Joker in the Pack
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
What's next?
What's next?
What's next?
What's next?
Want to stalk me?
End of book stuff
Other books by Elise Noble
Joker in the Pack
Elise Noble
Published by Undercover Publishing Limited
Copyright © 2017 Elise Noble
v7
ISBN: 978-1-910954-51-5
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Edited by Nikki Mentges at NAM Editorial
www.undercover-publishing.com
www.elise-noble.com
the joker in the pack
phrase
A person or factor likely to have an unpredictable effect on events.
CHAPTER 1
“WOULD YOU HURRY up?”
I stood holding the ladder with sweaty hands as Maddie balanced on top. We’d been best friends since she gave me one of her sandwiches and half of her crisps on the day I forgot my lunch in primary school.
“Why are you whispering, Liv? He’s not here.”
She leaned to the side, and the ladder wobbled. I clung on tighter as my grip on sanity loosened.
“But he’ll be back any minute!”
“Almost done. Just pass me the pink, would you?”
I handed over one final tube of glitter and tapped my foot as she carefully sprinkled the contents along the fourth blade of my ex-boyfriend’s ceiling fan. His professionally decorated cream-and-grey lounge would look wonderful covered in a hail of rainbow sparkles.
I glanced at my watch—almost seven o’clock. Please, say Edward hadn’t left work early today. We should have had time to spare, but we’d got delayed taking down the curtain poles to put the hard-boiled eggs inside. Some of the screws were really sticky. Not only that, mixing his hideously expensive conditioner with hair removal cream and squishing it all back into both the bottle in the shower and the spare in the cupboard had taken longer than anticipated.
But we’d managed in the end, and now I was torn between shrieking with glee or backpedalling and putting everything back how it was.
I wasn’t normally vindictive like that, you understand, but buoyed as I was by the glass of wine I’d drunk with lunch and the vivid memory of Edward boinking his personal assistant over his dining room table, it hadn’t taken much for Maddie to persuade me. I’d chosen that table with him, for goodness’ sake. When he’d asked the assistant in John Lewis how sturdy it was, I’d had no idea what he had in mind. How stupid did I feel?
Maddie clambered down the ladder, grinning. “Grab that screwdriver, would you? We don’t want to give the game away by leaving evidence behind.”
No, we didn’t. I stuck it in my pocket and grabbed one end of the ladder, which we carried back to Edward’s garage. Inside, I took one last look at his new Mercedes. We’d chosen the colour together, and he’d even ordered the heated seats because I didn’t like getting cold. Six weeks he’d owned it, and we’d only taken a handful of trips before that awful day.
“Ready to go?” Maddie asked, hovering by the door.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” Out of my old life and into the new.
We giggled like schoolgirls as we ran towards the Tube station, but it wasn’t until we were sitting on the train that the guilt really hit. What had we done?
“Do you think the hair remover was a bit much?”
“No, I bloody don’t. She was wearing your Jimmy Choos when you caught them, remember?”
I did, but I didn’t want to.
“And look on the bright side, his little slut might borrow some of it for her own tresses.”
There was that, but still… “He’s going to know it was me.”
Maddie didn’t hold back with her filthy laugh. “No, he’s going to know it was me. When’s he coming round to your place to pick up the rest of his stuff?”
“Tomorrow evening.” I knew that from the claws squeezing my guts harder with every passing second. “Perhaps we should have waited.”
“Nah. Carpe diem, remember? Seize the day. Do you want me to be there tomorrow?”
“Isn’t Tuesday your date night with Dave?”
Maddie and Dave had been seeing each other for two years, and although he’d never surprised her with a trip to Antigua like Edward did for me one day, Dave also didn’t cancel date night at the last minute because a “meeting” came up. Meeting. I knew better now.
“Yes, but Dave and I go out every week. If you want me there, I’ll come.”
I’d have loved the moral support, but with Maddie working shifts as a nurse and Dave’s overtime as an electrician, I understood how much they valued their evenings out.
“Honestly, I’ll be fine. I know Edward hasn’t been very nice to me since…since the…incident, but I can cope with being in the same room as him for a couple more hours.”
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Last time we’d spoken, I’d gone through an entire box of tissues, a tub of chocolate ice cream, and a bottle of wine afterwards. I couldn’t cope with being in the same building as him, let alone the same room. Every time he got within touching distance, I couldn’t decide whether to stick pins in him or cry.
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.” I plastered on a grin I absolutely didn’t feel. “Everything’ll be fine.”
The door rattled in its frame as Edward slammed it behind him.
