There’s a lump in my throat as I breathe him in for what might be the final time.
I soak in the shadow of stubble on his jaw. The birthmark on his cheek. The heaviness of his brow.
“Amy,” he says, and my heart stops.
“Alexander,” I say, and he steps aside to let me pass.
I flinch as the door slams behind me. “It’s Ted fucking Brown,” he snaps.
I nod. “Ted,” I whisper.
There’s no champagne this evening. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the envelope.
“Let’s get the fucking practicalities out of the way first, shall we?” he spits.
I shake my head. “I don’t want your money,” I tell him. “I’m not here for the money. I never have been.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He tears into the envelope with a fierceness that makes my legs tremble. He throws the notes at me in plumes of rage. They rain down on me, landing on the floor like leaves.
“Pick it up!” he snaps. “Don’t be fucking shy. You want more?”
He pulls out his wallet and empties it at my feet.
I’ve never felt so cheap as I do when his loose change lands on my toes.
“Why are you here?!” he seethes. “Are you that fucking greedy for more?!”
“I don’t… it’s not about money…” I repeat, but he doesn’t care.
“I’ve made you a fucking millionaire, isn’t that enough?! You want more?!” He takes off his watch and throws that at me too.
I can’t stop the tears as his cufflinks bounce off my chest, and I don’t understand it. I’m not a millionaire. I’m not here for his money.
“Pick it up!” he shouts, but I don’t move. He drops to his knees and gathers notes from the floor to throw in my face all over again, and I don’t even flinch. “Take it!”
“I don’t want it,” I whisper. “I swear I don’t. I used the money for my brother, that’s all, to make sure he has enough for a good life.”
“Oh he’ll have a good fucking life,” he barks as he gets to his feet. “He’ll have a whale of a fucking time with the six fucking figures I paid for you.”
My eyes meet his, and I don’t get it.
“Don’t play fucking dumb,” he snaps. “I know you get seventy fucking percent.”
“I get what you give me,” I tell him. “I’d have taken whatever you gave me. I’d have taken nothing.”
He sneers. “What I give you and the rest of the fucking money Claude wires to your fucking account, you mean?”
But I don’t. I don’t mean that. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I tell him so and he rages all around me. He storms across the room and pours himself a whisky from the mini bar, and I just wait.
“Enough of the lies,” he says and lights up a cigarette. “I’ve had fucking enough of it.”
“I’m not lying,” I tell him.
“You’re telling me Claude never fucking paid you?”
“You paid me.”
“And Claude, yes?”
I shake my head. “He said it would be cash… he said never to ask…”
He still thinks I’m lying and I know. His eyes are hostile and suspicious as they stare into mine. I don’t blame him.
“If you’re fucking lying to me…” he threatens.
“I’m done with lying,” I tell him and my voice breaks.
He sits down on the edge of the bed with his hands in his hair, and I so much want to touch him. It pains right through me to leave him be.
“He didn’t pay you?”
“No, never,” I say again.
“Amy, if you’re lying…”
My legs don’t want to hold me anymore. I’m exhausted and empty. I drop to my knees amongst the scattered money.
The silence is heavy as neither of us speak another word. I don’t care. I only care that I’m with him, even though he hates me.
He finishes up his cigarette and drops it into his empty tumbler.
“He really didn’t pay you?”
I shake my head.
“I paid half a fucking million for your virginity and a five percent compulsory cash tip on top. You didn’t get it? What about the million I paid for your fucking settlement fee last Sunday? What about the ten fucking grand I paid twice a fucking week?”
My jaw drops open. “You did what?!”
“You didn’t get it? Not any of it?!”
“I got twenty-five grand the first time, but it was more than enough. It was more money than I’ve ever seen. I get the envelopes. I get whatever you give me. And I don’t know anything about a settlement fee! I don’t know anything about a million pounds, I swear!”
I stare numbly as he pulls out his phone. I watch him as he gets to his feet and presses it to his ear.
“Amy’s fucking money,” he says. “Where the fuck is it?”
I can’t hear the other end of the conversation and I don’t care.