Fractured Crystal: Sapphires and Submission (23 page)

When she phoned up work, Janice answered.

“Oh dear,” the receptionist said. “Sorry to hear that you’re well. Mark was furious when you didn’t turn up this morning.”

Kris groaned at this. “I’m really sorry. Stomach bug. I was too sick to move this morning, but I will be in tomorrow.”

As she hung up, her phone beeped and she looked down. A message from Daniel. Smiling, she opened it.

“I hope your chastisement doesn’t hurt too much. Shame I didn’t get a memento to keep. D.”

Smirking, she sat back on the sofa and looked at the screen of her phone for a while. She had not bothered to get dressed just yet, and a coquettish look crossed her face. Turning around and stretching her arm out behind her, she clicked a button and took a photograph of herself.

Looking at the image on her screen, she was amused, pleased and slightly shocked. Daniel had not held back much on her, and thick red marks, blacking in some places, crossed her abused buttocks. She knew what he wanted, however, and she immediately sent the image to him. She was more than gratified when, a few seconds later, a new message appeared.

“You know what I want.”

She was less gratified the next day when she went into work. Sitting down somewhat gingerly on her chair, she switched on her computer and waited for it to boot up. This time her phone was kept firmly in her pocket
—
she didn’t want anyone to see the messages she had been sendi
ng and receiving like some over-
sexed teenager. It was precisely one of those little messages, a short video clip of herself that she had hoped would provoke a similar response from Daniel, that she was thinking of when Mark came across to her desk. Looking up, she blushed guiltily.

“Hope you’re feeling better,” he said, testily. “Work fell behind on the Chiado account while you were goofing off.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, expressing false shame while secretly not giving a damn about Mark’s feelings or opinions. “I was sick. I’ll catch up, honest.” She couldn’t believe that the account was that far behind. No doubt he was just looking for any opportunity to be mean to her.

“Come into my office, please,” he said, coldly.

Following him but not really caring, she closed the door behind her. Mark had gone to stand on the other side of the desk and was looking out of the window across Farringdon.

“I recognise that look. I saw it plenty of enough times. Is he good? Did he enjoy fucking his slut?”

“What the...” Kris was genuinely surprised. This had been the last thing she had been expecting. She felt her skin prickling, as it so often had before, but this time there was something different, a protective armour that would encase her for a fight, not to fall back as a victim. Crossing her arms, she thought to herself: You don’t recognise that look, you little prick. I
never
looked like that for you.

Mark half turned to her, his eyes sly and gutless. “We can’t afford fuck ups, not with you fucking around. I’m taking you off Chiado. Don’t know why I even bother to employ you
anymore
.” He looked back down over the street.

“You can’t do this.” Kris’s voice was steel-like and hard. “For God’s sake, Mark. For the first time since I came to work at this bloody place, a job comes in that was made for me.
I can even speak the language, which is more than can be said for anyone else.”

He refused to turn around, though she had the satisfaction of seeing his shoulders tense. He was used to her doing whatever he told her to, but those days were long gone.

“I’ve decided. There’s nothing else to say. I’m the boss, now get out.”

She stood there for a few seconds, wondering whether to launch into a blazing row with him, whether to tell him all about Daniel
—
about how he tied her up and whipped her buttocks before fucking her in the ass, the size of his huge cock stretching her. Her mouth opened slightly at one point then closed, more because she realised that there was a good chance she would offend Daniel.

She did, however, make sure that she slammed the door behind her as she left his office, making Janice and a couple of other members of HBS jump. Fuck ‘em, she growled to herself. So what if they began to prowl around juicy snippets of gossip behind her back. They were nothing
—
and Mark Travis was less than nothing to her now.

Sitting down at her desk again, she reached into her coat and pulled out her phone. There was a message from Daniel, a good-natured continuation of their flirtation by text that had begun the day before. She smiled, but replied that her mood had been soured by her asshole boss. Within minutes, she received another message, asking her for details. With a sigh, she wondered whether to tell him to forget about it, but then decided, with more than a little spite, to tell him that she had been taken off the only job she had been interested in for years, one that involved one of his subsidiary companies.

“Wait,” was the one word response. She frowned at this, but no further explanation was forthcoming.

Half an hour later, Mark emerged from his office. He looked around the floor in a slight daze and, when he caught Kris’s eye he visibly flinched. She was surprised at this and, when he beckoned her, not calling out, she wondered whether to ignore him. Then she thought of Daniel’s cryptic text message. Standing, she straightened her skirt and walked primly to his office.

He did not assume his usual pseudo-masterful position in the room, but instead stood holding the door open and closed it when she had entered, beckoning for her to take a seat and waiting till she was comfortable before sitting down himself.

She was silent, refusing to make any comment until she knew what was going on. “Ah,” he said at last. “I’m sorry about my little outburst earlier. What you... what you do in your own time is entirely your own business. I was just worried about getting on with an important account, that’s all.”

Sure, asshole, she thought. You just can’t stand the thought of any other man fucking me. Still she said nothing.

“Anyway, it was a little misunderstanding. As you say, you’re the best person for the Chiado job. I wouldn’t dream of taking you off it. Just under, ah, a little stress here.” At this, his eyes flickered nervously towards his computer on the desk.

“Really?” she asked, delighted. “That’s great. I’ll get onto it right away.” She paused for a moment, deciding whether she should demand an apology for the vitriol of his outburst, but decided that it probably wasn’t worth it. Her anger had died down and she did not really fancy another outburst.

