“Yes,” I reply quietly, looking at the floor. I feel very nearly put in my place.
“And he you?”
“I think so.”
Teresa picks up my chin with one finger so we look directly at each other, well me down to her anyway. She softens her tone a little and smiles.
“Then just be happy and go with the flow. We are here so you can relax and be pampered. If that gives you some much needed confidence then great, but the last time you saw him you were wearing jeans were you not? And he still wanted to see you again, didn’t he?”
“I suppose so,” I reply, looking around the room nervously as some women perk up their ears to hear what’s happening.
“So stop overthinking and just enjoy it. Please,” Teresa pleads, “And don’t look at them. Fuck them. They’re not going on a date with Alexander White, are they? You are. He chose you,” she says with a smirk and an elbow nudge to my ribs.
“Okay,” I say in a small voice as tears brim in my eyes. I sniff them away and look at my best friend with a smile. In normal Teresa style, she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into an enormous hug. I feel myself hang on for dear life and try to compose myself. If I’m going to allow this to happen then I’m simply going to have to learn to let go of my fear and enjoy it, because that’s what it is really - fear. Whether it’s because of him or not I have no idea, but I decide in that moment to just be myself and see what happens. I mean, he can’t be that bad, right?
“O.M.G! O.M.G! Look at these fabulous women. Girls, come surround me and stare at these visions of sexiness.”
A very gay and very wonderful man is staring at the three of us intently, gesticulating at his staff and barking orders for hair colours and facial treatments.
“Ladies, I am Sebastian, and this is Hoffi, and you are about to be blasted with the most amazing service you’ve ever had. Not that any of you need it. However, we aim to tweak the last nuances of perfection for you,” he screams with delight and enthusiasm.
Clapping his hands sharply, he directs each of us to a different girl and we go our separate ways.
The next few hours fly by in a calm and relaxed fashion and I find myself enjoying every minute of it. The damn waxing is very painful but the results are at least astonishing. Teresa’s little chat has hit home and somewhere in the last hour I have finally decided that enough is enough with the self-deprecation shit. He wants me. He made it clear. All I have to do is follow his lead and see where we land. It will more than likely end with me being devastated but as long as I don’t get attached to some stupid emotional response to him, I’ll be fine.
“Stunning. You are utterly complete and I am finished,” Sebastian comments in his overly camp tone. Opening my eyes, I look at myself in the mirror. I kept them closed the entire time and told him to do whatever he wanted but not to cut too much off the length.
“Wow,” I say. I have nothing else. The man is a genius.
“Yes, indeed. Your hair is too fabulous to work with and I just had to tweak it and… ta da!”
The cut has taken my hair from all one length with some long layers to a stylish and sexy, wavy creation. The natural red is suddenly gleaming through the brown layers as if it’s on fire and it feels like pure silk to touch. I haven’t a clue how he’s done it but it’s impressive all the same so I swish it about and watch it bounce.
“I love it,” I exclaim. “How did you do it?”
“It’s an art, I know, but really with hair like this, I didn’t do much at all. Take some of this.” He tosses a bottle at me. “And some of this.” He adds another one. “And you must use this once a week.” Another bottle lands in my lap.
“Right. Thank you,” I reply, looking at the bottles in confusion, not having a clue what to do with them. The girls will know.
“You, my darling, are done. I am utterly ecstatic. My work here has been exciting. Book in with Claire for a six week appointment. Love you.” With that, he air kisses me on both cheeks and saunters off to his next client, throwing over his shoulder at me, “Just fabulous darling.”
We leave the studio laughing and studying our various shades of nail polish or hairstyles and are all very ready for a bite of lunch and a glass of wine, so we head down the street to the bistro on the corner and find a table. Enjoying a leisurely lunch, I find myself smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl at our conversations. The morning has been surprisingly refreshing and rejuvenating. It has put us all in a gloriously good mood and we are savouring every minute of the time we have together on our day off. I make a mental note that the three of us really need to do this more often as I smile over at Teresa and Belle who look radiant and carefree. I have to admit that’s how I’m feeling too.
“Okay, let’s shop,” Teresa says as she gulps back the last of her wine.
“Yes, definitely. What are you thinking of wearing, Beth?” Belle asks.
“I don’t know. Do you think it’s casual? He is cooking after all.”
“I think that means a skirt - a flirty skirt. Or dress. What do you think, Belle?” Teresa questions.
“Don’t know, but I’ve seen a top in that new boutique on the high street. Let’s go there first.”
We put our money on the table, leave a generous tip and make our way out the door and along the street to the shops.
“I cannot believe he’s cooking. I didn’t know men like that could cook or even wanted to for that matter,” Teresa exclaims, walking along.
“I know. Maybe he’s trying to impress,” Belle responds with a wink as she links arms with me.
“More like he doesn’t want to be seen in public with me,” I laugh. Both Belle and Teresa stop in their tracks and stare at me in apparent disbelief.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Teresa snaps as she abruptly turns me to face a shop window.
