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"What's this?" He was clever enough to know that the wild look in her
eyes meant she would strike first and be sorry for it later. He'd been
right about the virginal part, he thought while his breath heaved. And
he wanted to be the one to relieve her of the obstacle. "Defending your
honor? You were ready to cast it aside a minute ago."
She only shook her head, jabbing with the blades as he took a cautious
step forward. "Get out. I want you to get out. Don't come near me
again, or Marianne. When I tell her-"
"You won't tell her a thing." Through his fury, he smiled. "If you do,
you'll only lose a friend. She's in love with me, and she'll believe
exactly what I tell her. Imagine, coming on to your best friend's
lover."
"You're a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and a liar."
"Quite true, Emmy luy. But then you're a frigid tease." Calmer, he
picked up his discarded beer and swigged. "And here I was, trying to do
you a favor. You've got problems, sweetheart, big ones, but nothing a
good f.u.c.k wouldn't cure." Still smiling, he rubbed himself. "And
believe me, I'm a very good f.u.c.k. Just ask your best friend."
"Get out."
"But you wouldn't know about that, would you? Sweet little Catholic
girl, all hung up in sins and those sweaty dreams you have when you
listen to me upstairs with Marianne. Your kind likes it to be rape, so
they can pretend they're innocent all the time they're screaming for
more."
Setting her teeth, Emma looked deliberately down to where he continued
to caress himself. "If I use these," she said quietly, "I'm going
straight for your b.a.l.l.s."
She had the satisfaction of seeing him pale at that, from rage and, she
was sure, from fear. He stepped back, and the sneer that had women
screaming for him sent sweat dripping down her back.
"b.i.t.c.h."
"Better a b.i.t.c.h than a eunuch," she said calmly enough, though she was
afraid the scissors would slip any moment from her nerveless fingers.
They both heard the elevator open. They both braced.
"Emma!" Marianne's cheerful voice sang through the loft. "Emma, are you
home?"
Blackpool sent Emma a quick c.o.c.ky look. "Right here, lover. Emma's been
showing me the prints."
"Oh, she's finished them."
He turned and strolled out, leaving Emma to stay or to follow. "I've
been waiting for you," she heard him say in a voice like cool silk.
"I didn't know you'd be here." The breathlessness in Marianne's answer
told Emma she was being kissed. Prying one hand from the scissors, she
rubbed it hard against her mouth. "Let's have a look at the prints."
"Why look at pictures when you've got the real thing?"
"Robert-" Marianne's protest ended on a m.u.f.fled groan. "But Emma's-"
"Don't worry about her. She's busy. I've been waiting to get my hands
on you all day."
Emma stood where she was as their murmurs and whispers trailed up the
stairs. Very quietly, she closed the door to the darkroom. She didn't
