Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
Gigi
I sit on the edge of the bathtub beneath a flickering bulb, my feet skimming the laminate floor.
Red lingerie clings to my body underneath my open robe, a lace corset hugs my breasts, matching knickers ride up my ass, and stockings stop on my upper thigh.
My skin blooms purple and green underneath the sheer fabric – the ghost of Jamie’s hands.
Poppy is kneeling between my legs, clicking open the concealer palette with a sigh. “He really did a number on you this time.”
Her fingers are practiced, but I still bite down on my wobbling lip to keep from wincing.
Her gaze flicks up, then back down. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
She dabs on makeup layer by layer. Her mouth twists as if she wants to say something but knows it won’t change anything, though she eventually gives in to temptation.
“This is why you disappeared.”
It’s not a question.
I turn my head away.
“Fucking hell, Gigi.”
She smothers a layer across the scar on my chest and the finger-shaped shadows on my arm.
I’ve been avoiding the outside for the sake of protecting the lie. Jamie hasn’t opposed, enjoying keeping me on a leash. With what’s at stake – Andy, Harry, and the girls – I can’t fall at the last hurdle. Too much is riding on my promise.
And if tonight doesn’t work, I don’t know if Jamie will let me live to see next week.
Jack’s been on the phone detailing final plans for tonight.
I’m certain he only called to ensure I haven’t backed out.
Judging by the thundering of my heart, perhaps I should have.
He asked to speak with Harry privately, leaving us to get ready in the bathroom, since Andy only occasionally appears from the bedroom.
“I hate him,” Poppy says.
I’m half-distracted. “Jack?”
“No. Jamie.”
The words sit heavy in the air.
“I want to tell him,” she says, her voice shaking. “Harry, Jack, the world.”
“You can’t.”
“I want to.”
Tears well in my eyes. “You promised.”
“I know.” She loosens the corset, blending concealer into the mottled skin of my ribs. “You have to tell him tonight, when this is all over. He’ll find out from someone else otherwise.”
I feel a surge of anger and shame. The extractor fan buzzes louder in the quiet, eating away at me.
Poppy’s voice is barely above a whisper. “You can trust him.”
I know.
With each passing hour, I’m getting closer to accepting the fact I’ll have to tell Harry soon. But it’s his reaction that scares me most.
“Turn a bit.”
I shift, and Poppy works on the bruises creeping up my side, her touch clinical but caring.
“I’m almost done.”
I close my eyes, letting myself dream. Maybe this heist will change everything. Maybe I’ll be able to put it behind me like a bad dream.
Poppy rises to her feet, tilting my chin up with one hand and slipping the contact lens in with the other, the cool blue film snapping into place.
“Other one,” she says.
She pushes the second lens in and then moves to my side, tugging the black wig onto my head. It’s sleek and chopped close to my shoulders, the ends dyed a deep red, matching my lip stain. I watch as she positions the strands just right before stepping back to survey her work.
I look in the cracked mirror in Harry’s bathroom, shock forcing me to blink. I turn my chin back and forth, meeting Poppy’s gaze in the reflection.
“I barely recognise you.”
I offer a weak smile. “That’s the point.”
She steps round to face me fully, slipping the robe back onto my shoulders and tightening the waist with a knot. The breath I inhale pulls at the tender spots of my skin.
Poppy gestures to the painkillers on the sink. I take them in my palm as the phone rings in her pocket. She barely looks up.
“I’ll be just a minute.” She slips out the door, muttering quietly, “Dad?”
I turn back to the mirror. Poppy was right. There’s nothing recognisable behind the costume, every identifiable part of me concealed.
I just hope it’s enough to trick Jamie, Richard, and their crooks.
The door groans, and I lift my head.
“Everything okay at home?”
I meet Emily’s gaze through the mirror. There’s a long, sharp silence as we stare at each other, no sound other than the zing of the faulty bulb and the door shutting behind her with a soft click.
Harry enlightened me to her vigilance in case I find myself in her firing line. I’m already preparing as she glances over the facade, her eyes drifting to my wedding ring on the countertop, the diamond catching the dim light.
“Congratulations,” she drawls. “I saw your face in the paper, and I thought, ‘No, not Gigi Thomas’.”
“I’m not here to fight with you.”
She laughs, the sound full of disbelief and resentment, stepping forwards as if she’s sizing me up. If she were to swing at me, I’d probably let her.
“Do you know what it’s like … to hold someone together who’s on the brink of giving it all up? Do you have any idea?”
