The devil you know, p.19
The Devil You Know, page 19
His hand was hot. Hilary’s body trembled.
“Did you kill those kids, Dom?” The question came out raw, the words hardly above a whisper.
“No,” he responded instantly, not blinking.
“You really didn’t know them?”
“I didn’t know her.” The darkness in his eyes had shifted, like clouds moving in a night sky.
Hilary stared. “Dean?”
Dom nodded stiffly. “That’s what I brought you here to tell you.”
Icy waves spilled down Hilary’s neck. “For how long?”
“Not long,” Dom said, setting his glass aside. “Three months, maybe?”
“The hair…”
Dom stared at the wall. “It was probably on his clothes from the last time he’d come here.”
“You met…here?” Hilary looked around the apartment, which seemed to have more shadows than before.
“It’s the safest place we could be together.”
“How did you meet?”
Dom didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was hard, like scar tissue over an old wound. “It was one of Amelia’s events…a particularly tedious one. Everyone seemed to want pictures. I’d gone out on fire escape for a break.” He stared at nothing, gaze far away. “Dean was in the alley having a smoke. He was part of the catering team that night. He nodded and smiled at me and…it just happened.”
“What happened?”
Dom shrugged. “We talked. He was just…easy. He must have known who I was. But he didn’t ask about Amelia or the family. He didn’t seem to care. And he seemed to know, instantly know, just by looking at me, that I was gay.” He stared at his wedding ring. “But he didn’t judge me for that, either.”
Hilary spun his glass around in his hands. “He sounds nice.”
“He was.” For the first time, Hilary heard regret in his tone. “He was nothing exceptional. Just…nice.”
“What happened then?”
“Nothing, that night,” Dom said quietly. “We just talked—about food, wine, traveling. He wanted to move to Paris and train under a Michelin chef.” Dom clenched his jaw. Hilary waited for him to continue, resisted pushing even though it felt like a nest of snakes had hatched in his belly. Eventually, Dom took a breath and continued. “I said I employed a Michelin star chef at The Salisbury, and if he wanted to come over some time, I could have her cater for us. He said yes.”
“So you started sleeping together?”
Dom nodded. “I have to make sure my partners are agreeable to keeping things…discreet.” He glanced at Hilary and away again. “And he was. I could tell I was just a distraction for him, as he was for me. Looking back with what I know now, I think it was because he was worried about his sister…her money troubles. He just wanted something separate from that.”
“Did he talk to you about her?” Hilary said, sitting up straighter.
Dom shook his head. “We didn’t talk about personal things. I never knew he had a sister, let alone a twin. I could just tell he needed an escape…like me.” He looked out of the window. “He was a good kid, Hilary.”
“Dom,” Hilary said gravely, “did he tell Lizzie about you?”
“He knew he couldn’t tell anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t,” Hilary went on. “Twins are close, even more than normal siblings.” Hilary took a moment to marshal his emotion. “Everyone else is on the outside of their world, even if they don’t mean them to be.”
Dom looked at him then away. “He wouldn’t have told her.”
“Dom, think about it. Lizzie told Sara Holden about someone in her life she disapproved of. Someone rich. Someone she saw as manipulative who had done something blackmail-worthy and she intended to make him pay. Could she have known about you and Dean and thought you were abusing him?”
“I wasn’t abusing him,” Dom said, his face darkening. “We were both aware and consenting. He understood how careful we needed to be. He agreed to everything.”
“Do you know, as a fact, that he never mentioned you to his sister?”
Dom clenched his jaw. “No. Of course I can’t know that. But Lizzie didn’t blackmail me, Hilary,” he insisted. “I was telling the truth about that. No one has approached me about Dean or any of my partners.”
“They’re both dead, Dom. It can’t be a coincidence.”
Dom’s face crumpled. “I’ve tried to figure it out but I can’t. No one has made any demands for money. No one told me they knew. And Dean never mentioned anything. The first thing I knew about what had happened was when the police were hammering on my door and arresting me for his murder.”
