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  Nikolai.

  The name flashes into my mind. Who is this man? Why does he want to hurt Nigel so much that he would take his wife for a month? At the thought of someone wanting to hurt Nigel a deep sense of protective instinct for Nigel kicks in.

  I remember the day he proposed. He hired the whole Café du Paris and filled it with can-can dancers that he had flown in from Paris. One of the dancers came and called me up to the stage. I didn’t know what was going on. Blood was pounding in my ears. Then the curtain of dancers parted and I saw him get on one knee.

  I thought I would die with happiness.

  Yeah, it was showy, but I was young and that was the happiest day of my life. Until my wedding day arrived, that is. Nothing will ever top that. We were both so excited about the future. Not even my parents’ long faces could dim our happiness. How handsome he was standing in his blue morning suit.

  When he turned to look at me, I almost fainted with happiness.

  I stood in that small, sunlit church and promised for better or worse. Now Nigel is ill. An addiction is just as much a disease as cancer is.

  I’ll stand by Nigel as long as he wants to change. Other women have stood by their husbands and won the battle against this disease. If this Russian thinks he will destroy what I have with Nigel, he can think again.

  My phone rings, startling me out of my thoughts.

  Chapter Eight

  Star

  “Wanna do breakfast?” Rosa, my best friend, asks. I’ve know her since we were in primary school, and she’s always taken it upon herself to look out for me. She doesn’t sound quite awake yet.

  “Yes,” I say automatically.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “What makes you so sure something’s up?” I ask.

  “Let’s call it tone.”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  “But you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure?” she insists.

  “Sure.”

  “Lucianos?”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you get there in twenty minutes?”

  “I can get there in ten,” I tell her.

  “See you in ten, then.”

  As I park the car it starts pouring down with rain so I hold my bag over my head and run into the café. As I stand inside the doorway brushing my hands down my light jacket, I spot Rosa. You cannot miss her.

  She is stick-thin with flaming red hair cut into a smooth bob. She is wearing scarlet lipstick and what looks like a lace trimmed camisole over a long-sleeved, fitting, dove-gray T-shirt. Must be the latest fashion, or what everybody will be wearing come autumn. Rosa works for a fashion magazine. She is one of those people who actually sits around a long glass table with a bunch of her colleagues and decides what will be the new look for the next season. A bangle glints on her arm. I walk up to her table.

  “I like your top,” I say as I reach her.

  “I threw a T-shirt under my nightie so it wouldn’t look like I just rolled out of some random dude’s bed,” she says as she stands and throws her skinny arms around me.

  “Did you?” I ask.

  “I should be so lucky,” she says close to my ear.

  The familiar spicy-rose notes of her Serge Luten’s perfume fills my nostrils, and I don’t want to let go of her thin body. Just being in her warm, scented embrace makes me want to bawl my eyes out. This morning I’ve had all my dreams crushed. I could stay in her arms a lot longer, but she pulls away, and eyes me warily.

  “Out with it. What’s eating you?”

  With a sigh, I sink into the chair opposite hers. She reclines back, arms folded.

  I hesitate.

  “Spill the beans, Star,” she prompts with her usual no-nonsense attitude.

  “It’s Nigel,” I blurt out.

  “He’s cheating on you, isn’t he?” she snaps, leaning forward, her face livid.

  “No. No it’s not that.”

  She narrows her eyes, and looks ready to do battle on my behalf. “What’s the crooked asshole done then?”

  This is going to be harder than I thought. I fidget with the buckle on my bag. “He’s in big trouble, Rosa.”

  A waitress comes to take our orders, but Rosa waves her away impatiently. “What kind of big trouble?”

  I take a deep breath. “He’s lost a lot of money.”

  “How much?” she asks curiously.

  I clear my throat. “Four hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”

  She frowns. “That’s nothing. Don’t brokers routinely lose millions?”

  “It’s not his clients’ money, Rosa. This is personal. He took a loan and he can’t pay it back.”

  Her eyes bulge. “Christ,” she swears. “You mean he didn’t lose it at work. He actually owes it to someone?”

  I nod miserably.

  “Who the fuck would lend almost half-a-million to that useless husband of yours?”

  “There’s no need to be rude about him,” I mumble.

  She looks at me incredulously. “You’re still defending that piece of shit?”

  I know I shouldn’t, but it’s become a habit. Whenever Rosa and my family insult him I instantly rush to his defense. Until this morning, I could do it without sounding like a fool. I look down at the table.

  “Who does he owe the money to?” she asks again.

  “I didn’t catch his last name. Nikolai something …”

  “Nikolai? That’s a Russian name.”

  I nod.

  “So clueless Nigel owes some Russian guy four-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds. Couldn’t have happened to a more worthless man,” she says heartlessly.

  “It’s not funny, Rosa. Nigel is really scared.”

  She looks at me without any compassion in her eyes. “Good. He should be. People get killed for much less.”

