The Second Time I Saw You: The Oxford Blue Series #2 (15 page)

The numbness I felt when I first viewed the clip has worn off and anger has taken its place. A wild anger with no direction that seizes me like a tornado. The questions tear at my brain with their Harpies’ claws. Who sent it? Rafe must have had his email hacked – he couldn’t possibly have got access to a video like this. It has to be Valentina … so how does she know Rafe is my tutor?

‘Lauren, hun?’

The small and desperate voice outside my door is Immy’s again.

I scramble my way up from my soggy pillow. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Can you open the door or do you feel too sick? Shall I fetch the college nurse?’

‘I’m not sick.’

A pause. ‘Then, hun, why don’t you let me in?’

If I stay like this any longer, Immy will either get someone to break the door down or call the porters. I’ve been lying down for ages and skipped lunch so I
feel a little light-headed as I climb off the bed and inch open the door, knowing I’m letting in more than just Immy. Knowing I’ll have to share the humiliation and shame of that fucking clip.

Her mouth opens in an ‘O’ of dismay as soon as she sees me.

‘Oh my God, what the hell’s happened? You’re white as a sheet. Have you had awful news from home?’

‘No.’

‘Has something happened to Alexander?’ She walks past me and I close the door behind her.

My anger boils over like acid. ‘Yes, I think you could say that something’s happened to him.’

‘Jesus. What?’

I cross to the laptop and click on the link again. While Immy watches the video, I stand by, hugging myself as if I might otherwise break apart. I can’t see her face but I can hear the sharp intake of breath, the ‘Oh my God’s and the gasps.

Afterwards, she murmurs, so quietly I can hardly hear her, ‘Oh fuck.’

She turns away from the screen and already she’s looking at me like I just lost someone close. Maybe I did. ‘I feel sick every time I watch it.’

‘I’m not surprised. It is revolting. Valentina sounds like a scalded cat. Alexander has a nice arse though.’

‘Immy!’

‘Sorry. Gallows humour. Oh, hun, I am
so
sorry.’ She puts her arms around me and hugs me and, as I’d
feared, my tears start to flow again. At this rate, I’ll flood the quad and it occurs to me that I had no idea I could feel this hurt, like a knife is corkscrewing inside me. ‘I’ll call Skandar and tell him I can’t go for dinner.’

‘No! You can’t ruin your evening because of this.’

‘OK. OK, but you’re so upset – and I don’t blame you – I don’t want to leave you here on your own all night.’

‘I’ll survive,’ I say, desperate not to spoil Immy’s special night. ‘But what
am
I going to do about this?’

She screws up her face. ‘Well, first, we need to know when this video was shot. Second, we have to find out who sent it.’

Since I don’t want to face the first question, I tackle the second. ‘It came from Professor Rafe’s email but it must have been hacked.’

‘Mmm, I agree. He is a perv and a manipulative bastard but even he wouldn’t dare send this and besides, he would have no way of knowing it existed. What reason could he have?’

‘I suppose he has been trying to split me up from Alexander …’

Immy grimaces and shakes her head. ‘Then he’s a wanker. Does he think you’re going to run into his arms and beg him to comfort you?’ She brackets her fingers around the ‘comfort’. ‘Even if by some miracle he had seen this clip, he wouldn’t email it to you because he knows you’d go straight to the Dean.’ She pats my arm.
‘But … but you’ll
have
to tell Rafe anyway, if his account has been hacked.’

‘No! I’d die rather than let him know about this. He’d love it and he’d milk every last drop out of it.’

‘OK, OK.’ Immy picks up the box of Kleenex on my bed and grabs a bunch from the now half-empty box. ‘Then we have to find out who did it, somehow.’

I wipe my eyes. ‘How?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but Skandar has friends in the Computer Science department. There
must
be a way; most of the engineers know how to hack an account anyway. It’s not difficult to hack someone’s emails … You’re an American politician’s daughter, you know that.’

She smiles but I’m too angry to laugh. ‘I still don’t know how to do it personally.’

‘Don’t worry, forward the email to me and I’ll ask Skandar tonight.’

‘I can’t have it spread all over the university!’ I sit down on the bed and blow my nose noisily. ‘Please, don’t stress over this tonight.’

