by AJ Adams
“You might be surprised.” The wine was thin and sour. I poured it into the sink. “This is revolting. You might use it for pickling, but it’s not drinkable.”
“I know bugger all about wine,” Lacy shrugged. “It tastes fine to me.”
Getting a decent Rioja took a second. “This goes well with pasta.”
“Good.” She sniffed and took a sip. “Oooh, yum!”
She was chopping mushrooms, tomatoes, and basil, efficiently and neatly. A packet of spicy Italian pepperoni sat nearby. I suddenly had a flashback of mum. We often sat at the table, with Caden and me helping, by which I mean stealing titbits and sneaking sips of her wine.
It felt weird, sitting there with Lacy, but I was on automatic. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re doing the washing up.”
“Fair enough.”
Considering her, I decided I was back to being a selfish bastard. She’d been remarkably easy to have around. Unless I found Barrows in twenty-four hours, she’d be staying the weekend, and I’d better stop moaning. After all, she’d even gone to the trouble of buying new clothes.
I peeked into the bags. She’d picked two knee-length cotton shifts, one black sleeveless, one red short sleeved, and high-heeled sandals that matched. As I’d suspected, they wouldn’t do for the weekend. “These are great for sailing or a country picnic.”
She looked up, eyes narrowed. “I thought black for dinner and red for drinks.”
“It won’t do.” I put it to her straight. “Get your hair and nails done at Locks in the village. I’ll have some dresses sent from London.”
Lacy hesitated. “This posh party, is it taffeta gowns with bows on the bum all round?”
“God no, it’s not some tacky school dance!” I shuddered instinctively. “It’s proper black tie.” I wasn’t even looking at her as I worked down the pile to the lingerie. “Now this is perfect!” I held up the little lace bra and knicker set. “Model it for me?”
Lacy’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve only ever been to tacky dances. I think it’s better if I go to the Oak Leaf hotel in the village.”
I’d hurt her feelings. It would be difficult to have her stay, but I heard myself say, “Nonsense. I loathe these weekends. It’ll be good to have you.”
“You? Happy to have me around? Blimey,” Lacy gawped. “You okay, Rex?”
“You won’t thank me when you meet the bishop. He spent an hour last time humblebragging about traffic jams making it a pain to have lunch at Buckingham Palace.”
“Well, you might hobnob with royalty, but I’m impressed.”
“Brilliant. You’re sitting next to him at dinner.”
I shrugged it off with a joke while quietly planning on how to slide her into the party without upsetting the Prescotts. I didn’t give a toss what anyone said or thought but the weekends brought in so much revenue and influence that I didn’t want to risk wrecking them.
“I’ll tell them about my lingerie modelling,” Lacy said. “That’s nice and respectable so that you won’t be embarrassed.”
“That’s kind of you. Thanks.” She really was a nice girl. When she wasn’t blackmailing me or kicking men in the balls. I picked up the wine. “Another glass?”
“Sure. Here, have a little pepperoni.” She handed me a strip of sausage, just like mum used to. She didn’t know, but the simple gesture sent me back in time. A wash of sadness and loss hit me. I forced the desolation away. The Rioja was there, vibrant and warm. Sipping it helped.
“D’you know what’s odd?” Lacy asked.
“What?”
“No dogs.” She was intent on chopping mushrooms. “Your mum had dogs, right? Don’t you miss the company?”
“No.” I wasn’t going there. Mum had been a huge dog fan, and so, after she died, I couldn’t hack having them around. It was just too painful a reminder of what I’d lost. “That list you made, are you sure Barrows doesn’t have another house or hangout?”
“I’m sure.” She knew I’d changed the subject, but she didn’t push. “I called everyone I could think of, but the people he used to know haven’t seen him in years.”
“He moved away?”
“Nah, he just pissed them off.” She put on a pot of water and tossed onion and garlic into a pan. “I tried to stalk him online, but he doesn’t Tweet, blog, Instagram or even Facebook.”
“Neither do I.”