  As soon as Rosa mentions being killed, the seriousness of the situation sets like a lump of concrete in my chest. I’ve been so angry, shocked, and hurt that I didn’t fully comprehend the situation: Nigel could have been killed last night. Goosebumps crawl over my body. I stare at Rosa with wide eyes.

  “Why does Nigel owe the Russian?”

  I clear my throat. “He lost the money gambling at his club.”

  Her eyes widen. “Nigel’s a gambler?”

  I nod.

  She shakes her head in wonder. “He’s like one of those vicious vegans who will shake their fist at you and call you a murderer for eating an egg, and then get up in the middle of the night to secretly feast on veal chops.”

  “He swears he only started gambling recently.”

  “Justify his behavior all you want, Star. He’s a fucking fake.”

  I press my fingers into my temples. “Stop with all the snarky comments and quips, please. I can’t handle it today, okay?”

  She shrugs. “Quite frankly, I don’t know why you’re so cut up over this. Sure, half-a-million is a lot of money, but you guys have got five years worth of equity in your house. And Nigel does earn good money—”

  “Nigel has re-mortgaged our house. There’s no equity in it,” I interrupt flatly.

  This time her mouth drops open.

  I swallow hard. “And he’s emptied our savings account.” I see the astonished fury building in her face and hurry on with the rest of my bad news. “He’s even sold the apartment in Spain. We have no assets left to liquidate.”

  “I could cheerfully kill that bastard,” she spits.

  “So there is no money to pay the debt, and this man threatened Nigel with violence last night if he does not settle it immediately.”

  “Well, the solution to your problem is obvious. Just let the Russian beat the shit out of him,” she suggests callously.

  “There is another way the debt can get written off.” I pause. I can barely let the words leave my mouth.

  “Yeah? I’m all ears.”

  “If … if … I go to him.”<
br />
  Rosa’s eyebrows look like they could shoot completely off her face. “What the fuck? You can’t be serious,” she splutters.

  I just stare at her dumbfounded face.

  “Are you telling me that some Russian mobster is willing to write off a loan worth half-a-million in exchange for sex with you?”

  “The deal is I have to stay with him for a month.”

  She leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you know this man?”

  “No.”

  Her forehead furrows. “Does he even know what you look like?”

  “No.”

  She leans back and exhales. “How strange. A man who can let one customer run a debt that massive can have all the pussy in the world he wants, why would he agree to an arrangement where he doesn’t even know what the woman looks like. No offence, but you could be a frumpy old bag.”

  “It doesn’t make sense to me either,” I say slowly. “But Nigel thinks that someone is out to get him.”

  Her face twists with sarcasm. “Sorry, but how is it revenge on Nigel if you’re the one being punished?”

  “Don’t you see this is their way of hurting him. Everyone knows the best way to hurt Nigel is to hurt me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s very subtle of Nigel’s enemy. Still, someone should tell them that Nigel is an opportunist. If you fell off the earth tomorrow, he would find a replacement the day after. The best way to hurt Nigel is to hurt Nigel. Not you.”

  “What other explanation can there be?”

  “Coming to that conclusion based on what you’ve told me is like concluding that birds don’t eat tigers; therefore, they must eat lions. There could be any number of reasons why you are part of this sick deal. I won’t be in the least surprised if it was Nigel who offered you up to save his cowardly skin.”

  Chapter Nine

  Star

  I gasp. “That is low. Even for you, Rosa. Nigel is absolutely devastated. You would be shocked if I told you what his original plan to sort out this mess was.”

  Rosa folds her arms and looks at me steadily. “Be good enough to share his brilliant plan with me.”

  “He was going to arrange for an accident … for himself so that I could collect on his life insurance money.”

  Even saying the words is painful to me, but Rosa bursts out laughing. “And you believed him?”

  The way she laughs makes me feel foolish, but I straighten my spine. Rosa can’t be objective about Nigel. Until this morning, Nigel has always been good to me. “Yes, I did. You should have seen the state he was in this morning.”

  “I love you, Star, but honestly, when it comes to Nigel you are just unbelievably naive. I mean, if I hadn’t met you before you got entangled with him, I would have written you off as an irredeemable bimbo. You think the sun shines out of his ass. Look at you. Defending him when he has proven without doubt that you cannot trust a single word that comes out of his corrupt mouth.”

  “I know you think I’m really stupid for the way I feel about Nigel, and I’m fine with that, but how you feel is not the issue here now. I have to do something. I can’t let this man hurt him. He’s still my husband, and I love him.”

  “Yes, I don’t like him. In fact, I detest him. As far as I’m concerned Nigel is the best reason why I would never support any legislation that attempts to reduce the age of consent. Adults should never ever be allowed to have sex with children. It fucks their heads forever.”

  “I was not a child when Nigel met me,” I can’t help saying.

  “Star,” she says fiercely. “You were so damn innocent you hadn’t even made out with a guy properly. He came along, and ruthlessly chased you, turning your head with his flashy car, expensive presents and bullshit. It was not enough that he had you, he then set about controlling you, and completely brainwashing you into his way of thinking.”

