There’s dancing, and it’s a perfect excuse to not talk, and have Taggie close. Plus, stew in my own guilt.
I’ve always been morally grey, and never had my conscience bothered by decisions I made that were beneficial to me, but hurt others. When I’ve killed innocent people to torture Thaxted. When I’ve bankrupted people to make the deals that ensure Richmond as an area prospers and is beautiful, it doesn’t disturb me.
Standing over Taggie’s sleeping form and wanking off? Fine.
Lying to the men who are my friends in the London Mafia Syndicate by implying I had a hand in the murder of my whole family? Nessun problema.
But fuck, stealing my fake wife’s first kiss?
Now I truly feel evil.
And I like it.
Because I do have a moral code—of sorts—and it’s that I only take what’s mine. Taggie’s first kiss was mine, there’s no question. But I’m forty-one years old. I took the first kiss of a girl who isn’t yet twenty-one. I took the first kiss of a young woman in my care. I stole something precious and wonderful, and I think the reason I feel bad is that I would do it again in a heartbeat, despite knowing that this cannot end well. She’s Thaxted’s daughter.
What a joke that I imagined that faking she was my wife would be enough. I want more. The depth of feeling I have for the daughter of the one man I’ve ever truly hated, will sink me.
When I lead Taggie to the bar for glasses of water and she excuses herself to go to the toilet, my gaze follows her as she walks through the now-sparse partygoers.
I miss her already.
“Have you lost your watch, Richmond?” Feltham sidles up next to me.
I am known for turning up for a nominal amount of time to these meetings. Partly because in recent years there’s an agonising number of couples and families, and also I still have residual guilt that it was a London Mafia Syndicate meeting that saved me from the same fate as my parents and siblings.
“Yes,” I drawl. “I think I left it in the same shithole as you put your charisma.”
“That’s a very rude way to talk about my wife,” he replies dryly.
I can’t help but snort with laughter. “Only you Feltham. Most people name their dick ‘Johnny’ or something.”
“The charisma is the stuff that stays in and gets her pregnant.” He grins. “The deposition instrument is known as a cock. And if I find your watch where I like to put my cock, I’ll kill you,” he continues lightly. “And I suspect your wife would resurrect and kill you a second time, given how she’s been glued to you all evening.”
Chance would be a fine thing. She doesn’t care about me. Just a good actress.
He catches the eye of the bartender and orders a Scotch and a glass of some fancy soft drink for his wife.
“How did you get anyone to be your wife, Richmond?” Feltham leans against the bar and regards me. “She saw past your familial homicidal tendencies, huh and agreed to marry you in secret because she was so embarrassed?”
“It’s a Richmond family principle to only murder people who are dangerous and clever enough to be a threat, but I’d make an exception in your case,” I add, and Feltham just laughs. Feltham is almost a neighbour of the Richmond mafia, and we’re friends of a sort, having both been in the Mafia Syndicate since the initial meetings.
“And how come she’s not pregnant yet? I don’t think patricide is hereditary.”
“Not everyone is as obsessed with having children as you are, Feltham.” He’s right that I am though. I’d love to make a new Richmond family with Taggie.
He grins unrepentantly. “Best thing I’ve ever done. My kids are great, and my wife is—”
“Thank you, I don’t want to know.” It was bad enough when I was just jealous of him in the abstract.
“Hey.” Taggie touches my arm, and relief showers me as I see her.
“You’d like to go home and experience your husband’s charisma, wouldn’t you?” Feltham says to Taggie with an impressively straight face.
“Uh.” She glances at me. “I suppose so?”
Shooting Feltham a dirty look, I take Taggie’s hand. “Come on, that dance floor is calling to us.”
While she comes willingly enough, and melts into my arms when we’re among the few remaining couples dancing, moving with me naturally, I can see the questions in her eyes that I don’t want to answer.
I’m reluctant to leave. That’s the honest truth.
I don’t like these events, usually. But I love faking with Taggie, and the moment we get home, it’s all over.