“Obscurity must be a bad boy thing.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. When did you say you were leaving?”
Lacy just giggled. “Sorry, that just came out.”
Her bottom was flexing as she dealt deftly with the pot and pan. The scent of rich basil and sweet tomato stirred more than my appetite. I’d planned to go to the club and have a few drinks, but now I thought an early night might be more entertaining.
Lacy set out plates loaded with fresh ravioli topped with the gloriously scented sauce. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the Oak Leaf?” She sprinkled cheese and black pepper before adding a little hand-chopped fresh basil. It was a dish fit for kings. “It’s no bother, Rex. I’ll be perfectly safe in the village. It’s Disciple territory, right?”
She would be fine in Bonnington, and it would be easier for me. But I spotted the slight strain around her eyes and knew Lacy wasn’t half as confident as she pretended. She’d not have a good time at the Oak Leaf. She’d hide in her room, thinking Barrows was honing in on her.
I lifted up my glass and listed it in a toast, “I see you have a cruel streak.”
The strain vanished as her eyes crinkled with humour. “Oh yeah? How?”
“You hold out the lure of keeping the bishop busy, and then yank the rug out from under me.”
Lacy burst out laughing. “Oh well,” she giggled. “If that’s the way it is, I guess I’ll stay.”
Chapter Eleven
Lacy
Perdition was bathed in summer sunlight, windows sparkling, roses trimmed, all spick and span for the big Friday to Monday as Rex insisted on calling his weekend house party. It was gorgeous, and the front door was wide open for once, but I was racing around the side, hoping to sneak quietly into the kitchen. Of course, I ran slap bang into Rex, Mitch, and Brianne.
“It’s nicely defined,” Rex was gazing into a glass of port. “Well-balanced, fine tannins and well-judged acidity.”
“Hmm, yes.” Mitch was tasting and sniffing. “Languorous and refined.”
Brianne was watching narrowly, drinking it all in. The way she sat by Rex, accidentally on purpose touching him, it was clear she had the hots for him. He didn’t notice because all his attention was on the wine.
Rex took another sip. “It should go well with the camembert. It’s so ripe; it could run a marathon.”
“I don’t know,” Mitch worried. “The cheese may overwhelm it.”
“Not if we balance it with rye bread,” Rex urged.
Amazing. One day he was beating the fuck out of two men, and the next he was overboard precious over wine and cheese. Rex was undoubtedly a man of parts.
“Lacy, I was expecting you back hours ago,” Rex frowned at my messy hair. “You didn’t go to Locks?”
“It’s such a lovely day that I went window shopping instead. I guess I lost track of time.”
Yes, another lie. Even with the Horde out to get me, I just had to see Mia. I’d worked with Crystal Wave right after the music fest ended, but ditched Viper afterwards and sneaked off to see my little girl. Rex had been busy, first with his after-fest business and then overseeing an army of cleaners that he’d not questioned how a one day job could last five.
Mia had been happy to see me, but she was so engrossed in the water slides, ponies and her cousins that I knew she wouldn’t miss me being at Perdition for the weekend. It gave me a pang, but I quickly reminded myself that it was best this way. If she was happy while I tried to fix my problems, it was all good.
“Your Twitter feed said you were working for Crystal,”
Rex frowned.
Right, because I knew Pig would be watching. I’m not daft; I was wielding my social media as a weapon.
“After all that rumour mongering, looking busy is good for my image,” I lied. “About Jason, any news?”
“No, but Crush is chasing a lead. He’ll phone later.”
That sounded good. I’d done more nosing about myself, but it had led nowhere. Although reliable information on the Disciples was in short supply, everyone agreed they were all business. So if Crush was on to something, it was good news.
“The guests will be here in an hour,” Rex informed me. “And the dresses arrived.”
At that, Brianne glared at me. If looks could kill, I’d have gone up in flames.
I almost stuck out my tongue at her, she was such a sour cow, but I controlled myself. “Thanks, I’ll go up right away.”
Rex put down his glass. “It’s time I got changed too.”
