AM Hartnett - The Deep End

Though she wasn’t one for sharing gossip, Grace couldn’t help but absorb it when in earshot. There were so many stories out there. She’d heard from some that his face was like Frankenstein’s monster’s, while others said that he had had extensive plastic surgery to fix the damage.

He’d called in to the afternoon meeting with voice only. He was calling her now with full video.

After a moment, he disconnected and Grace exhaled.

It had just been a mistake, maybe a slip of a finger. Yet as she moved to the conference console the screen lit up with the words JAT INCOMING VIDEO CALL.

She quickly turned the lights back on, and then pressed the receiver button.

It took a moment to make out shape from shadow. A man was in near-darkness, sitting partially off-camera. All that was revealed to her was a broad arm and shoulder, an ear surrounded by dark hair that curled around a wide neck, the corner of a mouth, and one heavy-lidded dark eye.

Grace straightened and smiled. ‘Good evening, Mr Taureau.’

He said nothing, and a prickle ran across her neck. Taureau’s one-eyed gaze was so intense she didn’t feel the need to speak again. She knew that he heard her.

‘Miss Neely, isn’t it?’

Grace nodded. ‘Mr Caroway’s assistant. I’m afraid everyone’s gone home.’

‘Everyone but you.’

She couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or was merely amused. Taureau rarely spoke, but when he did it was a startling experience. She’d seen video clips of him in his youth. He’d had a silky voice with that fluid French-Canadian accent. Now, with apparent damage to his vocal cords, his voice was like the kind of smoke found in an anonymous bar, equal parts seductive and menacing.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she offered him a bright smile. ‘I’m just finishing up.’

‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’

Without the benefit of his expression, Grace couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic. She didn’t care for the question. She’d already had her weekly reminder of the lack of social intercourse in her life. Still, she didn’t falter. ‘It’s been a month of long nights. I was just about to be on my way.’

He moved slightly, enough to reveal the scar beneath this eye. Of all the rumours she’d heard, this was a fact: he had been left with scars as a gruesome memorial of what had happened to him.

‘I’ve seen you here late before, alone. Almost every night I see you in this office, but it doesn’t seem like a burden to you like it does with others.’

‘This is a demanding job, sir. If I didn’t –’

‘You seem to thrive on it, though. The more pressed you are to perform, the happier you seem.’

Grace couldn’t loosen her tongue. Her thoughts buzzed inside her head, impossibilities shifting from ghostly and translucent to solid and real. Here she was having a casual conversation with an enigma, and he was telling her that he had been watching her.

The tips of her fingers tingled, and then went numb with cold shock.

He’s seen everything.

Still, she kept smiling as he went on.

‘You’re not married.’ It was a statement, not a question.

She shrugged. ‘I prefer my independence.’

‘As do I. Some people just don’t get it, do they? Like the mother you were talking to earlier. She doesn’t understand why someone would choose to be alone.’

‘I don’t –’ She caught herself before she could tell him she didn’t choose to be alone. She simply was alone, because that was the life she had made. She had very few regrets, and when she did they were fleeting.

‘I have people in my life like that,’ he said, and laughed. It was a cynical sound he seemed to cover up after a moment. ‘Though I suppose it would be absurd to compare our situations, wouldn’t it? There’s a big difference between thriving on constant activity like you do and … well, me. Still, there’s something to be said for solitude, isn’t there, Miss Neely?’

‘Is that why you called in tonight?’ she asked, sure her voice shook a little as she did.

‘Are you asking if I’m looking for someone to validate my disdain for being alone? Am I so lonely I’d watch you like some horror-movie stalker? No, and there’s no need to be defensive, though I can hardly blame you after what I’ve seen. You’re often here alone, but sometimes you’re not alone.’

A cold chill settled in every bone. Grace sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. She let the smile go, but held her chin high.

So this is it. This is the moment when all those sinful little indiscretions are laid out before her. She’d always worried it would happen, but she could never have imagined Jacques Alain Taureau would be the one she’d be exposed to.

After a moment, she said, ‘Mr Taureau, sir, am I fired?’

‘Something else we have in common,’ Taureau went on, his tone as cool as ever. ‘I like discretion. I like control. I like knowing that once we’ve both gotten what we want, there’ll be no complications to follow.’

She couldn’t deny that his outlook mirrored hers, but it bothered her that it had been so obvious to him.

‘May I ask you something?’ she asked.

‘Please.’

‘Do you have cameras everywhere?’

‘I do, but not the CCTV monitored by security. My own.’

‘With sound.’

The corner of his eye crinkled. What she could see of his mouth twitched. Was that a smile? She couldn’t tell, and his voice betrayed no emotion, let alone amusement.

‘No one knows about it but me and a few trusted acquaintances.’

‘And me.’

‘But you’re not going to tell anyone.’

There it was: the challenge. She wasn’t going to reveal his secret and she knew it.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Why not?’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘For one, I understand your reasons. It’s not enough to keep your enemies close. You want to be able to manipulate them and if you know their secrets, you can pre-empt any moves against you.’

‘And for another?’

She began moving around the table. ‘Because I’m not stupid, Mr Taureau. I assume you put the cameras here in October when the room was being renovated. You’ve seen me with about five different men in this office.’

She could have sworn that smile got wider. He moved, his elbow now on the arm of the chair and his fingers against his temple. ‘Six men, actually. Not to mention the three times you sucked off John Stamp at his desk when you had your Christmas fling.’

Grace stopped at the head of the table and leaned back. Inside, she was spiralling. Outside, she matched his composure. ‘You are thorough.’

‘So are you, in more ways than one.’

She curled her fingers around the edge of the table. ‘Am I fired?’

‘What was his name? The last one, the one in Caroway’s office today.’

‘Sir, I’d like an answer to my question.’

‘You’re very formal. It’s like an on-and-off switch. I think you’re trying to take control away from me, like you do with your lovers.’ His chair squeaked as he leaned back. Still, he remained hidden in shadow. ‘No, you’re not fired. Not if you tell me his name.’

‘I don’t think –’

The room filled with a chaotic sound: a woman moaning, panting, urging.

‘You are hungry for a cock, aren’t you?’

Grace couldn’t breathe as she stared at the man in shadow and listened to the grainy voice of her man from Breton-Craig, and then her own.

‘You want to watch me rub my pussy while you fuck me?’

‘Spread you open and keep you wet like this all night long.’

‘Oh, fuck … just a little more …’