Beautiful Liar (25 page)

As we were talking, I felt someone's eyes on me. I looked up and saw Alex sitting with his group in one of the booths across the room. He was staring directly at us, and for whatever reason, he didn't look happy.

It was the first time I'd seen him since that awful night when he'd humiliated me in front of his friends. Whether he'd been avoiding me, or just hadn't ended up at Destination, I didn't know or care—I'd just been pleased not to have to see him. Until now.

Our eyes held for a moment. Then Alex turned back to Tori, who was sitting next to him, and resumed his conversation.

Giles moved off then, and I went back to my work.

The incident with Alex had taken no more than a few seconds, and I thought nothing of it until later, when I was going on my break. As I walked along the corridor I heard someone behind me. When I looked round, he was there.
Any irritation I felt at him following me died when I saw the expression on his face. He was furious.

“What's going on with you and Giles?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” I turned, and started to walk away. But he moved in front of me, blocking my way.

“Don't take me for a fool. I saw you two together. Tell me—are you screwing him already?”

I could feel the anger coming off him in waves. I couldn't believe his hypocrisy. He'd slept with me, rejected and humiliated me, and now he had the cheek to—what? What was this even? If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed he was jealous.

I was going to explain that I'd handed in my notice, and we'd just been saying our goodbyes, but then I wondered why I should bother. I didn't need to justify myself to him. If Alex had jumped to conclusions about my relationship with Giles, I wasn't about to set him straight.

“What if I am?” I raised my chin in defiance. “I don't see what business it is of yours.” I took a step forward, squaring up to him. “You made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. So why don't you do us both a favour, and leave me alone.”

I turned away, but he grabbed my hand.

“Nina—”

“Don't!” I snatched my hand away. “I don't know what you're trying to do—whether you want to see if I have so
little self-respect that I'll come back to you after you treated me like dirt, just so you can humiliate me again. But if that is it, let me set the record straight—I'm better than that, and I'm better than you. So don't you ever touch me again.”

He stared at me for a long moment. I made sure to hold his gaze. My heart was beating so hard with anger and hurt that I could barely breathe, but I refused to let him see how much he'd affected me. For a second I thought he was going to say something else, but to my relief, he walked away.

I watched him go back inside. Only then could I let out a deep breath.

Something made me follow him, and I saw him return to the booth and slip in beside a pretty blonde, his arm snaking round her shoulder as he leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Her eyes lit up. Whatever he'd said must have done the trick, because a second later, the two of them headed for the door.

My eyes blurred with tears, and I quickly wiped them away. There was no point wasting tears over someone like Alex. He had made it very clear he wasn't interested in me. He was a free agent. As far as I was concerned, he could sleep with whoever the hell he wanted.

But seeing him about to do so didn't stop it from hurting.

“Is Sandra around?”

There was only one person in the estate agent's office, a spotty young man who didn't look old enough to shave, wearing a suit that was a size too large for him. I suspected he was on work experience.

“Sorry, she's already left for the day. Can I help at all?”

I hesitated for a second, wondering if I could trust this somewhat nervous, softly spoken young man. But then I decided what the hell. I was only dropping off my signed copy of the lease. If he couldn't process it, I could always come back tomorrow.

In fact, he turned out to be more competent than he looked. He asked me to take a seat, and for the next ten minutes he went over everything in painstaking detail. I'd pretty much tuned out, when I heard him say, “And we've got the full six weeks' rental deposit paid up front—”

“No, you haven't,” I interrupted.

He looked up in surprise.

“I could only pay four weeks', so Sandra agreed to that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn't sound like Sandra.” He flipped through the paperwork. “No, it's all here. Says paid in full.”

I probably should have let it go there, but something made me want to be clear that everything was all right—I didn't want to assume I had the flat only for it to be taken from me. “I'm telling you, I only paid four weeks'.”

He frowned. “Let me check again . . . Yes,” he said after a moment. “You only paid four weeks', and the other two were paid by a third party. That's where the confusion came from.”

Something in my head clicked. My heart began to beat faster.

“This may sound like an odd question, but what's the name of this ‘third party'?”

“Uh . . .” I could see him hesitating, likely wondering if there was anything amiss in revealing the information. But then he must have come to the realisation that the money was paid on my behalf—so what would it matter? He scanned the documents again. “The payment was made by a Mr. Noble. Mr. Alexander Noble.” He must have seen the shock on my face. “Oh God. Are you all right? What did I say? Can I get you anything?”

Somehow I managed to assure him I was fine. Feeling like I was in a daze, I collected my bag and stumbled from the office.

As I walked along the street, I thought back to how certain I'd been that I wouldn't get the job or the flat—and then miraculously I'd got both. And I remembered Jas's assurances that things weren't as bad as I thought, and her reaction when I'd found out that everything had fallen into place—she hadn't seemed anywhere near as surprised as I'd been. In fact, it had almost felt like she'd been expecting the news.

* * *

“All right, babes?” Jas's voice sang out from the kitchen as I banged the front door shut. “I was just about to stick the kettle on. Do you fancy a cuppa—”

The last word died on her lips as I appeared in the kitchen doorway. The look on my face no doubt said everything.

“You know, don't you?” I nodded, still too mad to speak. She closed her eyes briefly and swore under her breath.

She looked up at me from her seat at the table, her eyes already swimming with tears. “Sit down for a minute, will you? Let me explain.”

But I didn't move from the doorway. Instead, I folded my arms. I'd had enough of everyone betraying me. I'd been right to keep myself closed off over the years. Any time you
trusted someone, they inevitably betrayed you.

“I thought you were my friend, Jas.” My voice was low and controlled as I spoke. It took all my willpower to ignore what seemed to be the genuine anguish on Jas's face. “I thought you hated him, too.”