“She’s staying the weekend?” Brianne’s voice drifted up the stairs after us. “What does he see in her?”
“She’s after your body,” I remarked to Rex as we trekked through the miles of oak-panelled corridor.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rex replied. His mind was obviously elsewhere because he began lecturing me. “Remember, the guests aren’t friends. They’re paying customers.”
“Okay.”
“Smile a lot and if they want something, tell the staff immediately.”
“Will do.”
“They’ve paid a bomb, and they expect the best.”
“Right.”
“And never mention the Disciples.”
This party was sounding scarier by the minute. The thought that Brianne might have had a point occurred to me. “Uhm, Rex? I can still slip off to the Oak Leaf.”
We’d reached his room. Rex paused, his hand on the richly carved door. “Don’t be silly. Just don’t kick anyone in the balls.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Rex smiled, “Haven’t heard that since kindy.”
He was straight into the teak wardrobe, digging out black tie gear, and so he missed the tide of red that swamped me. I’d not minded lying to him before, but now I liked him, keeping Mia a secret was uncomfortable. It didn’t last long; I was blown away by the sight of a well-loaded garment display stand.
“For me?!” I flew across the room, taking in the brilliant designs and exquisite tailoring. A sky blue sweep of silk, a riot of fuchsia taffeta, a vision of black lace, and a sublime cream linen shift had me gawping. “Dior? Yves Saint Laurent? Stella McCartney? Ohmigod, THE Stella McCartney? The one who made Meghan Markle’s wedding party dress?” I was so excited that I almost peed myself.
Rex was smiling. “Knee-length for drinks and long for dinner.”
I was fingering the shoes. “Prada, Jimmy Choo, and Blahnik? I’m in shoe heaven.” I’d worn couture for my work, lingerie pieces mostly, but this was a dream. “Rex, I’ll be so careful, promise.” I touched the white linen shift reverently. “I’m staying well clear of your port.”
Rex was stripping, dumping jeans and tee into the laundry basket. “What?”
“I’ll take extra special care, promise.” I danced over and hugged him. “It will be such fun to wear. Thank you!”
The strong arms were hard around me, but his eyes were soft. “They’re yours, Lacy. They’re not rented.”
I just gawped at him. “What?”
“They’re yours,” he repeated.
“But I can’t afford this.” My stomach roiled at what just one pair of the Blahniks would do to my budget. “Oh lord, will they take it all back?”
Rex shook his head. “It’s a gift.”
“It’s too much.” Yes, that was my mouth, blabbering on independently while secret me lusted after the designer gear. “It’s far too expensive.”
He let me go and stepped back. “Just accept it.”
There was a guilty look in his eyes, fleeting but definitely there. I’d seen it before. “You’re feeling guilty?” He shrugged, pretending coolness, but I knew better. I grabbed him quick before he could bolt. “I forgive you. Not because of this but because you’ve not hurt me.”
His eyes said he didn’t feel it. “That first night, I didn’t give a shit. I turned you away. You might have been killed.”
“But you’re helping me now.”
“I made you sleep with me.”
So cold Rex had a heart after all. It touched me. “Believe me,” I urged him. “I know what it’s like to be forced, and that wasn’t it.”
“I was drunk.” The blue was almost black. “I don’t even remember all of it.”
“That’s a shame. I was awesome.”
Despite himself, Rex grinned. “I believe you.”
“You were awesome too.” Then, inspired by angels, I stood on tiptoe. “If I were unhappy, would I do this?” And then I kissed him.
His lips were soft and his response hesitant. I leaned back a little, smiling up at him. He paused and then he dipped his head, his lips capturing mine with a fierce hunger. The soft lips quested sensuously, so intense that I was swamped in profoundly delicious want.
As the kiss deepened, he leaned into me. His hands ran down my arms, giving me goose bumps of shivery delight, and then he was curling himself around me. We were so close that I could feel his heartbeat.
Ten thousand years later, our lips broke apart, but we hung together, gasping as if we’d run a marathon. I ran the tip of my tongue over the soft skin of his neck, watching him shiver as his cock pulsed against me.
