth. “You’ll see him soon.”

Jasper is an old gentleman who lives a few doors down in the nursing home. When he met my grandmother the first day she came to stay, they connected as if they’d known each other for years. It was nice. My gramps died in his early sixties, so my grandmother had been alone for a long time.

“That’s alright. I’ll head off soon if he’s coming to see you. I don’t want to interfere or anything. I’ll be back next week. How about we go for a walk out in the gardens?” I nod at the wheelchair in the corner of the room. “Would you like that?”

She nods slowly, but I’m not sure my words are sinking in. There’s a look of confusion on her face and I know what she’s about to say.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, Alexander.” Her eyes connect with mine and she smiles happily. “When did you get here? Did you bring Libby with you today?”

My lips force a smile, but I’m breaking apart inside. This kills me each time I come and see her. Our ten minute conversation has just gone. Vanished. Like a puff of smoke it’s evaporated into the air.

My grandmother is eighty-seven years old and has suffered with Alzheimer's disease for the last six years. It started mildly with some slight memory loss, but it’s progressed rapidly over the years.

It’s been hard on the family, but I couldn’t even imagine the struggle my Goopie is living through. She’s slowly forgetting her life and we can’t do anything to stop it.

“Alexander, where’s Libby?” she presses me again.

Her eyes are drawn back to the cabinet next to the door and the photo that sits there of me and Libby on our wedding day. It’s the only one I haven’t been able to get rid of since my divorce. She won’t let me take it. There aren’t many things that she still remembers, but my wedding day is definitely one of them. I might even go as far as saying it’s the one memory of me that she has left, so naturally I feel like a failure.

Fuck the company I’ve grown with my bare hands over the years, because my grandmother doesn’t even know it exists, or that it pays for her nursing home fees every month. It doesn’t matter. In her eyes, I’m still happily married to Libby. We don’t have any problems and my wife loves me as much as the day we were married. But I suppose in the bigger picture, even that’s debateable now.

“I want to see Libby. Why didn’t you bring her to see me today? Is she feeling poorly? You’d better make sure you’re looking after her. If she’s going to be carrying my great-grandchild, then you keep her happy.” She’s wittering away to herself as she reaches for the television remote. “What time is it?”

“Almost six,” I say again quietly.

“Oooh,” she smiles. “Jasper will be here to watch Home & Away with me in a minute.”

And that’s my cue to leave.

We’re starting our earlier conversation again, and I can’t put on a brave face when it’s fucking killing me inside. This woman has been my life for thirty years, and I can’t sit here and watch her decline like this.

“Goopie,” I croak. “I’m gonna head off, okay?” Getting up from the chair, I lean over and plant a kiss against her cheek. “Love you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, darling,” she calls as I step into the hall and close the door behind me.

“Shit.” I sigh and lean against the wall.

“Is everything alright?”

I look at the older nurse hovering nearby. “I’m fine. It’s just becoming a struggle each time I come and see her,” I confess.

“It’s only going to get harder I’m afraid. She’s deteriorating rapidly, so she needs the support right now.” The nurse comes forward and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll pop in and see how she’s doing. The evenings have been quite difficult on her since Mr. Duncan passed away last month.”

She puts her hand on the door to my grandmother’s room, but I stop her quickly. “What did you say?”

The nurse notices the obvious surprise on my face. “You didn’t know? I’m very sorry, but Mr. Duncan passed away in his sleep about a month ago.”

I’m in complete shock. She nods and dismisses herself, leaving me alone to digest the news. I feel like shit for not being here for my grandmother, and I know I have to make changes.

My priorities are all wrong.

~

Sitting in my living room a few hours later with half a bottle of whiskey, I realise what a complete and utter waster I’ve become. Drowning my sorrows with alcohol isn’t the answer, but it’s pretty fucking satisfying. The fiery liquid is enough for me to block how pathetic my life feels at the minute.

No girlfriend.

No wife.

One failed marriage.

The whiskey tumbler comes back to my lips, and without hesitating, I drain its contents. It burns the back of my throat, scorching a welcome blaze straight to the pit of my stomach.

I’ve been here before.

This loathing self-pity that I won’t be rid of until I’ve sought out and achieved my revenge.

My fist slams against the coffee table. I can’t stop my mind from tormenting me with images of Libby. Each time I close my fucking eyes she’s there. Those pretty irises, her sparkling smile, and her pouty lips; they’ve never left the confines of my head. I’m haunted on a daily basis by the woman who decided I wasn’t good enough. A permanent scar etched across the forefront of my brain.