Hilary tapped his glass with his finger. “The condoms?”
“Not mine,” he said. “We met here, like I said. This place is safe. One of Amelia’s companies owns the deeds, not me, so my name isn’t even attached to it. And the security cameras are run by another of her companies.”
“So Amelia knows everything? About this place, about your affairs?”
“Of course she does,” Dom said. “Like I said, we’re partners. There are no secrets between us.”
“Does she know about me?” Hilary asked, not liking how his voice had changed.
“I’ve not told her, but I think she guessed.”
Hilary put the glass down with shaking hands.
“It’s okay, Hilary. She won’t tell anyone.”
“This is such a mess,” Hilary said, running his hands through his hair. “You swore there was nothing to blackmail you over. Now there’s a sham marriage, gay affairs and you were sleeping with one of the victims.”
“No one knows.”
“Amelia does.”
“She wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Dom said darkly.
“You know that for sure, do you?”
“Yes.”
Hilary raised his eyebrows.
“If you don’t believe me, perhaps your cynical lawyer’s soul will understand that none of this is in her interests. She depends on our arrangement just as much as I do. And she wouldn’t need to frame me for murder if she wanted rid of me.”
“It sounds more like the Cold War than a marriage.”
“We can count on each other. Can you say the same about your relationship?”
Hilary scowled. “We are not discussing my relationship. We’re discussing yours. Plural. And the fact that someone must have known about them if Lizzie found out.”
“Wouldn’t the prosecution have brought it up if they had any suspicions?”
“True,” Hilary admitted. “Christ, I don’t know how you’ve hidden all this so well.”
“Practice,” Dominic said with a sardonic smile. “And I need you to know I’ll protect you too, Hilary,” he said, suddenly earnest. “No one will know about this…not from me.”
“Is that for my benefit or yours?”
Dom regarded him coolly. “Both.”
“Augustine’s offering five years,” Hilary said after a strained pause.
“What?”
“Plead guilty and you’ll be charged with manslaughter with diminished responsibility. You’ll get five years. You’ll be out in three.”
Dom stared at him. “You think I should take it.”
“I think it’s the only way you can be certain of having any kind of future.”
“And what about Dean’s future? And Lizzie’s?” Hilary looked at him. His face was grave. “If I admit to this crime, the person who did it will never be found. I can’t let that happen.”
Hilary gazed at him. It was now so easy to look into his face—the face that had once come to him in night terrors, the face that he’d scrolled hurriedly away from whenever it appeared on news websites or social media, the face that had almost had him regretting all his career decisions when Gunnerson had told him he’d have to defend this man on a double murder charge which, at the time, Hilary had been thoroughly convinced was justified.
And now, instead of the familiar rush of fear and hate, Hilary wanted to sink into him, to let him shoulder his burdens, at least for a while. Dom was the only person Hilary had ever known who he thought capable of it. Perhaps had always been.
“What are you doing to me, Dom?”
Dom brushed his knuckles across Hilary’s jaw. “Helping you see the real me? At least…that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Hilary kissed him. Dom sighed and shuddered. Hilary had never induced such instant desire in Jasper or anyone. The thought of it intoxicated him. The scent and taste of his hot, sweet mouth only fanned the flames.
He thrust his hands into the open shirt and allowed them to roam, drinking in the feel of the powerful body—the body of someone so large and strong that Hilary knew he could overpower him but was choosing not to. A flash of excitement went up his spine.
“Hilary,” Dom gasped, pushing him down into the sofa, stripping off his shirt again and pushing Hilary’s off so they were skin on skin. “God, you’re amazing.”
Dom was hard again. Hilary could feel it against his leg and felt his own sated member stirring. His breathing hitched and his whole body sang as Dom lowered his full weight onto him, pinning him to the couch, running his hands down his sides and legs. He hooked them under Hilary’s knees and pulled them up and apart so he could settle himself more fully between Hilary’s legs. Hilary moaned to feel Dom’s restrained erection pushing against him and yanked both their flies open as quickly as he could.
