The Passion

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

FELISHA

S itting frozen at my desk, my eyes scan over the email that is open in front of me.

The words are making my eyes tear up.

It was fun to watch this recording of you and Flynn Taylor. I’m sure the world would love to see it too.

You have 48 hours to pay ￡500,000 to stop it from being released online.

“No, no, no, no…” This can’t be happening.

Feeling my life stop and change course forever, the walls of my office start to close around me.

I click on the attachment that is taunting me with its evil implications, even though I know I shouldn’t. My own moan of ecstasy comes through the speakers as I’m looking at the very clear image of Flynn pounding into me. His face is hidden, but mine is there for all to see, in the throes of my purest pleasure.

I close it quickly and let go of my mouse like it gave me an electric shock after what I’ve just seen.

“How could he?” My words come out as a mere whisper, and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I trusted him. Stupidly, more than I’ve ever trusted any other man.

God, I let my guard down with him, and this is how he repays me. Since then, he has consumed my thoughts late at night, taken over my body in my dreams, and now all I feel is a sharp stab of betrayal in my chest.

The lust that has burned in me since that night instantly turns to pure hatred.

My shock quickly dissipates, and raging anger is there to replace it.

The door to my office bursts open, with Harper marching through it and slamming it behind her.

“You slept with Flynn Taylor, and you didn’t tell me, what the hell!” she whisper-yells at me as she comes to a stop, hands on my desk and leaning toward me. She’s obviously seen the email too, getting copies of every email that goes to my account. She’s annoyed with me but not about the video, just that I didn’t tell her. We never keep secrets, but I didn’t want to share that night with anyone.

I can’t lie to myself. It’s because to me, it meant something, and I’m still struggling to admit it to myself, so why would I tell her and have to say it out loud? And now, I’m glad I didn’t because this killed all those warm thoughts. He is dead to me.

Standing in the same stance as Harper, I lean forward, wishing I could scream my words at her like I desperately want to.

“And he is going to regret every minute of it for doing this to me! I’ll make him pay for videoing me without my permission!” I hiss at her and thump my fist on the table, trying to get my anger under control.

“Wait, what? You think he did this? Are you out of your mind? He might be a player, but he’s not a complete dick. This will hurt him just as much as it hurts you. Surely you can see that.”

I hate that she makes perfect sense because that thought just makes this situation scarier, more real, and I can’t quite cope with that right now.

The phone on my desk ringing startles me a little since Harper is in here, and that’s how I know whoever is on the phone must be urgent. Ryan, my secretary, wouldn’t put the call through otherwise.

“What!” I yell into the receiver, already slightly unhinged.

“I’m sorry, Miss Kentwall, but he keeps ringing and told me if I don’t put the call through, he will come here and storm into your office. He sounds really pissed about something.” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice, but the caller has him rattled.

“Who is it?” But in my head, I already know.

“Flynn Taylor, ma’am. Should I alert security?” Ryan blurts out.

“Not yet. Put him through.” Pushing the speaker button, I replace the handset before it connects. I need Harper to be my witness to his reaction.

“Do you understand the definition of discretion, you asshole!” I can’t help it, I scream at the phone, all my restraint totally lost the moment I open my mouth.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. You set me up! Trapped me in your fucking lair and then filmed a fucking porno in your room. Just to blackmail me and try to discredit the reputation of Darby Hotels. What’s the problem? If you can’t beat us, you think you will try to destroy us instead?” The aggression in his voice would be almost frightening if I wasn’t just as angry.

“Me! Oh, that’s crazy. You think it was me. Why would I bother to film the worst sex of my life and be prepared to share it with the world? What a waste of time that would have been, just like that night was.” I throw my hands in the air in frustration at him accusing me.

“Lies!” he almost growls at me. Man, his ego is huge.

“Pfft, you are so full of yourself you can’t see reality.” I look at Harper whose hands are in the air and waving at me to stop, mouthing “listen to him .”

I’m so wound up, I lose my head and answer her out loud. “Why the fuck would I listen to him?” I slap my hands over my mouth as I realize what I’ve just done.

“Who the fuck are you talking to? Oh, great, are you recording this too! Perfect, just perfect!”