Nonetheless, as she stood to go, it did occur to her to ask: “Why did you change your mind?”

“Oh,” he replied. “I just spoke in anger. I didn’t mean any of it. Came to my senses, that’s all.”

Kris shrugged. This was going to be the most she would get out of him today, and for the time being that was enough. Before she could leave, however, he called out to her.

“Who is... who is it exactly that you’re seeing at the moment?” he asked. She was sure that she could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

“Just some guy I met.” She smiled at him and closed the door behind her.

“How’
s your art going?”

Kris looked up to where Daniel was standing in the kitchen, preparing a simple supper for the two of them. Over the previous few days, she had been spending more and more time at his apartment in Chelsea and had only returned home once. “Home”. That word was strange to her. Her flat, she increasingly realised, had for some time now just been the place where she lived, and it was hardly surprising that she spent as little time there as possible compared to the luxury available here. Nonetheless, the fact that “home” was still somewhere other than the gleaming penthouse was itself significant. She had the suspicion that this residence was as little a home for Daniel than her own flat was for her. She had even become slightly nostalgic for Comrie, and could understand why, from time to time, her lover withdrew there, far from the madding crowd and all that.

In reply to his question, she grimaced. “It’s not, really.”

He glanced up at her, pausing in his preparations. She always thought this was a rather peculiar foible of Daniel Stone’s
—
one of many. He had a cook, as well as other professionally provided services, but he also liked to make some meals himself. She sometimes wondered why, but as her own cooking was a triumph of necessity over desire, she was also somewhat grateful.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Oh, you know. Work. You.”

“Work sounds like a repetition of your old excuses. I can’t see why I’m to blame, however. I rather liked your depiction of me as a birdman. Some of those drawings were... flattering to say the least. Why don’t you draw here? I can provide you with whatever you want.”

That was true. Her wardrobe had been completely renovated following a delightfully indulgent day shopping, but the idea of drawing or painting in this apartment struck her as wrong. It was perfect in its luxury, but had Daniel not been here it would have been too cold, too clinical. It was a
show home
waiting for the next occupants to arrive.

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “Look at your walls. How can I compete with Hirst, Hockney, Tillmans and all the rest? Each time I come here they’re a slap in the face, a reminder of all my failings.”

His frowned at this and said nothing for a while. “I can have them removed, if you want,” he told her at last.

“No!” Her heart beat a little faster at the thought
—
not because it was what she wanted. That would have filled her with horror, but
her heart beat more quickly
because he had simply considered it. “I love them. Truly I do. But... I don’t know.”

She stood up from the sofa where she had been sitting. She was wearing one of his shirts, and her limbs pleasantly ached from their previous lovemaking. Walking on her bare feet, she crossed into the kitchen and went behind him, her head rising to the middle of his back as she hugged him. “Thank you, though
—
for suggesting it. That’s not what the matter is.”

As they ate, neither spoke for a while. At last, holding his fork in his hand and waving it around like a conductor’s wand, Daniel said: “As for work, you don’t need to do that, you know.”

Kris squirmed slightly in her seat. “I guess not, but...”

“What is it?”

“I need something of my own...” Her words faltered. What she wanted to say was: You’re the guy who walked out on me, remember?

Daniel seemed to recognise her implicit accusation and nodded. He was still watching her intently with his strange, brilliant eyes, and his silence prompted her to continue.

“We’re an item, kind of. I guess. But... but I can’t talk about you, to anyone. I’m scared Daniel. What about if this comes to an end at any moment? What if you get bored of me? What am I left with then?”

He smiled a little sadly at this, and placed his fork down on his plate before placing his hand beneath his chin and staring at her once more.

“I don’t think I can ever get bored of you.”

“Really?” Kris scoffed. “Look, I know, deep down why you were attracted to me
—
at least initially. But I’m a nobody really. There must be plenty of other women in Daniel Stone’s life.”

This made his smile more ironic. “There were, indeed. Lots.” He shrugged. “For a long time women came and went in my life, then I got bored of them
—
yes. But more than that, sick of myself.”

Kris felt a chasm opening up inside her as he spoke. This had been a subject she had pondered on, fretted over, for days now. She was a twenty-eight year old nobody, pretty enough, but hardly a model. Men looked at her twice, sure, but she was lucky to get a third glance from the really good looking guys. And she had realised more and more just how handsome Daniel was: his face was certainly unconventional, but he carried a presence with him, a charisma that was not just about money and power, nor
simply about his physical size—
although all those things certainly contributed to the effect he had on her.

“Why did you get sick of yourself?” she asked.

He paused, looking out across the room and out of the large windows that dominated the apartment, the roofs and towers of London visible beyond.

“After... after Karen died,” he started to say, still looking away from her, “for a time I gave myself over to every... pleasure.” He paused. “At least I thought they were pleasures. Some were, some were not. Or rather, those that stimulated me at first, some I soon came to hate.”

Kris felt very strange now. He had gradually begun to open up to her, but this filled her with trepidation. She felt that really she knew very little about this strange man. It had become clear that he had discovered a great deal about her, but then the facts of her life were petty and, she suspected, worthless. What was inside her, he had more slowly begun to discover this, but in many respects he was still closed to her. She hoped that he could trust her now, but she realised that part of his reserve was less to do with her and more the fact that he was a man for whom the facts of his life were not petty, but coin that others were willing to exchange
—
or steal
if
necessary.