“I am! I do!”

“Then why are you helping him? And what's the point of all this? That's what I don't get.” It was the question that had been tormenting me all the way to Jas's flat—and it was the one I couldn't answer. What was Alex's angle here? He'd made it clear that he despised me—that I was nothing to him. So why had he paid part of the deposit so I got the flat I wanted? And what had he done to ensure I got the receptionist post at the gym—because I was almost positive that my being offered the job had something to do with him.

I took a step towards Jas. “Just tell me what's going on. Is this some other little game to humiliate me? And you decided to be part of it?”

“God, no! It's nothing like that!”

“Then what is this? Because for the life of me, I don't get it.”

Jas's face crumpled. “Please, babes, don't be mad. There's nothing underhand going on, I swear.” I didn't say anything, and I could see her quaking under my glare. “Look, Alex came up to me at the club the other week. He asked me how you were doing. I was so angry with him I told him everything—how
you were struggling to get a flat and a job, and that it was all his fault. He asked me the details, and, well, I did wonder if he might do something. But honestly I thought, What's the harm? It was the least he could do after the way he treated you. But we weren't in cahoots, or anything like that . . .”

Her eyes were wide and wet, like a puppy's when it knows it's done wrong and is begging for forgiveness. I was inclined to believe her, but right now, I wasn't in the mood to let her off the hook. “Maybe you weren't deliberately colluding with him. But you still should've said something.”

She dropped her eyes, her hands fidgeting on the kitchen table. “I know. And I'm sorry.”

I knew she wanted me to say I forgave her, but I wasn't in the mood. I turned and left the room.

I could hear the scrape of the kitchen chair as Jas followed me out. “I'm really sorry,” she said as she caught up with me at the front door. “Please don't be mad at me.”

I sighed. She sounded so distraught that I had to give her something. “Look, it's not you I'm mad at. It's him.” I spat the last word with all the distaste I could muster.

Jas chewed at her lip. “I know you are, but . . .”

“What?” I could see her hesitate, wondering if she should say what she wanted to. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

“Just that if it's any consolation, I got the feeling that he was doing this because he cared about you.”

I didn't
bother to acknowledge that. Instead, I slammed the door on my way out.

* * *

Standing on the crowded street, I gazed up at the glass-and-chrome building that housed Alex's apartment. When I'd left two weeks earlier, I hadn't expected to see it ever again, and I needed a moment to gather my courage. A man in a suit brushed by me, shooting me a dirty look. Obviously the middle of the pavement wasn't the best place to stand. It was nearly eight in the evening, and while the rush hour had died down, Knightsbridge was the kind of area that was always busy. Shoppers were pouring out of Harrods and Harvey Nicks, and the nearby restaurants and hotels were heaving.

Steeling myself, I walked into the marble lobby. Three beautifully turned-out receptionists sat behind a huge oak desk. Four huge guards stood equally spaced across the floor, on the lookout.

I remembered the code for the lift, and could have let myself up. But I wanted to do this properly, formally. So I got one of the receptionists to call the apartment. Alex was there, so she told me to go straight up.

I stood in the lift, watching the floors light up in turn. I was pleased that I was alone. I was like a prize-fighter before a big bout—every part of me was on high alert. I could hear
my breathing above the bland lift music; feel my fingers drumming against my right thigh, through the woollen material of the smart pencil skirt that I'd worn to impress the estate agent earlier that day.

Finally the lift pinged as it reached its destination—the penthouse. The doors slid open, and taking a deep breath, I stepped out into Alex's hallway.

He was standing in the entrance to the living room, a tumbler of what looked like whisky in his hand.

“Good of you to drop by,” he drawled, as I walked towards him. “Wish you'd let me know, though. I'd have dressed up for the occasion—”

“What the hell do you think you're playing at?” I cut in as I came level with him.

He cocked his head to one side, a smile playing at his lips. “You might need to be a little more specific, darling. It's been a busy couple of weeks—”

“Oh, stop it with these games. I
know
, Alex.”

The humour left his eyes. He took a sip of whisky before answering. “You know what exactly?” He was clearly trying to keep the playfulness in his voice, but I could hear the edge there.

“About the deposit for my flat.”

“Oh, that.” Was it my imagination, or did he look relieved? But what else could he have thought I knew about? Wasn't that enough?

With his usual nonchalance, he turned and walked over to the kitchen. I had no choice but to follow him. I watched as he poured himself another glass of whisky. When he held a glass up for me, I didn't bother to even dignify the offer with a response.

“And what about the job at the gym?” I went on. “Did you have something to do with that, too?”

Alex gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “The owner's a friend. I just had a word with him, said I thought you'd be good at the job.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, trailing an idle finger around the rim of his glass. I somehow resisted the urge to knock the tumbler from his hand. It bugged me that he was acting like this was no big deal, and it was taking all my willpower to keep my emotions in check.

“To be perfectly honest,” he said, stifling a yawn. “You seem to be blowing this all out of proportion. I helped you out, end of story. What else is there to say?”

“I want you to tell me why.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Why I helped you?” I gave a nod. “Does it matter?” I just looked at him, and he sighed, as though the whole conversation was too much trouble for him. He took a sip of whisky. “I suppose I felt sorry for you,” he said finally. “Or maybe I felt guilty. It may even have seemed like the quickest way to get you out of my life. Take your pick from those. It's all the same to me.”

I stared at him for a long moment. The look of boredom on his chiselled face was almost enough to make me turn around and leave. But something stopped me. He was being an arsehole; there was no doubt about it. After what he'd just said, I ought to have gone and never looked back. But somehow I sensed that was exactly what he wanted. It was almost as if he was trying too hard to be a dick.