I’m still in bed, dozing, when Jack comes into the room just after eight. I found last night difficult; my meeting with Yiannis unsettled me more than I realised, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. First the emails I found, and now, quite possibly, the man who helped Jack send them. Even if he does regret it now, what would make a man help someone like Jack carry out such a meticulously planned, sustained, and vicious campaign against two innocent women? Why would anyone do that? And Yiannis seemed so… nice. He came across as polite and caring. I’ll never trust another man again after this.
I’ll never trust anyone again.
What’s wrong with people?
I think I’ve been pretty good at playing the role of contented girlfriend until now, but last night I found it hard to keep smiling. I felt jittery and restless as Jack and I watched TV together, and yet, as always happens, when we went to bed, it was as if my logical mind switched off and my body took over, and I gave in to the sensations his touch somehow awakens in me, despite everything. It’s really starting to disturb me, the way I seem to be able to detach from reality when we sleep together; it’s as if the man who’s done such horrible things and the man who makes me feel physically better than I’ve ever felt before, with anyone, are two completely separate beings. I shouldn’t want him like this. I should despise him and fear him, every minute. And now, here he is again, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand warm on my bare shoulder.
‘Hey, sleeping beauty. Come on, get out of bed. I’m horny as hell, and I want to try something…’
He licks my earlobe, his tongue hot and wet, and I’m instantly wide awake, but the sudden heat I can feel low in my belly is tempered by the questions that flash into my brain.
Get out of bed? Try something? What does he mean?
‘Aren’t you getting in here with me?’ I whisper, and turn my head so my lips brush his. He shakes his head.
‘No. Come on. Come with me. Just put your dressing gown on. Rhona’s busy downstairs. It’ll be fine.’
He pulls the duvet off me and I sit up, my heart starting to pound. Suddenly, I know exactly where this is going and know what he’s going to do – what he’s going to make me do – and I want to refuse to go with him. I want to tell him to leave me alone, but he’s striding across the room to the bathroom, reaching behind the door to grab a robe, and then slipping it around my shoulders, taking my arms, and putting them into the sleeves.
Moments later, I’m on my feet, and Jack has my hand firmly clasped in his, and is leading me towards the door and out into the corridor.
‘Jack! Please, where are we going?’ I plead, but he ignores me. He pulls me along behind him to the gym, opens the door, drags me in, and shuts the door behind us.
‘I want to do it in here,’ he says.
I stare at him, and his eyes lock onto mine. I can see the challenge in them.
He suspects I know about his cameras. What I did in the kitchen and what I did in here with my hoodie, maybe it was all too obvious and now he wants to check. He’s testing me, I realise, and suddenly I want to cry. But what can I do? If I say no, if I refuse to have sex with him here, he’ll know that I know, and that would make what I need to do from here on in incredibly difficult. But if I do what he wants me to do… I feel a burning sensation in my chest. The thought of being filmed doing such an intimate act, the thought of that footage existing, to be watched back over and over, and maybe even shown to God knows who…
‘OK,’ I say.
I have to. I have no choice.
‘But are you sure Rhona won’t come in here?’
I’m clutching at straws now, because I don’t think he would care at all if Rhona walked in on us, but it’s all I’ve got. He shakes his head and reaches for me, pulling at the belt of my dressing gown and slipping it from my shoulders.
‘She won’t come in,’ he says softly, and now I’m naked, the towelling robe at my feet. My body tenses. I’m desperate to cover myself and instinct is screaming at me to put one arm across my breasts and a hand between my legs, but Jack’s leading me across the room to the bench in his weights area. He pushes me down gently so I’m sitting on the end of it and then lying on my back, fully exposed. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and his feet are bare. He unzips the jeans and pulls them down to his thighs, then pulls his boxers down a few inches too. He’s ready, I can see that, his breathing becoming ragged. He leans down and kisses me, his tongue probing my mouth. Then he stands up again and lowers his pants further, and as he does so I see his eyes flit to the water cooler, and then back to me. I can’t react, I mustn’t, and so I stretch my arms up towards him and pull him down until he’s on top of me, his body hard and heavy on mine. He groans.
‘I want you,’ he whispers. It’s fast and rough and, for the first time ever with him, it gives me no pleasure at all. All I want is for him to finish. I want him to get away from me and to let me get the hell out of this room. As he stands up and rearranges his clothing, he grins.
‘That was fun,’ he says. Though it takes an effort, I smile back and agree, rolling off the bench and retrieving my robe. I pull it on with my back to the water cooler and I feel like bursting into tears.
That wasn’t fun at all, I want to scream. I hated it. I hate you, you twisted bastard.
But I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. It wasn’t rape; I can’t say that. I let him have sex with me because I had to, not because I wanted to. Whatever label you put on it, I still feel violated. Defiled.
I want to run away, to leave this house and never come back, to abandon this ridiculous mission, and for a moment I actually think I might do it. I could just go upstairs, get dressed, and leave. I could never come back. I could tell Nathan and Felicity I can’t do it anymore. It’s too much.
And then I think about Amber. My friend, who’s facing life in prison. And I know I have to stay. I have to see this through.
Get angry, not upset, I tell myself, as I turn back to face Jack. Get furious. I hate you, Jack. I fucking hate you!
‘What are you doing now?’ I ask, and I force myself to smile at him. I make myself slip my arms around his waist and gaze adoringly up at him. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead, and I can tell by the contented expression on his face that it’s worked. I’ve reassured him.
He thinks it’s all OK. He thinks I’d never have had sex with him in here if I knew about the cameras. He thinks I’m stupid.
My anger grows hotter.
‘I’m going to bed. I’m knackered,’ he says. ‘What about you?’
I’m going to meet your PA and ask her questions about you, you scumbag.
What I actually do is shrug and say, ‘Oh, I’ll just chill out for a bit and then head off home. I need to do some laundry and clean the flat – just boring stuff today. I’ll call you this evening, OK?’
‘Great.’
He kisses me again, and we wander back to the bedroom hand in hand. By the time I’ve showered and dressed, he’s already asleep. I can hear him snoring softly as I creep out of the room. A quick check now to make sure the coast is clear, that Rhona’s finished her shift and is out of the way, and then, I’m going for it. Another search before I leave.
Another step closer to getting this job done, getting myself out of this damn house, and getting my life back.