“Look at your reflection, Beth. Really look at yourself.”
“Okay,” I say warily, looking at my reflection.
“You must see that you are gorgeous,” Teresa says, slapping me around the back of my head.
I do look better than I did before; I have to admit. My face feels toned and the eyebrows have added a more refined sophistication to my heart shaped face. My hair is sleek and glossy and somehow I seem to have gained an elegance I’ve never noticed before, but it doesn’t feel like me. I frown at the thought, feeling like I’ve been transformed into someone I’m not convinced I’m comfortable with yet. Maybe that will change in time because Teresa is right, I haven’t ever looked this good before.
“Okay,” I say again. I still have nothing else to actually verbalise on the subject.
“Enough, Beth. Do you hear me? Enough now,” Teresa says sharply as she slaps me around the head again. Belle responds in kind by slapping me on the other side with a giggle.
“Okay, so now that shit is sorted, what about underwear?” my dearest sister says in a very dirty voice. I roll my eyes as they both grab my arms and drag me across the street towards a lingerie shop. I have no hope. This will be a very long afternoon.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth
S tanding in front of the long mirrors in Belle’s bedroom, I look at myself. This isn’t a Beth I recognise. This is a divine creature that has been modelled and sculptured to within an inch of her life. Belle and Teresa have worked tirelessly on my make-up and hair, and the outfit I presently wear is wonderful. My hair is piled up in a very neat up-do and the make-up is incredibly sexy, dark eyes and sultry lips matching my hair to perfection. I love it. I also hate it.
The outfit that has eventually been chosen isn’t my first choice but the girls have pushed me to go with something a little more flirtatious than I wanted. The dark teal dress wraps around my body like a second skin. It’s asymmetrical in its cut and finishes just below my knees. The neckline is straight across from collarbone to collarbone accentuating my breasts, and its three quarter length sleeves make my arms look long and lean. Thankfully, the scant amount of black si
lk underwear that I have been forced to buy is well hidden and can’t be seen through the material, thank God.
I have to admit, I look remarkable and very not me at all. I will definitely stand out in the crowd looking like this. The look is finished off with a pair of suede, teal, three-inch heels that I loved on sight but worried that I wouldn’t be able to walk in. Teresa had promptly told me I’d be sitting most of the time so I absolutely must have them. I’ve opted for very little jewellery, simply going with my mother’s small diamond studs in my ears and the very beautiful diamond bracelet Alex has given to me, which he will be given back the moment we’ve finished dinner, regardless of how lovely it is wrapped around me like a second bloody skin. Why do expensive things work like that?
“Something’s not right,” Belle says, standing behind me also looking in the mirror.
“Yes, I know what you mean,” Teresa agrees, holding her chin.
“Pull the hair down. You don’t look like you.”
Belle starts to take the hairpins out and then simply scoops up the sides into a clip, letting the length of my hair fall down my back in wavy spirals. I’m immediately put at ease about my appearance. I instantly feel softer and calmer for some strange reason as if the up-do had made me into some sexy siren I just didn’t possess inside.
“Perfect,” they both chime.
“Do you really think so? It’s not too much?”
“You look beautiful, understated but ready for anything. Besides, you never know where you’ll end up. He might take you out after dinner,” Belle says.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” I reply, watching Teresa swan out of the room.
“Right, you can borrow my winter coat and Teresa’s got your bag sorted so unless you’ve got anything else to get ready in the next fifteen minutes, may I suggest you get a drink in you,” Belle says as she heads out the door.
“Do you have any condoms? I’ve got some you can have if not,” Teresa shouts from the other bedroom. I gasp in fear. The very thought disturbs me. The immediate vision of his eyes and his body weight against me makes me raise an eyebrow at the possibility. I shake my head and try to refocus.
“I will not be sleeping with him, Teresa. I don’t even know him. Good God, what do you think I am? I need to know someone first,” I exclaim, forgetting the company around me and my potential indecision regarding the subject. Shit. “I mean, I know you two can and that’s obviously fine but it’s just not for me. You know that.”
“Right, Beth, I’m sure when the mood’s right and you’ve had a few drinks and he leans into you with those eyes and fingers and probably very hard abs, you’ll find it somewhere in you to say, no, Alex I wouldn’t dream of it.” She starts laughing as she wanders past the door into the kitchen. Bitch.
“I will. I do not have sex with people on a first date,” I almost shout as I follow her.
“Well, just in case you do, could you give me a text if you’re not coming home, sister dear?” Belle says laughing, pouring a shot of vodka and handing it to me.
“And have you powdered your bits? You know, down there?” Teresa asks as she puts condoms in my bag anyway. Oh for fuck’s sake.
~
I caress the luxurious leather of the seat with my hand as I’m whisked towards Mr. Alexander White. The black, sporty looking thing is immaculate and smoothly glides along the dark London streets as I sit nervously and wait for whatever is about to greet me at the other end of this journey. Andrews was at the front of the foyer doors at exactly seven o’clock as expected, and nodded, opening the door for me without saying a word. It felt mysterious and slightly foreboding, and now I feel as if I’m in some sort of James Bond novel, being taken to certain death like a spy.