‘OK, but we must try to find out who sent it because then we’ll know why they did it.’ She sits on the bed next to me and hands me a fresh Kleenex. ‘I’ll help you find out who did this but it’s up to you to find out when that video was filmed. This is absolutely the shittiest thing in the world to happen, but no matter how awful this clip is, it means nothing if it was filmed before Alexander met you.’

‘I know that, but how can I find out? I’ve watched it until I want to vomit and there’s no way of telling. That’s the worst thing.’

‘Then you have to ask Alexander.’

‘I can’t. Not now. Not until I’ve calmed down. If I see him now, I might kill him and I’ll definitely start screaming and shouting and I
hate
being out of control.’

‘I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. No matter how awkward and irritating Alexander can be, I’m sure he would never cheat on you – and Valentina hasn’t even seen him since the ball, so it’s impossible that it was filmed recently.’

‘It’s
not
impossible. Valentina was at Alexander’s house when he got back from Falconbury after the funeral. I found an envelope in his bin, from a card she’d taken round. He said she only dropped by to offer her condolences.’

Immy snorts in derision, which isn’t helpful, but I don’t blame her doubting him.

‘He swore that nothing happened and that his cleaner was there but now I don’t know what to think. That’s his room – our room – at the Oxford house. Immy, I don’t know what to believe.’

‘Then you need to talk to him as soon as you can bear to, no matter how awful it is. You
have
to find out the truth.’

‘There’s something else …’

She frowns. ‘What?’

‘Look at this.’ I cross to the laptop and open up the Facebook window.

‘What are you doing now?’

‘I know it’s crazy but I couldn’t help it.’

I open Valentina’s profile page.

Immy rolls her eyes. ‘Silly cow, why hasn’t she got the privacy setting on?’

‘Because of
this
, maybe?’ I point to the part where her status says: In a Relationship. ‘That only went up yesterday. Until last night, it said single.’

‘You’ve been checking out her profile?’

‘Only since I heard she’d been to Alexander’s house earlier this term. I couldn’t stop myself.’

‘Fair enough, but changing her status means nothing. She could be referring to anyone, or it could all be bullshit. She’s probably sitting over her laptop right now, cackling and muttering Italian “mwha ha ha”s.’

I’m in no state to laugh. ‘Look at these pictures. I don’t think they were here when I last checked her profile.’

I click on the old albums Valentina has on her account. They chart an ultra glamorous calendar of events: Valentina and Alexander lounging by an infinity pool; next to the bride and groom at a society wedding; drinking Pimm’s at a polo match; her clinging to his arm at a military function, with Alexander in full army regalia.

‘Oh my God.’ Immy takes over the mouse pad, clicking through the photos. ‘She actually has an album
called “The Proposal”? So long after he finished with her? The woman is barking mad.’

Even so, ‘
La Proposta
’ obviously happened in Paris and is backed up with dozens of photos: Valentina and her
fidanzato
in front of the Eiffel Tower; by the Arc de Triomphe; in a restaurant, where Valentina is sliding an oyster down his throat.

‘I feel nauseous all over again.’

‘I’m not surprised. Eww.’ Immy snorts at a close-up shot of Valentina’s ring finger. ‘I always think a diamond that big looks cheap …’

I want to smile, I really do, but my lip muscles seem to have been Botoxed.

‘Valentina’s behind this. She has to be! Who else would be crazy enough to be so bloody obvious?’ says Immy, echoing my own conclusions.

‘I agree. It
has
to be her and I keep telling myself this is all a sick and malicious trick to try and split us up, but Immy, what if I’m wrong and it
isn’t
?’

Immy takes me by the shoulders and looks me in the eyes. ‘It
is
a trick and it’s already worked. Look at the state of you! This isn’t the Lauren I know. Wipe your eyes and kick some bloody arse or whatever you do in Washington. Fight back!’

‘I’m not sure I want to. I’m not sure Alexander is worth it any more.’

‘Crap! A, I don’t believe that and B, even if he isn’t, you can’t let that bitch get away with this.’

Immy stayed another hour, handing over tissues, listening to me ranting and encouraging me to tackle Alexander. I’ve already ignored two of his calls but I know it can’t be long before he comes round to find out where I’ve been. Eventually, Immy leaves to go to meet Skandar, promising to ask ‘hypothetically’ if his friends could find out who hacked Rafe’s email. Barely have I watched her disappear under the Lodge archway when Alexander knocks at my door.

