The Endgame (2 page)

‘Hi Andrew,’ Lisa smiled at him as he held her door open.

‘Good evening, Miss Matthews,’ he replied, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. She had given up telling him to call her by her first name. No matter how often she said it, he stubbornly insisted on addressing her formally as ‘Miss Matthews’, and he never made eye contact with her. She suspected that was Mark’s doing.

‘Thanks,’ she said as Andrew closed her door and Mark slid in beside her from the other side.

Andrew obviously already had instructions as to where they were going, because he drove off without another word.

‘That dress is stunning on you, Lisa,’ Mark said, smiling across at her as he sat back against the plush leather upholstery. He reached across and slid a hand up her bare thigh. ‘You look so good in clothes – though not as good as you look out of them, obviously,’ he added with a wolfish smile.

Lisa blushed and glanced at Andrew, but he was staring ahead, concentrating on the road, discreetly affecting deafness.

‘I’m glad I can take you out again and show you off,’ Mark continued, squeezing her thigh possessively.

Lisa swallowed her bile and gave him a smooth, unruffled smile. ‘Me too,’ she said softly, looking lovingly at him from under her lashes. She covered his hand with hers.

‘You should be proud of yourself,’ he said, his eyes raking over her body. ‘I know it’s been hard work sometimes, but it’s paid off. You look amazing.’

‘I only did it for you,’ she said. That at least was true. She had starved and sweated herself down to a rakishly thin size zero for Mark’s sake. She had never been unhappy with her body before she met him. Though she hadn’t been as slight as she was now, she had always been slim. But Mark demanded perfection in all things, and his girlfriend was no exception – and to him a supermodel size zero was the ideal female figure.

So that was what she had aspired to. She had been so in love, so desperate to please him, and she had been willing to do whatever it took. When they first got together, he had eyes only for her, and he constantly told her how beautiful and sexy she was. But after a while, the jibes started to creep in – little casual remarks about her appearance that undermined her confidence; admiring comments about other women that left her feeling inadequate and undesirable by comparison. When she put on a few pounds after quitting work at his gallery, his criticism had become harsh and unrelenting. Though she was still by no means fat, he began badgering her about her weight constantly, accusing her of letting herself go now that she was sure of him. He no longer told her she looked attractive when she got dressed up for a night out, and the desire she used to see in his eyes faded. Eventually, they had stopped going out altogether, and she knew it was because he was ashamed of her.

He told her she was fat so often that she had started to believe it. She felt overweight and unattractive, dissatisfied with what she saw in the mirror. Consumed by fear that Mark would stop loving her, she had become anxious and insecure. She felt him withdrawing from her, and she was terrified of losing him. Desperate to win back his approval and turn herself into his ideal woman, she had embarked on a punishing diet and exercise regime.

Mark had helped her then. Pleased that she was making an effort, he had bought her a membership at an exclusive gym, hired a personal trainer for her, and made sure she stuck to her strict low-carb diet by monitoring what she ate.

And she had done it. She had become Mark’s image of perfection. But it had been a hollow victory. Because she had quickly realised that she would never be secure in a love that was so conditional, so easily withheld. Now, instead of being proud, she felt ashamed that she had let him manipulate her so thoroughly, and in the process had become a person she didn’t respect very much.

‘I just wanted what’s best for you – even if it does mean I’ll have to fight off other men for you now,’ he added with a wry smile. ‘Because they’re all going to want you, Lisa.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anyone else – only you.’

He took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him, gazing adoringly into her eyes. ‘I love you so much, baby. You’re everything to me – you know that, don’t you?’

‘I know,’ she said, forcing herself not to flinch from the force of his words. A year ago they would have meant everything to her. Now they filled her with dread.

‘I can’t live without you.’

‘You don’t have to,’ she said, leaning in to kiss him because she couldn’t bear the intensity in his eyes any longer.

He eventually pulled away with a reluctant sigh. ‘I want nothing more than to fuck you right now, here in the car, but we don’t want to mess up your dress.’

She affected a regretful smile as she smoothed her hair.

‘But later ...’ he said.

Lisa turned away and stared unseeingly out the window. It was going to be a long night.

After a short journey, Andrew pulled up in front of a large, hacienda-style house, with a white render facade, metal grillwork at the windows and a red-tiled mission-style roof. It was a striking building, and Lisa presumed Grayson Fielding had designed it himself. As they walked up the short drive, she immediately felt intimidated by the imposing surroundings, the stylish sophistication of the house doing nothing to dispel her nerves. She fought the urge to turn and run as they stood on the doorstep and Mark rang the bell.

She felt more out of her depth than ever when the door was opened by a very chic and stunningly beautiful woman. Tall and slender with caramel-coloured skin and a thick mane of glossy black hair that ran in a silky river halfway down her back, she looked like she had stepped straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. This must be Isabel, Lisa decided – she could see why Mark would admire her so much. Her make-up was perfect, her skin flawless, and her silver sequinned dress was understated and elegant. Lisa immediately felt dowdy in comparison. No amount of grooming and pampering could make her a match for this goddess.

‘Hello, Mark. And you must be Lisa.’ She spoke with a slight accent that Lisa guessed was Spanish or Latin American. ‘Come in.’

Lisa was instantly reassured by the genuine warmth of Isabel’s smile as she ushered them inside, and she felt herself relax a little as they stepped into a tiled, double height entrance hall.

‘It’s lovely to see you, Mark.’ Isabel kissed him on both cheeks, and he gave her the flowers they’d brought.

‘Thank you – they’re beautiful,’ she said, taking them from him. ‘And you’ve brought dessert,’ she murmured, glancing at Lisa. ‘I approve.’

