Page 44 of Worth Every Game
“Elly,” I correct. My voice sounds dead.
She stands right next to me, surveying the wines as though they’re what she came in for, but she has neither a trolley nor a basket. Maybe she really did come in here just for me. A shiver trips down my spine at the thought.
“What are you looking for?” Lydia asks.
I don’t really want to talk to her, but I don’t know what else to do. “I drank a bottle of Jack’s red. I want to replace it.”
She picks one off the shelf, inspects the label, and replaces it. “What was it?”
“Domaine Leroy something.”
She barks a laugh, sneering as she turns to me. “You thought you’d find something like that in the supermarket?”
My stomach drops. I might not be a connoisseur, but I have Google and a phone, and I know damn well that I’m not going to find a bottle of Domaine Leroy at Tesco. But I can’t afford to buy oneanywhere, so this was the next best thing. It’s the thought that counts, right?
Lydia’s thick eyelashes flutter on an eye roll, and the condescension in her expression makes me grind my teeth. “Clearly, you have no idea what you’re doing.” She runs her finger along the row of red wines before settling on one of the more expensive ones and tapping the label with a perfectly painted crimson nail. “This is the best you’ll get in here.”
She lifts it from the shelf and hands it to me. I take it from her, but I have no intention of buying it. I’m not going to let her make me feel like an idiot.
“No, thanks.” I slot the wine back in its place. “I’m cooking dinner for Jack tonight, so I’m going to choose something to pair with it.”
It’s barely perceptible, but I don’t miss the way her body tightens as she straightens up.
She gives me a look that sinks to my bones, all dark and cold, and before I can wonder what she’s doing, she leans so closethat for a second I think she means to kiss me, but she shifts her mouth to the side and presses it against the shell of my ear. Her voice is full of quiet vitriol when she whispers, “Keep your hands off Jack Lansen. Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Him.”
It’s as if someone opened a trapdoor, and my insides tumbled out.
Did she really say that?
My mind spins as I try to work out what’s happening. I freeze, and Lydia steps away, smugness twisting her lips as if she’s pleased by my reaction. Thrilled that she’s shocked me into stillness.
Before I’ve gathered my senses, Lydia turns and strolls towards the exit without picking up a single item to buy.
My heart is beating in every cell of my body, thumping through me, and the shock turns to anger.How dare she lay claim to him like that? Who the hell does she think she is?Just because her face was on one of Mrs Lansen’s cards, it doesn’t give her the right to order me about.
I spring into motion, pacing after her, my basket banging against my hip. “Hey, Lydia.” She turns, surprise etching her face at the sight of me fast-walking in her direction. “You don’t make the rules.” My voice sounds far off, as though the angry tone belongs to someone else.
She casts me that condescending look again. “Maybe not. But I’d advise you to follow them.”
With a final sneer in my direction, she turns and leaves, and I feel remarkably foolish, standing in the middle of the supermarket, breathing heavily as though I’ve just been attacked.
But haven’t I?
I take a few moments to resettle my breathing.It’s okay. I’m okay.What could Lydia possibly do to me?
And how dare she tell me what to do?
She can’t.I will damn well touch Jack Lansen if I want to. The thought brings with it a wave of inspiration, and I decide right then and there what my next move is in this game I’m playing with Jack, and how I’m going to bring him to his knees.
All I need is a costume.
“That bitch does not get to decide what I can and cannot do.” I pick up a bra that has holes where the nipples ought to be. It’s possible I’m taking this thing with Jack a bit far, but seeing as he’s unmoved by pretty pink silk and lace, I’m upping my game. I hold the bra up against my chest. “What do you think?”
I’m standing in the middle of a Soho sex shop with my ex-flatmate, Marie, and because I can’t share what’s going on with me and Jack with Kate, Marie is the next best thing. I reached a tipping point where I could no longer keep all of this inside. I needed to share.
Marie was so surprised by my news that she didn’t ask a single question about my career. I haven’t revealed anything about the way I imploded at the Granville Agency, and Marie, thank goodness, hasn’t asked. Not that I’d tell her anyway; she’s a hard-nosed career woman through and through, and I’d never get any sympathy from her.Do I even want sympathy?
Fuck it. What I want is to forget about it completely.