‘Lauren. Are you in? Are you all right?’

I stand in the middle of my room, but he knocks again almost immediately. ‘Your light is on so I know you’re in there, and I just saw Immy come out. Why haven’t you been answering your phone? What’s going on? I’m worried about you.’

Worried? I snort in derision, then get up and open the door.

His face is obscured by a huge bouquet of flowers. ‘I know it’s a ridiculous charade and you’re probably totally unimpressed but’ – he pulls the bouquet aside – ‘happy Valentine’s Day.’

I burst into tears and his face creases with concern. ‘What’s the matter? Have you had bad news?’

He follows me in and shuts the door. I say nothing, just walk to the laptop and open the lid.

His brows knit in a deep frown and he abandons the flowers on the coffee table. ‘What’s this? Lauren, why won’t you speak to me? Is this some kind of joke?’

I click the play button and I sit on the edge of the bed.
I can’t see his face and I don’t want to, but I can hear the groans and the dirty talk. Valentina is screaming and Alexander is telling her he loves her as he fucks her.

The clip ends abruptly; and although my eyes are shut, the frozen image of his bare butt and her gaping mouth is as clear in my mind as if it were projected on to a Cinemax screen. When I open my eyes, Alexander is still facing the laptop, silent.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ I murmur.

He turns to me, and says, coolly, ‘So this was sent to you by Professor Rafe?’

‘You can see that.’

He snorts in derision. ‘Obviously, it’s been hacked.’

‘Obviously … It
is
you and Valentina, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s us.’

There you are then. No hesitation, no attempt to soften the blow. I feel light-headed again but I force the words from my mouth. ‘And it is filmed in your bedroom here in Oxford?’ This morning, I might have said ‘our bedroom’ but that now seems laughable.

‘Yes.’ He walks over to me and tries to reach for me but I push him away. I expect him to burst out angrily but he says calmly, ‘You do know that this was taken before I met you?’

‘Do I?’

‘Come on, Lauren, you can’t possibly believe that this was filmed after that?’

‘I don’t know. Why was it filmed at all?’

‘I have no idea. Do you think that starring in a sex tape is my style?’

‘I don’t know what your style is. I thought I did but
now it seems to be kinky bondage sessions and sordid home porn movies!’

He bursts out laughing and I totally lose it. ‘It’s not fucking funny!’

The smile evaporates. ‘No, I agree, but it
is
ridiculous that you would fall for this. If Valentina did film it, then I have absolutely no idea why.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes, really. I’d no idea it existed until you just showed it to me. She must have done it for some kind of joke.’

‘Well, you seemed to be enjoying the whole process.’

‘Did you expect me to be screaming for mercy? I had no bloody idea I was being filmed. I’m sorry you’re so upset, and I’m not trying to make light of it, but I don’t want it to make any difference to us.’

I can’t bring myself to reply to this, not while the images from that tape are still imprinted on my brain, not while I’m still trying to come to terms with exactly what I feel. Naive for one thing; I’d only ever slept with Todd before Alexander and I know he’s way more experienced than I am. I loathe the video. All I can see is Valentina tied to that bed and I did the same only a few days ago. I feel cheapened, used … or am I overreacting?

I don’t have to speak; Alexander can read my emotions from my face. ‘You still don’t trust me, do you? No matter what I say?’

‘I don’t know. The whole disappearing-off thing you
did last term, the not telling me that you were engaged to Valentina or that she’d come to your house with that card. It doesn’t exactly engender trust, does it?’

‘Firstly, you know I can’t tell you anything about my work with the regiment. Secondly, I thought we’d agreed long ago to put what happened at the hunt ball behind us and thirdly, I didn’t try to hide the fact that Valentina turned up at my house. I was perfectly up-front, just as you were about going to see Scott.’ His logic is faultless, as ever, but the calmer he sounds, the more upset I feel. Which I know is both totally illogical and completely understandable. God, I hate feeling ‘managed’.

‘As for this stupid video,’ he goes on, ‘you’ll just have to take my word that it happened way before I met you and I didn’t know that she was filming us, but I
am
going to find out who sent it and I’m going to deal with them.’

‘Even if it
was
Valentina?’

‘If emailing it from Rafe’s address was her idea, which I doubt since Valentina has never had computer hacking on her list of accomplishments, then the best thing we can do is ignore it.’

