Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2)

by Alexandra Silva

  Smiling, I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her as I pause by the steps to give the cameras a moment to snap the photos we’ve been staged for.

  Arabella rests her head on my chest, dropping the hand with the clutch down to my stomach with her other holding on to my side.

  “Good to know, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  She vibrates with a laugh. It’s spectacular with the way she shines in my arms. There’s some commotion down the path where Leo and Cassie are standing. It’s a relief that the press have some fresh meat to feast on. Leo’s gaze catches mine, and he nods with a wink.

  Calculated arsehole.

  I make a note to thank him later, but for now, I nod back.

  “Now, can we go inside?” Arabella asks, shivering. “I’d hate to make the headlines for my hard nipples. I bet your grandmother would love that!”

  Fucking hell!

  All I can picture is her bare breasts. Bouncing tits and soft skin. My fingers ache to pinch and grope.

  My dick stiffens with a jerk.

  “Yep, let’s go.”

  Turning back towards the doors, I help her up the shallow step into a winter wonderland.

  A row of upside-down Christmas trees lead to the grand dark wooden staircase. Delicate white pearl and crystal strings fringe the tree, hanging from every branch with yellow-tinged lights pinging cool rainbows on the chequered floor. With every step we take up the stairs, the more beautiful the scene becomes with white, rooted trunks nesting large silver stars with lit-up crystal centres.

  “Holy shit…” Arabella breathes in awe when we reach the landing.

  White human statues line the walls with Nutcracker suited waiters bearing ornately etched glass trays with iridescently frosted flutes.

  “Your mother is going to love planning their wedding.”

  I laugh because it’s true.

  A waiter bows in half, offering Arabella a drink, and when he offers me one, Freddie grabs the champagne, handing me a cool tumbler with a large ball of ice and a generous measure of vodka. I can smell the sweetness of the premium liquor.

  Some things only money can buy, and great vodka is one of them.

  “I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. I was expecting more of a tribal theme seeing this is all to raise money for school meals for the kids.”

  “What? Because it’s raising money for African children it’s got to be tribal?” Casper shakes his head at him.

  “It’s a culture thing, bellend!”

  “It’s Christmas, it’s a giving time of year, and that’s what they’re playing on. It’s all about what gets wallets open.” Arabella pushes them both ahead of us. “How busy is it in there?”

  “It’s a bit like being the third nut in a two-nut shell. Tighter than a nun’s sna—”

  “I got it!” Thank fuck she shuts him up because Casper looks ready to put a hole in Freddie’s skull.

  It’s going to be a long night, and although I hope we’ll get to the fucking pretty soon, something tells me that we’re going to be here a while.

  Eyes turn to us. Freddie and Casper leave us to mooch around the room. Arabella hands her glass to a plume-skirted waitress before hugging my arm.

  “They’re all looking at us.” Whispering, she tucks herself to my side.

  A group of tuxedo-clad men spread to my right. Supreme court judges, Queen’s Counsel members… Benedict stands in their midst, summoning me with a stoic nod.

  Walking over to them, I take my arm back so I can hold Arabella to me.

  “It’s showtime, morena.”

  She stands taller, her arm tightening around my waist.

  “Bring it.”

  The auction begins in the middle of the room, hosting each of the paintings the artists Leo’s mother and Cassie sought out to collaborate with the children at each of the schools they’re trying to help.

  “We’re so proud to be a part of something so special and life-changing for these children.” Rosalind continues with her speech, motioning to all the smiling faces being projected onto the walls between the paintings. “Thank you to everyone that has donated time and money towards our small project. It means so much to all the team that’s worked tirelessly. The artists that took time from their schedules to get involved. But most of all each of the beautiful faces smiling down on us all.”

  It’s obvious where Leo gets his big heart from. Watching him fawn over Cassie with so much pride, I can’t imagine her with anyone else.

