Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Hello, Will,’ said Coco quietly, her expression a strange mixture of bravado and vulnerability.

  He couldn’t speak for a moment. It frightened him to realise that the sight of her was still intensely pleasurable, and that made him angry. That was good. He could build on anger. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he said roughly.

  ‘I needed to see you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t need to see you.’ He stepped back as if to shut the door and she put out her hand to stop him.

  ‘Please, Will – give me a moment. One moment, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  Her eyes … He’d forgotten their luscious greeny-blue quality, like a lake he’d once seen in Brazil. ‘Just one moment. Don’t you think you owe me that?’

  ‘What do I owe you?’ he snapped. ‘What have I had from you but lies and betrayal?’

  Coco looked down the corridor. ‘We shouldn’t talk like this here. Can I come in?’

  He knew he ought to curse her and slam the door in her face, but he couldn’t. Every nerve was alive to her nearness. He could feel traitorous lust stirring in his belly and groin, and hated himself for it. But he couldn’t bring himself to shut her out. ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘One minute.’

  The next moment she was with him in the suite, taking off the head scarf and shaking out her hair. Christ, she was beautiful. In that instant, the memory of all the pleasure they had given each other came flooding back and he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. No. Remember who she’s with now, he told himself, and that helped a little.

  ‘So?’ he demanded.

  ‘I know what you think of me,’ said Coco, gazing at him intently. ‘You think I’m a tramp, selling myself for money. But you don’t know the misery of living with nothing and having nothing and thinking you are nothing. I know that in your world having sex for money is wrong, but in mine it’s about survival. When you don’t have a roof over your head, you’ll do what it takes to get shelter.’ Coco took a deep breath, shuddering a little as she did, as though all this was costing her a great effort. ‘I slept with men for money. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed either. I had to do it … or thought I did. But I didn’t have to sleep with you. I did it because I fell in love with you, and I think you fell in love with me. For a while, we really loved each other, didn’t we?’ Her eyes glistened suddenly with unshed tears.

  ‘I told you that didn’t matter. I didn’t care what your past was. When Xander let it slip, did I let it affect the way I felt about you?’ Will asked roughly.

  ‘No,’ she whispered.

  ‘When you told me that you’d made up those stories about your family, that you were really brought up on a council estate, did I change towards you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘But all along you were deceiving me,’ he said, in a voice that was full of pain. ‘You were spying for my father. All that time. It killed me when I found that out.’

  ‘I know. But you never gave me the chance to explain.’ Coco turned away suddenly, hiding her face from him.

  A desire to hurt her flashed through him, and anger ignited. ‘And now you’re fucking my father! How can it be any worse than that?’ Will’s voice was raw with fury. ‘How could you do that to me, Coco? Is this your ultimate, filthy revenge on me? To let him touch you like I used to?’ He couldn’t stop his voice from cracking on the last few words and fought to keep control.

  She turned back to face him. Her eyes burned with intensity, their green colour flashing. ‘Let me tell you something.’ She walked straight up to him, so close they were almost touching, and stared up into his face, her own tilted to his so he could look directly at her almost heartbreaking beauty. ‘He’s never touched me. He’s never kissed my lips or laid a hand on me.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’ he spat. ‘You’re engaged!’ He gestured to the yellow diamond on her finger.

  ‘This? Yes, he wants to marry me. I won’t marry him. But even if I did, he would never, ever touch me that way. And he hasn’t. Not once. Ever.’ Her mouth trembled suddenly. He had to resist the impulse to bend down and kiss it. It would be so easy, and the nearness of her was unbearably tantalising. Will believed her when she said his father had never touched her, and he wanted to touch her now himself, so badly that it was like a physical force propelling him. He had to exert all his strength to stop himself.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he whispered, staring at her. ‘Just to tell me this?’

  ‘I came to tell you that I never stopped loving you,’ said Coco in a low voice. ‘Yes, your father sent me to find out what I could about you – I had no idea that I was going to fall in love with you. As soon as I felt something for you, I told them nothing. I never wanted you to know because I was ashamed of it and had no idea how to explain. Then, after we finished, I came back here. And I gave them all the information they could possibly want, except –’ her eyes flashed again ‘– I made it all up. Nothing I told them was true. They think they know everything, and they know nothing.’