“My name is Harper, Mr. Taylor. I’m her assistant and can assure you that nothing will leave this room, and we aren’t recording a thing. And for the record, you are both idiots! Obviously neither of you did this. Why would you? Pull your heads out of your asses and think rationally.” Harper has walked over to me and pushes on my shoulders so I take a seat back in my chair.

I let out a sigh as the reality of what she is saying sinks in, and I can hear the same coming from Flynn on the other end of the phone.

“Take me off speaker.” There’s not quite as much rage in his voice, but he’s still not happy.

“Certainly,” Harper replies, picking up the handset and handing it to me.

As I press it to my ear, I hear him sigh.

“I wasn’t ringing to accuse you of anything.” His voice is already more controlled than I’m feeling. “My first thought was to check if you are okay, but I have my answer.”

My head falls back onto my chair, and I close my eyes, trying to bring my heart rate down to a level I can rationally function with.

“Let’s see, Flynn, someone has film of us both naked and vulnerable, from inside my personal room, which means someone has breached my security. Then they want money to stop the world from seeing it, and we know that means fuck all because they will probably just sell it to the highest fucking bidder anyway. So, no, I’m far from okay, to be honest.” I slowly open my eyes as I hear the click of my office door closing and see Harper has left to give me privacy.

“I know, but I need you to understand this. I would never do that to you, or any woman for that matter. Please tell me you believe me. I might be a prick at times, but I would never do this, it’s so wrong.”

Sitting here just staring into an empty room, all I can hear is his voice echoing on the words “I would never do that to you” in my head, and even though I’m still feeling so unstable, something in his voice makes me believe him.

“I do.” I don’t know what else to say. Because the reality of the situation is starting to sink in.

“Then who has done this? Fuck, this can’t be happening, Flynn.” My mind is running over the events of that night and how much they might have seen. It’s not like it was a quick one-and-done. We went at it for hours… hours of me losing my mind in the hottest night I have ever experienced.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Don’t do anything. My security team will handle it.” I know he’s trying to look after me, but I don’t need that. I know what happens when I let a man take control, and now I’m paying the consequences.

“Don’t treat me like I’m some delicate flower! We handle this together. Don’t you dare think I will sit back and do nothing.” Sitting up straighter in my chair, I can feel the adrenaline racing now. The shock of it all is gone, and pure rage is surging forward. I plan on finding whoever is responsible and making them pay, big time!

“I wasn’t! Christ, you are frustrating. Let’s be honest, you are far from some fragile glass rose, instead more like a fucking wrecking ball. Look out, anyone who stands in front of you.”

“That’s exactly how I want it.” And it is. I don’t let anything stop me. There are enough barriers for a woman in any business that I refuse to sit back and take the glass-ceiling shit that is out there. I am who I am, and I will succeed on my own terms, not my friends’, not society’s, or most of all, my father’s!

As if thinking of him has conjured him up, my father comes striding through my door without even knocking. Not that he ever does. Apparently, I don’t deserve that respect.

“Just like your mother, a little wh—!” His deep roar fills my office, and I’m sure he can be heard in half the offices down the hall.

“Don’t you dare finish that word. Don’t you fucking dare, Father!” I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m on my way over there!” Flynn is now screaming in my ear.

Great, now I have two irrational dicks to deal with.

“No! I’ll call you back.” I can’t talk to both of them at the same time.

“Put me on speaker, the old prick doesn’t get to speak to you like that. Felis—” That’s the last I hear as I slam the phone down.

“Who the hell was that?” Father is now standing in front of my desk, puffing out his chest and trying to show his best I’m-in-charge look.

What the hell is it with people standing in front of my desk today trying to chastise me? Seriously, is it a full moon or some shit?

Ignoring his question, I stand, take a very deep breath, and walk to the side of my desk so we are on even ground.

“Let’s start that conversation again, Father. What do you want?” I’m trying so hard to keep my level head, when all I want to do is shove my fist in that mouth of his that was about to call me a whore.

“How could you be so stupid, Felisha, making a sex video, and with him!” I can see him standing there, but his body language doesn’t match the anger in his voice.

“Do you think that little of your daughter? Damn it, I didn’t consent to that, and how the hell do you know about this?”

“I got the email.” His hands are now on his waist, fists clenched like he used to do when I was little and he would pretend to be yelling at me because Mum told him that I’d done something wrong. But this time, it’s not funny.