Dom let out a long, low moan as he rid them both of their remaining clothing and thrust lazily against Hilary’s arse. Their skin heated where it touched. Dom’s kiss was breathy and hungry, deep and intense even as his languid grip on Hilary’s hardening cock was gentle and teasing.
He ran his free hand down Hilary’s thigh and continued to rock against him, his hardness feeling almost alarmingly large and unfamiliar against that sensitive, vulnerable place. But anticipation tightened Hilary’s belly and he moaned, running his hand down the powerful back and over the taut arse, drawing him close.
“Tell me you’ve got some stuff somewhere close,” Hilary panted, tilting his hips to better feel the friction of that large member rocking against him.
“You…you like it this way?”
“Christ,” Hilary breathed between clenched teeth, crushing Dom into him. “Yes, I like it that way. I like to be fucked…hard.”
“Oh, God,” Dom moaned. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He cut off with a groan as he pressed his cock forward, crushing it against Hilary and making him whimper. “But not tonight. Not tonight.”
“Why?”
Dom shook his head, almost pained. “It’s too soon,” he whispered, mouthing his ear. “When you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.”
“Another time,” he whispered. “If you ask for it again, if you still want it, then…yes. But not tonight.”
Dom kissed him, deep and long, and pumped his cock with slow, skilled strokes until the sparking warmth began to gather again, lower and slower than last time, but warmer, like a long summer evening. Desperate to hear his voice again, Hilary fumbled between them for Dom’s own member, inhaled sharply to finally feel how large it was. Dom gasped against his mouth as Hilary started to stroke it.
Very soon they were shuddering together with liquid heat spurting over both their hands. Dom kissed him deeply as they came, swallowing his cries like he would consume him whole. As their breathing slowed and their skin cooled, so did the intensity of Dom’s kiss until finally he lifted his head and gazed into his eyes.
“Would you sleep with me, Hilary?”
Hilary lifted his eyebrows. “I’m not sure I could manage a third time.”
“I mean sleep.” Dom smiled softly. “Stay with me tonight. I’ll order some food. Then we can sleep, just sleep.”
Hilary wasn’t prepared for the tenderness of the request or his reaction to it. He opened his mouth to say no, that he should really go, that they had court the next day and he needed a change of clothes. But, instead, he heard himself say, “All right.”
Dom smiled.
They ate red curry and drank the Thai beer Dom had ordered with it. They talked about food and theater, cars and music. The avoided the case, their past…Jasper. It was like reality wasn’t allowed to intrude by mutual unspoken agreement. Dom smiled and teased but the acid malice that had always tinged his humor was gone. Hilary smiled, ate and, eventually, yawned.
Dom steered him to a bedroom containing a king-sized bed with cool, cream covers. They stripped to their underwear and crawled in. Dom tucked his tall frame up behind Hilary and draped an arm over his waist.
Hilary reached for his work phone to start going through his emails, convinced he would never sleep with all the clamoring thoughts and swirling guilt competing for attention in his brain. But the next thing he knew he was drifting back to consciousness in the dim light of dawn. His arms were wrapped around a firm body and there was a sleepy, peaceful feeling in his chest. Gentle breaths ruffled the hair at his temple and the hardness of a large, unfamiliar cock pressed into his thigh.
The night before rushed back, bringing with it the black fog of shame. His stomach tightened. He checked his phone. It wasn’t even six, but he knew he couldn’t lie there any longer. He extricated himself from the warm embrace then padded around the room, dressing quietly, and made for the door.
“Leaving so soon?”
Hilary turned back. Dom stretched languidly, his muscles bunching and sliding under his skin. His hair was mussed, his eyes dark with drowsy desire. Hilary’s mouth dried out but he cleared his throat and looked away.
“I have to go home to get ready. Big day today.”
Dom sighed and sat up, the cover falling from the sculpted planes of his chest. “Eloise.”
“Eloise,” Hilary said with a half-smile and opened the door.