“Pig!” I shouted.
The nosey old lady upstairs banged on the ceiling as I stumbled over to the freezer for another pint of Ben & Jerry’s finest. I carefully placed the tub of Chunky Monkey next to my economy-sized glass of white and alternated spoonfuls with cutting Edward’s face out of every photo ever taken of the two of us.
Snip, snip, slurp.
Snip, snip, slurp.
Snip, snip, slurp.
I’d just got through the album of our first year together when Maddie called.
“How did it go?”
“Oh, it was just super. Perfect. Couldn’t have been better.”
“And how did it really go?”
I threw the scissors down on the coffee table, and lots of little Edward-faces scattered everywhere.
“He insisted on taking the chafing dish. I was the only one who ever used it. He can’t even turn it on, for goodness’ sake! He’s…he’s just…an asshole!”
“Well, we already knew that.”
“And he took the set of glass bowls we brought back from Venice. I picked those out, and he knew how much I loved the colours. But he said he paid for them, so he was having them.”
“He’s just being spiteful because you wouldn’t let him have his cake and eat it. It makes me glad I rubbed cut chilli on his toilet paper.”
“You did what?”
“While you were trying to get the curtain pole down. Habaneros. I bought them specially.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I ended up snorting instead. Mother would have been furious at how unladylike I’d become. My eyes began watering again, although I wasn’t sure whether it was from the grief of finalising my break-up with Edward or the thought of what two-hundred-thousand Scoville units would do to the delicate skin of his backside. Maddie hung on, patient as always, as I blew my nose.
“Will the peppers leave any permanent damage?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed.”
“I don’t know whether to kiss you or curse you.”
“I’ll settle for a hug next time we see each other. You really are better off without him—you know that, right?”
I carefully avoided answering her question. “You’re the best friend a girl could have. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Maybe once or twice.”
I smiled to myself. Maddie sure was one in a million. “Get back to your date.”
Maddie had told me a hundred times that I was better off without Edward, and while my head could accept that, it was taking longer for my heart to comprehend. A month ago, it had been filled with affection for the man I’d hoped to marry, and now there was a yawning hole in my chest. Empty. I was empty.
Four weeks, two days, and three hours had passed since I walked in on Edward doing the dirty on me, and after two weeks of numbness where I’d ignored every call, the wounds were still raw. Little things got to me, like fetching one mug of tea instead of two in the mornings and the absence of his low-fat soya milk in the fridge. My solitary toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom. The excess of space in the hall closet.
Then there were the intangibles. The cold stillness of the flat late in the evening. The times I turned around to pass comment on some triviality, only to remember I was alone. Those things were the worst, but of course, I couldn’t escape the practicalities either. I’d never had to worry about budgeting before, and now the bills were mounting up.
Although I’d dropped plenty of hints about us moving in together, Edward had clung on to his bachelor pad. Hardly surprising now I knew what he’d been doing there. But despite that, he’d warmed my bed at least five nights out of every seven.
“I love coming home to your cooking, Olivia,” he said to me at least twice a week.
The last meal I’d made for him had been salmon en croûte with a chocolate roulade for dessert, and it had taken me most of the afternoon. All that time I’d spent pandering to Edward’s needs and neglecting my own. After the ten o’clock news finished and he’d had a nightcap, he’d always snuggled up to me, whispering sweet words and telling me how much I meant to him.
Lies. All lies.
Looking back, I realised how stupid I’d been. Blinded by love and, if I was honest with myself, a little by money as well. The one area where I couldn’t fault Edward was his generosity when it came to my living expenses. While I’d paid the rent, he’d covered the utilities and groceries.
Seven hundred pounds a month wasn’t a lot for him, seeing as he earned thousands as an investment banker. He carried that much around in his wallet. When we’d gone out for dinner, he’d favoured lobster and steak with a hundred-pound bottle of wine, whereas my income ran to Marks & Spencer on a good month. And there hadn’t been many of those lately.
As a self-employed website designer, I could theoretically increase my hours and make more cash, but the market had become saturated since I first started my little business. Finding new clients wouldn’t be easy.
But I had to try. I gazed around my tiny flat, the space I’d once been so proud of. Yes, I needed to work because otherwise, I’d be homeless.
CHAPTER 2
I TOOK ANOTHER sip, okay, gulp of wine as I rued the choices I’d made over the last two years. Of course, dating Edward was my biggest mistake, but that had led to a whole host of smaller problems. I’d become too reliant on him.
