Chapter 30
For one whole week Estella let herself feel it.
She told herself that her night with Ellie Graham had given her something: power, victory, self-knowledge and one hell of a hit of pleasure.
All of those things would fuel her, making her stronger for the battle that lay ahead.
She lay in her bed at night, the scent of Ellie in her sheets, reliving the sounds she’d made, all the things she’d let Estella do, all the things she’d done because Estella had demanded them.
Estella had finally vanquished her, until pretty blushing Ellie Graham or fierce conniving Eloise Silver — whoever the hell she really was — was nothing but a whimpering husk of need.
It wasn’t until the days and nights stretched out, longer and longer in silence, that Estella started to think that maybe that night had been about loss.
“Gio Florelli’s only daughter went missing yesterday morning,” Florence was saying to her, and Estella managed to pull her attention back into her living room.
They were sitting facing each other, Florence sitting confidently, her back straight and knees set wide, something that would repel Estella when a man did it.
Now all she could see was Florence’s power, quiet and compelling.
She looked down at herself, all but curled into a ball in the corner of her sofa.
She couldn’t bring herself to unfurl in case she fractured.
“How unfortunate,” Estella said. “Must be such a worry for him, not knowing whether she’s alive or dead.”
“For fuck’s sake. I’d rather take a Florelli bullet than have men breathing down my neck all day and night.”
“Preaching to the choir, baby.” Florence snorted.
“I’ll send you one of mine. She’s scary as shit but she won’t bug you.
” Estella nodded. It was only a slight improvement, truth be told, to have a woman guarding her every waking moment.
Florence seemed to feel her reluctance. She didn’t miss a thing which was why Estella had picked her.
“Remember why you’re doing this.” Florence dipped her head, making Estella meet her eyes.
“I swear to god if your mother was still alive, she’d be so fucking proud of you. ”
“My mother should be teaching primary school,” Estella retorted. “Not cheering on this depravity.”
“Oh, how cute,” Florence said, her eyes rolling skyward. “What do you want instead? They go low, we go high? I think you know exactly how far that will take us when we’re dealing with monsters.”
“Out monster the monsters.” Estella’s voice sounded weak, even to her.
Something had been sapped from her when Ellie Graham walked out her front door.
She didn’t seem to have the stomach for it anymore.
She tried to remember Ellie on her knees — her desperation, Estella’s fist clenched in her hair — but instead she thought of Ellie in her giant sun hat on the beach, face flushed as she sipped a cocktail, surprised by her own laughter.
Estella would never have anything like that again. Not where she was going.
“Estella.” Florence was steady and stern where Estella was fading.
Just as Florence was gearing up to deliver a rousing lecture, her phone vibrated.
She held up a finger in apology and took the call.
“Hey, baby,” she said, her voice going oddly light.
“I’m in a meeting. Uh huh. Yeah. No, I left in the car.
Yeah, I told you this morning, it’s in the glove compartment. ”
Estella watched her as she spoke. This version of Florence was one she’d never seen before. Soft. Domestic. She caught Estella’s look and grinned with a little eye-roll as she listened to the caller on the other end.
“It’s not there? Check under the car manual. Oh my god! No I took the wagon this morning! Honey, I’m sorry! Yeah it’s with me. No, I’ll drop by. It’s fine; my fault. I’ll see you soon. Love you.” She hung up and shook her head wryly. “Sorry,” she said to Estella. “Just the wife. Keeps me in line.”
Estella hadn’t given much thought to Florence’s personal life.
If she had, she’d probably have assumed she was gay — short hair and men’s shirts and all that — but the tenderness in Florence’s eyes made her stomach clench.
She felt sick and sad, and like she wanted to ask a thousand questions.
How did you meet your wife? What does she look like?
What did you wear when you got married? Will she be happy to see you come home in the middle of the day?
Will you kiss her briskly on the cheek as you rush by, or stop for a minute and kiss her properly, with all the longing in the world?