  “Right, speech is over, time to bid on the pieces. All you have to do is drop your bid slips in the box below the painting or paintings you want to purchase. At the end of the night, we’ll go through and announce the winners. Happy bidding!” she sings. “And remember, don’t be stingy…it’s Christmas!”

  With that, one of the Christmas Aid singles from the nineties fills the room as the guests dissipate to their chosen pieces.

  “I like that one.” Arabella points to a tribal-like thatch painting…ironically. It’s all fiery shades of red, orange, and yellow with abstract black markings. It’s kind of hypnotising. I could stand and stare at it forever with just my thoughts. “Where would you put it?”

  “Well, the hallway is so long, and with the original black-and-white tiles, I think it would look welcoming and be warming.”

  “Would you tire of it?”

  “No, it’s drawing. I love that. It’s exactly what a home should do…you know, pull you back.”

  Those words make me smile. It’s what Arabella has always done to me. Pulled me to her, whether she intended it or not.

  “It’s yours.” Nudging her in the direction of the painting, I kiss the top of her head. “You could put it in the bedroom. I find it soothing.”

  “Christopher,” she laughs. “Only you could find the colours of fire relaxing.”

  She carries on laughing as I grab a bidding slip and put down five healthy numbers. It’s for charity, and the fact that Arabella’s still ogling it…it’s worth it.

  Slipping the slip into the silent bid box, I start to navigate towards the corner Leo and Cassie are tucked into. Her white dress is impossible to miss in a sea of black.

  “I was thinking maybe we could do a cottage in the middle of nowhere,” Arabella says out of the blue.

  “You want to get another house already?”

  “No. No, I meant for Christmas. You and me and plenty of snow and red phone boxes we can hide in…”

  “You miss phone boxes, huh?”

  “I miss you kissing me in them and wooing me.” She bites her lip, going all starry-eyed.

  “Amongst other things.”

  “Sexy things.”

  “Hot as fuck things.”

  Even in the cool dim light, I can see the colour flush the apples of her cheeks. She licks her lips again. “Don’t you miss it?”

  “Fucking you in a phone box?” I laugh, because she’s got that forlorn look on her face that says she wants to run wild and free.

  “Oh fuck me, not everything is about fucking, Christopher!”

  Pulling her close beneath one of the mistletoe and holly garlands swooping between the chandeliers, I kiss the tip of her nose. “I would agree, but you told me to fuck you in the same remark.”

  “It was a figure of speech,” she growls, grasping my shoulders.

  I love the feel of her irate aggression. It makes me want to run circles around her until she’s fuming hot.

  “Oh God, incoming!” she sighs, her smile tugging down at the edges.

  Turning in the direction she’s looking, I steel myself the moment Charles’ grin greets me, the Chancellor of the Exchequer hot on his heels with his wife. She’s sweet and loves Arabella because of her Spanish roots.

  Along the short walk to where we are, Charles picks up one of the Supreme Court judges that wasn’t so keen on having someone so young go for silk. He’s an old boy and enjoys his old-time ideologies.

  It’s all politics; not everyone will g
o for you or like you, but all you can do is try to make them see things your way.

  He’s one of the few judges I haven’t encountered in the courtroom, but I have seen him at the Law Society events. His wife is loud and enjoys her drink a little too much. Even now she can barely hold herself straight and walk in a straight line in unison.

  “Ah, Christopher,” Charles calls when he’s in earshot. “I was wondering where you were tonight.”

  Something about the way he’s smiling is all wrong. He’s just short of my height, and his dark hair and light eyes give him a real sinister edge in the blue-and-purple lighting. Like when I was a child and use to hold a torch up to my chin to creep Cassie out. My insides prickle looking at him.

  “We’ve been here all night,” Arabella tells him. She seems at ease enough considering how nervous she was earlier, so I take that as good sign and try to relax.

  Fucking Leo and his suspicions.