“Let’s go out for supper with Ferdinand and Petronella,” he’d said all too often. Other days, it was a trip to the opera or drinks in Chelsea, and he’d always expected me to be available at the drop of a hat to accompany him.
I’d secretly loved that. I enjoyed going to the opera too. Well, apart from the singing. And sitting still for two hours. Fine, I liked having ice cream in the interval and being seen out with Edward, who nobody could deny was heart-stoppingly handsome.
So, when work contracts came to an end, I hadn’t worried about replacing those clients with new ones. Parties with friends had won out, and despite that, I hadn’t heard a word from Petronella and co. since three days post-incident. I groaned at the mere thought of that encounter.
Edward had still been insisting that his little indiscretion had all been his PA’s fault. She’d come on to him, he claimed. She was only supposed to be in his townhouse to work on a profit-and-loss analysis. And I’d been racked with self-doubt—perhaps he’d strayed because I’d put on a few pounds or hadn’t put enough effort into cooking lately? Which was why I’d gone to the gym that Friday afternoon. As if twisting my ankle on the treadmill hadn’t been bad enough, I’d been changing in the farthest corner of the locker room when Petronella and an acquaintance walked in. And they were talking about me.
“Apparently Olivia finally found out about Edward and Becki,” Petronella said.
“I heard. When I spoke to Becki after yoga, she said Olivia looked totally shocked.”
“Really? I’m only surprised it took so long. After all, she didn’t notice when he was messing around with the waitress from Norton’s every Thursday night.”
What? Edward had told me Thursdays were team night at work. A bunch of guys getting together to discuss deals and compare their golf handicaps.
“Or his tennis coach. How long did that affair last? Five months? Six?”
“And don’t forget that thing Edward had with that Thai masseuse.”
“Pai?”
“Yes, her.”
“I always thought she was a man.”
“Whatever. She’s great at working the kinks out of my shoulders.”
I sagged back onto a bench as their voices faded away. How could he? I must have been the laughing stock for months. And worse, if the seminar on web coding I’d been due to attend one fateful Tuesday hadn’t been cancelled, and if I hadn’t decided to surprise Edward with a nice bottle of burgundy and a selection of Marks & Spencer’s finest, I’d still be in the dark.
Only one of our joint friends had phoned me since the split. Beth, my sometimes doubles partner at badminton, a petite brunette married to the CEO of a bathroom design firm. But once I’d finished optimising her lifestyle website for search engines, she’d stopped returning my calls, and when I bumped into her outside the wholefood store a week later, she’d studiously looked the other way.
After that, I’d avoided the gym and the wholefood store—in fact, going out at all. Waitrose delivered the essentials, and apart from my foray back into Edward’s apartment with Maddie, I hadn’t left the house.
But darn it! That meant Edward had won, and the very thought made me sick.
I couldn’t even cook properly. Normally, I loved
baking, and barely a day passed without me turning the oven on and making a cake or a quiche or a batch of cookies. But I’d spent the last month living on junk food.
Well, no more. Tomorrow, I’d begin getting my life back. I’d make soup for lunch, advertise for new clients, and go out in the evening.
Tomorrow, Olivia mark two would be born.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Maddie asked the following afternoon.
I’d put my phone on speaker while I got ready, and I paused, mascara wand in mid-air.
“I can’t let Edward overshadow the rest of my life.”
“But if you wait until the weekend, I can come with you.”
Four days? No, I had to get this over with.
“Maybe we can do something on Saturday evening too, but I need to go out tonight.”
I poked myself in the eye, dammit, and it started watering. Not tears. No, not at all.
“Well, okay.” Maddie sounded doubtful. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Fine. Fine in the same way as I told Edward I was fine when he cancelled our holiday to Switzerland because of a client meeting. Fine in the same way as I told my mother I was fine when she insisted I forgo Maddie’s thirteenth birthday party to attend a ballet lesson because all little girls should learn grace and poise. If I recalled correctly, I’d tripped over my own feet that day and spent the evening getting six stitches in my eyebrow. You could still see the scar in the right light.
I pushed thoughts of them out of my mind as I curled my hair. If I had the money, I’d get it highlighted again. The colour had darkened over the years, more of an ash blonde now than the platinum I’d been born with. At least my aquamarine shift dress matched my eyes perfectly.
By the time I slipped my feet into a pair of heels and headed for the door, my toes were feeling decidedly chilly. But I pushed on because Edward would not win.
I didn’t feel brave enough to venture far, but I’d been to the Wild Orchid in Clerkenwell a few times with Edward and our friends, and I wouldn’t look completely out of place on my own. Even better, I could walk there and save a cab fare.