“I think I need a little more convincing,” he murmured. “How about a fuck?”
“Typical,” I teased him. “You’re a bad boy right down to the bone.”
“Tell me you don’t like it,” he challenged me.
Wham-bam-and-thank-you-ma’am is not my style, but with Rex, it was exhilarating. We managed to hit the bed, scattering clothes everywhere and giggling away. He knew my body so well that just a touch set me off. Soon after, I was squealing my head off, shattering in ecstatic shudders as he exploded into me. Afterwards, I was snuggling, sleek with sated satisfaction.
“I’m convinced, you’re awesome,” Rex murmured. His hands were all over me, warm and loving. Then he stiffened, well, most of him, as he exclaimed, “Is that the time?”
I lay in bed, watching him dash around. Unlike the other times, he pulled up before shooting out and perched on the side of the bed.
“Thank you.” The beautifully cut Armani dinner jacket and black tie were a perfect foil for the long, lean body. His scent, leather, and oranges floated around me. I had my arms wrapped around him, thoroughly enjoying myself as he murmured, “Thanks, Lacy.”
I kissed him, feeling close to him. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”
He stroked my hair, “I just realised that you need jewellery.” Before I could stop him, he was up and shifting a painting, revealing a wall safe.
“Wow! Just like in the films!”
Rex smiled, “Tomorrow I show you the secret passage.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“It’s the truth. We’ve have a priest hole too.”
“I feel as if I’m in a Famous Five novel.”
I was out of bed, dead curious what was hidden in the safe. Rex pushed aside some papers, a small bundle of cash and took out a slim velvet box. He flipped it open, revealing a gold necklace, three strands woven together in a simple, elegant style. It was so lovely that I was reaching for it - until I saw his eyes. Pain wasn’t the word for it. They were blank, grief flattening all emotion.
Instinct took over. My hand was on his, gently closing the box. “It’s beautiful but let’s put it away, okay?”
As soon as the painting was back in place, his colour came back, but he was silent.
I just kept holding on to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The eyes were shuttered, all feelings locked away. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
> I know a fuck off when I hear one. “No problem. But if you change your mind, I’m here.”
Nothing. Whatever it was, it ran deep.
We stood there, a chasm of silence between us. Then, a crunch of gravel outside pulled him out of it. “The guests are arriving.”
He needed to work, and I needed to figure out what was going on. I pecked him on the cheek. “Off you go. I want to play with my new, pretty toys.”
“Don’t be too long.” And he was off.
I put up my hair in a French twist and wore the Dior fuchsia riot with the Blahnik black point toe satin pumps. Lipstick to match the dress, light eyeliner and long dangly silver earrings perfected the look. Rex had even thought of accessories: there was a lovely little black clutch for my comb and lipstick.
I trotted through the maze of corridors and the vast gallery, loving the way my dress swished and flared. Now all the shutters were open and all the dust covers removed, Perdition was glorious. I felt as if I were walking through England’s history, a part of it all.
I paused at the top of the carved staircase, listening to the roar of voices floating up from the hall below, and caught a glimpse of my reflection in a polished window. There I was, in a stately home, wearing a designer dress, about to join a private party of the country’s wealthiest and most influential people.
It didn’t feel quite real, and I hesitated nervously as I peered down into the hall.
A couple were stepping in. “Awr-hellowr!” An upper-class squawk, loaded with interest, was my cue.
“Hello.” Head high, I sashayed down the broad steps, hand lightly on the banner, just like Scarlett O’Hara and Eliza Doolittle did in the films.
“Gosh, smashing dress!” He was all teeth and nose, like a horse eating an apple through a fence, and just as friendly. “Want to go back upstairs and take me with you?”
“Don’t be silly, Freddie.” A tall, elegant woman wearing a yellow silk gown under a well-worn Barbour jacket pushed him aside. “Don’t mind my brother,” she said to me. “He’s always trying his luck, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I do!” Freddie protested.