“Crap, please tell me you didn’t open it.” The sheer dread of my father seeing me having sex has my knees almost buckling under me. Can this day get any worse?

“Of course I opened it, I had to verify it was you! No mistake, now is there!” Turning, he walks away from me, standing at the window and looking out at my perfect view that today doesn’t mean a thing. I would give it up in a heartbeat to make this go away. Standing with my head dropped, I can’t bear to look him in the eye anyway, so I’m glad he walked away from me. “No father should ever have to see his daughter like that. So cheap and trashy.”

His voice trails off, leaving my heart crushed.

He hurts me in so many ways that I continue to ignore, and I remind myself that he doesn’t mean it. He’s my father, and deep down he will always love me. But those words cut deep. Stupidly, he has me starting to crumble under his stern words.

“Father, I’m sorry…”

I bite my lip, trying to stop the tears that are building behind my eyes because I’m determined I won’t cry over this. But the hurt is excruciating.

Why wasn’t his first instinct to come in here to comfort me, to be outraged at who would invade his daughter’s privacy, or even to be worried by how our security was breached so badly? But no, instead, he is in here calling me a cheap, dirty whore.

I will not stoop to his level and throw at him how he slept with many women, just like he is describing me, while he had a beautiful wife and baby daughter at home waiting for him.

Therapy has taught me something in the way I interact with my father, and I’m trying my hardest to do that now. I need to stop, think, and take control, not react to his rant.

“So you should be. I’m about to throw away five hundred thousand pounds on your stupidity. I expect better from you.” Turning to look at me, he waits for my response, but he’s not about to get what he was expecting.

“No!” I walk toward him, pushing my shoulders back and feeling the rush of determination coming back into my veins.

“Pardon?” The grumble in his voice tells me he is not impressed with my comment.

“You aren’t paying them a penny. Not until Flynn and I have time to investigate. And let me assure you that if anyone is paying them anything, it will be me, not you!” I clean up my own problems in life. I will never be dependent on my father’s money.

“You and Flynn! You will not speak to that man again. That’s what got you into this problem. He is a disgrace the way he parades around town with a different woman on his arm every week. Ughhh, typical of the company that Darby man keeps. No idea of the way hierarchy works in this country. He is just some Australian who thinks he is somebody because he inherited money. No title, just a scrap of money.”

“Oh. My. God. What a load of absolute bullshit!” I can’t help yelling at him. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.” When I think of the number of women he has been with since my mother divorced him, I would need a spreadsheet to keep them all straight. And as for the way he spoke about money and Nicholas Darby, he just made himself sound like more of an entitled prick than people already think he is.

“Don’t you speak to your father like that. What is wrong with you, Felisha, swearing like you have a gutter mouth. You are a lady, and I expect… no, I demand you act like one. You are better than this.”

My whole chest is visibly rising rapidly up and down as I count to ten in my head.

Finally, after slowing my breath down and with my father just staring at me, waiting for my response, I say the only words that are safe right now.

“You need to leave… now .” Before I say something that I’ll regret. Well, maybe regret is the wrong word. Let’s just say words I won’t be able to take back and will carry on my conscience.

“What?” He actually looks confused, which tells me he has no idea what is really going on in this room.

“Leave.” My voice is gravelly, and he probably thinks it is because I’m about to cry, but it’s far from it.

The tension is thick, and after staring at me for a minute or so, he just starts toward the door, opening it, and looking back at me before he steps through it.

“When you’ve calmed down, I’ll be in my office. And don’t kid yourself, your money is still my money, just in your bank accounts.” His gruffness is to tell me he’s leaving begrudgingly.

How dare he say that!

“Do not do a thing about this. Understood?” I yell after him, making my stance on this loud and clear as he walks away.

All I see is his back as he walks down the corridor and not one ounce of acknowledgment of what I said.

I’m about to walk to the door to close it when Harper’s face appears, but I just need space. Shaking my head at her, she nods and steps back, a look of compassion on her face, which all I can think as I push the door closed is why wasn’t that the look on my father’s face?

And why after all he says and does, can I still not hate him like I should?

What is wrong with me?