  “Yes,” the Judge Coleman’s wife laughs. She’s gregarious and plummy. Her red nails match her pout as she grabs a fresh glass of champagne from a waiter and takes it to her mouth.

  “You look so beautiful.” The Chancellor’s wife hugs Arabella, with two soft continental air kisses. “And isn’t this wonderful?”

  “It is. Cassie and Rosalind have done an incredible job.”

  “Certainly,” the older woman laughs with a low snort. I feel mortified on behalf of Judge Coleman. “Although, they really need to serve something other than cheap champagne.”

  It hasn’t stopped her from glugging it down, and I’m about to tell her so when Charles says, “Well, the bar is just over there. I know they have a well-sourced top shelf. They have a great bottle of the 1982 Hine.”

  “Oh Charles.” Laughing, she slaps his shoulder. “You do know me so well.”

  “You have impeccable taste, Dorothy. A true cognac connoisseur.”

  Does he want to kiss her arse any more?

  “Well, why don’t we leave the men to their discussions?” Threading her arms through Arabella’s and the Chancellor’s wife’s, she tries to pry them away.

  “I’m okay, but thank you.” Arabella smiles, stiffening beside me when Dorothy pulls in her again. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “I can see you’re fine.” Her undisguised once-over of Arabella makes me want to snatch my wife back and push the old woman away.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Charles chuckles, his words far too forceful.

  “We’re not talking official business, Winterbourne. If they want to stay, they can.”

  Charles doesn’t seem overly pleased by his colleague’s remark. He’s silent for a while before the old judge says, “I would’ve thought the three of you would like to gossip or powder your noses. The things women do.”

  The things women do? Fucking hell, I need to get the fuck out of this conversation.

  “Of course, unless…” Dorothy pauses.

  My heart stops and then shoots into action so fast, I can barely catch a breath. She’s got that intruding gleam on her face. Her eyes sweep down to Arabella’s stomach, boring.

  “You’re positively glowing.”

  “Pardon me?” Arabella’s gasp is followed by a retreat into me.

  “You’re glowing, darling. You’re all flushed pretty, and you’re not drinking.”

  Not everyone has a fucking drinking problem!

  “What do you think, Carla?”

  My hands fist with the need to push her the fuck away from us. Foolish, drunk woman. She’s got nothing better to do than make herself a nuisance.

  “I think, I would like a stronger drink.”

  Me too.

  Smiling at Arabella, Carla rubs her arm gently. “One drink?”

  Arabella looks at me, the rise and fall of her chest noticeable. Her eyes are wide, askance.

  She’s not asking me for permission. She’s asking if it’s safe.

  Searching the room, I catch Wayne’s stare. Nodding towards the bar, I bring his attention to Arabella before giving her a reassuring smile.

  “Would you like me to bring you back a drink?”

  “It’s all right, I’m sure Freddie will appear with one any minute.” I hope he does, that way I can set him on her. I don’t like the idea of having her waltz around the party on her own with only one pair of eyes to spot any potential dangers.

  “Okay.” The contentedness on her face looks forced. Like she’s trying to put me at ease with the situation. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

  “Aww, young love…so cute,” Dorothy remarks with a bitter edge to her words as she starts for the bar with Carla clinging on to Arabella as they follow.

  Watching as they come to a stop by the bar, I message Wayne.

  ME: I want to know where you are at all times.

  Do not leave the building.

  Do not bat an eyelid.

  WAYNE: I’ve got her. Ryan has you.

  Tucking my phone away, I lock eyes with him to make sure he got the message, even though I know he did.

  Once I look back to my wife, it takes me a while to look away. But even when I do, I can’t stop searching them out. It’s how I miss most of the conversation.

  “I hear you’re going for silk soon?” Coleman calls my attention. “I like ambition. A man with a path to follow is a man with vision. I like that.”

  But?

  “However, vision and ambition are meaningless without experience and maturity.”

  “Come on, Roger, we were all lacking experience and maturity when we started out. Besides, the world is changing.”