  He gazed at her, hardly able to think. ‘Do you really think I’ll believe that? Or that it makes everything all right?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not. It’s true.’ Coco smiled sadly and shrugged. ‘And it makes no odds now anyway, we could never be together in any case. But I wanted to make amends and show you that my love for you was real.’ She pulled a sheaf of papers from her pocket. ‘These are for you.’ She pushed them at him.

  ‘What are they?’ Will eyed the bundle suspiciously.

  ‘Take it. You’ll find out when I’ve left.’

  He reached out and grasped the papers.

  ‘Goodbye, Will. We’ll see each other at the meeting but we’ll never meet like this again.’

  He found he couldn’t speak, could only watch as she picked up her scarf and glasses and went to the door. Without a backward glance, Coco was gone.

  Then he looked down and began to read what she had given him.

  Downstairs, Coco ran out of the hotel lobby and on to the side street where a car and driver were waiting for her. She jumped into the back.

  ‘Take me home,’ she said to the driver, then sat back as he pulled out into the London traffic. She had only hours left to bring everything together.

  84

  DAISY SAT AT her desk, replying to emails and tying up loose ends. In a few minutes she had an appointment with Karen O’Malley, and intended to hand in her resignation. She was sure that Karen would do her best to persuade her to stay, but there was no way Daisy’s mind was going to be changed. Now she had decided on her escape route, she couldn’t wait to be free.

  I feel as though I’ve been in the grip of a kind of madness, she thought in wonderment, as she sent off some instructions to the manager of a Craven hotel. All this time I’ve been obsessed with my struggle with Daddy. And now it’s just vanished in a puff of smoke. I don’t care any more.

  More than anything, she longed to be back at Nant-Y-Pren with Christophe, inhaling the fresh clean air and walking for miles. She needed a holiday.

  Maxine, her secretary, knocked at the door and put her head round, looking anxious. ‘Er, Miss Fraser …’

  Daisy looked up from her computer screen. ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s someone here to see you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Er …’ Maxine looked confused.

  ‘Me.’ The voice rang out clear and strong, and the next moment a woman had appeared in her office doorway. She was wearing a bottle-green silk cashmere dress, belted with a skinny tan leather belt, and high heels. Around her neck was a leopard-print scarf. Her glossy hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail the same colour as her caramel leather handbag, and a giant yellow diamond flashed on her finger. It was the girl Daddy was going to marry.

  Daisy got to her feet, surprised. ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, flushing.

  ‘I need to talk to you privately.’ The girl
threw a look at Maxine, who quickly retreated, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Daisy gestured to the chair in front of her desk, and sat down as calmly as she could. ‘This is very surprising, Miss … er …’

  ‘You can call me Coco.’ The other woman appraised her with cool greeny-blue eyes. ‘And what shall I call you?’

  ‘I suppose you can call me Daphne.’

  ‘Really? Or should I call you … Daisy?’

  Daisy’s eyes widened and she gasped. After a second, she laughed lightly. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

  Coco leaned forward, her expression serious. ‘I think you do. I know this is a shock, but there isn’t much time and we have to work quickly.’ She frowned. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  ‘I believe you’re my boss’s fiancée,’ Daisy replied coolly. She picked up a pen and fiddled with it. ‘I can’t think what business you have with me.’

  Coco nodded. ‘All right. There’s a lot to tell you, but I know you won’t listen to me until I explain that I know who you are, and why you’re here.’

  Daisy raised her eyebrows, her mind racing. ‘Oh, really? Do tell me. I can’t think what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Sure, sure.’ Coco made a dismissive gesture, as though to wave away Daisy’s lack of comprehension. ‘The first thing I have to say is that you can trust me. I’m not on your father’s side, I’m on yours. I know that’s hard to believe, but please – try. Just for a while, until you’ve heard what I’ve got to say.’