Part of me knows he is right, that my money has come from being his daughter, but it has also come from my years of hard work. He doesn’t run this business on his own, and to be honest, I have made smart decisions with my money over the years and grown it exponentially from what he has paid me.

Because I have no control of the family finances—well, not yet, anyway.

But on my fortieth birthday, it’s written in the corporation’s bylaws that he has to step aside, and I take control.

Not that it will make any difference. While he is still living and walking the halls of this office, he will continue to demand control. It’s just that then I will have the power and leverage to make the changes that I can see need to happen.

I can’t think about any of that now.

Sadly, the only thing I need to concentrate on is blocking my father’s words from my mind and how to cope with the fact that God knows how many people have already seen me having sex.

A night of intimacy that gave me relief from the real world.

Something I was treasuring, and it had me understanding how people can want more out of life, more than all I’ve ever wanted. I can see how that sort of sex could become addictive… very addictive.

There was an underlying feeling that coursed through my body that night, new and exciting.

But now it’s all gone, and all that’s left is a bitter taste of what my life is about to look like.

The only problem is I don’t have time to sit here, wallowing in my self-pity.

Time to sort this mess out. Snap out of it, bitch, and talk to Sandon. You pay him to be head of your security, so if he’s lucky, he might still have a job when this is finished. But in the meantime, he needs to get on top of what the hell is going on.

Placing my hand on my cell phone that was sitting face down on my desk, I will myself to push his name… but I can’t. Not just yet.

Because the reality is he is another person that is about to see me naked, and I just can’t cope with that.

The tears I’ve been holding in since I opened that email are falling silently down my face, leaving snail trails in my makeup I’m sure, but I don’t care.

All the voices of what people will say when this hits the internet rush through my imagination. Because as much as I want to believe we can stop that from happening, the reality is I know we can’t.

Men will praise Flynn for getting the cold stone-faced woman into bed and showing her who’s boss. She just needed a good man to crack her.

All I will be is that woman who trapped him in her room and leaked a video of him to try to ruin him. Or she must be so desperate she’s even prepared to be fucked by her opposition just to get off.

Same video… different narrative.

It’s fucked how no matter how hard I try, the world will always treat us differently.

The world has come so far, and yet I have to wonder, will it ever be far enough?

FLYNN

The few times I’ve met Ewan Kentwall over the years, I have never liked him, but I didn’t care, because he was just a competitor and someone I would be spending very little time with, on the rare occasions we happened to be in the same place at the same time.

But now I want to go and have a forceful conversation about the way he just spoke to Felisha.

Who the fuck calls their own daughter a whore? What the hell!

I know, though, that if I try to set one foot into that building today, firstly, security will be all over my ass, and secondly, Felisha will kill me. That woman is so damn independent. I can just picture her over there tearing strips off anyone who makes the mistake of talking to her.

My gut sinks at the phone calls and emails I’m about to send to the guys.

Nic is first because I owe him that, and then Remington who is going to want to kill me. He has so much happening in his personal life that this is the worst timing. Not that there is ever a good time to be exposed in a sex tape, but as our head of security, even though he is on leave, he would be so pissed if I didn’t call him straight away.

My head hurts, and I know the day isn’t going to get any better. After talking to all the guys—well, talking is a loose term for the initial reaction from each of them, but nothing I didn’t expect. Nic wants me to meet Felisha for dinner to keep in contact, or as he insinuated, to keep my enemies close. He doesn’t trust her, and as much as I reassure them it wasn’t her, I must admit, all arrows point to her.

Rem has organized a meeting with the Kentwalls and their security detail so he can come up with a plan, and when I asked what time and where, I was politely told I wasn’t required. After a not-so-polite reply on how I will be there, he convinced me in no uncertain terms that I am to steer clear of Ewan Kentwall. It might have had something to do with me telling him how much I want to show that old fucker how disgraceful he is.

Backing off is not my style. Today has been a shit show, and I’ve tried to respect Felisha’s wishes to let her deal with what she needed to, but I’m getting impatient waiting for her to call me back like she promised.

Rem reported back that Ewan Kentwall is indeed a twat and that he basically had to put his foot down and insist he give us time to investigate this whole thing before he just slaps down money and tries to make this go away. I’ve been told to stay out of the way for Rem and his team.