He’s right and I force myself to take a mental deep breath. I give a truculent nod that’s worthy of Emma and that snaps me to my senses. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I say, and allow him to pull me into his arms. Even while he’s kissing me tenderly and soothingly, I’m already holding a piece of me back from him in a way I wouldn’t
have a few hours ago. Already, that film has eroded the fragile trust that had slowly been built between us.

‘Whoever sent this clip, it can’t be a coincidence that it arrived today. That must show you what a sick joke this is. He or she must have deliberately set out to ruin the day for us.’

‘I didn’t know you even realized it was Valentine’s Day. I know you hate that sort of commercialism and public gestures of affection.’

‘I do, but bringing you flowers and booking a chef to cook us a meal at the house isn’t a public gesture.’

‘You booked a chef?’

‘Yes, and I can unbook him, if you want. It’s too late to unsend the flowers.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ I say, finally sparing a glance for the hand-tied bouquet on my table. They’re my favourite: pink long-stemmed roses, perfect and dewy, their fragrance filling the air. ‘But I don’t think I want to have anyone else around me tonight.’

‘I’ll cancel then, but he can be gone as soon as the main course is served. You won’t even have to see him.’

He holds me in his arms. I wonder if this is exactly what Valentina wanted. Am I being cowardly to let her affect us in this way? Probably, but I’m no saint. Who wouldn’t wonder, just a little bit, if they were being taken for a ride? Let alone if they were going out with a man like Alexander, whose raison d’être is repressing his feelings, whose job is built on stealth and secrecy?

‘Can I think about it?’

‘Of course.’ His voice is rich and soothing, balm dripping over my wounded pride and trust. I’ve already wasted half a day crying and stressing over the video, so when Alexander leads me to my bed and pushes me down gently, I let him. When he starts to undo the buttons of my top, I lie there and allow it to happen. My body responds, of course it does, but I find my hand closing around his fingers, without having made a conscious decision to stop him.

‘I’m not sure I feel like doing this now.’

His brow creases and he drops a soft kiss on my mouth. ‘OK. I understand, but if you let this ridiculous video affect us, then whoever sent it really has achieved their objective.’

‘You make it sound like a war.’

‘Isn’t it? Someone has decided to launch an attack; they’ve wounded you but you have the power to respond any way you want to.’

‘I can’t shrug it off as easily as you.’

‘You think it’s easy for me? I’m fucking furious that my privacy has been invaded, and far angrier that you’re hurt, but how we react is in our control. For instance,’ he says, removing his hand from under my fingers and easing open another button on my top, ‘if you let me undo your blouse, then their plan has failed.’ His eyes glint as he throws down this sexy challenge to me. ‘Prove to them that you don’t care.’

‘How? By letting you get inside my knickers, as you like to put it?’ I say, my voice still edged with cynicism.

‘Well …’ He undoes the last button of my shirt. ‘Yes.’

He circles my navel with his tongue and I suck in a breath as my bared skin dimples with pleasure, despite my misgivings.

‘Alexander, that thing you were doing in the film …’

He shifts his attention back to my face and rests his head on his elbow next to me. ‘The tying-up thing?’

‘Don’t you dare joke.’

‘OK.’ He puts on his serious face. ‘You can’t seriously be bothered by it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re shocked? I don’t recall you looking outraged when I tied you up.’

Does he honestly not understand why I’m upset? Of course he doesn’t; he’s a
guy
. ‘I’m bothered because you did exactly the same thing to me. It’s made our … thing seem dirty and cheap.’

He looks down at me thoughtfully. ‘It wasn’t cheap but it
was
dirty. Sex is always dirty, and when it’s other people’s sex, it’s usually disgusting, but you can’t seriously expect me – or Valentina – to lie there fumbling under the bedclothes like some Victorian newlyweds?’

My response is a grunt, because he may have a point but I’m definitely not ready to agree with him on anything.

‘The only thing you need to understand is that I never for a single second thought of anyone but you while I was doing it. The fact that we’d been experimenting in that way before you saw the clip is a horrible
coincidence, nothing more, and we don’t have to do anything like it again or anything you don’t enjoy.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Because, even now, my body tells me how much I enjoyed being tied to his bed and handing over control to him.

