Why was she explaining? She shouldn’t be explaining, but the words had come out on their own.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” Oberon laughed. It was a harsh, braying, two-note laugh that only made Sinead’s heart beat faster. “I’m not going to attack you, for God’s sake. You’re a woman! I love women!” He blew out his cheeks. “I mean, that’s really the crux of it, isn’t it? I love women. Too much, one might argue.”
“Stay where you are,” Sinead said. This time, it was an order, though there wasn’t the force behind it that there should have been.
“Oh, don’t be so silly. I’m a bloody MSP, for God’s sake. I’m not a thug off the street.” He moved closer, as if proving a point. “See? It’s fine. I’m not going to do anything to you. I just… God. This isn’t…” He pointed to the side of his head. “I’d rehearsed this, you know? Gone over and over it during the drive up the road. I had it all worked out, but then, I don’t know. It’s not easy.”
He began to pace back and forth in front of the door. Sinead watched every step, anticipating each movement, bracing herself for what might come next.
“It could ruin me. I mean… if it gets out. It could destroy me. My career. My family. My whole reputation, everything I’ve worked so hard for, it could all go. I could lose it all.”
“Mr Finley-Lennox, I think—”
His words came out as a roar. His legs kicked, propelling himself closer until he was within striking distance. “Will you just shut up and listen? I’m trying to say something. I’m trying to tell you what I’ve done, and you just keep talking!”
Sinead tried to draw back, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. His face was all bunched up in fury, and the smell of expensive whisky suddenly filled her nostrils and nipped at her eyes.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You talk, and you talk, and you whisper sweet little nothings in our ears. A little flash of cleavage. A short skirt. A couple of cheeky remarks and you’ve got us eating out of the palm of your bloody hands, don’t you?”
The moment he’d grabbed her—the moment his hands had clamped down—something inside Sinead had shut itself down. Tucked itself away. Hid, out of sight.
She may not have been drugged this time, but fear was having the same effect. She wanted to shrug him off, to push him away, to fight back, but her body refused. She felt like a bystander, watching helplessly on, unable to do a thing to stop whatever was about to happen.
“You want my confession? Here’s my confession. The nanny. Margaux and Orwellia’s nanny. I fucked her. Alright? More than once.” He exhaled with such force that the air between them became thick with the smell of his breath. “There. I said it. It wasn’t my fault, though, she was bloody parading around the place, giggling and teasing me. She made me. She was the one who wanted it, not me. She’s the one to blame! But you lot, you’ll use that against me, won’t you? Because Bernie knew. Bernie had photos. And you’ll make it look like I did it, like I killed him!”
The raised voice brought Taggart sauntering through from the back room. When the little dog saw the stranger pinning Sinead in place he exploded into a frenzy of barking and launched himself at Oberon’s ankles.
“What the hell is…？ Get off,” the MSP warned, swiping at the little dog with his foot. “Ow! Cut that out, you little shit!”
He swung a leg more forcefully. Sinead felt the impact vibrate through him and into her as his foot made contact with Taggart’s ribcage.
She heard the dog cry out in fright and in pain, then the thud and a second yelp as he hit the wall.
That part of Sinead that had been asleep was roused by the sight of the dog collapsing to the floor. The old her—the real her, the her from before—flicked open her eyes, dragged herself to her feet, and dusted herself down.
She raised a knee that immediately found its target. Or, to be more specific, both its targets. She caught a wrist before the MSP had a chance to bend double, yanked it hard, and then twisted it up his back. With a strangled cry, he lost his balance and she stuck with him all the way to the floor, the knee that had devastated his bollocks now pressing into the back of his thigh.
“Ow! Ow! Jesus, stop! Stop!”
“Don’t you ever hurt our dog again,” she hissed in his ear. “And next time you put your hands on me, I’ll break them off and stick them up your arse. You got that?”