“Why do you work for someone like me?” she asked instead. She was acutely aware all of a sudden, of the woman who’d been on the other end of the call, out there in the world right now. She imagined her hearing that Florence was dead — or worse — because of the work she did for Estella Grant.
Florence tilted her chin. “Because your mother would have wanted me to,” she said easily. She got to her feet and looked down at Estella. “I’ll report in again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”
There must have been something in Estella’s expression because just then Florence did something no one else would ever dare to do. She reached out and laid her hand on Estella’s head, just gently like a benediction. And then she left.
Estella had choked on her own tears from just two seconds of Florence’s tenderness. Thank god she’d used Ellie for all she was worth and kicked her to the curb. Anything more would be unsurvivable.
The new bodyguard, Vera, was everything Florence said she would be.
She wasn’t overly large — barely taller than Estella — but everything about her condensed body radiated menace.
Estella almost felt sorry for any Florelli who’d dare to come near them.
Vera had an added bonus in that she seemed to scare Grant men as well.
The next time young Aiden reported in, no one had to threaten his ball sack.
Vera had snarled at him and he scattered, yelling something over his shoulder about giving him time to do better. Estella wanted to keep her forever.
Vera had another extremely good quality: she wasn’t Kenneth.
Estella found herself looking forward to Vera’s shifts because Ken had been weird with her ever since the night he’d driven her home with Ellie.
She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but something was different in the way he looked at her, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Finally, after a few days of sidelong looks and disturbingly thoughtful glances, he came right out and said it, right in the middle of the drive to work.
“We won’t be seeing her again, will we?”
“Who?” Estella had snapped, wilfully pleading ignorance and hoping he’d take the signal and drop it. He didn’t.
“Eloise Silver. You’re done with all that. Aren’t you?”
“Why the fuck is it your business?”
“I don’t trust her,” he said heavily, and Estella briefly considered slitting his throat to avoid the conversation. “Or, rather, I don’t trust you with her.”
“The fuck-” Estella bristled like an angry cat, ready to tear holes in his skin.
“She’s a distraction,” he spoke over her as if he’d earned the right to mansplain. “I know I don’t know everything, but I do know that you’re up to your neck in the biggest danger you’ve ever managed to find, and you can’t afford a distraction right now. Distraction equals death, Estella. And—”
“We won’t be seeing her again.” Her voice was a razor, cutting the thickened air.
“If she needs warning off—”
“She doesn’t. I’m quite capable of doing that myself.” Estella could see it in her mind’s eye: Ellie Graham’s back as she slunk out of Estella’s house early in the morning. Fucked senseless and dismissed. She swallowed. Yeah, she was quite capable.
“But if she comes back—”
“She won’t. Now shut the fuck up, Ken, and do your goddamned job. Stop pestering me about my love life.” It took a couple of seconds before she realised what she’d said out loud, right there in front of someone who could hear it. They were both uncomfortably silent, all the way to work.
Her night with Ellie Graham was a mistake, she could see it now.
She’d thought she was taking what she wanted, getting her fill, getting herself off with the power she wielded.
She was so fucking wrong. Ellie had taken something from her, and the worst part was, Estella couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.
She felt exposed somehow and vulnerable, as if Ellie had robbed her of a shield she’d only just now realised was vital.
And Kenneth was right. This was the worst possible moment she could have let herself be sapped of power.
Because today, Estella was going to face someone so dangerous that neither Kenneth, nor Florence, nor Vera herself could protect her.
In fact, all three of them combined were still no match for the deadly opponent behind this unassuming suburban door.
Estella gazed at the glossy green painted wood, the little door knocker shaped like a sheepish little lion holding the handle between its teeth.
Sucking in a breath, she pressed the doorbell instead and heard Greensleeves ringing cheerfully through the walls.
A moment later, the door swung open and she steeled herself. For a few seconds they faced off, two predators, neither of them vanquished.
“Come in, then. I’ve just made a pot of coffee,” said her mother-in-law.