I nod slowly. Not because I know what’s it’s like – though I do – but because I hear her. God, I hear her. She’s just trying to protect the man I’ve destroyed. And I would’ve done the same if the roles were reversed. Probably worse.
Her voice turns so quiet it’s barely audible. “He loves you – you know that?”
I breathe softly. “I know.”
Her eyes narrow, watching me for a stretched-out moment before she warns, “Think very carefully about what you’re doing.”
Someone clears their throat.
We both turn to the doorway, where Harry’s standing, his shoulder resting against the wooden frame, legs crossed at the ankles. He heard every word.
“That’s enough,” he orders.
Emily stammers over nothing, the sight of him within my vicinity bringing on a fresh wave of protectiveness. “I’m not watching you get hurt again.” She shakes her head, whipping it towards me. “Do you realise the damage you cause—?”
“Emily,” Harry cuts in, firm.
She doubles down. “Do you?”
“Emily,” he growls. “If you even think about saying another word, I’ll rip out your tongue with my bare hands and make you plead forgiveness without the ability to speak. Get the fuck out!”
I duck my head as she follows begrudgingly, pulling the door shut behind her. Their voices are muffled behind it. I can’t make out anything other than a string of curses, then Harry’s low, unforgiving voice having the last word.
The front door slams a moment later.
My feet pad against the floorboards before I turn the handle. When I step into the kitchen, Harry is resting his head against the front door. He doesn’t lift it as he says, “She shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. She wasn’t wrong.”
He draws his head back, passing the kitchen counter as he approaches. He slips his signature dagger into his palm, spinning it between his fingers. “You’re not damaging, Gigi,” he says, cradling my cheek with his spare hand. “You give me purpose. But I can’t keep asking – not anymore.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” I vow. “If we make it out.”
I’ll tell Harry everything. The beatings, the betrayal, how my heart bleeds for him.
“When,” he corrects me. “When we make it out, you’ll tell me everything.”
My voice cracks slightly. “I swear.”
Harry nods, eyes glimmering with concern for the truth that sits within the cage I’ve built. He blinks it away to ask, “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” I admit, reaching out for the vodka bottle on the countertop. “I’ll drink to take the edge off.”
He moves quickly, placing the surface of the blade on my wrist, mid-air towards the bottle’s neck. “I wouldn’t put more in your system than you have to …”
Confusion forces me to draw in my brows. I don’t understand. The question sits on the tip of my tongue.
But realisation hits me slowly. “You’re drugging me.”
Harry audibly swallows. “Jack’s seen what we might be up against. The story needs to be believable, and that’ll only work if you’re under the influence.
” His words are followed by a strangled breath.
He hates the reality possibly more than I do.
“I won’t let them lay a finger on you, but if they offer you something else … I’m not sure what I can do.”
“And you want me to put my entire trust into you?”
“Yes.” He takes a slow step closer. Rather than taking the same step back, I raise my chin to maintain his gaze. “Put your full trust into the person who betrayed you, ruined your life, and lied to you.”
We stand on even ground then. I part my lips to say it.
Harry moves the blade up my skin slowly, until it’s flat over my mouth, silent at his command. The sharp tip presses into the centre of my bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood out onto the blade. Harry presses it to his mouth, between his lips.
“But as I’ve always promised you, baby, I would die before I ever let a man put his hands on you without your consent.
I once made a threat I’d turn Pixies into a slaughterhouse for you.
Don’t think I won’t still stand by that promise.
” He slips the knife from his mouth, then asks, “Do you trust me?”
Yes. “No.”
“Good.” He smirks.
The blade appears in front of me again, but when I look down, a white circular pill sits on the tip of the steel.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’d rather you not know.”
“That’s a huge level of trust to give to you, St. James.”
A small, knowing smile briefly replaces the grimace tugging at the edge of his mouth, though the weight of the drug continues to plague the silence, drowning us both.
“Just know that I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.”
I stare at the pill, struggling to stray from it, until Harry says with quiet emphasis, “Never, baby.”
“If something goes wrong in there—”
“Don’t give me that. Don’t expect me to do the honourable thing, because you won’t like it when I don’t,” he says. “You’ve been my priority since the moment I laid eyes on you. Tonight doesn’t change that, no matter what’s at stake.”
The look in his emerald eyes is so demanding and reassuring I can’t help but to be drawn to them. Slowly, he slips the tip of the blade between my parted lips and onto my waiting tongue.
I swallow the pill.