Chapter 5

Ian:My predator instincts revive

For almost a week now, you could cut the atmosphere in the office with a knife. Geraldine resigned and didn't keep the reason a secret. Everybody was choosing her side.

I'm not really worried, though. I'm paying the salaries, and my charm is still relentless. It never ceases to erase the rational thinking abilities of the women it is directed to. No matter what she knows about me, every woman I want falls for me, eventually. Numerous times, I have slept with women I had dumped before, just because I could. It doesn't matter how much I hurt them, they all seem to think they can change me – this time.

My staff is almost entirely female. They'll forgive me. And I'm fairly certainly that I can win back Geraldine too, if I'd want. She more or less caught me while I was shagging Melissa, so it'll take a while, I guess, but I will conquer if I set my heart on it.

For two weeks, I did the very best I could. I even was faithful to Geraldine for 18 days, and that's a record. But then I went to a pub and met Melissa, wanted her, took her home, and shagged her. She was young, beautiful, and willing. And I realised I was really fed up with Geraldine wanting me to behave like one half of a couple.

Not that I'm proud of the way I let her know that; she shouldn't have found Melissa in my bed. But it happened.

For reasons unknown to me at first, I have difficulty forgetting about Geraldine, though. The desire to win her back emerges far sooner than I'd expected. I can't even complete two weeks with Melissa before I dump her.

It's a little out of control and it gets me thinking. And then I understand. It's not because she means something special to me (she doesn't); it's because she is linked to CC. I don't know what their exact relationship is, but I do know that they're acquainted and apparently like each other. (I noticed the glances of sympathy she threw him after I told her I once was chosen over him by a woman we both fancied.)

I also know that I don't want her to be important to his wellbeing. (At this point, I suppose it's abundantly clear that I am a well and truly wicked person. I don't have to fain something different.) I don't want anybody to be essential to CC's happiness, and I have felt this way for almost a decade now.

We were great friends once. It started in college, when I noticed that he took an instant like to me. This was peculiar, because not many chaps did, or do. The wonderful skill I have in charming women, I lack with members of my own sex. I don't mind, because I'm not particularly interested in men.

This is not meant to overstate that I'm a heterosexual (which I am, as can be derived from what I've said so far). I just don't see the point in having male friends. Men are there to compete with in order to win, aren't they? So where's the 'friends' in that?

I can be friendly towards men, of course. I'm a businessman, so I have to. But it's all strategy; there are no genuine feelings of sympathy involved.

Cedric Carmichael was the proverbial exception. He liked me, I liked him back. I really enjoyed our friendship. I think – I reluctantly admit this – I even 'cared' for him. As far as I'm capable of caring, that is.

He certainly cared for me. To a degree where it wasn't healthy anymore, I sometimes suspected. I teased him, called him Cyd (making sure he knew how I'd spell it; different from the boy's name Sid), or Sissy (from CC). He didn't mind.

All waking hours when I wasn't busy messing with girls we spend together, hanging out, studying, that sort of thing. He never had a girlfriend, but he took it upon him to console the girls I slept with and dumped. I mean he sincerely did; he never lost his virginity in the process. He did ask me to stop hurting those women, but he never threatened to end our friendship. Women – individual women – were temporary; CC was the constant factor in my life.

And then Henrietta came to Cambridge. CC fell in love with her. I was also attracted to her (no reason why I wouldn't be) and she was attracted to me as well (again, no reason why she shouldn't) but she told me she was aiming for marriage, and I didn't fit her plans. CC did.

The night of their first date, I went into a rage. No one had ever betrayed me like this. When I had calmed down, I decided to sleep with every girl (amongst others) who ever laid eyes on CC. Two days later, Henrietta and I began our affair.

It ended a fortnight after their wedding. 'It' being the affair (although she did try to prolong it, and I played along for a while), the marriage, and my friendship with CC (although, to be honest, I consider the latter ending the first night he went out with Henrietta). It took a while before I could forget the expression on his face when he caught us. I never saw so much pain. It really made me feel guilty for some time. But then I remembered that I hated him too.

We have been enemies ever since, accidentally colliding once or twice a year, adopting very cool demeanours on such occasions. But not a moment has past in the previous nine years that I didn't hate CC. And now, he has every opportunity to play the great comforter to Geraldine. I have to find out if he grabs it.

I know where she works, she told me rather triumphantly the day she resigned, so I drive there at the end of the day (not too late, though, she might leave early) intending to follow her. (No idea what I'm expecting to gain from that, she just as well could head straight home.) Sitting in my car, I realise that I'm stalking her. Jesus, how low have I stooped. I've never been a stalker before (those are weak, pathetic people) just a stalkee upon occasion.

My self-humiliation is rewarded, though. Another car arrives and a tall man gets out. I would recognise him anywhere.

Leaning against the hood, he waits until she appears. When she does, he starts walking over to her. She smiles (probably he does too, but I can only see his back). They meet and kiss, not very passionate, but significant nonetheless. I have to do something. I have to have her back.

I go over to her place at night. Apparently, she's alone. His car doesn't seem to be anywhere near the building.

As I ring the bell, her voice through the intercom greets me pleasantly, 'Hey. That is really very quick indeed.'

For a moment I feel caught, thinking that she's has seen through my plan to win her back. Then I realise there's a second, more plausible, option. She's expecting somebody else. Her new beau. Cedric Carmichael. I have to be quick.

'It's me,' I say. 'I'd really like to talk to you, Geraldine. Can I come upstairs?'

'I see absolutely no reason why you should,' she responds icily. 'I have friends visiting me, and my boyfriend will be back with some groceries any minute, so …'

'Then there's no danger at all in letting me in,' I say innocently. Her friends are probably a bunch of giggling girls, instantly smitten at the sight of me. 'I just want to talk. And Cedric is a big boy.' When CC arrives … well, I'd like to see if he could keep a woman when it comes to it.