“Hilary…” Hilary looked back. Dom looked like he was searching for words. “Thank you,” he eventually said, “for staying.”
Hilary nodded and left.
* * * *
“Defense calls Mrs. Eloise Hart.”
Eloise had worn a somber, conservatively cut trouser suit in ivory silk for her court appearance. The porcelain effect was enhanced by the pearls at her neck and the blood-red manicure. Hilary spotted this last as she took her oath and exchanged glances with Beck.
“I told her no bold colors,” Beck murmured as Eloise took her seat, her sharp gaze sweeping the room like an eagle from an eyrie.
“Mrs. Hart,” Hilary began, being sure to smile, “would you please state your relationship with the defendant for the court.”
“Dominic is my son-in-law. His wife, Amelia, is my only daughter.”
“Are you a close family, would you say?”
Eloise raised an eyebrow. “My daughter is the most important thing in the world to me.”
“And my client?” Hilary kept his breathing measured, fighting a flush. He’d struggled to meet Amelia’s eyes when he’d arrived that morning. Luckily, she seemed happy to avoid meeting his and they’d taken their seats quickly, if a little awkwardly. Beck was engrossed reviewing her notes and hadn’t seemed to notice none of them speaking to each other.
Eloise now glanced at Dom who sat, well-groomed and blank-faced, at the defense table, her own expression masked. “Dominic is a fine man from a good family. He and Amelia are happy together. That’s all that matters.”
“So would you say you get on?”
Her eyebrow lifted again. “Most of the time, yes.”
“Just ‘most of the time’?”
“We don’t always see eye-to-eye on the best way to do things, like any business partners. But overall, yes, we have a good relationship.”
“So any disagreements, they were largely about business matters?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing personal? I only ask because Mr. Jabal will no doubt be citing articles and reports of public arguments between the two of you.”
Eloise folded her hands in her lap. “Dominic and I are very different people, but he is my family. Whatever disagreements we have, personal or professional, that will never change.”
“You said he was a ‘fine man’,” Hilary said, glancing back at Dom, who sat with his eyes on Hilary and not his mother-in-law. Hilary suddenly wished more than ever that he knew what he was thinking, what was in the air between them, so strongly that it took him a moment to recall his question. “Could you expand on that?”
“He is hard-working, when he cares to work. He sticks to his principles. And he respects Amelia and his place in this family. I couldn’t ask for more.”
“You say he ‘sticks to his principles’,” Hilary said, again fighting a blush. “For the jury, could you explain how you’ve formed this opinion of him, despite his very public record of being anything but principled?”
Eloise looked right at him. He had the unnerving sensation of those gray eyes looking right into the deepest, darkest secrets of his mind. For a terrifying second, he was certain she knew everything. He forced himself not to blink.
“Where do you come from, young man?”
“Me?”
“Yes, Mr. Whyte. I’m addressing you, aren’t I?”
Hilary glanced at Beck. She gave a tiny helpless shrug. Hilary turned back to Eloise.
“London, ma’am.”
“It’s a big place, Mr. Whyte. Where exactly?”
Hilary resisted clenching his teeth. “Watford, originally.”
“Good. And what do your parents do?”
“My dad is a retired solicitor.”
“And your mother?”
“A housewife.”
Eloise inclined her head. “People who knew their roles, knew what their family needed from them, yes?”
“Yes. I would say so.”
“Well. My family are from Westminster. Dominic’s the same. The names of Hart and Gosford can be traced back to the War of the Roses. On opposing sides, as it happens, but even people with long memories like ours have moved on from that.”
“Mrs. Hart—”
“Dominic’s father was Deputy Prime Minster. Mine was Cabinet Secretary. They, too, knew what was needed of them and gave it freely. That is having principles—principles as old as England itself. It’s no secret that Dominic and his father clashed growing up. It’s no secret we’ve clashed ourselves. But whatever our personal battles, the war is greater than the individuals involved. Dominic understands that. That is why, even if we do not always agree, we have the mutual respect of soldiers fighting the same fight.”
