Page 40 of Disgrace

“You did fuck up.” Leon leans on his elbows. His tone isn’t remotely teasing, and my heart sinks, heavy in my chest.

“I didn’tdoanything, Leon.” I sigh because it’s a pathetic denial at best. “I did know how Peitra felt about me, and I knew how Sam felt. I thought I could handle some silly crush.” I laugh without humour and heavy with remorse. “It just took me too long to notice what was happening tonight. I should’ve left the minute the champagne turned up. I should’ve cancelled when the venue for the meeting changed. Fuck! I’ve never had to deal with jealousy before.”

“Neither has Sam.” His tone is reprimanding, and I nod, taking his disapproval on the chin.

“I know.”

The ensuing silence stretches between us until and Leon sniffs out a tight, sharp laugh. “What she said to Peitra was pretty fucking hot though!” He grins, and I can’t help a short laugh escape.

“God, it was.” I sniff but shake the memory. “But when I tried to stop her from leaving she threw that ‘time is money’ and she has ‘people to screw’ in my face. That fucking kicked me in the nuts as hard as any steel toe.” I shift, uncomfortable at the memory.

“She was lashing out.”

“Maybe, but that is going to be a deal breaker if every time we argue, she threatens to go on some revenge ‘fuckfest’. I know she doesn’t need the money, and I respect the shit out of her for doing what she wants with her body. She’s the sexiest woman I know, and I know I’m no saint—”

“Jason, you’re a slut. Trust me, you have had way more partners than Sam ever has.” He sniffs out his derisive comment.

“Cheers Leon, but I doubt that.” I pinch out a tight-lipped grimace and narrow my glare, but his face is impassive. “Look, her past doesn’t matter; it’s irrelevant. And I don’t care about her being a Domme, but if she is going to fuck someone else it’s because webothwant that, not because she’s out to hurt me.”

“You hurt her.” His reminder is unnecessary and hurts like fuck, but I won’t give up.

“I know. It won’t happen again.” I meet his sceptical glare and hold it. I mean what I say, if I get the chance, that is.

“Good, but I mean it. She has probably slept with half a dozen men in the ten years I’ve known her.” His tone is serious but he can’t be.

“Actual boyfriends I can believe that.” I nod in agreement, because I understand his comment; it just needed my own clarification. “She told me as much. She had never been serious with anyone, not until me, but you can’t expect me to believe she’s had just six clients in that time.” I raise my brow, but his face hasn’t changed, still serious and intently holding my glare.

“She has many clients as a Dominatrix but she’s never fucked anyone for money. Never has, never will,” he reiterates.

“Why does she call herself awhore? I don’t understand.” I shake my head. I’m a fucking idiot. I completely understand. She uses it to keep her distance, to stop herself getting close to anyone. It’s her barrier and her armour. “I mean I do understand, but why didn’t she tell me.” I can hear my voice catch, and his expression softens slightly.

“Self-preservation, Jason.” He places his hand on my dropped shoulder. “I’m only telling you because you didn’t care before. The label didn’t keep you away.” He removes his hand, folds his arms across his chest, and shakes his head. A bitter, knowing laugh escapes him. “I know her, she will be happy now because she didn’t tell you. She’ll retreat into her shell, believing she deserves no more than a desolate, lonely future.” He drags his hand through his long hair and fixes me with a dark scowl. “She will justify the end becauseyouwere stupid enough to believe she is capable of—what did you call it?”

“A revenge fuckfest,” I reply, quietly ashamed that I even for a moment believed that was the case.

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t told you, you might’ve gone on believing it, and that path leads to relationship destruction. She deserves more.” He stares at me and smiles.

“I agree.” I get a chill in my bones thinking how that reality nearly came to be. “So where do you think she is?” He shrugs. I curse and almost slap my head.Fucking idiot. I take my phone from my back pocket and swipe the screen. It takes a moment to locate her and filter in some other information that is also very useful. “Okay, well, she’s travelling at the moment. Quite fast and”—I pause while I read the flight details that have just appeared with her boarding information—“she’s heading for Rome. Why is she heading to Rome?”

Leon has a knowing grin spreading wide across his face. “I’m not going to ask how you know where she is.” He leaves his unasked question hanging, clearly expecting an answer.

“After Richard showed up, I put some extra security in place. It’s just for emergencies.” I clarify at his doubtful expression. “So Rome?” I repeat.

“Sanctuary.”

“Hmm?”

“I have a flat there. It’s called Sanctuary, an apartment just by the Spanish steps. When the going gets tough, the tough go shoe shopping.” Leon smirks.

“Fine, put some clothes on, Leon, you’re taking me to Heathrow… now.” He raises a brow at my curt tone, and I draw in a slow, steadying breath. I am grateful he seems inclined to help, at least a little. I need to curb my temper. He is Sam’s best friend, and he is just protecting her too. “Sorry, I don’t have my car back, and you will be quicker than hailing a cab this time of night.” I plead.

“Where’s your car?” he calls over his shoulder as he goes to his bedroom and pulls on some clothes.

“That night I ran to the club, I dumped it at the side of the road, and it got towed. It’s still impounded.”

“Why haven’t you picked it up? That was over three weeks ago.” He looks at me like I am all kinds of special. I shrug lightly.

“I live in the city, and I’ve barely noticed it’s not there.” Leon scoffs and grabs his keys. I follow him out of the door. “We need to detour to my place so I can get my passport.”

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