  Daisy stared at her, puzzled but intensely curious to hear what this woman had to say next.

  ‘Right.’ Coco took a breath. ‘I know that you’re Daisy Dangerfield. Don’t worry –’ she held up a hand ‘– your father has no idea you’re here, or that Daphne is really Daisy. I must say, you’ve got yourself a good little disguise there. I could hardly believe it when I realised that you were the same girl as the one in the old pictures.’

  Daisy could feel herself paling. ‘But … but …’

  ‘I know that they chucked you out and made you sign a phoney contract. I also know they faked your death, using the body of some poor unknown kid they bribed a Thai mortuary attendant to let them have. But what they don’t know is that you’re actually here, working for them.’ Coco burst out laughing, throwing back her head. ‘It really is priceless. You’ve done so fantastically well. I totally salute you.’ She jokingly raised her hand to her temple.

  Daisy laughed uneasily, still mystified by the way all this was coming to light.

  ‘I don’t blame you for being a bit bamboozled,’ Coco said generously.

  ‘Let’s say you’re right,’ Daisy said at last. ‘How did you find all this out?’

  ‘I’ll explain in due course. Let’s just say I discovered that at some point you enrolled in a college to study for a diploma, and that when you started out you were Daisy Dangerfield but when you’d finished you’d become Daphne Fraser. When I went looking for this Daphne person, I had no idea where the trail would lead me. But, I can tell you, I was completely gobsmacked when it turned out you were right here, in the dragon’s lair. And quite the golden girl too!’ Coco laughed again. ‘All credit to you.’

  Daisy regarded her as calmly as she could despite the whirlwind in her mind as she tried to process all of this and think through the ramifications. ‘That’s all very well,’ she said, ‘but what exactly do you want from me? If you intend to expose me to Mr Dangerfield, you may as well not bother. I’m about to leave this organisation and I don’t care if I never see it, or him, again.’

  ‘You hate him, don’t you?’ Coco said quietly. ‘Well, you’re not the only one. Your brother and sister are about to sue your dad. He’s been stealing from the family trusts to fund all sorts of little activities on the side. And I’m working on their behalf, you see.’ She waved again, seeing Daisy’s puzzled expression. ‘Oh, it’s all pretty tangled, no denying that. I’ll tell you everything, but first you have to promise that you’ll come in on our side?’

  Daisy thought for a moment, then stood up and walked over to her office window. After a while she turned back to face Coco, who was watching her from her seat by the desk. ‘Of course I have issues with that man after what he’s done to me. But, you see, I’m not a Dangerfield. Their problems aren’t mine any more. I wish Will and Sarah well, but they’re not my siblings and haven’t been for years. And Daddy isn’t my father.’

  Coco stared at her, amusement curling her lips ever so slightly. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, if I were you.’

  85

  HANRATTY HAD PREPARED the best boardroom for the meeting of his most important clients. The Dangerfield children were likely to bring hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of pounds in fees to his firm.

  Unless they manage to sort everything out today, of course, and we all go home happy bunnies.

  But that wasn’t likely. And while that might be the best outcome for the family, he couldn’t pretend that a big court case wasn’t far preferable to him, bringing with it all those juicy fat fees.

  They would be sitting at a round table, Mr Dangerfield and his lawyers together with the Dangerfield children and the in-house solicitors. It promised to be a fiery meeting.

  The Dangerfield siblings arrived first, strikingly similar with their auburn hair and coppery eyes. Will looked determined and in a surprisingly good temper. Hanratty had great respect for him and all that he had achieved; and, of course, the young man couldn’t see how much he resembled the father he seemed to loathe so much. They shared many of the same traits: stubbornness and pride being two of the most obvious.

  ‘Hey, Nev,’ Will had said with a smile when he arrived. ‘I’ve got a humdinger of a surprise for you. But, you know what? I think I’m going to keep it to myself for now.’

  Despite Hanratty’s protest that it was rarely a good idea for a client to keep things to himself, Will wouldn’t budge. ‘You’ll be pleased,’ was all that he would say.

