SAM
He had only ever meant well – at least, in the beginning.
He’d meant to protect women who needed protecting; to be a voice for the voiceless, like he’d failed to do for Anna.
He could hardly take all the blame for things spiralling out of control the way they did.
And besides, the only person who was supposed to end up suffering was Rory – and if anyone deserved punishment, he did.
He had felt bad for her – and angry. It wasn’t okay that Sarah felt forced to leave a job she’d only just started, and where she was doing well – through no fault of her own, but because of Rory’s complete lack of workplace boundaries.
And then Claire gave him some food for thought.
She’d said these things were bound to be happening to other women – worse, maybe.
Men like Rory had a pattern; it was who they were.
But at the end of the day, he cared about himself more.
There was a pause, then: ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s just me. Sam.’
‘Go away.’ The reply was immediate, and hushed. So Sam was right. While she was looking at Rory’s phone, Talia must have seen Sam’s emails. Clearly she’d have nothing to say to him. She probably didn’t want him near her ever again.
‘Talia – what’s wrong? I just came to check on you.’ He tried to sound like his usual self, all ease and charm.
‘To check on me?’ she hissed through the door. ‘Why – have you got the tape running, Sam? I know what both of you’ve been up to – both you and my husband,’ she snarled. ‘And I never want anything to do with either of you again. Now, fuck off.’
Sam exhaled slowly, taking his time. Then: ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t think I will. I need Rory to keep giving me what I want. So you need to keep this to yourself.’
Talia made a noise of disgust. ‘You realize, Sam, that using a recording you’ve obtained without consent for the purpose of blackmail – you know that’s illegal, don’t you? You could be arrested the second you step back onto British soil.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ he replied. Sam had leverage now, after all. He could afford to be bold; he could take a gamble. ‘Best if you keep this quiet, Talia. Or I’ll tell Rory what you’ve been doing too – right here on the yacht.’
Talia said nothing.
‘Oh yeah – I expect you didn’t know,’ he went on.
‘There’s some CCTV footage that’s the talk of the crew.
I’ll make sure Rory sees it and finds out exactly what you’ve been up to – and knowing your husband, I’d imagine you won’t do well out of your divorce settlement.
You might not even get to see your daughters again. ’
Sam let his words hang in the air for a moment. Then he turned and strolled back to the sofa, as casually as if he’d just been chatting to Talia about the weather.
The heaviest of the clouds had thinned, but with the power still out, it was darker than it had been at this time every other day of their trip. The gloomy sky was as depressing as his thoughts.
He was almost out of options now. He’d been holding out hope of getting Talia on side, but now she knew what Sam had been doing all these months, there was no way she’d trust him again; not enough to even talk to him, let alone reveal anything useful about Rory’s misdemeanours.
And although Sam knew Talia was cheating, and had threatened her with exposure, he knew his words to her had been empty – he couldn’t really do anything with that information.
She wanted to leave Rory now, by the sounds of it – and who could blame her?
Sam couldn’t use the threat of destroying her marriage as leverage.
He wasn’t worried by her threats of the police.
He was aware of the law; he knew an arrest or a record was unlikely.
But he’d lose his job. His reputation would be fucked, and he’d struggle to get a new role – he’d never get a reference from Ashworth after this.
This is a fucking shitshow.
Tomorrow was their last day. Once they anchored at Raiatea, they’d stay on the Lusso one final night, then pack their things and start the long journey home. The trip was almost over, and Sam had barely made any progress. He had almost nothing new to help him keep blackmailing his boss.
He glanced at Eleni across the salon. There was no use trying again with her, or with Lucy.
Even after last night’s drama, they had given him nothing the entire trip – and not for lack of trying.
Clearly, the pair of them were tight-lipped about something – and Lucy’s thinly veiled resentment towards Rory was growing by the day – but neither of them had breathed a word about what it was.
Getting close to them was like trying to wedge himself inside a bolted, cast-iron door.
He had to face it. All three women were useless to his plans.
But perhaps he still had one last bit of influence.
Nodding to himself, he got to his feet and started towards the stairs.
It was time to talk to Rory and finish this himself.
Rory lay pathetically on a massage bed in the treatment room below deck, a large blood-soaked dressing covering the right side of his face from temple to chin.
Only his left eye was visible, and Sam watched as it bulged from its socket when he stepped into the room, the rest of his face turning a violent, crimson red.
‘What the hell do you want?’ Rory hissed, attempting to sit up. ‘I have nothing to say to you – especially not while I’m lying here, injured.’
‘Ah, come on now, Rory. No need for that,’ said Sam. ‘I thought I should update you. I’m afraid the terms of our arrangement have changed.’
