“There was precious little to start with,” she said simply, thinking of Ben”s cold eyes, and colder hands. Fit only to be shut up, and forgotten.
“What happened?”
“To Ben? He was killed.”
“How?” Did his voice waver a little?
“Very easily.” She had risen from the bed, and was standing by the window. Strong summer light carved its way through the slats of the blind, ridges of shadow and sunlight charting the contours of her face.
“You did it.”
“Yes.” He had taught her to be plain. “Yes, I did it.”
He had taught her an economy of threat too. “Leave me, and I”ll do the same again.”
He shook his head. “Never. You wouldn’t dare.”
He was standing in front of her now.
“We must understand each other, J. I am powerful and I am pure. Do you see? My public face isn’t even touched by a glimmer of scandal. I could afford a mistress, a dozen mistresses, to be revealed. But a murderess? No, that would spoil my life.”
“Is he blackmailing you? This Lyndon?”
He stared at the day through the blinds, with a crippled look on his face. There was a twitch in the nerves of his cheek, under his left eye.
“Yes, if you must know,” he said in a dead voice. “The bastard has me for all I’m worth.”
“I see.”
“And if he can guess, so can others. You understand?”
“I’m strong: you’re strong. We can twist them around our little fingers.”
“No.”
“Yes! I have skills, Titus.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You will know,” she said.
She looked at him, taking hold of his hands without touching him. He watched, all astonished eyes, as his unwilling hands were raised to touch her face, to stroke her hair with the fondest of gestures. She made him run his trembling fingers across her breasts, taking them with more ardour than he could summon on his own initiative.
“You are always too tentative, Titus,” she said, making him paw her almost to the point of bruising. “This is how I like it.” Now his hands were lower, fetching out a different look from her face. Tides were moving over it, she was all alive —”Deeper —”
His finger intruded, his thumb stroked.
“I like that, Titus. Why can’t you do that to me without me demanding?”
He blushed. He didn’t like to talk about what they did together. She coaxed him deeper, whispering.
“I won’t break, you know. Virginia may be Dresden china, I’m not. I want feeling; I want something that I can remember you by when I’m not with you. Nothing is everlasting, is it? But I want something to keep me warm through the night.”
He was sinking to his knees, his hands kept, by her design, on her and in her, still roving like two lustful crabs. His body was awash with sweat. It was, she thought, the first time she’d ever seen him sweat.
“Don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
“I could wipe you out.” Wipe, she thought, then put the image out of her mind before she did him some harm.
“I know. I know,” he said. “You can kill me easily.”
He was crying. My God, she thought, the great man is at my feet, sobbing like a baby. What can I learn of power from this puerile performance? She plucked the tears off his cheeks, using rather more strength than the task required. His skin reddened under her gaze.
“Let me be, J. I can’t help you. I’m useless to you.”
It was true. He was absolutely useless. Contemptuously, she let his hands go. They fell limply by his sides.
“Don’t ever try and find me, Titus. You understand? Don’t ever send your minions after me to preserve your reputation, because I will be more merciless than you’ve ever been.”
He said nothing; just knelt there, facing the window, while she washed her face, drank the coffee they’d ordered, and left.
Lyndon was surprised to find the door of his office ajar. It was only seven-thirty-six. None of the secretaries would be in for another hour. Clearly one of the cleaners had been remiss, leaving the door unlocked. He’d find out who: sack her.