‘Then we should do something I’ve never done before,’ he says, in between kisses on my stomach and cleavage.

‘Is there anything?’ I ask sarcastically.

‘Hmm. You’re right. It might be quite difficult to come up with something completely novel.’

‘Alexander!’

‘I’ll think of something.’

I shake my head, unable to laugh because I can’t get the image of him screwing her out of my head. It won’t be driven away so easily, no matter how much he tries to reason or kiss away the hurt and disgust. I slide upwards, out of his embrace.

‘Alexander,
why
has she done this?’

He looks deep into my eyes. ‘We don’t know “she” has yet, but you can be sure of one thing: it won’t make any difference to us. We mustn’t let it.’

He pushes my arms above my head, capturing my hands in his, and kisses me so deeply and for so long that it’s not until he’s finished that I process what he’s just said. How
does
he feel about me? I certainly don’t know how
I
feel about
him
right now, in this instant. I thought I’d fallen for him until today; I know for sure I fell in lust with him long ago.

Yet the way I’ve reacted this afternoon, the fact that the shock and the possibility of betrayal hit me so hard – that must mean I am in love with him. Otherwise, why would I be so hurt at seeing that video?

‘Are you going to trust me?’ Alexander says softly, his fingers resting on the bottom button of my blouse. ‘Or are you going to let them win?’ His eyes glitter with challenge and desire. ‘You are the only woman in my life, Lauren, and the brightest, most beautiful, most maddening woman I’ve ever known. Please don’t let a spiteful joke ruin everything.’

His hand slips inside my blouse and the roughened palm flattens over my stomach, melting my resolve with its warmth. It’s me who reaches up and guides his head downwards and his mouth on to mine. It’s me who pushes her tongue inside his mouth, needing to feel the heat and texture of him, wanting to be inside him somehow, the way he loves getting inside me.

I am in control here, because I choose to be. I haven’t raced out of my room and run until I drop. I’ve chosen to stay with Alexander and enjoy the moment, because I have him in my bed and Valentina can only watch a film and remember how good he felt.

By the middle of the following week, Immy still hasn’t come up with any answers about the hacked email. The Valentine’s dinner was OK, considering what had happened earlier. The food, as expected, was exquisite and the chef kept discreetly out of the way, but I was so on
edge that I only picked at my food. I haven’t watched the clip again but I still haven’t deleted it from my computer. Likewise, I haven’t deleted the seed of doubt from my mind, despite Alexander’s attempts to soothe me with a strategy that seems to involve logic and cunnilingus.

‘ “
L’opera d’arte è sempre una confessione
.” ’

I glance away from the window to find Rafe peering at me, over his glasses. I’ve been in his tute for forty minutes and suddenly he throws in some Italian. Is he trying to hint at something? Provoke me?

‘That’s the theme we’ll be discussing in the seminar next week. It’s a quote from Umberto Eco, and means “Artwork is always a confession”.’ He smiles. ‘I assume you’ve heard the phrase before or worked that out from your Italian classes.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I do know the quote.’

‘Good. I look forward to hearing your presentation on a work that illustrates that theme. Now, let me throw another quotation at you, one you may also recognize. ‘ “
Bisogna fare della propria vita come si fa un’opera d’arte
.” ’

‘Gabriele d’Annunzio,’ I say, mentally giving myself a slap. I’m studying art history, the tutors quote Italian all the time; it’s merely a coincidence, not a hint or a clue that Rafe sent the clip. He obviously hasn’t any idea his email was even hacked. ‘One should always live one’s life as though it were a work of art.’

‘Bravo. Your work of art seems somewhat fractured today, Lauren. I know you’ve had a busy and stressful time but I must warn you that the end of term will
come upon us sooner than you think and you’ll be getting your take-home exam questions. I assume you won’t be missing any more tutorials or making any more trips away from Oxford before the vac? I’ve overlooked the time you spent at the funeral but technically speaking you shouldn’t leave Oxford during term.’

‘No. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’d planned to stay on a couple of weeks to do some extra research.’

‘That’s not a bad idea. Can you keep your room over the Easter vac? I think we have some conferences.’

‘I’ll be, um … I’ve got somewhere to stay.’

‘Mmm.’ The way he says the ‘mmm’ he must have guessed I plan to stay with Alexander but he hasn’t got the balls to ask me directly because what happens after the end of term is none of his business.