Broderick, Nic’s personal private investigator, is trying to find this gold-digging woman who has sent us the email using the name Lizzie Smith, which I’m sure is fake. Who knows if it is even a woman; on the internet, you can pretend to be anyone. I’m not sure exactly what Broderick does, and to be honest, I don’t want to. I have a feeling he plays both above and below the law when he is trying to source information, but his words to me one day when we were talking have always stuck with me.

“I take the risk so you don’t have to, so stop asking questions, and I won’t have to tell you the answer that you may not want to know.”

That was enough for me.

I couldn’t stand to be in the office any longer, just waiting for a sliver of information on what they have found.

I’m impatient, nothing pisses me off more. Especially when it’s my life that this is affecting.

Not just my life but Felisha’s too, and that’s what is irritating me the most.

How could I have been so careless to not have seen a camera or phone or whatever the hell they used? Rem told me these things are so tiny these days that I would never have noticed it, but I’m still wound up about it.

To be honest, I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees my ass, but I do care about Felisha and how this will be for her. If it was just me that had this video and she had willingly joined me in recording it, then I’m not going to lie, I would have this on repeat on the TV in my room right now and reliving the night of pleasure.

But knowing how it was done and the sick feeling I have at how exposed someone I respect is on the screen, I’m sure I would end up putting my fist through the television the moment it started playing. My anger management is not my best quality.

Fuck this, I’m sick of waiting.

Rem gave me her cell number this morning with the warning that it was only for emergencies.

Like he was stupid enough to think I wouldn’t use it. But he felt better knowing he had given me the lecture and then he could wipe his hands of blame when she complains that I called.

I listen to the ringing, and I’m starting to think she is going to let my call go to voicemail.

Who am I kidding, if she’s anything like the rest of us in this industry, she will still be working at seven at night, on the phone or in a meeting.

Just before it clicks into her messages, the call is disconnected.

Before I have time to hit her name and call again, a message pops up.

Felisha: I told you I would call!

Flynn: I don’t answer to you.

Felisha: Ditto.

Flynn: We need to talk. My place 8pm. I’ll send my driver.

Felisha: No.

Flynn: Don’t piss me off, Felisha.

Felisha: Ditto.

“Ughhhh!” I growl, kicking the stupid toy mouse across the room, rebounding it off my apartment’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sassy, my cat, just looks up at me from her cat bed by the fireplace that is not on. After all, it’s summer in London, so you don’t need it because it’s so warm. I almost laugh at that thought, because after living in Australia through fifteen summers, these English people have no idea what the hell hot is.

“You could at least think about chasing it and not lying there like the queen you think you are. What is it with you freaking women?”

Standing slowly, she digs her claws into her bed. Lifting them up and down a few times to fluff the material below her, she does three circles and then side-eyes me, lies back down, and proceeds to stretch out and close her eyes again.

Basically, a fuck-you to me for waking her up and disturbing her beauty sleep. Which just pisses me off more.

“I thought animals are supposed to be good for the stress levels. Make you feel calm and loved.” I wait for her to give me something, but all I hear is her soft purr as she slips back into deep sleep.

“Well, you might think it’s okay for her to ignore me, but I don’t. This isn’t over.”

For fuck’s sake, I’m talking to myself. I really am losing it lately.

Flynn: Are you vegetarian?

Felisha: What?

Flynn: Are you vegetarian? Simple question.

Felisha: What is wrong with you!

Flynn: So many things, I’ve been told, but that’s for another day.

Flynn: I’ll take that as a no. Steak it is.

Flynn: Or perhaps you prefer chicken.

Flynn: I’ll cook both. 8pm. Don’t be late!

Flynn: You have 59 minutes. I won’t wait.

Felisha: Of course, you’re one of those annoying people who can only type one damn sentence at a time. Too much for the little brain to process. Not coming!

Flynn: Nothing little here… and you will be coming.

Flynn: 58 minutes now. Tick-tock, time’s a-wasting!

Let’s see if she can ignore me now!

I’ve been told I can be annoying. I like to call it persistent.

Let’s see what she calls it.

I can picture her right now, calling me all sorts of names while she fights with herself, pretending she’s strong enough to ignore me.

Many have tried, sweetheart, without success.

So, bring your A-game.