Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(18)

When I went back to my room, my new roommate was already there.

‘G’day,’ she called. I had never heard the greeting before. Later, I would learn that it was short for ‘Good day’.

Suddenly, that old flicker of discomfort is back. And so is that sensation of gnawing apprehension. I sigh deeply and close my eyes. Her face is so vivid that it could all have happened yesterday. I know I’ll never forget her as long as I live. I’m fine. I’m fine now. I survived.

I go to the kitchen and switch on the kettle. I don’t want to remember any more. Not today. I don’t want to have to take those pills. I want tomorrow to be a fun adventure. I want to see the fireflies. I want to run away from here. From Lenny and the sickening, unspoken agreement that I have to pay his kindness back with my body for as long as he wants. Which could be forever. I put a tea bag into a mug.


The phone rings. I stand in front of it and let it ring twice more before taking the call.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Lenny says.

‘Hello, Lenny.’

‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Good. Look, I've got business over in Amsterdam tomorrow, so I’ll pick you up and take you to dinner tonight.’

‘Uh. Not tonight, Lenny. I’m really very tired.’

There is a malevolent silence. ‘Oh yeah? What have you been up to all day?’ His voice was deadpan, cut from rock.

‘Nothing. I cleaned the flat, had lunch at a cafe, and then I went shopping. You know how shopping always exhausts me.’

‘Did you get something nice?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘What?’ There, there’s the reptile lazily sunning itself on a warm stone suddenly striking. He’s caught me out. When his secretary goes through all the boutique accounts and the credit card bill, there will be no purchases with today’s date. He will know I lied. I haven’t lied to him before.

‘A red dress,’ I say. And then quickly add, ‘I used the money you gave me the other night.’

‘Good. Wear it when I take you out on Monday night. I’ll be back by then, and we’ll do dinner somewhere nice.’

I grip the phone hard and keep my voice light. ‘That’ll be nice.’

‘All right. Call you when I get back.’

‘Have a good trip.’

I switch off the phone. I’m playing with fire. Things are unraveling too fast. I almost got caught there. Lenny is unpredictable, his violence legendary. A ruthless, wild raptor. If he even scents another male trespassing on his territory, I will see the incandescent, uncontrollable fury that I have only glimpsed so far.

Once, a drunk man touched my bottom in a club. It could have been an accident, but I jumped because it had startled me. Lenny saw my reaction and he turned and calmly nodded to one of his henchman. The big brute immediately went forward and kicked the shit out of him right in the middle of the club.

I was so shocked I froze, but when I got control of my limbs I turned to Lenny and cried, ‘Stop him! Stop him!’

And Lenny clicked his fingers and his other henchman stopped the assault.

I looked at the man, bleeding and groaning, and then I looked at Lenny, and there was absolutely no expression on his face. It was nothing to him. And I was afraid. For the first time I became afraid of Lenny. And I knew he had not done that to punish the man, but to frighten me.

I don’t love Lenny. I never have. I just let him use my body because I didn’t know what else to do. I was so broken, and he had taken care of me. I had no one else. When he put his hand on my thigh that night, I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. And then, before I knew it, he was on top of me and we were having sex.

But it has to stop.

Even if it means my dream of becoming a pre-school teacher is delayed, I have to take back control of my own life and find a job to support myself so I am no longer beholden to him. Perhaps I could rent a room cheaply. Better that than let him use my body anymore. I wasn’t strong enough before, but I know I’m ready now. I know I have to act soon. But there is a tight feeling of apprehension in my body that sets my teeth on edge. Secretly, I am afraid of Lenny.

I go into the kitchen, butter a slice of brown bread, and put together an open tomato and cheese sandwich. As I cut the little cherry tomatoes, I think of Shane cooking, the passion with which he prepared his meal, the enjoyment he took from every bite, and it occurs to me that I live without tasting life. My whole existence is a meal without salt.

I walk to the dining table with my sandwich and my cup of tea. I lift up a slice of tomato, put it in my mouth, and let the fresh zest of its juice burst into my taste buds. I wait for the flakes of sea salt to melt on my tongue. Next, I take a bite of bread and cheese. The cheese tastes milky and smooth as I roll it slowly together with the nutty, rich taste of the buttered bread. I savor it the way Shane relished his meal. With my eyes closed, my meal is no longer a humble sandwich, but a complex of things of many scents, flavors and textures.

I can see that just by being on the outside edges of my life, Shane is already subtly changing me. Yes, there is a lot of terrible pain trapped inside my body, but when I am with him, it hides away, as if it is afraid of him. It is afraid he will banish it away forever.



That evening I listen to music and go to bed early, but I am too excited about my trip with Shane to sleep.