  The Dangerfields were seated at the table talking quietly together when a call came to say that the other party had arrived. This was it. Action stations.

  A few minutes later the door opened and in came the lawyers for the other side: Mankiewicz and Forbes, followed by old man Dangerfield – there was no mistaking that well-known face with its heavy jowls and pouches of skin under the eyes, even if he was looking surprisingly thin. He wore a loud sports jacket and one of his trademark red waistcoats, and the dyed hair couldn’t hide the fact that age had him well in its grip. Behind him came a slim young woman with glossy hair and very expensive clothes. Hanratty laughed to himself. These rich old men usually had a dolly like this somewhere in the background – the fools never asked themselves what young lovelies like this saw in wrecks like them. Behind the totty came another woman, this one middle-aged with severely neat hair and clothes, her blank face giving away none of the importance of her role. She was the old fellow’s eyes and ears, there was no doubt of that. There was usually someone like this, the back-up, the one who really kept the show on the road.

  Hanratty stepped forward to greet everyone but the Dangerfield children did not move. They barely looked at their father. Will’s eyes went at once to the beauty – no surprise there, he was probably a red-blooded male and who could help checking out the long legs and the surprisingly large rack? Sarah kept her eyes downcast as though she was afraid to look at her father even after all this time.

  Mr Dangerfield paused at the table and said, ‘Hello, Will. Hello, Sarah,’ in an almost unnaturally loud way. The daughter looked up and muttered something, while Will said, ‘Dad’ in a closed-off, formal way.

  This is going to be fun, Hanratty thought as he asked the other party to sit down and pulled up his own chair to the table. When tea and coffee had been distributed, he cleared his throat.

  ‘Well, I suggest we get started. We’ll begin by summarising our position as it stands.’ He looked down at his notes and began. The story w
as familiar to them all: the trusts that Josef Dangerfield had put in place for his children and grandchildren had been mismanaged by their main trustee, Mr Dangerfield himself; he had plundered the money to spend on his own extravagances and sold off assets specifically assigned to remain in trust. The children demanded their father answer these claims and planned to require his resignation from the board of trustees and the appointment of new ones who would audit the trusts. Any missing funds should be repaid by the sale of Mr Dangerfield’s assets.

  ‘All very simple and straightforward,’ Hanratty finished. ‘And our purpose today is to see if these matters can be resolved without going to court.’

  Dangerfield was red in the face, his leathery tanned cheeks a strange scarlet and orange hue. ‘I shall never resign!’ he spluttered. ‘My own father made me the main trustee! These claims are outrageous and unfounded.’

  Manckiewicz, his solicitor, put up a hand to calm his client and then said in a measured voice, ‘My client disputes these claims. He can prove that any sales of assets were made with the prior agreement of his late father. No money has been removed from the family trusts without the prior agreement of all trustees—’

  ‘Puppets,’ put in Will scornfully.

  ‘—and Mr Dangerfield intends to remain in his position, one of trust, which he has carried out faithfully despite the lack of any goodwill or affection shown by his children. There is absolutely no need for my client to dispose of any of his own assets.’

  Hanratty said, ‘It appears there is no meeting halfway, if your client refutes all claims outright and refuses to alter his position. We had hoped he might agree to resign from the trusts, even if temporarily, in order for a proper audit to be carried out.’

  ‘No!’ said Mr Dangerfield at once.

  ‘Perhaps …’ Will’s voice broke into the room, low and authoritative. ‘Perhaps your client might change his mind about a few of these matters when he learns the evidence we already have. You see, I have here some very interesting pieces of paper. This one, for example, is a memo from my father’s personal assistant –’ he looked over at Margaret ‘– regarding the fate of the Gainsborough. In it she states that it will be possible to alter the records to make it look as though the sale of that painting took place at the behest of my grandfather, thus covering up the fact that ownership has in fact been transferred to the Dangerfield Foundation … a completely unauthorised action.’ Will pulled the relevant document from his folder and pushed into the middle of the table. ‘I have copies, of course.’