I start giggling to myself as my vivid imagination runs wild at me again, and try to contain the fit of hysterics that is threatening to erupt. It could be madness or simply nerves, but really the whole scenario is comical. I take a deep cleansing breath and try to calm my nerves. It is, after all, just dinner with someone I actually seem to quite like as a human being so far. He’s charming, witty and intelligent. I try to push aside the thoughts of his very naughty words and the flirtatious behaviour that put me on edge last time I saw him, but the inappropriate thoughts are still lingering around just waiting to be reawakened.
The smell of his spicy aftershave lingering in the interior of the car finds its way to my nose and I inhale again, breathing in the aroma that is Alex. So mesmerizing, I would know it a mile away. When it meets with the images of him in my mind, I close my eyes and feel like I can almost taste him. Those beautifully sculptured lips and those hands grasping the back of my neck as he pulls me tighter and... Christ, I can feel my heart rate thump rapidly at simply imagining the moment he holds me and kisses me.
Oh yes, I am in complete control. Not.
The car seems to swim through the very lively traffic as if it has a divine right to access anything and anywhere it wants to go, which is straight through central London and on toward Mayfair it seems. It never slows or speeds up. It just keeps gliding toward my unknown destination, intent on getting there with some kind of forceful dignity, not unlike the man himself, I suspect. I haven’t got any idea where he lives and remind myself to text an address to Belle when I arrive, just as the large imposing houses of the very rich seem to begin looming over me. I stare out at them, gulping back the fear that is now creeping its way back up my throat, then realise that the car is slowing as we enter the Kensington district. I immediately do that faffing thing with my hair and bite my thumbnail in the hope of calming the panic, and then I see where we’re heading.
Oh. My. God.
Andrews pulls into a driveway, and the wrought iron gates seem to swing open of their own accord. The car continues along a short gravel drive and slowly comes to a stop outside the pair of dark red front doors of a very large Georgian house. I sit and observe the worrying yet beautiful building through the tinted window. What the hell am I doing? I am suddenly flustered beyond even my belief and can feel myself recoiling in terror at the intimidating structure that stands before me. That’s how it feels - sheer terror. I am not ready for this at all. I consider telling Andrews to take me home when I hear his door open and close and then recognise the clunk of my door being opened. Well it’s too late to back out now.
“Miss Scott, welcome to Catton Manor.”
He holds a hand out to help me get out of the car and I’m suddenly stood under a portico outside a very ominous house - his house and I’m going in. Shit. Shit. Breathe, Beth. Just keep breathing.
Andrews opens the door and I’m met by the most stunning and warming interior I have ever seen. It isn’t at all what I expected. I expected a sleek and glossy space with very modern furniture and white walls. The sort of place you see in the high-end magazines. The sort of place that is just like his apartment. This is, while enormous, very homely. The tiled floor of the hallway is old and elegant and the walls are a deep burgundy colour complementing the floor. The high skirting boards and picture rails are painted white, contrasting beautifully with the masculine colour. There are various gilt framed artworks hanging and huge modern vases of flowers on the two hall tables, which stand either side of the wide sweeping staircase in front of me. It curls its way up to the second floor and a burgundy carpet finishes the look off to perfection while the heavy ticking of a large clock sounds through the quiet space, giving a timeless appeal to the whole area. Andrews continues to walk in front of me as I hear my own footsteps clicking on the floor behind him and then I hear music coming from somewhere ahead of me – a soothing sound that calls to me. I smile quietly. I’ve heard it before. My father played it over and over again when we were young and for the first time in the last hour or so, something feels comforting. Ottis Redding’s Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay is soothing its way around the house smoothly from wherever it is that we are heading. I couldn’t have asked for anything more calming.
“May I take your coat, Miss
Scott?” Andrews suggests, holding out his hand.
“Yes, please.” He takes it and hangs it in a nearby cupboard.
Fidgeting a little, I smooth down my dress.
“Andrews is that you? I’m in the lounge.” His voice comes at me over the music. It’s rich like velvet, causing my knees buckle a little.
“Sir, Miss Scott has arrived,” Andrews replies.
“Wonderful,” he says, and then he walks around the corner.
Shit. I’m speechless once again. His presence hits me like a battering ram. It’s absolutely not fair at all. All thoughts of in control have been handed over to him in an instant because I’m panting again. Stupidly. I yank my ridiculous combusting effect back into myself and blow out a small breath in the hope that he hasn’t noticed.
“Elizabeth,” he says quietly as he gazes at me with his hands in his pockets.
He takes his time lazily caressing my body with his very blue eyes and eventually rewards me with his breath-taking smile so that I can start that panting thing up again. Shit, I’m flustered and my heart is hammering, and I have no hope knowing what to say. Remember your manners, Beth.
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