  “He doesn’t control me,” I say hotly.

  “No? Hmm … Let’s see.” It is obvious she has a list of accusations and she starts ticking the first one off on her thumb. “He didn’t let you carry on studying.”

  “I didn’t want to study.”

  “If you had been living at your dad’s house, I know for a fact that you would have carried on with your studies.”

  I say nothing.

  “He doesn’t allow you to work.”

  “Only because I’d just be earning peanuts compared to what he earns,” I defend.

  “That should be your decision, not his.”

  “To be honest I agree with him. There’s no point in me working as a clerk somewhere bringing home so little it won’t even pay for a good pair of shoes,” I say quietly.

  “Yes, you’d be earning peanuts because he stopped you from getting a good qualification. Fine. Moving on. He doesn’t let you go out at night without him.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “He acts all moody and hurt if you do and makes it so unpleasant you’d rather not.”

  I stare at the table.

  “He doesn’t let you wear anything that reveals your cleavage, or your legs, or anything that shows off your shape.”

  “I don’t like dressing too sexily, anyway.”

  “How would you know what you like? He decided it for you when you were sixteen years old.” She raises her eyebrows in a waiting expression, but when I say nothing, carries on counting off on her fingers. “He vets your friends and doesn’t allow you to have any men friends.”

  “I don’t want men friends.”

  “The point is he wouldn’t allow it even if you did. He just about tolerates your women friends.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Really? How many friends have you got, Star?”

  I frown. “There’s you and Cindy.”

  “Yeah, Cindy and me because we are as tenacious as pitbulls. Ask yourself why everybody else has dropped off?”

  I shift in my chair. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you know that Nigel makes little digs at us when you’re not around.”

  I stare at her. “He does?”

  “‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’ he once asked me.”

  My jaw hangs open. I know Nigel doesn’t really like Rosa, but I never imagined he would have been so rude to her. “Why didn’t you tell me he said that?”

  “That’s because I understand your husband better than you do. I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted me to run to you and complain. Then you would be forced to choose between him and me. And of course, being your husband you’ll eventually have to choose him. Psychopaths like him are always trying to remove their victim’s entire support system so I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Cindy and I decided we’d play the waiting game. Men like him have no staying power. We knew the day would come when he’d find another impressionable teenager, or the scales would fall from your eyes, and you would need us.”

  I exhale. It seems I understood nothing of the world around me.

  “Worse than anything else he’s done, is the fact that he stopped you from pursuing your dream of being a writer.”

  “I still write,” I say quickly.

  “Yeah, secretly. When he’s not at home.”

  “It’s not because he disapproves or anything. He just doesn’t want to share the time he has with me with my writing.”

  Chapter Ten

  Star

  “Share you?” She throws her hands up in disgust. “This is what I mean by saying he’s brainwashed you. He is an arch manipulator who doesn’t care for anybody but himself. Nigel loves Nigel. Even now, it may appear to you as if you are making all the decisions, but believe me you’re being played by him. He wants you to offer yourself up to pay his bill.”

  “You’re wrong, Rosa. An addiction is a disease. Even though you can’t see it, it is a real disease.”

  I watch her to see if there are any signs she is softening, but there are none.

  “Yes, he’s screwed up badly, but that’s after seven wonderful years. I can’t just wal
k away the first time something goes wrong. He deserves a second chance.”

  “Live in denial if it helps you. Nigel is no good.”

  I squeeze the metal buckle of my handbag until it hurts. “Nigel is truly sorry and he’s promised me that he’s going to get professional help.”

  Another waitress approaches us, and Rosa turns around and growls at her. “In your professional opinion does it look to you like we’re ready to order?”

  The poor girl backs off with a shocked expression.

  “Will you please calm down, Rosa. You’re making a scene,” I whisper.

  “Just listen to yourself! He’s a bloody liar. I don’t believe he’s going to change for one instant. You dig him out of this hole and he’ll find himself back in another as soon as he can. Someone who started gambling recently doesn’t lose this kind of big money. He’s obviously been gambling for God knows how long!”

  By now Rosa has become so agitated the table next to us can barely keep their focus on their food.

  “Let’s not do this now,” I urge. My heart feels heavy. I am frightened. Afraid that I have been fooling myself. Afraid that she is right. Terrified that my father was right all along. And I’m not even allowing myself to think of what will happen when I meet the Russian.

  “When are you going to face the truth, Star? Your husband has saddled you with his bullshit and you want to apologize for him and expect me to say nothing. What would you do if our positions were reversed?”

  The couple at the next table stand up to leave. The woman swings by our table. “For what it’s worth, I think your friend is right,” she tells me.

  I look up at her, surprised.

  “If my husband had done that to me, I’d let the Russian break his gambling legs. That’ll teach him a lesson,” she says heartily, and moves away.