The sound faded and the music video on the flat-screen disappeared, replaced by Black’s impassive face. He hadn’t shaved since he got back to the US. Didn’t seem to have showered either judging by the streaks of dirt.
“You obviously can contact me, so what’s the problem?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“Which brings us back to my first question.”
“How was Belize?”
I gave the punchbag a solid kick, and another inch of seam split. Sand trickled out onto the gym mats.
“Stop changing the subject. Does your nose still hurt? Is that what you’re pissed about?”
“Not really. I hired the girl who broke it, by the way. She’s a pain in the ass.”
“You what?”
“Her name’s Sky. She starts on Wednesday.”
“Rewind. Can we go from the top?”
“Sure. You already know the first part. Found painting. Got nose broken. Lost painting. Then Sky turned up with a lead, her brother took an overdose and died, we resuscitated him, and I offered her a job.”
“‘We’ being…?”
“Me and Alaric.”
“Where is Alaric?”
The way Black asked the question, I knew he’d already overridden the security system and checked all the cameras in the entire house.
“Who the fuck knows? Probably with his daughter. Did you know he had a daughter? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”
Black raised one eyebrow a millimetre, which was about as expressive as he got.
“He met someone while he was away? He was gone for over seven years, Diamond. It’s not beyond the realms of possibility.”
“She’s fifteen.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Oh. And I only found out because his new PA, who, by the way, he met less than a week ago, let it slip by accident. He told her and not me. I can deal with most things, but when the people close to me lie…”
“Technically, he didn’t lie. He just didn’t tell you he had a kid.”
“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie, Black. And the fact that Alaric was a father the whole time we were dating is a pretty big bloody deal.”
“You’ve made no secret of the fact you don’t want to be a mother. Maybe he was worried about your reaction?”
“Why are you defending him? You don’t even like him.”
Black sighed. “I just hate seeing you upset. Do you want me to find out more about this child?”
“No. I want to find this damn painting—paintings, plural, now that we’ve lost another one—and get closure on the past. I offered the guest house to Alaric before Bethany mentioned his sprog, so that should be fun next week.”
“Want me to un-offer it?”
Did I? It was tempting, but there was enough animosity between them as it was.
“No, I’ll suck it up.”
Black leaned back in his chair. I could see from the edge of the framed etching on the wall—a rather grim Goya he’d picked up in a private sale a decade ago—that he was in our shared study at Riverley Hall.
“So that’s why you’re upset?”
“Partly.”
A piece of the tape on my hand started to come unstuck, and I tore at it with my teeth. Yeah, I probably should’ve worn gloves, but sometimes, I needed pain on the outside to distract from the pain on the inside.
“Partly?”
“As part of the deal with Sky, I said I’d pay for rehab for her brother. Who isn’t her real brother, and is an absolute dick. But she cares for him, and I wanted her to take the job, so there we go. Anyhow, Bradley found a place to put him. The best in London, apparently. The Abbey Clinic. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“Shit.” Yup, Black knew exactly who I’d run into there. “What did she say?”
“Not much. She thought she might have seen me someplace before, but she just…couldn’t…quite…think where.”
And quite frankly, I wasn’t sure what was worse—that my own mother hadn’t recognised me, or the prospect of her suddenly realising I was the offspring she’d basically forgotten existed twenty years ago and wanting to talk about all the shit she’d put me through. Was it any wonder I didn’t want to be a parent with Julie Emerson as my role model? Not really, but I still felt crappy about it because even though Black assured me that he respected my decision, I knew he liked the idea of being a father.
For the best part of two decades, I’d assumed Julie was dead—she’d taken every drug she could get her hands on back in the day—but Black had mentioned a few years ago that she was still breathing. I hadn’t wanted to talk to her when I found out. I still didn’t. Quite frankly, I’d rather drop-kick her off a skyscraper than rehash the past.
“Diamond, I’m sorry. Sorry she hurt you then and sorry she hurt you now. Do you want me to cut her off? I’ve considered it before, but…she’s your mother.”
Honestly? She deserved it, but if I had her tossed out on the street, that would make me as bad as her.
“Leave things as they are. But I don’t ever want to set eyes on her again.”
“Noted. You mentioned Sky’s starting on Wednesday—does that mean you’re coming home?”
I nodded, then followed up with, “I miss you.” Which only reminded me that I’d said something remarkably similar to Alaric not six hours ago, and now I wished I could take the words back. “This whole week’s been a pile of shit. I’m beginning to think Alaric’s right and Emerald is cursed.”
“It’s an inanimate object, Diamond. It can’t be fucking cursed.”
Yes, I’d said that too.
“Whatever. I need gin and chocolate.”
“No, you need orange juice and a salad.”
I threw my towel over the screen and put my fingers in my ears. “This conversation is over.”
CHAPTER 34 - BETHANY
SEVEN MISSED CALLS. Oops. That’d teach me to turn my phone onto silent. I’d completely forgotten until I got to the yard and couldn’t find either Chaucer or Pinkey. After a brief search, I stumbled across Pinkey in the hay barn, and Chaucer was hiding behind a clump of trees in the field, no doubt feeling work-shy.
I scanned down the list—four of the missed calls had been from Alaric, one came from an unknown number, my father had tried to get hold of me, and what did Gemma want? I tried voicemail and found four messages, all from today, starting at seven a.m.
Beth, it’s Alaric. Shit, I’m sorry about last night. Not sorry I went to the party, but things shouldn’t have happened the way they did. Can we talk?
That was followed by another message at nine.
It’s Alaric again. I’m outside your door. Are you okay? Can you call me? Five minutes, and I’m coming up to check you’re okay.
Well, I already knew how that turned out. He’d overstepped boundaries, but it also felt strangely comforting to have somebody looking out for me. He cared. Even though we were colleagues and nothing more, he cared. I forwarded to the next message.