‘Our arrangement? How dare you bring this up here?’ Rory spluttered. ‘I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? This has to stop, Sam. My wife is here. Our colleagues!’
Sam licked his lips. ‘Oh, I’m aware of that. All the more reason for you to give me that promotion when we get back. We did say we’d talk again, didn’t we? You can’t have forgotten that conversation.’
Sam still remembered every word. It had all coincided with such seamless timing: he’d got three more colleagues to open up about Rory’s misdemeanours – a new starter in the accounts team, a girl in HR and a comms exec – back in March.
Over drinks in a quiet corner of the pub, he’d used his phone, sitting innocently on his lap, to record them.
He’d had to do it without telling them, which he didn’t feel great about, but they’d never have agreed to be taped – and then where would he be?
It’d be unprovable gossip; Sam could have been accused of making it up.
That wouldn’t help anyone – the women included.
Then, the day after he’d spoken to the girl in comms, he found out he’d missed out on the promotion to UK Head of Sales Operations – the role he’d been waiting for, for two years.
All because of that deal with Rosenberg falling through, the morning after Sam’s trust in Rory had been blown apart.
After that, chances of being in the running for the bonus trip were vanishingly slim too.
He needed that promotion, and the trip. He’d sworn to Claire that they were done deals.
He shouldn’t have said that – it was premature – but he’d wanted to impress her, to give her more of a reason to stick around.
This was the first relationship he’d had where it felt like she was holding more of the cards than he was.
Sam knew he’d always been more into her than she was into him.
Claire liked him – he knew that – but she always let him know that she’d also be okay without him.
Sam didn’t want to give either of them the chance to prove that was true.
And then it came together. Sam needed a promotion and a flashy bonus trip he could take his girlfriend on.
Rory was the one person who could give him those things – and Rory was also the person Sam had been gathering career-destroying evidence on for months.
It was a gift from the heavens, that’s how he’d seen it.
Sam would stop his CEO from humiliating any more women – at the same time as giving his career and his relationship a boost, in one gratifying swoop.
He’d booked Rory for a meeting, sat down opposite him and, without saying a word, set his phone on the desk and hit play on his voice memos.
It hadn’t taken long for Sam to get exactly what he wanted.
Now his boss stayed silent, shrinking back on the massage bed.
‘Surely you remember it, Rory?’ Sam prodded.
‘You remember that you still tried to brush it off as hearsay nonsense even after I’d played the recordings?
And that it was only when I said I’d be uploading them onto our Slack channel and sending them to my buddy at the Mirror that you decided to take it more seriously?
You thought it was best if we kept it under wraps – remember that? ’
Sam dug his phone out of his pocket and waved it in Rory’s face.
‘This is the email I’ve drafted to Mike – my journalist friend.
You can see all the files are attached, can’t you?
’ The colour drained from Rory’s cheeks; he looked like he was about to throw up.
Sam smiled. ‘I want a leadership role,’ he said.
And then: ‘And a fifty per cent pay rise.’
Rory dropped his head, but said nothing.
For fuck’s sake. Sam strained to keep the frustration from his voice.
‘All right. I’ll just go ahead and hit send then, shall I?
And upload the folder to the intranet while I’m at it.
Then everyone else can decide whether it was all just men being men, or – what was it you said? – hearsay nonsense.’
‘Well, you can’t do that now,’ spluttered Rory. ‘The power’s down, there’s no Wi-Fi and we’re in the middle of the bloody ocean with no signal! Where’s my phone – where’s my damn phone …’ He started patting down his pockets, fingering the sides of the bed. ‘I’m sure I had it before I …’
‘I’ve thought about that. If I get everything ready to upload, it’ll send as soon as we get the power back up – I’m sure it’ll be any minute now. Oh, and don’t panic. Talia’s got your phone.’
Rory looked dazed for a moment. ‘Talia …’
‘We’ll be within range of Raiatea soon. I’ll have a couple of bars of signal – enough to send an email, anyway.’
Rory’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
‘Like I told you then, Sam, I’m not in a position to make promotions at random – and certainly not while we’re in the middle of the South Pacific!
You must understand, this all has to go through the board …
’ He groaned, lifted a hand to the wound on his face.
If the gesture was supposed to invoke sympathy, it failed.
Come on, come on. Sam needed this to work now – like it had back in March. After Sam had played the recordings, Rory had agreed to the trip – but not the promotion. That had gone to someone else. But Rory was the CEO. He could up his pay cheque and create a new role for Sam with a wave of his hand.
He took a step towards Rory; his boss cowered back on the bed again. Sam smiled.
‘All right, Rory – you know me. I’m not an unreasonable guy,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you some time to think about it.’
He leaned over, hovered his face right above Rory’s, the tips of their noses almost brushing.
‘I’ll give you an hour.’