Lisa was puzzled by the remark. They had only brought the flowers.

Isabel turned to her then. ‘Welcome,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Isabel. I’m very glad you’ve come.’

‘Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you.’ Lisa took her hand and Isabel leaned in to kiss her cheek in a cloud of subtle perfume. She even smelled amazing.

Then she held Lisa at arm’s length, frankly looking her up and down. ‘Grayson will be pleased,’ she said to Mark, and he gave her a knowing smirk that Lisa found very disconcerting. ‘He’s very excited to meet you,’ she said to Lisa with a friendly smile.

Lisa presumed she was just being polite. She couldn’t imagine why Grayson Fielding would be remotely excited about meeting
her
. As if summoned by his name, a tall man appeared at the other end of the hall. Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him walk towards them. He was quite simply the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Tall and lean, he had a strong, square jaw, wide intensely blue eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, a thick mop of messy, copper-coloured hair and a full sensuous mouth that immediately made Lisa think of kissing. He was wearing a pair of black suit trousers and a crisp white shirt open at the collar, the sleeves rolled back to reveal strong, tanned forearms. As he joined them, his lips curved in a smile.

Isabel made the introductions, and Grayson and Mark shook hands. Lisa felt overwhelmed when Grayson turned his attention to her.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Lisa,’ he said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. He smelled gorgeous, of sandalwood and spice, and she felt off balance at the touch of his soft, warm lips and the rasp of his stubble against her skin, shocked by the strength of her reaction to someone she had just met. She closed her eyes, fighting the ridiculous urge to rub against him like a cat.

‘Let me take your coat,’ he said as he pulled back, his eyes intent on her face.

‘Thanks.’ She unbuttoned her coat self-consciously, aware of his gaze on her the whole time. He turned her around to help her out of it, peeling it off slowly as if he were unwrapping a gift. She stifled a shiver as his hands slid down her bare arms. When he had hung the coat on a stand in the hall, he turned to her again, his eyes openly assessing as they swept over her body, checking her out as blatantly as Isabel had done.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said, his voice thick and husky.

Lisa blushed under his heated gaze. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice came out as barely a whisper, so unnerved was she by this beautiful man and his strange manner.

‘I’m very much looking forward to ... getting to know you better,’ he said with a crooked smile.

‘Glad you decided to do this now, aren’t you?’ Isabel said to him with a teasing look.

‘Very,’ Grayson told her, his gaze flicking to her briefly.

‘I think we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight,’ Isabel said, her eyes glittering excitedly as she looked at each of them in turn. ‘Let’s go through and get the party started.’ She linked Mark’s arm and led the way down the hall.

Grayson followed behind with Lisa, his warm hand on the bare skin of her back, right at the base of her spine, feeling incongruously intimate. Once more Lisa wished she was wearing something less revealing. They were ushered into a spacious dining room in the same Spanish colonial style as the entrance, with wooden ceiling beams and a terracotta-tiled floor, the arched windows decorated with ornate ironwork that was echoed in the dramatic wrought iron chandelier that hung over the table. It was a beautiful room – unmistakeably masculine, but still with a warm, homely feel that immediately made Lisa feel comfortable, in contrast to the starkly modern minimalism of Mark’s house, where she still never felt truly at home. A long dining table was set for four, a row of flickering candles in the centre casting a warm, golden glow over the polished wood and glinting off the silverware and crystal.

‘What a beautiful room,’ she exclaimed. ‘You have a lovely home.’

‘Thank you,’ Grayson smiled as he pulled out a chair for her.

Isabel served the food, while Grayson poured wine. Then he sat beside her, with Mark and Isabel opposite. The starter was a crab and asparagus salad, wonderfully light and delicate, and the white wine was crisp and cold.

‘This is delicious,’ Lisa told Isabel.

‘Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit,’ she said, with a smile at Grayson. ‘We did it all together.’

‘Oh.’ It must be nice, she thought with a pang, to have a boyfriend who cooked with you. She remembered when she used to cook with her grandmother, how they had chatted and laughed as they worked. It made the simple domestic tasks fun when you had someone to share them with. She missed having that kind of companionship.

‘Isabel is solely responsible for making everything look so beautiful, though,’ Grayson said. ‘She has an artist’s touch.’

‘What sort of art do you do?’ Lisa asked her.

‘Mostly sculpture. But I’ve been doing a little painting recently too.’

Lisa had noticed a couple of very striking pieces when they entered the room. ‘Are these yours?’ she asked Isabel, nodding at them.

‘Yes,’ Isabel smiled. ‘Grayson is my biggest fan.’

‘And what do you do, Lisa?’ Grayson asked her, looking at her again with that intense focus.

‘Oh, I’m –‘ It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was an artist too, but she pulled herself up. Mark didn’t like her to talk about her art and he would mock her if she ever referred to herself as an artist now. The idea that she might still think of herself that way was laughable to him. ‘I don’t work at the moment,’ she said instead.

‘Oh?’ Isabel seemed surprised. Lisa was used to that reaction – it was unusual for a woman of her age with no children not to work.

‘Lisa has a full-time job looking after me and the house,’ Mark said, smiling at her indulgently. ‘She doesn’t need to work. I keep her in the luxury to which she’s accustomed.’

Lisa blushed, feeling foolish. He made her sound like a kept woman, just a decorative adjunct to his life with no purpose of her own. But then, she reflected, it was true – that was what she had let herself become.

‘What did you do before?’ Grayson asked.

‘I worked in Mark’s gallery for a while – just admin stuff,’ she shrugged.

‘Ah, so that’s where you two met?’ Isabel asked, glancing between her and Mark.

‘No, we met when I was at college.’