  “Edgar, the world is always changing.”

  “I agree,” Charles laughs. “Which is why we need the right people in the right places.”

  “Exactly!” Slapping my back, Edgar retreats towards the bar. “On that note, I wish you the best of luck.” The look he gives me tells me the luck is for this conversation and not my future.

  I take my phone from my inside pocket, checking for anything I might’ve missed. A photo of me and Arabella on the edge of the cliff overlooking the private beach of Heaver’s Hall makes me smile. Maybe she’d like to go down to the family estate for Christmas. I know she’d regret a quiet holiday. She loves the festivity and having the family around. Especially this year. It’ll feel somewhat lacking.

  I type out a quick message.

  Ready to go when you are.

  Then, because I can’t tell her enough, I add:

  I love you. X

  “I’m going to find my wife and make use of our cheque book,” Edgar announces.

  “Honestly, she’s got you under the thumb,” Charles throws at him, slapping my back. With the jostle I drop my phone.

  Charles picks it up and hands it to me before I even have a chance to reach for it. Nodding my thanks, I slip it into my pocket.

  “I’d rather hers than yours.” Laughing his quip off, Edgar pauses mid-step and bows dramatically. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’ll see you around.”

  The urge to follow in his footsteps has me taking a couple of steps forward, but Charles drags me back into pointless conversation with Coleman, and all I can do is breathe and count the seconds until Arabella finds me.

  I have a promise of a long night to keep to my wife.

  Chapter 40

  Arabella

  “Creo que ella se emborrachó hasta morir, no?” Carla bites her lip as we both stare at a deathly still Dorothy.

  Maybe she has drunk herself to death.

  Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person is my first thought; then the more I look at her like this…the sorrier I feel for her. She’s got that look a person gets after living the majority of their life unhappy. Her outside is so shrivelled, that it’s impossible for it to be just age. Not when she has so much life left in her. Or maybe it was the drink that gave her a lift.

  “I think she’s just had too much,” I tell Carla, taking a step back from the futon Dorothy is splayed over.

  “She was okay
when we went to the toilet.”

  “Maybe it caught up with her? You know like the fresh-air sniper?”

  “The what?” Her laugh is so infectious that it eases some of the tightness in the pit of my stomach.

  “Umm, it’s a saying in the UK. It’s when the fresh air hits you after you’ve been drinking and it takes you over the edge. You go from merry to a drunken embarrassment in a breath.”

  “Dangerous.” Her accented voice has a warm depth to it that’s a little husky. She’s got that sexy thing going on with her voluptuous frame and soft features. Comfort and confidence glow in her hazel eyes that are all sorts of fire and water. They remind me of aquamarine lakes in serene woodlands and beach bonfires on early autumn evenings.

  I would love to do more of those. I’d like to take Christopher and disappear for a few days. Find ourselves some clear sea and warm sand. The fine kind that gets in all the wrong places but is the best to sit on and watch sunrises and sunsets. The current come and go.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Mhmm…” I’m the best I’ve been in so long; it’s just that this feeling in my chest won’t go away. It’s like my heart is in a shrinking box, getting squeezed harder with every beat. “We probably should get her husband, or some help. She hasn’t moved.”

  “Ehhh, she’s breathing. She’s alive. We’re probably doing her a favour, letting her sleep it off.”

  “Still, it’s odd that she passed out like that. Let me get some help.”

  “Are you sure? If she wakes up, we’ll have to spend the rest of the night listening to her.”

  Carla has a point. As much as that thought makes my insides wither, I know the right thing is to get her husband. If I was comatose drunk, I wouldn’t want two people bitching over me. I’d want Christopher to take me home and save me the embarrassment.

  “I’ll be right back.” Leaving her with Dorothy, I open the toilet door, fully expecting Wayne to be outside.

  He followed us into the corridor, but it’s now empty, barring a couple of men swaying to the gents’ down the hall.